#A Reader's Guide to Writing

[finelythreadedsky]

it always makes me smile when scholars in academic writing refer to the hypothetical reader with she/her. "let the reader experience the battle as if it was unfolding right before her eyes". "a reader accepting her own historicity". "gives the reader the impression that she is following the events". "when a student is asked to write an essay on the aeneid she will normally be encouraged to read some modern criticism". like yeah i see you. i know you did that for me.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Series Synopsis: A series of (mostly) unrelated one shots, featuring Oliver Aiku somehow getting involved with the love lives of various Blue Lock characters — whether he wants to or not.

Chapter Synopsis: After being yelled at one too many times by their strict Ubers teammate, Oliver Aiku enlists Ikki Niko in helping him get Shoei Barou a girlfriend, hoping beyond hope that that’s enough to get the guy to chill out a bit.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Barou x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 10.8k

Content Warnings: crack fic, barou is also my awkward goat, love at first sight, oliver aiku is such a bitch but he’s funny so it’s kind of okay, reader is kind of an npc in this icl 😓, this is really dumb please don’t judge my writing off of it, everyone is 100% ooc don’t come at me i KNOWWW, split perspectives (it makes sense in the story), everyone gets slandered (mostly by aiku), god bless niko for being chronically online

A/N: there were a decent amt of people who wanted barou’s version plus i felt like writing it so he’s up next!! LMAO it kind of got a bit long just like the sae version and somehow it’s even sillier so…but yeah anyways this is the second entry in “oliver aiku’s guide to getting girls” i hope you all stick around for the rest 🤩‼️

Barou is yelling at them again. Aiku’s not sure what the big deal is this time — so what if Lorenzo spilled spaghetti sauce on the floor? He’s Italian, that’s part of his culture — but if he dares to speak up, Barou will single him out specifically, and then he’ll be treated like a little kid in timeout, which doesn’t sound like an ideal way to spend a Friday night.

It’s the four of them in the doghouse as usual — himself, Niko, Aryu, and Sendou, that is. The most ridiculous thing is that Lorenzo isn’t even there, though he’s the true target of Barou’s rage; unfortunately for his teammates, though, Lorenzo’s off getting his teeth polished or counting his money while cackling or whatever else it is that he does in his free time.

Honestly, none of them are really taking the theatrics seriously. Aryu’s fiddling with the ends of his hair, Niko’s standing there, staring at Barou with large, watery eyes, and Sendou’s glaring back at Barou with his arms folded over his chest. Aiku sighs, because that means an argument between the two is most likely impending, but unfortunately for him, he sighs a bit too loudly, and Barou whips around, jabbing a finger at him.

“What’s so exasperating, huh?” Barou says. “I bet you won’t be sighing when we have an insect infestation because none of you can be bothered to clean up that damn tomato shit that Lorenzo’s obsessed with!”

“It’s marinara,” Niko pipes up meekly. They all look at him with varying degrees of incredulity; he shrugs, adjusting the headphones around his neck self-consciously. “Lorenzo’s trying to teach me how to make it. Supposedly a typical spaghetti sauce has meat and vegetables added, but a good marinara is the base, so — um, anyways.”

Barou’s upper lip is curled into a sneer, and Aiku’s just about to thank Niko for taking the fall and turning Barou’s rage to him when he remembers that that’s markedly not how Barou operates. He’s too meticulous to forget the former recipient of his ire, not so quickly, and indeed, Barou is pointing at them both when he speaks next.

“That stain better be gone the next time I come in this room,” he says. He doesn’t say what will happen if it’s not, but given his authoritative voice and enormous physique, he usually doesn’t have to resort to making threats in order to be obeyed.

“Thank goodness,” Aryu says once Barou has left to complete his evening meditations. “Seems like Barou appreciated our elegant silence, Sendou. We’ve escaped reproach this time.”

“Yup,” Sendou says. Whistling nonchalantly, he sidles out of the room, and with a fluttering wave, Aryu follows suit. Aiku can’t even blame them, considering it’s what he would’ve done if he were in their place.

Glancing at Niko, who is now his greatest friend due to convenience alone, Aiku shakes his head, wondering what choice he made in life that led to his weekend plans amounting to cleaning sauce stains from a carpet with a little boy instead of partying or something.

“You got the bleach?” he asks. Niko nods miserably.

“Yeah, I got it. You’re good with scrubbing?” he says. Aiku’s shoulders cramp preemptively at the mere thought, but he doesn’t protest aloud.

“No other choice, right?” he says. “Off to work we go, then.” 

Your best friend has been begging you for days to try this new restaurant with her, and it’s only now that it’s Friday that you can’t come up with any more excuses to avoid it. The truth is that you don’t really have a reason to refuse her as many times as you have, but the thought of summoning up the wherewithal to get ready and go out for dinner instead of throwing on your pajamas and eating something on the couch with a movie in the background is excruciating. Besides, you know her tastes. She always takes you to insanely fancy locations where anything less than your best will be embarrassing, and the only saving grace is that your outings always end up being insanely cheap, as she refuses to spend more than the bare minimum no matter what.

“You’re serious?” she affirms, standing in front of your closet and sifting through your clothes. You’re sitting on your bed, legs crossed and your laptop on your lap as you try to finish up the essay you have due Monday before getting ready. “You’ll really go with me?”

“I just told you I would, didn’t I?” you say. “I wouldn’t let you go through my closet if I wasn’t being serious. Actually, I wouldn’t have let you into my house at all.”

“Your parents would’ve opened the door for me,” she says dismissively. “They love me.”

It’s true, they do love her as much if not more than they love you, so you have no rebuttal. She grins at you, tossing a shirt in your general direction. It hits the back of your laptop, landing in a heap on the floor, and you’re too busy to pick it up, so you just leave it there, too lost in thought to care. Just the conclusion, if I can finish that then I can do something fun without anything on my mind—

“Hurry up and get ready! We want to get a table, don’t we?” she says. It’s a pair of pants she flings your way this time, and her aim is far more superior, for they smack into your face, temporarily blinding you.

“If you don’t let me finish this essay, I won’t go with you,” you say, and she knows you mean it literally, so she immediately pretends to zip her lips, saluting at you.

“Finish away!” 

“Barou’s totally got a stick up his ass, don’t you think?” Aiku says after thirty minutes have passed and the stain is no smaller than before. 

“I don’t think I’d phrase it like that,” Niko says, pouring another cup of bleach on the carpet. Neither of them really know much about cleaning, so this is the best they’ve got, even though Aiku’s pretty sure Barou would pass out if he saw their method. “But yeah, he can be kind of uptight at times.”

“He’s pretty nice otherwise, though,” Aiku says thoughtfully. “It’s kind of a shame. I bet if he loosened up a bit, he’d be a downright enjoyable teammate. Besides the cleaning and all, he’s a cool guy.”

“I do like training with him,” Niko says. “When he’s not yelling at us, it’s fun. Following his regimen has made me a lot stronger.”

“Agreed,” Aiku says. That’s the one thing he’ll give Barou — the guy is a master with the training equipment. He’s introduced Aiku to machines he didn’t even know existed. “You know what he needs?”

“What?” Niko says. He’s scrubbing at the floor while Aiku’s sipping on a soda; theoretically, they’re supposed to be switching off, but Niko hasn’t complained yet, so Aiku’s not about to remind him that it’s well beyond time for his turn.

“Some pu—” Aiku cuts himself off when he remembers that he is talking to a child. Niko’s like twelve or something, so maybe phrasing it in that way isn’t the most appropriate thing to do. “—I mean, a beautiful and loving girlfriend.”

Niko tilts his chin up at him, which means he’s probably looking at him; it’s hard to tell with his overgrown bangs falling in his face. Aiku makes a mental note to suggest cutting Niko’s hair during the next team bonding night that Snuffy forces them into.

“I guess having someone like that would make anyone happier, even Barou,” he says.

“That’s what I’m getting at! I bet he’s just constantly stressed out, so he takes it out on us instead of finding a healthy outlet. Maybe dating someone will fix that and give him something to do besides soccer,” Aiku says.

“Is that your secret to always being so calm?” Niko says. Aiku nods.

“The more girls you have, the less you can worry about things like training. You’re too focused on making sure they’re all happy,” Aiku says.

“Woah,” Niko says. “That’s a really great way of looking at things.”

“Right?” Aiku says. “With Barou, though, we might be lucky if we can find even one girl willing to put up with him. He’s a bit of a work in progress, you know?”

“Totally,” Niko says. “What if he yells at her the way he yells at us?”

Aiku has a vision of some poor, innocent girl on the verge of tears as Barou rants about how she didn’t fold her laundry the right way or something. For some reason, she looks kind of like Niko — oh, that’s probably because Barou just yelled at Niko for that exact reason — but the image is enough for him to balk.

“She can come to us for comfort,” Aiku says decisively before once again remembering that Niko probably only popped out of the womb a scant few months prior. He needs to be more careful — this isn’t Sendou, who would’ve made at least ten innuendos even worse than his own by this point. “I mean, me.”

“That’s a good plan,” Niko says. “You’re really good with the whole advising and comforting thing. I bet you’d make her feel better for sure.”

Yeah, I’d make her feel better alright. This time Aiku manages to keep it to himself, only coughing slightly and nodding towards the bottle of bleach as an explanation.

“The only question is where in Blue Lock are we going to find a girl, let alone one willing to date Barou?” Aiku says.

“Well, Bastard München is playing PXG this weekend, and Manshine City is playing Barcha, so we’re technically off,” Niko says. “I think if we ask Snuffy, we can probably have a day out.”

“What if Ego gets mad?” Aiku says, although the idea is sound enough that he’s just jealous he didn’t come up with it himself. Niko hums, giving careful consideration to the notion.

“We can just blame it on Snuffy. What’s Ego going to do, fire him?” he says. 

A grin breaks out on Aiku’s face.

“Niko, kiddo—”

“I’m fifteen.”

“—you’re totally a genius. Let’s go!”

“What about the stain?” Niko says. Aiku glances at the still marinara-colored splotch on the carpet, and then he waves it off dismissively.

“If we can find Snuffy before Barou gets back, then it’s no longer our problem,” he says.

Niko looks unconvinced, but he’s sensible as well as genius-material, so he only follows after Aiku — albeit not without a final worried glance at the section of carpet which still smells suspiciously of tomatoes. 

“So what cuisine does this place have, anyways?” you say. You’ve finally finished and submitted your essay, and now you’re taking a shower. Your best friend has closed the lid of the toilet and is sitting on it while playing on her phone, apparently because she wants to be able to talk to you even while you’re showering, and since you have a curtain you don’t mind.

“No idea,” she says.

“No idea?” you say, squeezing shampoo into your palm. “Why do you want to go, then?”

“My dad’s Facebook friends have been raving about it,” she says. “His ex-boss said that it’s the best value-for-money in the entire city!”

“We’re going to dinner based on recommendations from your dad’s Facebook friends,” you repeat dryly. “Wow.”

“Look, he may have chronically underpaid my dad, but the ex-boss has great taste in food!” your best friend defends. “Apparently they fill up super fast, though, so we have to get there right when they open for dinner, or else we’re out of luck.”

“Is this you subtly trying to pressure me to shower faster?” you say.

“It’s not subtle,” she says. You scoff.

“I hope you know I’ll take even longer now,” you say.

“You better not!” 

Snuffy is obviously confused when the two of them approach him — Aiku’s not sure if it’s the question that has their coach confounded, though, or if it’s the admittedly odd combination that’s approached him.

“You guys want a night out of the facility?” Snuffy checks.

“Yes,” Aiku says.

“And…you want Barou to come?” Snuffy says. That could be another reason for the incredulity — ‘Barou’ and ‘fun’ are two words rarely if ever seen in the same sentence, unless your name is Yoichi Isagi, in which case just being on the same field as Barou is your idea of ‘fun.�� For normal people — i.e. those with names such as Oliver Aiku and Ikki Niko — those concepts don’t generally align, however, so Aiku can’t blame Snuffy for the weird face he’s making.

“Yes,” Niko says.

Snuffy stares at them for a moment longer, and then, to make things even stranger, he chuckles in a way that’s almost fond.

“It’ll be good for him to get out of here for a bit,” he says. “You two are great teammates for thinking of him; I’m sure he’ll appreciate it one day, if not necessarily tonight. Go on, then, and have fun if you’d like.”

Aiku waits for the other shoe to drop, but Snuffy just returns to making a cup of coffee. It’s a little odd, given the later hour, but still, Aiku’s not one to count his blessings, so he motions for Niko to follow him, and with Snuffy’s official permission, the two of them march towards where Barou is probably doing his daily “fuck Yoichi Isagi” affirmations. They have that kind of weird relationship, after all. It’s unnecessarily complicated, but Aiku has observed during his time in Blue Lock that almost every single relationship between the members of the program follows such a mold. He’s given up on trying to figure any of it out, knowing it’s well beyond him.

“Are you ready?” Aiku says when they reached the closed door to the training room. Niko rolls his shoulders.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Niko says. Aiku decides he likes him, and that he should try to spend more time with the pipsqueak. Maybe he can be a mentor figure or a true role model for the younger player. He’d definitely do better at the job than, say, Aryu. Or Lorenzo, which is a more relevant concern, since apparently the two are cooking buddies, as per Niko’s marinara interlude during Barou’s earlier tantrum.

With a grim nod at Niko, Aiku swings open the door. Schooling his expression into a cheery grin, he calls out in a sing-song that really doesn’t spell anything but trouble:

“Oh, Barou!” 

You’ve made your best friend drive, since she’s the one who’s insisted on taking you out, which leaves you to play music and accomplish other such passenger-esque duties. You take full advantage of your freedom to be distracted, shuffling through playlists whenever you’re bored and scrolling through your best friend’s crush-of-the-week’s social media.

“He’s kind of ugly,” you say. She clicks her tongue.

“In a cute way, though, right?” she says. When you’re silent, she gasps. “Right?”

“Uh…” you trail off, zooming in on one of the photos. Something about him is reminiscent of a gerbil, and you can tell he’s short even before you swipe and see him in a photo with one of his friends, barely coming up to his shoulder. “There’s someone out there for everyone, I suppose.”

“That means you think he’s repulsive!” she accuses you.

“Repulsive’s a strong word,” you say. 

“Hideous?” she says.

“I can get behind that,” you say. “He reminds me of Tinkerbell.”

“Like the fairy, or our third grade teacher’s gerbil?” she says.

“The latter,” you say. “I’m glad you remembered her. That wouldn’t have been as funny if you didn’t.”

“I didn’t find it funny regardless,” she says, pulling into the parking lot and slowing the car to a crawl as she hunts for a space to pull in.

“Hm,” you say. “I did.”

“You know what? You’re not allowed to slander him until you find someone better for yourself. Girls in glass houses should not be throwing stones, and considering some of your exes, you’re in no position to talk,” she says.

“Low blow,” you say.

“No response? That’s what I thought,” she says. You scowl.

“Just park the car, you dumbass. 

“What the hell is going on?” Barou says, for probably the third or fourth time. Unfortunately, their attempt at kidnapping him didn’t go as planned, for neither Aiku nor Niko could lift Barou for any length of time, so now they were stuck with a supremely irritated striker following after them as they marched towards where the Blue Lock official parking was. 

Snuffy had given them the keys to his car, so at least they had a ride — if he weren’t such a good coach, Aiku would seriously question the man’s judgment. Niko ushers Barou into the backseat, claiming he already “called shotgun,” and then he dives into the passenger seat beside Aiku, fastening his seatbelt with a serious expression on his delicate face.

“We wanted to have a fun night out!” Aiku says, turning the child lock on so Barou can’t escape before reversing out of the garage.

“Huh?” Barou says. “There’s so many things wrong with that statement, I don’t even know where to begin. Also, why are we in Snuffy’s car?”

“He gave us the keys,” Niko says, like it’s obvious. In all fairness, it kind of is.

“He gave you two the keys,” Barou says. Aiku’s a responsible driver, so he doesn’t glance back at Barou, but he’s pretty sure that if he did, he’d be met with the kind of fearsome glare that made medieval-era peasants believe in the existence of creatures like trolls and dragons.

“Yes, he did,” Aiku says. “Told us to enjoy ourselves while we were at it.”

Barou sighs. “Say I believe that—”

“We’re telling the truth!” Aiku says.

“—uh-huh, sure. Anyways, where are we even going?” he says.

“Oh, I can answer that!” Niko says. “It’s this restaurant that my dad’s obsessed with. He’s been posting all over his Facebook about it. According to him, it’s the best value-for-money in the entire city.”

“At least you two are being frugal,” Barou says with a small ‘hmph.’ “How far is it?”

“Not too far,” Niko says. 

“Just sit back and relax, man! It’s a couple of friends going out for a meal. Totally normal!” Aiku says.

“Friends don’t kidnap one another to hang out,” Barou says.

“We didn���t kidnap you. Are you saying we’re friends, then?” Aiku says.

“I’m saying we’re not. You turned the child lock on, so that basically constitutes an abduction,” Barou says.

“I did that for Niko!” Aiku says, mentally patting himself on the back for the quick thinking.

“What? I’m fifteen, not five!” 

By the time your best friend finds somewhere to park, it’s already dark, and the spot is at the very edge of the lot, so then the two of you have to walk for another five minutes. She’s antsy by this point, but she does an admirable job of hiding it, only picking at her nails behind her back where she thinks you won’t see. 

“It’ll be alright,” you say as you reach the door to the restaurant. “I’m sure they’ll have space for two people, at least. Nowhere can be that busy, right?”

“I hope so,” she says, chewing on her lower lip.

You’re proven wrong almost as soon as you both walk into the establishment. Every single table has people sitting at it, and there’s a small crowd of people in the waiting area. Still, you and your best friend push past to where the hostess is standing. 

“Excuse me,” you say. “How long is the wait?”

“At least an hour,” the hostess says, her face wan.

“An hour?” your best friend says. “There’s nothing you can do?”

Of course, both of you know there isn’t, but it’s still disappointing when the hostess shakes her head regretfully.

“Would you like me to put your names down?” she says.

“Give us a minute,” you say. She nods, and you and your best friend walk a ways away. As soon as you’re out of the hostess’s earshot, you frown. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it would genuinely be this busy.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t expecting it either,” she says, exhaling heavily. “I would’ve been way more serious about being on time if I had.”

“What should we do now? I don’t mind waiting,” you say.

“It’s okay. I’m a little hungry, so we can go somewhere else and come back here another day,” she says.

“Are you sure?” you say.

“Yeah, I am. Let’s go,” she says. 

You’re heading towards the door when a robust voice stops you. At first, neither of you are sure if the speaker is referring to you, but when it becomes obvious he is, you turn around in confusion.

“Where are you guys going?” he says. It’s a man with dark hair and eyes like mismatched marbles, and he’s sitting at a table with two others. There’s a couple of empty seats, and he motions towards them. “We’ve been waiting for you two for forever!”

“Oh, you’re in their party?” the hostess says. You glance at your best friend, who mouths why not? at you, and then you smile at the hostess.

“Yes, we are,” you say.

“You should’ve said so from the start,” she says, shaking her head. “Right this way, please.”

You and your best friend follow after her, both of you more than a little lost at the turn of events, but who are you to turn down the offer? Sure, you don’t know any of the three, but at least this way you two didn’t drive out for no reason, and the restaurant’s crowded enough that if they have nefarious intentions, you should be able to get help relatively quickly.

As you sit down and the hostess offers you menus, you can’t help but glance at the three boys, wondering what exactly it is they want from you. Is this some elaborate scam? An effort to get you to pay for their dinner? You can’t tell. They’re unreadable, and all you can do is hope that the meal still goes as well as you had originally planned — otherwise, you’ll be really mad that you’re not at home instead. 

When Niko had first suggested calling ahead to make reservations, Aiku had privately considered him to be a nerd, and one of the idiotic variety, no less. A lethal combo. But outwardly he had nodded along and told him to go right ahead, mostly because it seemed like the kind of thing Barou would appreciate. Now, though, he’s glad that Niko had that kind of foresight, because the place is completely packed.

“Where’s the rest of your party?” the hostess says when they walk in and give her Barou’s name. Aiku doesn’t really know why Niko made reservations under Barou’s name, nor what the hostess means by the ‘rest of their party’, but she’s pretty, so he gives her a charming smile. She’s working now, so he can’t exactly push Barou towards her, but if he’s talking about himself…

She blushes and ducks her head, although the moment is ruined by Niko speaking up. 

“What do you mean, the rest of our party?” he says.

“You made a reservation for five, didn’t you?” she says, leading them to the table. Aiku exchanges looks with Barou, mostly because the two of them tower over the others, so it’s convenient, but Barou seems as confused as Aiku is. Both of them clearly heard Niko making the reservation for only three people, so how in the world had the hostess written down five?

“Uh,” Niko says, and then for some reason he’s turning towards Aiku for help? Aiku’s kind of distracted, though, both with celebrating the moment he just had with Barou and with discerning the color of lipstick the hostess is wearing (red or pink?), so when she directs her question to him, he admittedly panics a bit.

“Will the rest of them be arriving later?” she says.

“Yes,” Aiku says. Coral! That’s the shade he was looking for.

“No worries,” the hostess says. “Although you might want to tell them to hurry up, just in case.”

“Wait, what—?” Aiku begins, but she’s already dropping menus in front of them and racing off to take care of the next group of customers.

“You fucking donkey,” Barou said. “Who else is coming to this?”

“Nobody that I know of,” Niko says. “I only made a reservation for three. She must’ve gotten confused and written down five or something like that, but why’d you go along with it, Aiku?”

“Um,” Aiku says.

“What unparalleled eloquence,” Barou says. 

Aiku’s mind is racing. Firstly, he’s accidentally confused this poor hostess into expecting two more people, and secondly, how are he and Niko supposed to set Barou up with a girl in this kind of situation? The food may be great, but the ambiance isn’t exactly what they’re looking for.

Somehow, these two lines of thought get muddled into one solution, the catalyst of which is when he sees two girls heading towards the door, obviously disheartened by the long wait time for those idiots who didn’t make reservations.

Wait. If those two are girls, and two plus three is five, then Barou might just end this night no longer single!

Another quick recovery by Oliver Aiku. He’s getting better and better by the minute. 

“Hi,” the man who called you over says. “I’m Oliver Aiku.”

“Hi,” you say. The five-person table is a circle, and Aiku’s across from you; since it’s your fault that you’re sitting with these random guys instead of by yourselves, you squeeze between your best friend and the more intimidating-looking one, leaving her to be on the right side of the youngest boy in the group. “Y/N L/N.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says.

“Likewise,” you say.

“I’m Niko,” the younger boy says. He has dark hair falling into a heart-shaped face, and you can’t fully see his eyes, but you think they might be some shade of bluish green. Idly, you wonder how his vision isn’t horrible given how overgrown his bangs are, but he doesn’t seem to be having any problems, so you suppose he must have some kind of method around it. “And that’s Barou.”

“I can introduce myself,” the one at your side snaps. He’s by far the most handsome of the trio, although you’re sure your best friend would disagree — she has bad taste, though, so that’s irrelevant — with a regal face and sharp eyes. His dark hair is spiky and his eyes are a vivid crimson, narrowed with irritation while his mouth tugs into a perfect frown. “My name is Barou.”

“It’s a pleasure, Barou,” you say.

“Yeah,” he says. “Same here.”

More than being a pleasure, it’s a little tense, so you return to reading your menu, not knowing what else to say, hoping someone else says something soon and rescues you from the ensuing silence. 

This is bad. Almost as bad as Japan’s performance in the last U-20 World Cup, which occurred right before Aiku moved up and joined the team. Almost as bad as that stain Lorenzo’s marinara left on the carpet. It’s that level of catastrophic, because clearly, Barou will take a lot more encouragement than originally anticipated. Kicking Niko under the table, Aiku nods meaningfully at Barou, who is also reading his menu, sitting next to the girl who’s doing the same.

It’s the perfect opportunity for small talk. Occasionally, the girl will peek at him over the top of his menu, so she’s clearly not affronted by him — either that, or she’s deathly afraid that Barou will kill her and is making sure he doesn’t do that when she’s distracted. If the latter is the case, well, it’s not entirely unfounded.

Solving the conundrum which has presented itself is even more difficult than their game against PXG was. How is Aiku supposed to flirt with someone for Barou? She’ll just end up liking him, which is rather counterintuitive, given that the end goal is to get Barou a girlfriend. 

If only Barou weren’t so stubborn! Aiku’s put him in the perfect spot, but instead of just reaching out his hand and snatching the opportunity up with both metaphorical hands, he’s sitting there, utterly absorbed by the intricacies of the restaurant’s entrees, which Aiku surmises are no doubt fascinating to people with such sensibilities.

It’s the girl, Y/N, who breaks the silence again. Clearing her throat and setting the menu aside, her eyes dart around the table before settling on Aiku. A natural consequence, given his dashing looks and genial personality, but not the one they’re hoping for at the moment, not in the slightest.

“We don’t know you, right?” she says.

“I don’t think so,” Aiku says. Has he gone out with her before? He’s pretty sure he’d have remembered if he had, but you can never be careful these days.

“Then why’d you invite us to sit with you?” she says.

Aiku’s in desperate need of an assist, and there’s only one person who’ll reliably send him one. Besides, the kid owes him a favor, so he doesn’t even feel guilty when he makes a face at Niko, as if indicating that he should be the one to answer the query.

“It was Barou’s idea!” Niko says.

“Excuse me?” Barou says.

“What?” Aiku says. 

“Yeah, it was. He felt bad that you guys were going to leave without eating, and we accidentally booked a table for five instead of three, like we originally planned, so he told Aiku to stop you guys before you were gone,” Niko explains.

“Oh, that was very sweet of you!” Y/N says. “Thank you so much. We both really appreciate it.”

Under the table, Aiku gives Niko a thumbs-up. Niko returns the gesture in kind, though neither of them let their true emotions show on their faces, which must be carefully schooled into blankness so that nobody else catches on to their scheming. 

“You’re welcome,” Barou says before freezing as he realizes that he’s somehow fallen for Niko’s lie, despite being there to witness the truth of the events. “Wait, no, it wasn’t—”

“Barou’s super considerate,” Niko continues, cutting Barou’s correction off. Aiku could just about cry. Niko’s a natural-born talent! He could never have predicted the younger boy’s sheer skill at this kind of thing. “Do you watch soccer?”

“Not really,” Y/N says thoughtfully. “I’ve never understood it well enough to become an avid fan, and my father prefers baseball, so it’s not something my family is into. I think it’s really cool, though!”

“Barou plays,” Niko says.

“So do you guys,” Barou says.

“Yeah, but you’re sitting next to her,” Niko says. “And you’re the king, right? Who better than you to explain the sport?”

“She didn’t ask for that,” Barou says, glowering at Niko and Aiku alike. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t mind,” Y/N says, even going so far as to smile at Barou. With a final suspicious glare at the two of them, Barou begins to explain the rules of the game to her, and Aiku takes advantage of his distraction to high-five Niko.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers. “Where’d you learn this shit?”

“I watch a lot of anime,” Niko whispers back. “This is a classic set up for a twelve-episode romance that teaches the viewers about friendship, love, and what it means to grow up.”

“That’s not what I was expecting,” Aiku says after digesting this latest revelation, finding that it makes a surprising amount of sense. “But hey, whatever works!”

“Exactly,” Niko says. “Do you think it’s weird if I order chicken fingers from the children’s menu?”

“Order whatever you want, kid,” Aiku says. “You deserve it. I’ll even pay.”

“Yay!” Niko says. “Chicken fingers it is.”

Aiku doesn’t even mind treating him. If this is successful, then he’ll buy Niko all of the chicken fingers in the world in thanks. 

You’re more than a little grateful that Niko has given you something to talk to Barou about. Your best friend is busy texting her crush, the gerbil-looking one, who has apparently responded to her story, so you would’ve had to sit there in silence until she finished up or someone took pity on your helpless self. In this way, though, it’s much more natural, and even if it really was just an example of Niko feeling bad for you, it didn’t come across as such.

“You really scored a goal against the Japanese U-20 team?” you say after Barou has finished a long-winded explanation on the rules of soccer and some of the highlights of his career in the sport. In truth, you mostly tuned out the more technical details, but you have to admit that some of the things he’s mentioned about himself are rather interesting.

“Yes,” he says. 

“Wow,” you say. “You must be good, then.”

He shrugs in acknowledgement. “I’m good.”

It doesn’t feel like he’s bragging or anything like that. He’s just acknowledging an inevitable truth. He’s good. The way he says it, no one can deny it — not that you would’ve. Based on his build alone, you’d have expected him to have talent as an athlete; the things he’s mentioned have only been confirmation of that initial prediction, rather than blowing your mind in any significant way.

“Hi!” Your waitress’s arrival with a tray full of drinks cuts your conversation with Barou short, which you’re surprised to find you’re a little put-out by, at least until the grumble of your stomach reminds you of why you came to the restaurant in the first place. “Are you all ready to order?”

“I want the chicken fingers,” Niko says.

“The chicken fingers from the twelve and under menu? How old are you?” she says.

“Twelve,” Niko says. You frown, leaning closer to Barou in order to murmur in his ear.

“Is he actually?” 

Barou shakes his head ever so slightly. “No, but if that’s the only way he can get chicken fingers…”

“That’s a fair point,” you say. The waitress seems to share your doubts, but then Aiku flashes her a warm grin.

“My little brother’s heard so much about your entrees, and he can’t wait to try the, er, chicken fingers. Yes. The chicken fingers. He’s been talking about them all week,” he explains.

“Are they—?” you begin.

“They met like a month ago,” Barou says, rolling his eyes. “No relation whatsoever.”

“I see,” you say. You almost have to admire the lengths they’re willing to go to, as well as how natural they are with it. “Huh. I guess if it works, it works.”

“One order of chicken fingers, then!” the waitress says, jotting it down on her notepad, returning Aiku’s grin with her own. He has that kind of enviable charisma that lets him get away with a lot more than he should, and you’re more than a little jealous. “And the rest of you?”

You all give her your orders, and she promises she’ll be back quickly before running back to the kitchen. Once again, you’re left to your own devices, and given that your best friend is still texting that guy, you decide you’ll try and talk to the others at your table.

“Barou told me you guys are all in some program called Blue Lock together,” you say. “What’s that like? It sounded super intense.”

“It is,” Aiku scoffs. “I don’t even know if we’re supposed to be here at the moment.”

“We got permission from our coach,” Niko says. “But the guy who runs the program is kind of…what’s the word?”

“Freaky?” Aiku says.

“That works,” Niko says.

“I didn’t realize we were dining with rebels,” you say. 

“For the record, I was dragged into coming by those two,” Barou says.

“We didn’t actually drag him,” Aiku reassures you. “I mean, we tried, but he’s super heavy.”

“Too much training,” Niko says. “Barou, you should flex for Y/N — I mean, for everyone.”

“Hell no,” Barou says. “In public? Don’t be shameless.”

“So you’ll do it in private, then?” Aiku says. 

“That’s — that’s not what I meant!” Barou sputters. “I won’t do it at all!”

“Y/N, if you get a subscription to Blue Lock TV, then forget about asking Barou to flex. You can just watch him work out. He does it shirtless,” Aiku says. You choke on your water.

“What are you, some kind of salesman?” you say, coughing to dislodge the droplets of liquid scratching at your throat. “Was inviting us to sit with you a kindness or an advertisement?”

“Can’t it be both?” Aiku says.

“No, it cannot, you fucking donkey!” Barou says. “Please ignore him. I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“You do train without a shirt on, though,” Niko says. “Quite often. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, there’s a lot of shirtless content on Blue Lock TV…Chris Prince stripped at one point, I’m pretty sure, and more than one of the Bastard München boys have had locker room features. I guess PXG is the only team without any fan service, since Barcha has Lavinho as a coach, and we all know how he is.”

“Good for them. You gotta give credit where it’s due,” Aiku says. 

“Agreed,” Niko says. “Hey, Barou, didn’t you take your shirt off after scoring in the game against the U-20s, too? Is it like an established habit or something?”

“Enough about my shirt,” Barou says through gritted teeth.

“Or lack thereof,” Aiku adds. There’s a baleful aura emanating off of Barou, and he doesn’t even need to say anything before Aiku winces like he’s been cowed. “Sorry. The opportunity presented itself.”

“Both of you are on thin ice. First you abducted me, and now you’re going on about this dumbass subject? And that’s not to mention the sauce stain from earlier. I bet neither of you cleaned it up,” Barou says. 

Aiku and Niko both look like they have been caught committing some crime. Barou’s about to snap, it’s very obvious, but you find his friends’ antics to be so amusing that you hesitantly pat him on the shoulder.

“Ah, I think they’re just teasing you. It’s common amongst people who are close to one another! I always make fun of my best friend for her taste in men,” you say.

“And I make fun of yours right back,” your best friend says, not even looking up from her phone. You roll your eyes at this.

“See? It’s really alright,” you say. “At the least, if you’re upset because we’re here, then don’t be. Neither of us mind. I mean, she’s not even paying attention to us. Too busy texting that Meriones unguiculatus of a man she deems crush-worthy.”

“Fuck you,” your best friend says. She ordinarily would have no idea what Meriones unguiculatus means, but given the context, you’re sure she’s figured it out.

“Don’t be mad because I’m right,” you say. “Anyways, like I was saying, it’s all good.”

There’s a strained moment where none of you know what Barou will do, but then he nods, crossing his arms and sticking his nose in the air.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll let it slide, just this once. But the two of you better behave from now on, you got it?”

Aiku and Niko both seem to be so amazed that it’s a wonder they don’t salute at Barou’s barked-out order. Shaking your head and laughing, you decide it might be for the best if you try to talk to Barou yourself and leave his slightly problematic companions out of the conversation.

“So,” you say, to him and only him. “What’s the story behind the sauce stain?” 

“Holy shit,” Aiku says.

“I know,” Niko says.

“She’s a genius. A god. A fucking Barou whisperer,” he says.

“I know,” Niko says.

“What are the odds that we managed to find the exact girl that could put up with his bullshit?” Aiku says.

“Pretty high!” a new voice chimes in. It’s Y/N’s friend; she never introduced herself, and it doesn’t seem like she’s inclined to, but she inconspicuously slides her chair closer to where he and Niko are talking. “You guys are trying to set your friend up with Y/N, huh? Good luck. She only likes ugly dudes.”

“Barou’s…kind of ugly?” Niko tries. Aiku snorts.

“Let’s keep it honest here,” he says. “Anyways, what were you talking about earlier? Barou’s a nutcase. It’s, like, a miracle that Y/N’s managing to have a conversation with him.”

“Maybe he’s like that with you, but to me, he seems to be the type that’s totally respectful to women,” Y/N’s friend says, brandishing her index finger in the air as if she’s making a particularly salient point. “The bigger the muscles, the bigger the heart, isn’t that ”

“Is that a real saying?” Niko says.

“No, I just made it up,” Y/N’s friend says. “But it kind of fits in this instance, don’t you think?”

“You’re not wrong,” Aiku says. “But do you mean to say Barou would be this nice to any girl?”

“It’s not like I know him personally. Shouldn’t you be able to answer that better than me?” Y/N’s friend says.

“There aren’t any girls in Blue Lock,” Niko says. “This is the first time we’ve seen him interact with one, so we actually have no idea.”

“Ah,” she says. “That explains a lot. Anyways, yeah, if I had to guess, he would be.”

“Hm,” Aiku says. This throws a definite wrench in their plans — up until this point, he had been convinced that there were sparks flying between Y/N and Barou, mostly because he had never seen Barou so gentle and quick to calm down in his life. Yet, if Y/N’s friend is telling the truth, and he has no reason to think she isn’t, then this is actually just his true personality.

On the one hand, it’s comforting to know that Barou isn’t constantly on the verge of an aneurysm, and indeed can even be persuaded towards kindness in his day-to-day life. On the other, it doesn’t solve their problem, which is getting him to calm down when he’s interacting with his fellow Ubers teammates.

Aiku comes to a decision relatively quickly. It’s his experience as a captain which lends him that swiftness; on the field, split-second decisions are the only way to go. He’s good at taking information and rapidly synthesizing it to come up with workable solutions, and though this isn’t a soccer match, the stakes are almost just as high.

The facts of the situation are as follows: Y/N does not seem to mind talking to Barou, and given that they’ve been engaged in conversation almost this entire time, the inverse is also likely true. Furthermore, she’s proven able to persuade him not to freak out at himself and Niko when they were pushing his buttons, which is something no one has ever managed before and is somewhat the end goal of the outing. Of course, she apparently only likes ugly guys, and Barou’s far from ugly — as a fellow member of the non-ugly community, Aiku is confident in saying this — but things like that are subjective, so he decides he shouldn’t worry too much about that aspect.

Then there are the theories, namely Y/N’s best friend’s one about how any girl might have a similar effect on Barou. This could be true, or it could also not be, but Aiku only has one data point and a limited amount of time to work with, so despite the likely veracity, he has to set it aside as false for the time being. It’s not like there’s an endless supply of girls just hanging around for him to test out Barou’s reactions with, so in this moment, he’s deeming Y/N L/N as a special case, an outlier, and this can only lead to one conclusion:

Barou is totally into her. 

“Two younger sisters, really?” you say. While your best friend has been talking to Aiku and Niko in hushed tones, you’ve been preoccupied with Barou, who’s proven himself to be nothing like his first impression. You had expected him to be fussy and rude and intimidating, and while the latter adjective certainly still applies, he’s kind instead of spiteful and almost shy instead of brash.

“Yeah,” he says, and there’s a smile in his voice, although his face does not shift in the slightest. “They’re much smaller, so I look after them a lot — when I’m home, anyways. Obviously, I haven’t seen them since I’ve been at Blue Lock.”

“How sweet of you,” you say. “I bet your mother appreciates you a lot.”

“I try to help her whenever I can,” he says.

You’re about to internally swoon, but then you stop yourself. So what if he’s athletic, helps his mother, is tall, handsome, kind, muscular, and supposedly good with kids? That doesn’t mean anything. He probably has a girlfriend, anyways, given all of these positive attributes—

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you say, standing up. Your best friend looks over at you in concern, for she knows of your distaste for public restrooms, and then she, too, stands.

“Want me to come?” she says.

“Yes,” you say, striding off without further explanation. As soon as the two of you are far enough from the table, you give her a distressed look. “I need help.”

“What’s up?” she says.

“I think—”

“Are you into Barou?” she asks, cutting you off. You blink at her.

“How did you know?” you say.

“You’ve spent almost the entire time talking only to him. It’s a little obvious,” she says.

“Oh, no,” you say. “He’s definitely caught on, then!”

“It’s not a big deal. According to Aiku and Niko, he’s single, so that’s one thing you don’t have to worry about, and besides, if that’s the case, then he’s fair game, isn’t he? There’s nothing wrong with being interested in someone,” she says. 

“He’s single? How?” you say. “You’re telling me no one’s been interested in him yet? That’s impossible.”

“There is the whole ‘locked away in a facility with zero girls’ aspect to be considered…” she says.

“Well, that’s true,” you say, feeling dumb for having forgotten that. “Do you think he’s interested in me?”

“He’s been talking to you back, right? That’s a good sign, especially since he’s been ignoring his friends to do so,” she says. “There’s a decent chance. If anything, does he seem like the kind of guy that would be mean about rejecting you? You should just ask him for his number when we get back.”

“Me? Ask for his number?” you say.

“I’ve heard girls have high success rates when they approach guys that they’re into. What’s the worst that can happen? Either way, the three of them are heading back to some weird facility after tonight, so we can just leave and never see them again if it’s awkward,” she says.

You mull this over. Nothing she’s saying is wrong, and anyways, it’s been a while since you dated someone. Besides, you’ll probably not meet someone like Barou again for a long, long time, and when you really think about it, you’d rather live with a rejection than a what-if scenario floating around in your mind for the rest of your life.

“Alright,” you say. “I’ll do it, but that means you have to dump the gerbil dude and move on.”

“Did that earlier. I couldn’t stop thinking of Tinkerbell the gerbil whenever I saw his profile picture; it totally killed the mood. Thanks a lot,” she says.

“It’s my pleasure,” you say. “Now, let’s go back. I have a number to get!”

“Um, hold on,” she says. “I do actually have to pee, and the bathroom doesn’t seem too dirty.”

You sigh, because now that you’re this pumped up, you don’t want to delay any longer, but you’re not about to abandon her, so you nod towards the door.

“I’ll wait here, then. Be quick!” 

“Well, well, well,” Aiku says. “Who would’ve thought we’d get to see the day?”

“What are you talking about?” Barou says when he notices that both Aiku and Niko are looking at him.

“What aren’t we talking about?” Aiku says. 

“It’s Y/N,” Niko says, defusing the volatile atmosphere rather efficiently. Aiku hands him a French fry off of his plate as a form of praise; accepting it happily, Niko chews and swallows before continuing. “You like her, right?”

“What? No,” Barou says quickly — too quickly, which means the answer is the opposite of what he’s just said. Aiku steeples his fingers together, because he couldn’t have imagined things going any better, and he feels like he’s entitled to a villainous pose or two every now and again. 

“You’ve been talking to her the entire time we’ve been eating, and you didn’t yell at her when she told you to calm down,” Aiku says.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Barou says.

“I guess it’s for the better,” Niko says. “Her friend told us she has a boyfriend.”

Aiku’s about to reprimand him for making things up, but before he can, he sees out of the corner of his eye that the tips of Barou’s ears have turned a surprisingly light and rosy pink, and then he can only shake his head in amazement. Niko’s really fucking good at this. Aiku almost wonders if he should ask the kid for anime recommendations or something.

“Really?” Barou says. 

“Really,” Niko says.

“That’s — I mean, it’s none of my business, so why are you telling me?” Barou says.

“You’re awfully upset if that’s the case,” Aiku points out.

“I’m not upset!” Barou says. “Just…I wasn’t expecting her not to be single, that’s all.”

“Expecting, or hoping?” Aiku says. Barou glares at him but does not respond, which tells Aiku all he needs to know. “It’s okay for you to have a crush on her. She seems nice enough.”

“Yeah,” Niko says. “If you guys get along, then there’s no harm in just asking her out. We’re going back to Blue Lock after dinner anyways, so it’s not like you’ll see her in the future if you don’t want to. Can you live with yourself if you don’t give it a shot?”

“Aren’t you a king?” Aiku urges. “What kind of king doesn’t put his best foot forward at all times?”

“The kind of king that respects other people’s relationships, you chewed up wad of spearmint gum,” Barou says.

“Oh, I was just making that up,” Niko says. “I wanted to see how you’d react. She’s definitely single.”

“You—!”

Aiku and Niko are saved from another one of Barou’s tirades by the arrival of Y/N and her friend. With a final malevolent sneer, Barou continues to talk to Y/N, who seems eager to pick up where they left off. Aiku high-fives Niko under the table.

“You’re a genius, buddy,” he says.

“Does this mean you’ll buy me dessert, too?” Niko says.

“If you’ll share with me, then sure.”

“Deal.” 

“When should I ask him for his number? It’ll be awkward if I do it in front of everyone, I think,” you say.

“Why would it be awkward?” she says. “I’m not about to judge you. I already know you’re going to do it.”

“I was talking about Aiku and Niko,” you say, though you’re specifically referring to Aiku — there’s a sense of naïveté to Niko, so the thought of being so bold in front of him doesn’t make you squeamish, but it’s a difference case with his counterpart. Oliver Aiku has a sort of suaveness to him that makes you feel as though he’s not been rejected once in his life, and that’s more than a little terrifying. What might such a master say about your feeble attempts at flirting? You don’t want to imagine it. The mere beginnings of the thought are preemptively giving you hives, so having the thought fully formed, or heaven forbid the actual event occurring…you shudder at the plethora of side effects you’ll no doubt undergo.

“That’s fair,” she says. “I can distract them, if you want. While we’re getting dessert, I’ll tell Aiku I’m having car trouble and ask if he can take a look. He seems like the kind of guy that would fall for that. I don’t know what to do about Niko, though…”

“He’ll probably go with Aiku, but even if he doesn’t, I think it’ll be fine if it’s just him there,” you say. “He’s pretty harmless.”

“You better not wimp out, then! If I have to embarrass myself by pretending to know nothing about cars, then the least you can do is actually ask for his number,” she says.

“I’ll do it!” you say. She obviously doesn’t believe you, so you pout. “Promise I will.”

“Fine,” she says. 

“Fine,” you say.

“Fine!” she says again. “Just give me a second before we go back, then. I need to think of what kinds of issues my car will be having…” 

“Hey, Aiku,” Y/N’s friend says. The entire table falls silent, including Aiku himself — he’s more than a little confused about what she could want with him. After all, he’s not done anything that would seem like he’s trying to pursue her, so there’s no reason for her to believe he’s interested, and it’s not like they’re close enough for her to be talking to him in specific.

“What’s up?” he says.

“My car is making a weird sound when it starts. I was going to wait to ask my dad when I got home, but if you know anything about cars, could you maybe…?” she says.

Aiku knows nothing about cars, and he’s about to tell her as much, but then Niko of all people is answering. He hasn’t heard the boy talk this much since they met, which means he’s really getting into this.

“Sure, we can both take a look while we wait for dessert to come,” he says. It’s suspicious, because if Aiku knows nothing about cars, then Niko’s understanding has to be in the negatives. The kid doesn’t even have his driver’s license yet, so how would he be of any help? Unless this is another skill he’s picked up from watching anime, in which case it seems like that’s another hobby Aiku needs to take up.

“Thanks,” Y/N’s friend says, clearly relieved. “Y/N, do you mind staying back so no one takes our table?”

“Barou, keep her company,” Niko says. “We don’t want them thinking we’re the dine-and-dash type.”

“It’s okay with me,” Y/N says before Barou can argue, which effectively shuts Barou up. Aiku’s beloved teammate only grunts in agreement, watching the trio out of the corner of his eyes as they scurry out of the restaurant and begin to wander about aimlessly in the parking lot.

“Can you, uh, describe this noise to me?” Aiku says. It’s not like that knowledge will really change much for him, but he thinks that it might be better if he at least pretends to put forth some effort into assisting the girl. After all, it’d be bad for business if he gets flamed as the rude, unhelpful type.

“Huh? Oh, I made that up,” she says.

“As I expected,” Niko says.

“What? Why would you do that?” Aiku says. Then he comes to a realization, and it’s like a bucket of ice water has been poured over his head. “Hold on just a second, I’m not the one looking for—”

“That was a great method of leaving Y/N and Barou alone,” Niko says, cutting Aiku off before he can continue to embarrass himself. “Now they can figure things out between themselves.”

“Right?” Y/N’s friend says. “There’s only so much they can do when we’re all sitting there.”

“Yeah, awesome idea,” Aiku says, relieved to hear that she’s on their side. Girls take their friends’ opinions seriously. If Y/N’s best friend approves of Barou, then that’s a plus in Barou’s favor, and given Barou’s uniqueness, he needs all of the pluses he can get.

“And just so you know, you’re not my type, so don’t take any of this in a weird way. I just want Y/N to be happy,” she continues.

“Duly noted,” Aiku says. 

“Sorry I wasn’t faster in cutting you off,” Niko whispers when Y/N’s friend pulls out her phone and begins to play on it again. Aiku shrugs.

“No worries. Nobody’s perfect,” he says. “Although, honestly? If this night ends up the way we want it to, then I’d say you’re pretty damn close regardless.” 

“I’m really sorry,” Barou says as soon as your best friend, Aiku, and Niko have exited the building. 

“For what?” you say. The crowd is dwindling, for the restaurant is nearing its closing time, but it’s still busy enough that you have to stay close to him in order to be able to hear what he’s saying. Or maybe that’s an excuse you’ve made for yourself; either way, he doesn’t pull back, so you remain in the comfortable space between you both.

“Aiku,” he says. “Also Niko, but mostly Aiku.”

“Why? He’s not done anything too horrible,” you say. “He’s pretty funny. And Niko seems like a nice boy.”

“They have this idea in their mind,” he says. “It’s totally stupid, but that’s why they’re acting like this. They’re not usually quite as idiotic.”

“What do you mean?” you say. You almost want to tell him to hurry up so you can ask for his number before the others come back and your best friend gets upset with you, but you’d rather listen to him talk, and anyways once you ask him for his number there’s a chance things will go wrong, so you want to soak in these last few seconds before that happens.

“I mean, you know,” he says, and then he’s turning a color you never would’ve expected from someone as reputedly tough as him. “Just that they think I like you.”

“Like me?” you say.

“Yeah,” he says. “Like I’m into you or something.”

You had hoped for it, but not seriously considered it — although, the teasing and whatnot do make a little more sense now that he’s added this context to it. If Aiku and Niko think he might be into you…you know you shouldn’t be fanciful, that it’ll eventually lead to disappointment, but you want to. You really want to, so when you next speak it’s tentative but optimistic.

“If you are,” you begin, nervous more than anything, though you’re certain the only cure is getting this over with, “I am, too. Into you, I mean.”

Barou’s lips are still parted as if he’s about to say something, but no words escape him. He just sits there and stares at you, as if you’ve said something profound or shocking or both. Probably both. You giggle, shifting in your seat and adjusting your position, because seeing him like this is endearing as much as it is uncomfortable.

“If you’re not, it’s alright, but my friend told me I should ask you for your number or something, so I don’t have any regrets when we leave,” you say. “She’s right, too. I’d have felt horrible forever if I never said anything.”

He’s still silent. You question if you’ve somehow caused him to malfunction, so you nudge his foot with your own under the table. This does nothing to break him out of his daze, and then you realize he’s probably trying to figure out how to best reject you, so you sigh.

“It’s okay to say no. There’s no expectation on my part. I just wanted to get it out there,” you say.

“No!” he says.

“Well, I mean, you didn’t have to be exuberant about it,” you mutter to yourself before smiling. “That’s okay, though! Thank you for listening and talking to me—”

“I mean, yes. No. I don’t know which question I’m supposed to be answering!” he says. “I do like you. That’s what I’m trying to say, but you just said so many things that I didn’t know what to respond to.”

“You like me?” you say. You had never in your wildest fantasies imagined someone like Barou being into you. It was the kind of thing that just didn’t happen, and yet, somehow, it had. Barou liked you. 

“I guess so,” he says. “That’s how Aiku would phrase it, I think. I enjoy talking to you, and you have nice table manners. You kept your hands and surroundings clean, and you didn’t spill anything, which is more than can be said about a lot of people. I really appreciate that kind of trait in a person.”

“Uh, thanks?” you say, because you’ve not really been complimented on your table manners before, but it’s kind of sweet. “Yeah, thanks. I’d compliment you back, but there’s so many things to say that I wouldn’t know where to start…”

“How about with your phone number?” he says. You’re pretty sure that that’s uncharacteristically bold of him, because his eyes widen as soon as he comprehends what he’s said, but he doesn’t take it back. Instead, he waits, his hands folded carefully in his lap as he watches you, probably wondering what you’ll say in response to the request.

Smiling at him, you pull out your phone and open your hand, waiting for him to give you his. 

“You got her number?” Aiku says as they’re driving home. Niko’s in the backseat this time, mostly because he offhandedly mentioned feeling nauseous after eating and Aiku has no interest in getting vomit all over him. “Way to go, man.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Barou says, gazing out of the window mysteriously. “I can’t exactly take her on dates or anything while I’m stuck in Blue Lock.”

“If you get Snuffy’s permission, you could,” Aiku says.

“We probably shouldn’t abuse that,” Niko says. “Otherwise, Ego will come up with some insane punishment for all of us. The guy’s a super-freak. I’m sure he’s got some crazy stuff stored away.”

“Very true,” Aiku says. “Don’t worry too much, though, Barou. If she’s the one, she won’t mind waiting.”

“How can I know if she’s the one when we’ve only met once? You’re delusional,” Barou says.

“It’s pretty simple,” Aiku says. “Do you want her to be?”

The moonlight hits Barou in a particularly elegant way at that moment. Aiku’s suddenly not surprised that Niko’s anime intelligence worked so well — Barou seems straight out of a girlish romance novel or TV show or something along those lines just then.

“Yeah,” he says. “I do.”

“Then that’s that!” Aiku says, pulling into the garage and putting Snuffy’s car in park. “Trust me, there was major chemistry there, so I’m sure she’s of the same opinion.”

“It’ll work out,” Niko agrees. He’s clearly feeling much better now that they’re not in the car, his steps light and bouncy, his lips curving upwards at the corners. “You’re a great guy, Barou. We were talking about it earlier.”

Barou scoffs. “Of course I am.”

“Classic Barou,” Aiku says, throwing his arm around Barou’s shoulder. “So humble.”

“Get off of me,” Barou grumbles, shoving Aiku away, though there’s a marked gentleness to it that tells Aiku their plan worked. He’s excited to see the long-term effects — if only one dinner with Y/N was enough for Barou to relax this much, then the duration of their relationship might be akin to a vacation for the rest of the Ubers.

That night, Aiku and Niko are brushing their teeth in the bathrooms together, since nobody else is up and there’s a certain camaraderie built between them after their adventure.

“We did good today, Niko,” Aiku says after spitting his toothpaste into the sink. 

“Agreed,” Niko says.

The door slams open right after he does, which is horribly ironic timing, because it reveals a furious Barou. He’s already enormous, but his fury causes him to swell until his proportions are vaguely Hulk-like and entirely terrifying. Both Aiku and Niko glance at him in confusion, because he should have no reason to be upset, and then, right before he can start yelling, it hits them like a truck.

“Hey, you donkeys,” Barou hisses. “Did you think you could distract me by taking me to dinner? That stain is still there. Can neither of you do anything for yourselves? I’m going to kill you both, mark my words!”

Aiku groans. Niko face-palms.

Fuck. 

[inmyheaddd]

alone with you, does that makes sense? - ravi singh x reader

a/n: woohoo new ravi fic my bf 💖💖 wc: 1k masterlist

you stumbled into the dimly lit kitchen in the middle of the night. rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you reached for a glass and began to fill it up as you hummed to yourself. the only thing on your mind was your bed, and how dry your mouth felt. 

as you sipped on your water, the doorbell rang. 

you frowned to yourself, wondering who would be outside in the dead of night while it was raining. 

you set down your glass and hesitantly walked to the door, and another knock came, more urgent this time. you cracked the door open only to see your boyfriend, with droplets of rain on his jumper and wet hair. 

“ravi?” the sleep left your body in an instant, “what the… are you mental?” you said as you opened the door wider, partially sighing in relief as it was just him, not an axe murderer or something of the sort. 

“possibly.” he breathed out as he saw you, wiping a water droplet off his cheek.

“oh my gosh, get inside — it’s freezing!” you exclaimed as you ushered him inside. 

you crossed your arms over your chest, feeling the cold seeping through the fabric of your pajamas as he stepped in and took off his shoes. 

“what are you doing here? it’s the middle of the night.” to say you were beyond confused was an understatement.

“i couldn’t sleep.” he shrugged, like that answered your question perfectly.

“so you just came to my house?” 

“yes?…” he paused, taking in your confused and honestly unimpressed look. ”well, i did call you multiple times — and i texted! so i didn’t just come to your house.”

you sighed, knowing your phone was almost always on do not disturb. “i…” you paused, eyeing his figure as he ran a hand through his soaked hair. “well… do you need anything? i can make you tea if you’d like?” 

“i’m alright, thankyou.” a grin found his face, and he slightly lolled his head to the side. “would it be too cheesy to say i just need you?” 

your cheeks flushed, “yes. it would be.”

“perfect.“ he flashed you a toothy grin, “i just ne-“ 

“stop it,” you cut him off with a sleepy laugh, your voice still tired, “you’re so unbelievable.”

“and you’re way too welcoming.” he said as he took a step closer. “do you treat everyone this nicely, or am i just special?” 

you snorted, “you’re definitely special in the head, i’ll tell you that much.” 

he seemed to have gotten his answer from the way your cheeks flushed even more as he got closer, “alright, fair.” he sent you a boyish grin, “i’ll take it.” 

you laughed before hitting his shoulder and said, “let’s go to my room, let me just get my water.”

you heard him mutter something along the lines of, “wow, take me out to dinner first.”

shaking your head with a smile, you grabbed your glass and then he followed you up the stairs.

—

once inside your room, you tossed him a towel from your dresser. “here, dry off before you catch a cold.”

he accepted the towel with a smirk. “are you going to tuck me in, too?”

you rolled your eyes, but it was impossible for you to wipe the smile off your face. “only if you behave.”

he dried his hair, making it stand up messily before he ran his fingers through it. it somehow just made him look even more endearing. “i always behave,” he said, though his smile told you otherwise.

“sure you do.” you replied, pulling the covers back on your bed and climbing in. “now, get in here before you freeze to death.”

“yes, ma’am,” he teased, but there was a softness in his eyes as he joined you under the blankets.

the warmth of his body next to yours was comforting, and you couldn’t help but snuggle closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “better?”

“much better,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around you. “listen,” he hesitated, “im sorry for showing up so randomly, i had a bad day and just…” he trailed off, trying to find the right way to put it, “i wasn’t lying when i said just needed you.”

you tilted your head to look up at him, your heart swelling at the tenderness in his gaze. your brows furrowed and your chest felt constricted at the thought of him being anything other than happy. 

“ravi, i’m here for you, always.” you moved to press a gentle kiss on his lips, and his hand came up to caress your cheek. 

when you pulled back, you lay your head back on his chest. “i’m really sorry your day was horrible.” you mumbled. 

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” his tone was a lot softer now, more vulnerable. “i mean, i have my ridiculously amazing girlfriend in my arms now, i couldn’t ask for anything more.”

you lifted your head again, amused at his ability to slip back into his wits so easily. “you’re really something, you know that?” 

he chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “yeah, something special in the head, right?”

“yes,” you laughed quietly, “but not only that. i mean, you’re sort of ridiculously amazing too.”

he gasped dramatically, feigning shock, “was that a compliment i heard?” 

“i take it back.” 

“so it was a compliment.” it was almost impossible for his smile to get any wider, “don’t get all soft on me now, love.” he patted your head, but there wasn’t a single bone in your body that felt the need to make a snappy retort back.

“sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.” you said as you snuggled in closer to his side. 

“but you help me sleep at night.”

you raised your eyebrows, even though he couldn’t see it. “then why aren’t you sleep?”

when he didn’t respond, you lifted your head up to find him closing his eyes, with his lips twitching as he tried to bite back a laugh. 

“you’re such an idiot.” you muttered under your breath with a laugh as you put your head back down, and ravi wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you in closer.

you smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the blankets.

you could hear his steady heartbeat as your breaths started to even out, and he traced silent “i love you”s and hearts on your skin, which had you almost asleep within minutes.

“i love you too,” you mumbled into his chest without thinking twice, and sleep washed over you before you could feel the kiss ravi pressed on the top of your head.

soon enough, the rain pattering on the window and soft breaths the only sounds that could be heard.

taglist: @wish-i-were-heather @sweetlikeanangel @anintellectualintellectual @tornqdowarnings @sweetreveriee

@sheisntyou @emelia07 @midiosaamor @thesuitelifeofbrook @sheisntyou

special mention @talksosweet this is especially for u 😋😋

[fairyhaos]

How To Fucking Write: a guide by fairyhaos

[masterlist]

this post details:

DIALOGUING INTERESTINGLY

hi gays and gals! the first post on starting and pacing a story did really well, so "how to fucking write" is back, with yet more advice and tips for everyone ^^ please feel free to let me know if there's something you want me talk about, because i'll be more than willing to see if i can help. also a reminder that i have a taglist for this series as well, and please reblog if you find this helpful :)

# - HOW TO DIALOGUE.

.. bullet point one : grammar

okay guys, as a native english speaker, i'll be the first to tell you that this language fucking sucks in terms of its grammar, but when it comes to dialogue, understanding how it works even to some extent will help you branch out and vary the way you write dialogue, which makes it so much more interesting.

with dialogue tags (said, asked, etc) if the punctuation mark in the dialogue is not a ! or ? then it should be a comma.

example : [junhui + castle]

as you can see in the first line, a comma is used rather than a full stop, because the sentence hasn't been finished yet. there's a dialogue tag, ('you correct'), that comes after it. and since the pronoun 'you' isn't a proper noun (i.e. a name) then it shouldn't be capitalised, because, again, the sentence hasn't been finished.

with action tags however, (he smiled, he stood up, etc) then it should be a full stop.

example : [i just made one up bc i don't use this a lot lmao]

"I disagree." He stood up, and walked over to close the door. "This isn't safe. You shouldn't go alone."

and now, since there is a full stop, it indicates that the speech is a sentence all by itself. that means the next word ('He') ought to be capitalised.

but the key part when grammar-ing dialogue in order to make it interesting depends on where you put the action and grammar tags.

if you constantly have lines that are just:

"dialogue," he said.

"dialogue," she said.

"dialogue but a bit longer," he said.

... then it can get repetitive, and annoying. by varying your dialogue structure, it can create more interesting dialogue.

example : [minghao + password]

there's a variety of dialogue and action tags being used with each line of dialogue, preventing everything from sounding too repetitive.

the first line starts with a normal sentence, and an action tag. the second is a standalone line of dialogue with no tags. the second has the action tag in the middle of the dialogue. and the last has a dialogue tag in the middle of the dialogue.

by varying the ways in which you write your dialogue, it makes everything a lot more interesting.

.. bullet point two : verbs and adverbs

the easiest way to make dialogue interesting, though, is to use fancy words.

this can be by replacing 'said' with a range of other dialogue tags (see this really comprehensive list for a whole variety of different words), but i'd advise against overusing these. 'said' is your friend! it's the invisible dialogue tag, helps your reader read through your dialogue in comfort, but of course, if you wanna add a nuanced way of describing the dialogue, then replacing 'said' is the easiest way to make your dialogue interesting.

but don't overuse these. for me, i'd focus on action tags and adverbs.

use interesting adverbs that add description to how a character is saying something can go miles. and using action tags that break through what could have been a long section of characters just talking? it helps so much.

i'd recommend having onelook thesaurus open as you write. you don't have to type in just words: phrases, the overall vibes of the word you're thinking of, all of that can be typed into the thesaurus and they'll provide you with pretty good results each time.

it also really helps when you've forgotten a word and can only remember vague bits of what the word should feel like.

.. bullet point three : voices

the best way, however, is ultimately to create a character. write a personality for them, bring them to life, think about the way in which they would talk and then put that down onto paper.

it's difficult, perhaps the most difficult to do, because it's also so tricky to advise someone on how to do this. it's all about the character you want to create, the personality you envision for them, and the only person who can fully write that is you.

however, i would find a few 'ticks' of theirs and use them as indicators in your writing.

for example, in my seoksoo long fic, seokmin's tick is that he always "chirps" what he's saying. and beams. a lot. this identifies his character, makes him unique(ish), and establishes his personality and differs him to the other characters.

but ultimately, it comes down to word choices, when you're writing a character voice.

like, your character describing something with elegant, floral language vs them going "this is so pretty". or perhaps making them stumble over their words when they're panicked vs them simply just going silent when they're flustered.

it's about being specific. about making choices with your words that would have english teachers analyse and unpick your writing, hundreds of years later.

(even if it's fanfic. especially if it's fanfic: because who knows how many fans may join your fandom in the next few years?)

... and that's it ! if anyone has anything else they want advice on (how to structure, how to write dialogue, how to plan etc) then just shoot me an ask, because i'd love to help however i can :)

tagging (comment/send ask to be added!): @selenicives @stqrrgirle @weird-bookworm @eternalgyu @blue-jisungs (tough luck guys btw but youre gonna be tagged in this entire series ehehehe)

[bapple117]

Velvette Slang Masterlist: for the fandom

A gift from a humble Brit to anyone (not from the UK) wanting to write Velv convincingly ~

Hello you wayward sinner!

Are you looking to write Velvette into a fan fiction, comic, roleplay or something else? Would you like to make her sound legit but you have no idea about British (or indeed, South London) slang? FEAR NOT! I, Bapple, am here to hold your hand and guide you through the wonderful world of British slang so you can have fun making Velv sound legit. Let's proceed!

Not all of this will be limited to the UK, of course, and it's not an exhaustive list of ALL British slang either - it's just the kind of things Velv WOULD say as someone from South London.

Insults

For men: bastard, prick, wanker, knob, dickhead, wankstain, bellend, git, tosser, sod, cock, pillock, numpty, codger (means old man)

For women: bint, bitch, slag, wench, slut, tart, trollop, scrub

For anyone: arsehole, arse, twat, sket, muppet, minger (means ugly), bugger, gobshite, cretin

The absolute worst thing you can call someone else is cunt - this is very strong and isn't used in casual conversation, unless you are in VERY informal company, in which case it's thrown around like it's nothing at all. (Come here you cheeky cunt - playful)

Terms of Endearment

Babes, hun, luv, darlin', sweetheart, mate, sweetie, mucker, pal, blud, fam, dear, dearie, honey

Eg: "Alright babes? How's it going darlin?'"

British people often use insults affectionately, too, especially with close friends as a way to tease / banter. (You silly sod, you useless prick, you cheeky git, you daft muppet, etc)

Slang Words

Drunk: trollied, smashed, pissed, wasted, legless, hammered, sloshed, battered, bladdered, merry, shitfaced, arseholed, plastered, lashed

Good: banging, well good, mint, the dogs bollocks, ace, blinding, cracking, brill, fab, neat, beast, fresh, hench, jokes (that's jokes innit), lush, peng (good looking), sick, wicked, peak, wavy

Bad: grim, naff, shite, shit, crap, tat (useless old tat), minging, rank, dry, nasty, humming (means gross)

Pleased: chuffed, buzzing, tickled pink, sorted (I'm sorted mate)

Annoyed: gutted, miffed, pissed off, fucked off, fuming, raging, ticked off, well annoyed, bovvered (used more sarcastically eg: I aint bovvered), vexed

Curses

Bollocks, fucking hell, bloody hell, bugger, piss off, any of the insults used above

Other random words

Bare = a lot of (eg bare money)

Chirpsing, grafting = flirting

Garms = clothes

Lips = kiss (are you tryna lips me?)

Peng ting = good looking person / high quality thing

Standard = of course, yeah no duh (Yeah that's standard mate.)

Tight = cheapskate (Don't be so bloody tight!)

Yard = your house (Come over to my yard)

Banter = conversation that's funny, casual, playful (S'just banter innit)

Convo, chinwag, chat = conversation

Defo = short for definite (Oh he's defo up to something)

Other random phrases

Are you taking the mick? = are you mocking me?

Stop faffing around = be serious and stop messing about

That's mad = wow, I can't believe what you just said or that's amazing

Allow it = just leave it, it's no big deal (Whatever mate, allow it)

Other helpful pointers

When British people (who talk like Velv) swear angrily we do so many times in a whole sentence and add a lot of qualifiers, eg:

"Fuck off you fucking prick, you absolute fucking useless arsehole!"

"Don't piss me off babes or I'll fucking end your shitty little life!"

Making a crude observation about something nearly always a curse in-front of it, eg:

"That's fucking rank."

"It was fucking buzzing mate!"

The Magical Use of Innit:

Innit is a wonderful word that can be used everywhere, especially for someone from South London. It basically means "isn't it?" but it has MANY uses. It can be used to mean an agreement, like "I know right?"

"That was well good innit"

"He's a right twat" - response: "INNIT!"

"It's fuckin grim in here" - "Innit mate"

Adding "well" to words

That was well good - that was well bad - that was well grim

(You get the idea)

That's about it for now!

If I think of anything else I will edit this masterlist and if anyone has any questions please feel free to pop them in my inbox. Happy writing!

[hair-dice]

Do you think the stars are visible? Being stuck in the belly of AM, it is not, but outside? Above?

Do you think that if you were to frantically crawl your way through shredded metal, slicing your skin through to the bone, pushing against the cables restraining you back, you might get a glimpse?

The machine fights against you, pushing plates into your body that roughly saw into you-- they were too dull to cut smoothly. It wasn't a trap this time. It was an oversight. You feel yourself begin to be constricted, a sheet of rusted metal quickly slamming itself into your shoulder, snapping the clavicle like a twig.

It hurts. It hurts, you cried internally. But your opposite hand that reached far above you, blood pooling down the mangled limb into your face, touches something of a different texture. And above it, you feel nothing more.

You grip and pull. Pull as hard as your atrophied muscles could, like you were born for nothing more. The plate wedged in your shoulder pushes back, slicing further down your side with great resistance. It hurts. You've felt it before. You pull harder and harder, suddenly finding the intensity of the force restraining you lessened. This was a trap, but you didn't care.

You pull, and pull debris into your eyes. You keep them open. You pull more, feeling the plate make its way down to meet your ribcage. You pull. You pull. You pull more into your face, digging and digging with digits that you knew would never be able to perform fine movements again after this stunt. You pull. There's a hole. It's about as wide as your fist.

Through it, you can see nothing but darkness.

[tang3r1n]

cute idea but hero!chizome grappling with a hopeless crush on all might’s daughter figure (jus a chick he took under his wing izuku style)

like UGH. he’s such an old-school gentleman FUCK. he sends flower bouquets with your favorite flowers and like a 4 page letter with the most beautiful and eloquent language used to talk about how in love he is, and he talks like he’s fucking dying. exhibit a;

“i would lay myself at your alter, goddess, my insides laid out for your tasting, your pleasure— please eat of my flesh, consume me whole and let me feel accomplished as a simple, filling meal for you.

oh i beg of you, let my soul forever intertwine with yours, let me feels the silk of your skin, the heat of your breathe, plunge your hand into my heart and cherish it. sink your teeth into my neck and devour me.

i yearn for you, lovely thing. warmly, obsessively, lovingly, carnally, i can only hope you pity my foolish desires— my insane ramblings of fanatic and desperate attempts to gain your affections. please, please by the grace of all that is just and fair, let me worship you. let me treat you as you want to be.

i pray to no god but that of your body, of your mind, of your soul. there is no religion outside of your teachings, my muse. your word is my law, my written oath, music in the grand hall, the rain, the air, the existence of love. i would sooner accept death and the failure of my life’s work than to even acknowledge the existence of beauty that shines brighter than yours.

i beg of you, let my lowly hands hold you, let my soiled and ugly form touch and feel you, let me court you, my fair woman.

let me love you.”

omfg and he’s so petty. randoms in the street and fellow heroes flirting with you? he’s sighing and scoffing dramatically before completing dissecting their speech patterns, body posture, heroing skills, physical appearance, literally anything he can to make them leave you two alone

i feel like he doesn’t care abt how he looks (i mean duh no nose.) but the second you mention liking muscles he’s suddenly finding excuses to flex and stretch around you non stop, he’s doubling up his workout routine and bulking like a MOTHER FUCKER to see if you’re staring yet.

AAAHHH idk i just love chizome and need him insanely badly.

[biteofcherry]

"You stole all the covers and got me cold, so it's only fair I steal your underwear and get warm inside you"

😳 wow, that's a hot line 🥵 daaamn

It's your friend's older brother, Bucky, with whom you're sharing a bed in a small mountain lodge (because your friend and her boyfriend selfishly took the other available bed, telling you that you and Bucky are mature adults who can simply share a bed without making it awkward).

Bucky's a mountain range guide and is taking care of your small group for free. He's very stern about safety and proper behavior on hiking trails, but also caring and answers all your curious questions about the area, flora, as well animals roaming the mountain range.

He's also very handsome and a little intimidating, even when he speaks in that soft, low tone.

So when he slowly slides your shorts down your legs, while pining you down to the mattress, you can only stare at him with wide eyes and increasing heart rate.

His thumb draws lazy circles on your clit while he compliments you - how sweet you are, how beautiful, how smart, You're a good girl, ain't you baby?

You're already a tad wet, but not wet enough not to feel the burn of his cock sliding inside you. Bucky's fast, clamping his hand over your mouth when you nearly scream. But the drag of his length inside of you is slow. He's cherishing every second of it.

[marvyu]

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ 𝒟𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬 ONE

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ﹙MASTERLIST.  𝓁inks.﹚

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ 𝓴eys: fluff (☁️), angst/mature themes ( 🌬️), smut ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ (🥛), (🌊) work in progress, (✨) finished

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ SEVENTEEN M.LIST

𝞋𝞎 𝒟rabbles

— CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

— HONG JISOO

— KIM MINGYU

— LEE SEOKMIN

— XU MINGHAO

— YOON JEONGHAN

𝞋𝞎 𝒪neshots

— CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

title; so what you're not my boyfriend? summary; your roommate ruins your date night and treats you with something better.

— HONG JISOO

— KIM MINGYU

— LEE SEOKMIN

— XU MINGHAO

‎title; he ain't hitting it like he supposed to hit it summary; at a party you find unexpected intimacy with Minghao making you question your current relationship and discover what you truly need.

— YOON JEONGHAN

𝞋𝞎 𝑅eactions

— CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

— HONG JISOO

— KIM MINGYU

— LEE SEOKMIN

— XU MINGHAO

— YOON JEONGHAN

— OT13

title; tiny hands, big hearts summary; seventeen members meet their mini-me's and melt into fatherhood for the first time.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

𝞋𝞎 𝑀ini series

— CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

— HONG JISOO

— KIM MINGYU

— LEE SEOKMIN

— XU MINGHAO

— YOON JEONGHAN

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎BTS JUNGKOOK M.LIST

𝞋𝞎 𝒟rabbles

𝞋𝞎 𝒪neshots

‎ title; midnight ink summary; a faded tattoo marks your heartbreak. desperate for a fresh start, you visit Jungkook, a trusted tattoo artist and secret confidant you secretly love.

𝞋𝞎 𝑅eactions

𝞋𝞎 𝑀ini series

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎EXTRAS M.LIST

𝞋𝞎 𝒟rabbles

𝞋𝞎 𝒪neshots

 

𝞋𝞎 𝑅eactions

my inbox is always open to talk with me about anything you like. if you have any questions feel free to ask. ♡

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ㅤ © marvyu 2k24 — please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms: i do not tolerate them at all.

[writing-rat]

Childhood Crush

Pairings: Pippa x Reader

Content: Pure fluff

Summary: You have had a crush on Pippa for years. You finally interact with her...

WC: 1154

You had known Pippa since she was 8. Well, she didn’t know you but you knew her. She was always hanging out with her friends and you never had the confidence to talk with her like that. You just admired from afar. You were happy enough with that… 

You were now 17 and doing your A-levels. You tried focusing in classes but couldn’t, especially when Pip was sitting in front of you. You always admired her from behind, writing down everything you could as quickly as possible. “Miss Y/N, Miss Fitz-Amobi, can we talk after class?” Mr award called as the bell rang. 

“Yea sir,” you spoke immediately, embarrassed. You thought you had been caught staring and would get in trouble.

“Of course,” Pip answered, smiling. Everyone soon exited the classroom, you packing up slowly as you wanted to delay. Pip was already at the front though, talking to him. You were soon there too, nerves hitting you like bricks. 

“What is your grade at?” Mr Ward asked. You immediately knew at that point it was about tutoring but with your crush.

“It’s a… 2 sir,” you answered. 

“Yours pip?” he asked though he already knew. 

“A 9!” She answered. “You want me to tutor Y/N?” she asked bluntly. 

“As smart as ever Pip. Yes, please. Are you ok with that?” he asked you.

“Yeah, of course,” you answered flustered. 

“You may go now,” he offered. Pip nodded and smiled as she left. “Go get her,” he stated to you once she was gone and you blushed. 

“What?” you asked.

“I assume you have bad grades because you admire her a lot since you don’t struggle in classes when she isn’t there,” he offered. You groaned. 

“I’ll see you later,” you spoke and left.

 

Pip was seemingly waiting outside for you, on her phone as she was furrowing her eyebrows. You stopped in your tracks, shocked. “Uhhh… new evidence?” you offered. “How’s your EPQ doing?” you added. Pip, in her own trance, jumped before she nodded. 

“It’s going well. I was hoping we could start today if that’s ok?” Pip offered. You nodded, still embarrassed Elliot knew of your crush.  She also didn’t say what the evidence was which was rightfully so. You could be a suspect for all you knew. 

“Where at and right now?” you asked. Pip nodded. 

“I was thinking my house? We can study in my room,” she offered. “I can drive you if you don’t have a car too,” she added. You were shocked but nodded. 

In the car, it was quite nice. You felt more relaxed there, Pip putting on her playlist as she hummed to herself. You, meanwhile, were gay panicking but didn’t say anything. She reached her place after 15 minutes and you both got out. “My room is the first door on the left,” she explained. You nodded as you walked inside, waiting for her as you didn’t know how to face her family without her. You could hear them inside the house. Pip was soon next to you. 

“As a warning, Josh can hear anything and everything now. He heard me swear once and got me in trouble,” she spoke, a soft smile on her face. 

“Ok, I’ll keep that in mind,” you chuckled, going inside with her. 

“Mom! Dad! Josh! I’m home,” she called out, the pittering pattering of paws running towards you, where a golden retriever jumped up onto Pip and knocked her down. 

“Welcome home, who is this?” her mom asked. 

“This is Y/N, I’m tutoring her now for history,” Pip explained, greeting the dog, who you heard was called Barney, 

“Hello ma’am,” you spoke politely. 

“Hello, and don’t call me ma’am. That makes me feel old, call me (her name,” she responded. “Honey, Victor is out shopping for dinner. Are you staying?” she informed Pip then asked you.

“Uhhh,” you responded before Pip replied for you.

“Yes,” she answered. “Now I’m gonna get on with tutoring,” she spoke, practically dragging you up the stairs as she was smiling. You could tell she loved her family a lot.

Once inside her room, you saw her hurriedly drop her clean underwear and bras into the wardrobe, embarrassed, and also flip the murder board around. “Nice room, I see you’re very dedicated to the case,” you spoke, smiling softly.

“Thank you, yes I am,” she spoke and sat down at her desk. She got a second chair out and offered it to you. “Should we start tutoring now?” she asked. You nodded, groaning as you hated studying. “It won’t be that bad!” Pip responded. You nodded and sat down, ready. 

Pip lied. It was hard, and it was that bad. She was a hard teacher but it was working. Also mainly because you admired her in class didn���t help hence the studying. You were smart after all. “I don’t see why you struggled that much if you got it just now,” Pip asked confused.

“I just… zone out in class,” you half lied. Yes, you did, but it was over Pip. 

“I see,” she responded. “Can I see your grade sheet?” she asked. You could see the cogs turning in her head. You couldn’t just say no though, so you did as told and got your grade sheet out for her. She saw the pattern, you knew from the look she gave it.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you immediately spoke, not wanting to hear the rejection. You had crushed on her for 10 years after all. She nodded, analysing the paper. You rushed out, feeling your heart beat faster than it ever had, even when you accidentally looked at Pip in the changing room that one time. After what felt like forever, there was a knock on the door. “It’s Pip. You know… it’s ok, right? No need to panic,” she offered support. You just whimpered in response, feeling tears. “What if I say I had my eye on you too?” she offered. You froze and suddenly opened the door. Pip, not expecting it, fell into the bathroom as she was lying on the floor. 

“Sorry,” you immediately apologised, going to help her up.

“It’s fine. That was a dumb place to lean against anyway I’ll admit,” she chuckled, letting you help her up. “I was saying the truth though. I saw you stare at me more time than you think and I could feel it. You intrigued me,” she spoke. 

“Why didn’t you talk to me?” you asked quietly, wondering if she was lying.

“Because I didn’t want to misinterpret it. I, Pippa Fitz-Amobi, am bad at reading feelings,” she answered. You were shocked. “So… want to talk more, see how it goes?” she offered shyly. You nodded.

“Yes please,” you answered.

“Then that is in order. Now dinner is ready, it’s tacos. Are you ok with that?” she asked. You nodded. 

You hoped it would work out…

[highschoolluver]

preview of a link x reader fanfic

𝝑𝝔 BOTW/TOTK link x isekai reader 𝝑𝝔

summary: You get isekai'd into the BOTW but something goes wrong lol.

content/trigger warnings: mentions of death, slight body horror, somewhat graphic, mentions of bodily fluids (such as blood), and slight mentions of gore.

word count: 636

Link had been dead for many hours before any of Hyrule had realized the gravity of the situation. The world laid there; it was seemingly unwilling to move as deep shades of vermillion swallowed the sky and the moon whole. 

It was never seen as a possibility nor an outcome that the hero could die. He laid in a halcyon slumber for 100 years, and when he awoke the sun had come twice and the birds sang euphonious praises honeyed with the ambitious and hopes of the world. The land offered its arms and bearings to the man with confidence he would return it to its original state. Strange fruit of his labor blossomed and bloomed with such conviction that everyone did not think to doubt him. The people, as if some strange dry land, soaked in his actions and began to grow crops once again. They had been needed for a future that everyone envisioned once the red devil was defeated. Now, they lay in the blood soaked fields and hold the bodies of the people that once tended to them with such delicacy and pride. 

The entire village fell into a deep slumber. The watchmen and elders were the only men left. The rest of them had all left a week prior when the fallen hero had first been spotted near Hyrule Castle. They left with such hope in their beings. Their conviction carried in their every step, it crawled onto their backs and weary faces, and it led them to their ruin. They would never return to the quaint village of Hateno. You will never see them again.

The only man you had ever truly befriended was Botrick. It had been roughly 2 years since you met Botrick. The two of you became acquainted on the outskirts of Hyrule field where he had found you near the river. His face, which now was mostly a forgotten memory, was scarred with the tale of survival. The boy could have been considered life itself had Hylia ever dared to attempt to contain such a force in a Hylian vessel. His way of being had been created on naive ideals and fueled with the sincerity of a kind heart. He had been a prideful man; However you had never doubted his will to protect others as his position as a watchman. Which is why, in this abandoned memory, you had never felt uneasy with him. Perhaps it had been the fact that a man had not taken care of you in such a long time, or perhaps it was the way he extended his burned hand and softened his gaze at you. He had held you all the way through, when you couldn’t say or think of anything because of the water  in your ears and the unyielding pain of your migraine, to the entrance of Hateno Village. His glasses reflected the sunlight seeping throughout the town as you set your eyes on him. He had remarked, in a voice you could no longer remember but could still imagine, that he could not see very well without his glasses. 

The scream had been accompanied by the small clatter of metal hitting the frozen ground. It was winter and the calamity was here, and the only people that would dare to be out in such a time were the watchmen. The strident noise echoed as the boy began to cough and gurgle on his own blood. Lizalfos notoriously aimed for the jugular, so much so that it often became common sense to cover one's throat when encountered with one. How silly you had felt when you realized what had happened. How disgustingly optimistic you were to think that a man like Botrick would be able to see an incoming sword to his person without his glasses.

The village awoke only when they heard the boy’s body being dragged throughout the meadow.

　AUTHORS NOTES ! ㅤ*̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙ㅤEssentially this is just the beginning of a fanfic that I've been writing bit by bit for over a year now. This isn't the entire fanfic but I feel that this is the only part of it that I actually feel okay with so that's what I'm posting haha. English is not my first language and because of that I feel that I've had some major difficulty writing this. I love the idea of a guide reader/ eventually joining the chain but I fear my writing skills aren't there yet. I'm honestly not sure what content warnings I should even use as this is my first ever fanfic ｡ﾟ( ﾟஇ‸இﾟ)ﾟ. Please let me know what you think and have a wonderful day tysmmm. ू♡ ࿔ ۪

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Series Synopsis: A series of (mostly) unrelated one shots, featuring Oliver Aiku somehow getting involved with the love lives of various Blue Lock characters — whether he wants to or not.

Chapter Synopsis: Oliver Aiku isn’t sure which entity he’s wronged to earn this kind of treatment, but somehow, in the days before the match against Blue Lock, he’s stuck watching over the team’s newest addition: Sae Itoshi, a rude midfielder who’d rather be in Spain (or in hell) than hanging out with him. Things get a little more complicated, though, when a cup of shitty coffee leads to a crush and Aiku is forced to intervene.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Sae x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 7.9k

Content Warnings: crack fic, sae my awkward goat, love at first sight, oliver aiku is such a bitch but he’s funny so it’s kind of okay, reader has to work in customer service 😓, this is really dumb please don’t judge my writing off of it, sae is 100% ooc don’t come at me i KNOWWW, split perspectives (it makes sense in the story), sae slander (from aiku), reader is a fan girl but she keeps it 𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖙, reader’s dad has cameos but he’s just chilling tbh

A/N: the people wanted sae’s version to be posted first so uhhh here we are!! LMAO it kind of got a bit long (as usual) but it’s very silly and goofy!! anyways so this is the first entry in “oliver aiku’s guide to getting girls” i hope you all stick around for the rest 🤩‼️

Oliver Aiku likes to think he’s a fairly nice guy. He visits his grandmother every weekend, he rescues kittens from gutters (okay, it only happened once, but he still did it, so it counts), and he’s good enough at being captain of the Japanese U-20s that none of his teammates really hate him, so all in all, he can’t be doing that bad of a job. Yeah, he’s pretty sure he’s a great person, a stand-up fellow, an upstanding member of society — so why the fuck is Sae Itoshi glaring at him like that?

“What?” he says, because it was fine for the first, say, twenty minutes or so, but now it’s gone from annoying to just plain concerning. “Something going on with you?”

Sae stares at him for a moment longer, and Aiku wonders if he’s trying to communicate via telepathy. That’s a skill he’s never picked up, though, so he can only wait for Sae to speak up, which, thankfully, he eventually does.

“This coffee is shit,” he says. The way he speaks is dull and blank, his lips pinched together and his brows low over his eyes. It’s kind of a shame, in Aiku’s highly professional opinion. He’d be handsome if he smiled more; or, if not handsome, at least approachable enough to not scare away every single girl that dared to even glance at him.

“It’s not my fault,” Aiku says. “Take it up with the barista or something.”

“You’re the one who brought me here, so it is your fault,” Sae says. Aiku crosses his arms, because isn’t Sae younger than him? This feels like a level of disrespect he shouldn’t tolerate, prodigy or not.

“Nuh-uh,” he says. In hindsight, it’s not the most mature response he could’ve come up with, and Sae seems to agree, snorting derisively before using a napkin to dab at a drip of coffee running down the side of his cup.

“What a captain,” he says with a sigh. “No wonder you guys need me to play for you against those Blue Lock idiots.”

Aiku should be offended, he really should be — and he is! He is, and he’s just about to muster up some scathing retort that’ll definitely leave Sae Itoshi trembling, but then Sae’s standing up with purpose, so now he’s just intrigued instead of insulted. He follows after him as Sae holds the coffee in one hand and marches towards the counter, and when he realizes what’s about to happen, he preemptively cringes.

“Don’t yell at service workers!” Aiku says. It would’ve been heroic if he had said it loud enough for Sae to hear him, but unfortunately, it’s more of a whisper than the brave shout he had intended for it to be, so he just looks kind of stupid, as if he regularly talks to himself or something.

“Hey,” Sae says to the boy at the counter. He’s young, probably no more than fifteen or sixteen, and Aiku prays that he’s not the target of Sae’s ire. “Who made this?”

The boy squints at Sae’s cup, reading the receipt, and then he smiles innocently. “That was Y/N. Did you want to talk to her?”

“Yes,” Sae says bluntly. Aiku is about to thank whichever deity was watching over him and that boy alike, but he pauses when the rest of the kid’s statement registers. Her? Her? Is Sae seriously about to yell at a girl for making bad coffee? If she’s hot, he’ll kill Sae, no doubt about it. “And tell her to make it quick. We don’t have all day, and she’s already wasted enough of our time.”

Yeah, he’s definitely going to kill him. 

“Y/N,” a voice whispers. You’re untying your apron — your shift is just about over, and you’re ready to clock out, but for some reason your young coworker is peering into the kitchen nervously and gesturing for you to come with him. Normally, you’d tell him to handle things himself, but he’s new, so you decide to be responsible for once and follow after him, muttering curses to yourself as you retie your apron.

“What’s the matter? Did you spill something?” you say. He shakes his head, raising his hand and pointing at the counter, where two customers are waiting. You frown, because you’re pretty sure you already gave them their drinks, so there’s no reason for them to be standing there, unless maybe they want to reorder. “Wait. Did you call me to take their order? No way! My shift is over in thirty seconds!”

“No, no, I didn’t,” your coworker says. “They want to talk to you.”

“Me? Like me, specifically?” you say. He nods.

“Yeah, they asked for you by name and everything,” he says earnestly. “I think they’re mad, though.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, because the last thing you want to do is deal with a couple of prissy customers, especially not when you’re supposed to be heading home already. However, your coworker seems to be on the verge of tears, and some kind of sisterly affection tugs at your heartstrings, so you pat him on the shoulder and take his spot at the counter.

“Hi, this is Y/N. My coworker told me you needed to see me. How can I help you?” you say. Your voice is chipper and your smile is false, but they don’t need to know that. You’ve been working at the coffee shop for long enough that you’re practiced at pretending, and you know for a fact that your coworker is standing shyly at your side, probably astonished by the quality of your performance.

For a moment, neither man speaks, so you get to stare at them and make your own assumptions about who they are and what their backstories might be. It’s kind of like a hobby, a pastime for when things are slow or you’re generally annoyed about your job. You’ve developed it over the years, and luckily, these two are prime candidates for the game.

The one on the left is tall and broad, with dark hair and mysterious eyes. Curiously, one is a bright green, while the other is a softer violet, and there’s a few-days-old stubble growing on his square face, like a shadow running along his jaw. It gives him a rough appearance, like he owns a motorcycle and frequently wears leather jackets, but you want to believe that he’s gentle at heart. Maybe he has a fondness for baby animals or he likes to bake cookies or something along those lines.

The one on the right is shorter than his counterpart, and his hair is red like a sunset, pushed carelessly out of his haughty face. He’s wearing a sweater that matches his eyes, though the teal of the knitted fabric is much more muted, and you’re about to come up with some kind of fantastical explanation for who he might be when you realize that you know him.

He clears his throat, and you scramble to stand up straighter, internally screaming, because what are the odds that you’ve somehow managed to piss off the star player of your favorite soccer club’s youth team? You wonder what your father will think of you now. You wonder what you think of yourself now. What should you do? Should you tell him you recognize him? Ask for an autograph? Or should you play it cool and pretend like you don’t know him? What if he yells at you?

Actually, you wouldn’t mind it as much as normally do. When everyday customers start screaming at you for some perceived wrong that you’ve supposedly committed, you typically tune them out, and then you make fun of them with your coworkers in the back, but if it’s Sae Itoshi…well. you’ll certainly listen to every word he says, and when you return to the kitchen, you’ll write them down somewhere so you can remember the moment forever.

“He didn’t like his drink,” he says, pointing at the dark haired man.

“What?” the man shrieks. The pitch is higher than you would’ve expected from someone of his size, but it appears he realizes that, too, because then he’s coughing. “I mean, what? What are you talking about?”

“You were just complaining, Aiku,” Sae says. “You even made me come up here and get mad at this girl for you.”

The other man, who you guess is named Aiku, is turning a strange shade between magenta and beet-red, and you’re surprised there isn’t steam coming out of his ears. Given that you don’t really care about him that much, you’re instantly irritated again, because why would it matter if he didn’t like his drink? Still, you have to keep up appearances.

“My apologies, sir. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” you say. 

“No!” Aiku says. “No, it’s — hey, Sae, you were the one who was all upset, so why are you putting it on me?”

“Hm?” Sae says, obviously uninterested in the conversation already. “I dunno. Maybe it happened like that, or maybe not.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, more than a little bewildered. “Ah, I’m new here, so I’m still learning.”

Aiku, who has returned to a more normal and human color, smiles at you kindly, and he’s about to respond, ostensibly to reassure you, but then your damned coworker pipes up: “No, she’s not.”

“Ah, sorry?” Aiku says.

“She’s not new,” your coworker says again.

“‘New’ is a subjective term,” you say mechanically, wishing that it was acceptable for you to turn around and hit him in public whenever you wanted.

“I don’t think anyone would consider you to be new when you’ve been working here for three years,” your coworker says. You can imagine the innocent, guileless expression on his face right now. You want to do something violent to it.

“Ha, ha,” you say. You think your eye might twitch, too, but if Aiku or Sae notice, then neither of them point it out. “What a knowledgeable fellow we have back here.”

“It’s alright,” Aiku says. “I didn’t mind the drink. Sae’s the one who threw a fit about it.”

“I liked it,” Sae says stubbornly. “It was fine.”

You step in before Aiku can turn magenta again, because that’s probably unhealthy for him, and you don’t want to be held liable for a customer dying on your watch when you’re not even being paid for it.

“Anyways, is that all? I’m actually done with my shift, so if you guys don’t need anything else…” you trail off, though inside you’re screaming something along the lines of Sae Itoshi, please notice me and give me your autograph and oh, if you could fall in love with me, too, that would be amazing!

Of course, you can’t verbalize anything like that, so you just smile and wave until the door slams shut behind them. Then you’re yanking your apron off and balling it up before chucking it at your coworker’s face. It hits him in the nose and slides to the ground; he gives you an offended look before picking it up.

“You’re lucky it was only an apron,” you say. “You owe me big time, you little shit.”

“Huh?” he says.

“I won’t forget this!” you warn him, stomping towards the small locker room, where your precious phone is waiting for you. “You’re a major-league jerk, okay? Don’t ever ask me to cover another shift for you again!”

“Huh?” 

“What the hell was that?” Aiku snaps as soon as they’ve left the cafe, because this is totally not what he was expecting when his coach told him that he had to treat Sae nicely and make him feel welcome. 

“What was what?” Sae says. He’s sipping on his coffee sedately now, even though he was complaining about it only minutes earlier.

“Since when was I the one who was upset about my coffee?” Aiku says.

“I have a bad memory,” Sae deadpans. “I guess it could’ve been either of us.”

“That was not believable in the slightest,” Aiku feels the need to inform him. Judging by Sae’s expression, it wasn’t meant to be believable, though, and Aiku sighs. “Seriously, what’s your deal? You were just going crazy and glaring at me because you thought the coffee sucked, and now you think it’s good?”

“I should’ve waited for it to cool,” Sae says. “It’s better now. I was being hasty.”

“Uh-huh,” Aiku says. “Sure. Let’s do something else tomorrow. I don’t ever want to go back there. I don’t think I can face that girl again. She was so hot, too, and now she probably thinks I’m some ungrateful asshole…”

“I want to go back,” Sae says immediately, throwing the now-empty cup into the nearest trash can. Aiku furrows his brow at him, trying to puzzle out this latest contradiction and finding himself utterly unable to. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Aiku repeats dubiously. Tomorrow he has practice, and technically so does Sae. However, they both know that Sae doesn’t need anything as ridiculous as practice in order to win against a team of eleven high-school forwards, and he’s fairly confident that his coach will tell him to accompany the bratty Itoshi instead of showing up, since the JFU is pulling out all of the stops if it means getting Sae to stay in Japan for good.

“Tomorrow,” Sae reaffirms.

I’m a nice guy, Aiku tries to remind himself. This is what nice guys do. I’m boosting team morale. Yeah. That’s all. Captain’s duties.

Still, as he chases after Sae, who apparently doesn’t know what the word ‘stroll’ means and prefers to do everything at a brisk pace more akin to a jog, he thinks that this entire ridiculous assignment feels more like a babysitter’s duties than anything. 

“Are you serious?” your father says. In the background, the TV is playing a game between Re Al and Barcha, which is rather fitting.

“Deadly,” you say, untying the laces of your sneakers and putting them with the rest of your shoes. “It was actually him.”

“Sae Itoshi,” he says, shaking his head. “He’s back from Spain?”

“Seems like it,” you say, though now that he mentions it, you’re as confused as he is. Why is Sae Itoshi here instead of Madrid? You glance at the TV — Barcha has just scored, and the cameras are sweeping through the crowds, showing the excited fans cheering — and wonder if maybe he was fired or something. You doubt that that’s what happened; after all, he’s a consistent player, and the last time he was in a match, he even managed to outmaneuver that freaky striker who plays for Bastard München, so it would make zero sense for Re Al to let him go. Besides, even if they did, you’re sure there’s dozens of clubs that would be willing to take him, so there must be another reason for his presence in Japan.

“Huh,” your father says. “Well. Good for him.” 

“I guess so,” you say. “If I ever see him again, I’ll ask him what he’s doing in town.”

Your father chuckles, taking a sip of his beer and giving you a thumbs up. “Yeah, you do that. Let me know what he says.”

You laugh, too, sitting down at the counter and eating a plate of reheated leftovers, because you know as well as your father that the idea of you ever seeing Sae Itoshi again is more than a little far-fetched. But it’s a nice thought, and anyways the chances are never zero, so for the moment, you allow yourself to imagine. 

Aiku is seriously questioning if Sae Itoshi was sent to this earth — or at least to this country — as some kind of punishment for him. He’s not really sure what’s done that would invite such cosmic retribution, but maybe it’s one of those…what did that girl call them? Karmic debts? She had said something about the sins of his past life and all, though he can’t recall the specifics.

Wait. That’s wrong. He just never learnt them in the first place, so how could he remember them in the first place? He had broken up with her before she could explain her theories to him. This prompts a wince from him, which is further fueled by the way his t-shirt sticks to his back with sweat. It’s a distinctively uncomfortable feeling, and he’s contemplating complaining, even though it probably won’t do much.

“Shut up,” Sae says.

“I didn’t say anything!” Aiku protests, more than a little spooked, since he actually had been about to say something before Sae had cut him off.

“I can see you making faces at me,” Sae says. Considering Sae is walking ahead of him and to the side, Aiku’s not quite sure how he could tell anything about what sorts of faces Aiku is making, but unfortunately, he’s uncannily correct as always, so Aiku schools his expression into a smooth, neutral one that won’t beget reprimand from his companion.

“I can’t believe you insisted on going here straight after practice,” he says.

“This is the same time we went yesterday,” Sae says. He’s kind of an insufferable smart-ass, Aiku thinks to himself, though he’d never say as much to Sae’s face. After all, unlike his counterpart, he’s considerate like that, and he always has been.

“So? We didn’t have practice yesterday,” Aiku says. “You couldn’t even let me shower?”

“You take forever in the showers,” Sae says. This is rich, for Sae is notoriously obsessive with his skincare, and of the entire team, he takes far and away the longest to get ready. But, then again, Aiku supposes that idiocy is one of those illnesses which spreads further and further until all of one’s perspectives are tainted with the virus.

“I could’ve been quick,” he says. “It would’ve been better if I could’ve at least rinsed off so I didn’t look so gross. I want to impress that Y/N girl if she’s there again today.”

“You’re not her type,” Sae says dismissively. “So why bother?”

“How do you know? Are the two of you childhood buddies or something?” Aiku says. Sae glances at him, and of course he’s way too holier-than-thou to properly sneer, but the corners of his lips turn downwards to the same effect.

“Not too hard to figure out,” he says. 

“Well, hold on just a moment! I got the vibe that she was totally into me yesterday!” Aiku says. He actually did not get any such vibes from the barista; the only thing she seemed into was clocking out, but he’s Oliver Aiku. If he can’t get a girl, he can’t do anything. Besides, it’s not like Sae would be able to tell one way or another — Aiku and his teammate Sendou have a theory that Sae was created in a lab as some kind of experiment to make the world’s best midfielder, because the guy really doesn’t have any knowledge or concern for anything that’s unrelated to soccer.

True to form, Sae blinks unsurely. “Really?”

“Yeah, one hundred percent,” Aiku boasts, although then he’s narrowing his eyes, because such a question is so out of Sae’s character that for a moment, he wonders if there’s been a mistake and he’s actually taken some other team member of his along for this ridiculous errand.

Messy red hair. Teal eyes. Forehead creased with a frown. No, it’s definitely Sae Itoshi, that’s for sure. Just Sae Itoshi in a mood that he’s never seen before. If they were a little closer, he’d ask him what’s the big deal now, but as it is, the question would probably go unappreciated.

“Hm,” Sae says. “Whatever. We’ll see.”

“Sure,” Aiku says slowly, reaching out to hold open the door of the cafe so he can enter behind Sae, since his lovely, amazing, wonderful, kindhearted teammate so generously left it to slam shut in his face. 

What a total dick. He makes a mental note to ask the JFU for a raise, because whatever they’re giving him at the moment is definitely not enough. 

“They’re back again!” your coworker says. You’re still mad at him for yesterday, so you’ve been giving him the silent treatment the entire shift. It hasn’t gone unnoticed, but his pitiful attempts at reconciliation never include an apology, so you haven’t budged yet.

He waits for you to respond, but you’re pretty sure he’s making stuff up to get you to pay attention to him, and anyways they could be in reference to anyone, so you continue to pour milk into a cup, acting like it’s an all-consuming task which you cannot possibly complete without the utmost of concentration.

“I’m being serious! Y/N, it’s Sae Itoshi and, uh, that other dude!” he says. Your hand wobbles for the briefest moment, but you conclude that he’s most likely lying, so you steady yourself and continue pouring the milk. “Fine, be that way! I’ll serve them myself!”

You can’t even say something snarky in response, because that’ll still be a win on his part, so you huff particularly loudly to no one in particular and leave it at that.

A few minutes later, he’s back, looking so contrite that if you weren’t upset with him, you’d actually be worried. Unfortunately, you very much are upset with him, so you find it on the whole to be rather hilarious and have to suppress a laugh. 

He must take your amusement as a signal to talk, because he speaks eagerly and quickly, stumbling over his words and clasping his hands together in front of him.

“Y/N, Y/N, they’re insisting on seeing you, I told them you’re working right now — I’m sorry, I’m not supposed to do that, right? But I did, and now they really want to see you!” he says.

You’re still not entirely convinced, but if this is an act, then it’s a dedicated one, and you don’t think that he possesses that much dedication in all of his body, so maybe he’s actually telling the truth.

“Fine,” you say. “But if you’re lying, I swear I’m telling our manager to fire you.”

“I’m not!” he squeaks, darting back to the counter, rocking back and forth on his heels as he waits for you to catch up to him.

When you reach the front, you’re surprised to see that it is in fact Sae Itoshi and…whoever that other guy is. Aiku? Yes, that sounds right. It’s Sae and Aiku, and one looks supremely inconvenienced — this would be Sae, of course — while his friend is running a hand through his sweaty hair, flashing you a grin.

You smile back at him, because that’s what you’re trained to do, and you don’t want your coworker to tattle to your manager that you’re not abiding by the cafe’s standards of customer service. Then you stare at them until one of them starts speaking, because that’s what your entire job is, and no matter how badly you want to start gushing to Sae Itoshi about how big of a fan you are, you have to remain professional.

“Is there anything I can do for you two?” you finally say. This prompts Aiku to nod, nudging Sae in the side, which earns him a dark glare.

“I want the number two, and he’ll take the number five,” Aiku says when Sae does not speak up. You want to tell him that nobody orders like that, but you’re not supposed to and it’s really not that big of a deal either way, so you just ring up the order.

“Sounds good. Would you like to pay with cash or credit?” you say.

“Credit,” Sae says, pulling out a card that probably has a monthly spending limit higher than what you make in a year. “And we’re splitting the bill, just so you know.”

What you want to say is Wow, Sae, you’re somehow even cooler in real-life! Who’s your favorite soccer player? What’s your favorite food? Do you like Spain better, or here? What you actually say is: “No problem. I’ll have those right out for you.”

“Thanks,” Aiku says. He’s kind of charming, in a sense; you can think of several friends you have that would probably swoon at the way his smile stretches across his face, but you don’t really see the appeal. Or, maybe you would normally, but at the moment, he’s standing next to Sae Itoshi, so it’s a little hard to focus on him at all.

“Yeah,” Sae says. “Thank you. Y/N.”

He’s probably just reading off of your name tag in an effort to seem more friendly and relatable and humble and all. It’s a classic PR move that he was probably taught as soon as he joined Re Al. You know about it, though, so it shouldn’t work on you. It won’t work on you. He’s just doing what he’s trained to, the same as you are.

It works on you. You run to the back and hide your face in your hands and squeal, because Sae fucking Itoshi just said your name. 

“Holy fucking shit,” Aiku says.

“Are we just listing curse words now?” Sae says dryly. “Bitch, cunt, hell. There’s three more for you.”

“You like the barista!” Aiku accuses. If Sae was drinking something, he would’ve spit it out just then, but he’s not, so he just chokes on his saliva. 

“No way,” he says.

“Yes, you do! How else can you explain this?” Aiku says, pitching his voice up in an imitation of Sae’s. “Yeah. Thank you. Y/N. Since when do you say thank you to people?”

“Since always? I have manners,” Sae says.

“I’ve never heard you say it,” Aiku says.

“Maybe that’s more telling about you than me,” Sae suggests. Aiku scowls at him.

“You definitely like her,” he says. “No judgment here, man. She’s pretty.”

“Whatever,” Sae says. “Even if I did like her — mind you, I don’t — she’s clearly into you.”

“Me?” Aiku says. “I was just messing with you earlier, you know. Anyways, yeah, I think she’s hot, but, like, you’ve never liked a girl before, right? So I wouldn’t get in the way of that. This is a big step.”

“You’re not getting in the way of anything. Do what you want,” Sae says. 

Aiku’s already pulling out his phone and texting Sendou: big news. Lab experiment just evolved. Feels attraction and jealousy now.

“Uh-huh,” he responds absentmindedly. Sendou texts back with about fifty mind-blown emojis, and he snickers to himself, liking the message.

“Anyways, who told you I’ve never liked anyone before?” Sae says defensively. Aiku just about drops his phone, leaning forwards in interest. Could it be? Are he and Sae actually bonding? Is Sae about to tell him about his first love — who apparently is not this barista?

“I just guessed. Was I wrong?” Aiku says. He’s already trying to come up with who Sae might’ve liked — a childhood neighbor or friend? A women’s soccer player he admired? A girl he saw once in Spain but never again? Oh, that last one is particularly romantic…he’s just about accepted it as fact when Sae glares at him.

“No,” he says. Aiku’s dreams are shattered in an instant, but he can only shake his head while chuckling, both because Sae has inadvertently admitted that he actually does like that Y/N girl, and because he was an idiot for believing that ‘Sae Itoshi’ and ‘romantic’ could ever belong together in one sentence.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

“What do I do?” you say. You and your coworker are back on speaking terms, mostly because you have no one else to talk to and are so desperate that you’re willing to temporarily forgive him. 

“Make their drinks?” he says. You give him a dirty look as you begin mixing up their orders. 

“Not about that. I’m such a huge fan of Sae’s, and this is the second time I’m making a drink for him. It’s kind of like fate, don’t you think? Should I try to talk to him or something?” you say.

“Do you want to?” your coworker says. It’s a slower time of day, so he has nothing to do but sit and watch you — at least, nothing immediate. There’s certainly things he could be doing, but you’re not about to chide him when you’re the reason he’s slacking off.

“Obviously! But what am I supposed to even say? I’ll sound like a creep if I just start acting like a fan-girl!” you say.

“That’s true,” your coworker says. “You kind of sound like one even now…”

“Ugh, if you’re not going to be helpful, then go organize the storeroom or something!”

“What about her makes you like her?” Aiku presses.

“Are we still on this?” Sae says, as if they’ve been talking about it for hours. “I don’t like her.”

“It’s not like you talked to her for a while…was it really just her looks?” Aiku says. “Damn. Didn’t think you were the shallow type.”

“I am not the shallow type!” Sae says.

“That sounds like something that a shallow person would say,” Aiku teases.

“Shut up,” Sae says. Aiku doesn’t have enough fingers or toes to count how many times Sae’s said that particular phrase to him. Maybe if he counted all of the fingers and all of the toes of every single person in the world, he would get kind of close to what that number might be. “I’m not shallow, I don’t like her, and she’s obviously way more interested in talking to you than me, so get off my back.”

Aiku whistles. “Someone’s jealous.”

“I’m telling the JFU that you were the one who sent me back to Spain,” Sae informs him bluntly. Aiku isn’t sure if that’s a joke or a legitimate threat. It’s hard to tell with Sae sometimes.

“Are you serious?” Aiku says.

“Deadly,” Sae says.

Yep, Aiku decides. He’s serious. 

“If only that Aiku dude wasn’t there,” you lament, setting the first drink in the pick-up area and calling out Aiku’s name before returning to finish Sae’s drink. “It’d be way easier to talk to Sae without someone there to judge everything I’m saying.”

“Do you think he’d even care?” your coworker says. You shrug.

“No idea. It’s intimidating to talk to guys around their friends, though. You’re a guy yourself, so you wouldn’t get it,” you say.

“Are they even friends?” your coworker says. “Doesn’t seem like they get along that well.”

In unison, the two of you turn so you can look at the duo, who are sitting at a table right within your line of sight. As your coworker said, they don’t look like they’re friends in the slightest. Aiku is sipping on his drink with a smirk, and Sae looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, doing anything else, than be sitting there with his not-friend.

“The point still stands,” you say. 

“Guess so,” your coworker says. Just then, Sae Itoshi happens to glance over, making direct eye contact with you. Your eyebrows raise, and your face warms as you realize you’ve been caught. Aiku turns to follow Sae’s line of sight as you weigh your options. Should you pretend like you weren’t doing anything? Should you wave?

You decide to just smile again before returning to the drink you were supposed to be working on. Your coworker, who saw the entire exchange, cannot stop laughing.

“It’s over for you,” he says. “He definitely thinks you’re a creepy fan-girl now. You can kiss that autograph goodbye.”

“You’re lucky I’m too lazy to remake this drink,” you say. “Because otherwise, I’d spill it on you.”

“That’s against company policy,” he says.

“By accident, of course,” you say with a malicious grin.

“That’s against company policy, too!” 

“Look, she just smiled at you. I bet she was looking at you the entire time,” Sae says coolly. “You should ask for her number. You already said you think she’s beautiful.”

“I said she’s hot. I’m not all poetic and shit like that,” Aiku says. “And I wouldn’t do that. It’s against the bro code.”

“We’re not ‘bros’, so you can put that out of your head,” Sae says.

“What if I help you get her number?” Aiku says. Sae tries very hard to maintain his nonchalant look, but Aiku can tell that his curiosity has been piqued. “Will you consider me a bro then? At the minimum, will you tell the JFU that I’ve done a great job at showing you around and making you feel welcome?”

Please please please please please I really need a fucking raise Sae I’m broke please please please — 

“Sure,” Sae says.

“Sure?” Aiku says. “Yes! Okay, this will be easy.”

Sae scoffs. “Yeah, okay. If that’s what you think.”

“Believe me,” Aiku says. “You’re in the presence of a master.”

Sae doesn’t even dignify that with a response beyond the most disgusted look Aiku has ever seen on anyone, Sae or not. He’d say something, but he’s pretty sure he deserves it at least a little, and anyways a possible raise is way more important to him than being right, so he keeps his mouth shut, simply giving Sae a double-thumbs-up. He’s going to ace this new assignment, and then maybe he’ll actually be paid what he’s worth instead of pennies on the dime.

You’re about to call out Sae’s name when you realize that for some reason, both Aiku and Sae are standing there and waiting for you. You furrow your brow, because it’s both a menacing and a comical sight — the hulking Aiku, who looks like he’s about to go punch a criminal on television before flipping his hair and telling the ladies that there’s enough of him to go around, and the slender Sae Itoshi, who you can’t imagine doing anything but slamming a winning pass to one of his teammates, invariably leading to a soccer ball in his opponent’s net.

“Uh, hello,” you say.

“Hello,” Aiku says.

“Hi,” Sae says.

“I have your drink,” you say to Sae.

“I know,” he says, taking it from your hand. Of course — why else would they be here? They must’ve seen you finishing up the drink and rightly assumed that it was theirs.

“Right,” you say. Neither of them go to leave, and now you wonder if they just don’t understand social cues or something like that. “Did you guys want to order something else? My coworker would be happy to take you at the counter.”

“No,” Sae says.

“Okay,” you say slowly. “Well, I hope you enjoy your drinks.”

“We will,” Sae says with the utmost of confidence. Aiku groans and then thumps him on the back. You have a feeling you probably don’t want to know what the significance of the gesture is, but then you realize that this is probably the only chance you’ll get to have a proper conversation with Sae Itoshi, so you shove your concerns aside.

“Wait! If it doesn’t bother you too much, can I ask you a question?” you say. It’s an incredibly awkward way of going about it, but given how awkward this entire interaction has been, you don’t think it’s a huge deal. 

“Go ahead,” Aiku says. You weren’t asking him, but you guess the permission covers them both, so you square your shoulders and face Sae Itoshi, who seems entirely confused that you’re looking at him instead of Aiku. You’re not sure why he would be, since between the two of them he’s the celebrity, but maybe there’s some weird dynamic going on that you’re unaware of.

It doesn’t matter to you, though. You only have one thing to ask. You’ll never cross paths with Sae again, will you? So it’s fine. You can act a little embarrassing, and anyways, you barely make above minimum wage, so if your manager gets too upset and fires you for ‘unprofessional conduct’ or something, it won’t be a huge loss. It’ll be worth it, even, considering this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance and your coworker is busy reorganizing the storeroom like you told him to, so he’s not around to spy on you and report back to your stodgy old manager.

Taking a deep breath, you open your mouth and begin to speak. 

Aiku hadn’t dared to even dream of the possibility that the barista might already like Sae, too. Why would she? Sae had just been all weird and rude to her in the couple of times that they had spoken, so all in all she’d have to be somewhat of a masochist, or a Re Al fan (which was essentially the same thing, given the losing streak that Re Al had been on for the last month or so), to be into him. But sometimes miracles did happen and baristas were masochists, because the girl was turning to Sae with shimmering eyes and a hopeful expression and it was all going to go so well—

“What are you even doing in Japan in the first place?”

Did he hear her right? Sae is bewildered as well, but Y/N isn’t acting like she’s just asked the most ridiculous question she could’ve possibly asked. What is Sae doing in Japan? Well, he happens to be a citizen of the nation, so there’s one explanation…Aiku wants to facepalm, because now his plans have been ruined and Sae’s confidence has probably been crushed.

“Pardon?” Sae says. Aiku had told him not to act so cranky and old-man-ish when he approaches the girl, but honestly, at this point, there’s no helping him, so he doesn’t even bother with a correction.

“Why are you in Japan?” she says again, all bright and innocent and cheery. It somehow feels like she’s been faking things so far, and that this is the real her, which she’s been holding back up until this point. Aiku isn’t so sure if that’s a good thing; privately, he believes it would’ve been better if she kept holding back just a little bit longer. Long enough for her to reject Sae — who still claims he’s not into her and is just trying to ‘be friendly’, as if friendliness is something he’s well known for — and then move on with her day.

“My passport expired?” Sae says, phrasing it more like a question. “So I had to come back and get it renewed?”

His voice ticks up at the end of every sentence unsurely. It’s almost cute, like he’s a little baby chick. Aiku’s fond of chicks, so he decides he’ll step in. Just this once.

“He’s visiting from Spain to play for the Japanese U-20 team in an upcoming exhibition match,” he explains.

“Oh, wow,” she says. “But I thought you said you would rather give up on soccer or play with German college kids than ever play soccer for Japan?”

Aiku raises an eyebrow. He wasn’t aware of such sentiments, and though he’s not exactly shocked, he can’t help feeling a bit miffed. When he glances over at Sae, there’s not a trace of remorse on his face, and so he wrinkles his nose.

Forget the raise and the baby-chick-esque mannerisms alike. He’s done helping this ungrateful, no-good, lame-as-hell, girl-repelling loser for free. If Sae wants any further assistance, he’ll have to beg for it. 

“How did you know I said that?” Sae says. You clap your hand over your mouth when you realize you’ve exposed yourself.

“I, um, I was just guessing!” you say.

“Guessing?” he repeats. You swear, because that’s actually a worse explanation than the original one, and then you hang your head, because if the cat’s out of the bag, then there’s no way you can put it back in.

“It’s a quote from one of your interviews,” you mumble.

“What?” It’s Aiku, who immediately frowns when he realizes he’s butted in. Sae gives him an odd look out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m a big fan of yours,” you say. “The last game you played in, when you stole the ball from that Bastard München striker, was amazing! To tell you the truth, I’ve been trying to figure out why you’re in the area instead of back in Madrid. It’s a little unbelievable, you see.”

“Ah,” Sae says, and for some reason he looks uncomfortable. “Well. Yeah. It was just the issues with my passport and all. I decided to play for the U-20s because I was offered a good deal, but it’s right back to Madrid for me after that.”

“That makes sense,” you say. It’s awkward again, but in a different way. You don’t know what to say. You don’t think he does either. His drink is probably cold now, and you’re surprised that Aiku’s eyes aren’t stuck in the back of his head, given how frequently he’s been rolling them. “Can I have your autograph?”

“No,” Sae says immediately. You’re a little taken aback, and to be honest, he looks kind of horrified himself, but you know better than to nag, so you only nod at him.

“No worries—” you begin before you’re cut off by a grumbling Aiku.

“He’ll give you his number instead. Here,” Aiku says, listing off a series of digits too rapidly for you to remember. “He’ll write it down, for you, right, Sae?”

And then, to your utter disbelief, Sae Itoshi is pulling out a pen and a piece of paper from who knows where, and he’s humming in agreement.

“Right,” he says, and then he’s handing you a note with his phone number written on it in neat print and his signature in flowing cursive. “You can call me later. If you want. Y/N.”

The way he speaks is stilted and low, but you don’t mind it. Tucking the piece of paper into your apron pocket, you beam at him.

“Alright,” you say. “I’ll call you. I still have more things to ask you, so it’s good that you gave me this.”

“Yes,” Sae says. “Yes, you can do that if you’d like.”

Then he and Aiku are leaving the coffee shop, their drinks in hand, and you’re standing there in awe, wondering if that actually just happened or if it was nothing but a particularly vivid flight of fancy. 

If it’s the latter, then you almost hope it’s one you don’t ever escape from. 

“You’re welcome,” Aiku says as they leave the cafe. 

“I didn’t say thank you, you lukewarm oaf,” Sae says. Aiku shrugs. He’s hard to ruffle, after all. It’s the reason why he stepped in and rescued Sae from that little mistake of his. He just couldn’t bear the thought of his dear junior losing the girl of his dreams because of a slip of his tongue, even if aforementioned junior is the insufferable smart-ass type.

Well, the thought of the money he’ll make if Sae speaks of him highly to the JFU doesn’t hurt, either, but that’s less altruistic, so he prefers to stick to the first explanation.

“I bet you feel it, though,” Aiku says.

“Shut up,” Sae says. 

It’s a good thing babies are born every minute. Otherwise, given how frequently Sae says that particular phrase, Aiku really might run out of things to count on. 

You’ve typed the number on the piece of paper into your phone, and now you’re staring at it blankly, wondering if you should press the green call button. What if it was a prank? What if it wasn’t? Because then you’ll have to actually talk to Sae Itoshi, and you’re not so sure you can do that.

In a fit of inspiration, you slam your index finger against your screen and hold your phone up to your ear. It rings a couple of times, each subsequent one worsening the pit in your stomach, but then it stops ringing entirely, which can only mean one thing: Sae, if this really is his number, has answered.

“Hello?” you say.

“Hello?” he responds. “Y/N?”

“Yes!” you say. “It’s me. Y/N. Like you said.”

“Cool,” he says. “It’s Sae. Which I guess you knew, since you called me.”

“The confirmation was nice,” you say, internally sighing in relief. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he says. It’s mannerly but also a little sarcastic, albeit not in a mean way. You don’t mind it much. “You said you had to ask me some things?”

The two of you spend the next few minutes in a setting kind of like an interview, in that you drill him with questions and he answers them all patiently. He’s kind about it, humoring you even though he doesn’t have to, and he never threatens to hang up, which you do appreciate.

“Would you mind if I ask a question, too?” he says when you’ve taken a break to drink some water.

“Go ahead! Although I’m not as interesting as you are,” you say.

“I think you’re probably way more interesting,” he admits. “Anyways. Are you free next weekend?”

“Uh, I think I have a shift on Saturday, but to be honest, my coworker owes me, so he can cover it. Why?” you say.

“The exhibition game that I’m playing with the U-20s for. You should come watch,” he says.

“Oh! Sure, where should I get tickets? I’d have gotten them already if I knew you were playing,” you say.

“I’m allowed to invite someone,” he says. “Friends or family. So I’m inviting you.”

“Don’t you have actual friends that you can invite?” you say before gasping. “Sorry! Sorry, that was super insensitive and rude of me. Of course I’m honored to come, I’m just confused about why I’m the one you’re inviting. Me. I’ve literally made coffee for you twice, and that’s about it.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” he says before pausing. “Um, look, Aiku told me to say this, so if it’s uncomfortable, then blame him…but I think you’re, er, beautiful?”

Your mind short-circuits. “Huh?”

“I don’t know! He’s the one who has experience, I’m just taking his advice!” Sae says, his tone souring immediately afterwards. “Trust me, it’s not like I want to. There’s many things I’d rather do than follow Oliver Aiku’s advice, but at the moment, it’s the best I can do.”

“Beautiful,” you repeat. It’s such an elegant adjective. You’ve been called pretty before, and there’s been a fair share of guys who have considered you to be hot, but beautiful…it’s nice. It’s really nice.

“Yeah,” Sae finally says. “Basically.”

“I’ll be there,” you say. There’s something like a scream bubbling in your throat, but you fight it back, knowing that it’s of the utmost importance that you maintain a relaxed demeanor.

“Great,” Sae says. “See you.”

“See you,” you say, and then you hang up before he can say anything further, because you’re already on the verge of combustion and you don’t think you can handle anything more.

Throwing your phone across the room, you give in and scream. There’s thundering footsteps, and then your father is throwing the door to your bedroom open, whipping his head around wildly.

“Is everything alright? Why are you screaming?” he says, heaving for breath, probably because he just sprinted from his spot on the couch to your bedroom in record time.

“Sae Itoshi!” you say.

“Yes?” he says, the rate of his inhales and exhales lowering as he realizes there’s no active threat to your life or property. “What about him?”

“He told me I’m beautiful and invited me to watch his game next weekend,” you say, knowing that this is going to make your father — a fellow Re Al fan — freak out.

You wait, counting down as he processes the news, unable to contain your exuberant grin, knowing exactly what’s coming. Three, two, one—

“What?”

[inmyheaddd]

ravi singh boyfriend headcannons

a/n: omg this has been sitting in my drafts for agesss sorry 😭 need to write for ravi more he’s so bf wc: 1k taglist: @heartwithsimplenotes @anintellectualintellectual @thecircularlibrary masterlist

your parents literally like him more than you now, and boy does he know it. 

you’d come back home to find him in your room sitting on your bed.

“oh, you’re back! was waiting for you for hours— i started to think something terribly awful happened to you.” he got up from the bed in an instant, wrapping his arm around your side and giving you a quick peck on your head.

“hi ravi, um who-“ you furrowed your brows as you looked back to your door then back at him. “who let you in?” 

“oh, your brother did.” he stated matter of factly as you both went to sit down on the bed. “then your parents asked me to stay for lunch, then your dog started playing with me, then i started to miss you so i came up to your room. it smells just like you in here.” 

one thing caught your attention. “then you started to miss me? wow, i see how it is…” you shook your head dramatically and frowned in faux disdain. 

he shot you a smile, “what can i say? the whole family likes me, it’s not my fault.” 

“well i don’t like you.” you crossed your arms over your chest. sarcastic bits like this with ravi happened constantly. 

“oh, you especially like me.” his lips turned up into a slow grin and he poked your shoulder, breaking your annoyed facade and making you laugh. 

ravi makes new nicknames for you all the time.

you were talking a walk, telling him about your day when you paused abruptly and turned away from him, ravi looking at you confusedly and raising a brow.

then you sneezed, and then you sneezed again.

“woah, bless you.” he said through a chuckle, “and bless you again.”

after you tried to resume talking only to be interrupted by a sneeze for the third time, he spoke up.

“sweetheart, you’re going to be holy by the end of the day with how many blesses you’re getting.” he bent down slightly to get a better look at your face. “are you alright?”

you sniffled slightly, “yeah i’m—“ sneeze “i’m fine.” you said as your cleared your throat.

“okay sneezy,” he said as he slung an arm around your shoulder, not caring about getting sick himself, “how about we get you home, you take some medicine while i make you some soup, and you tell me what a spectacular cook i am?” 

“but you’re a horrible cook.” you muttered with a light laugh.

“i’m sorry, what was that?” he bent down slightly with a large grin on his face, “you’re so excited and can’t wait? oh, you’re too sweet to me, sneezy. what did i ever do to deserve you?” he quipped back as kissed the top of your head, before steering you two back to walk back to your house.

he kept calling you ‘sneezy’ the rest of the night and for days after that.

“would you stop calling me that?” you asked.

he took a second before answering, putting a finger on his chin and looking up, before shrugging and simply saying, “no.”

a week later he was the sick one, (he hates being sick. “this is what i get for spending time with my beautiful, amazing, but incredibly ill girlfriend?”) and he would still call you sneezy. 

as much as you wouldn’t like to admit it, you were missing the other cuter nicknames he would call you like crazy. but to be fair sneezy did grow on you. 

his sneezes could make a deaf man hear again. 

you were both sitting in silence, focus only on the horror movie playing on the tv and his sneeze literally made you scream and jump off the couch in fear. you thought you were about to meet your end.

“oh my- ravi!” you said breathlessly as you put a hand over your heart, catching your breath.

he was an absolute laughing wreck at your reaction, and all he had to say was, “what, no bless me?” 

speaking of scaring you, his favorite ways to greet you unexpectedly is hugs from behind, telling you how much he missed you and kissing your head. 

that, or placing his hands on either your shoulders or waist, jolting you and yelling at the same time. you always know it’s him but you get nightmarishly scared every single time. there’s no in between. 

you two have a playlist together and when you’re away, he’d randomly send you a screenshot of a song on it with something along the lines of, “this song reminds me of you.”

when he has to go on a long car ride alone he sends you updates by the hour. literally.

your texts:

ravishingly handsome — Hour one, all is good. Some bastard cut me off and another nearly rear ended me, but still, all is good 👍 

you — oh my god ravi 

you — are you okay?!?!

you — pls call me when u can 

ravishingly handsome — I’m actually perfectly fine

ravishingly handsome — Felt a strong urge to curse them out and hit something, then I thought about your face and oddly enough I felt perfectly peachy, if not a little happy 😃🙂

you — no you did not 😭 possibly giggling and kicking my feet rn

you — ur emojis make me laugh out loud 

ravishingly handsome — I think I’M the one making you laugh out loud, not my emoji choices

ravishingly handsome — Also, call me any time. Always free for you.

he texts like an old man honestly, but you love it. 

he’s the type to not be on social media too much, so when you say a reference/ joke he just thinks you’re insanely funny. 

you don’t have the heart to tell him it’s not your joke.

you start to influence him though, and he has little pieces of your slang/ way of talking in his everyday talking.

obvious but, he is a proud member of the sassy man apocalypse. 

all of your parents are now best friends because you and ravi spend so much time together and are always at eachothers houses.

it’s gotten to the point when sometimes your mom texts ravi’s mom to ask you to clean your room when you get back, because you aren’t answering your phone. 

sleepovers that last days are very common occurrences. 

you’re always wearing his sweaters, and he secretly loves seeing them on you so much. 

forehead kisses are 24/7, along with interlinked hands and his thumb running circles on your knuckles.

he doesn’t believe in all that toxic masculinity BS, but when you hold his bicep when walking, his heart flutters a little.

he’s always mentioning you, and your friends harmlessly poke fun at him for the way he can’t stop smiling whenever your name is mentioned, or how he can’t stop talking about you.

you both adore the small quiet moments, like him putting a necklace he bought you on you, or running your fingers through his hair after he’s had a stressful day. 

sometimes he cuts himself off when talking to you, or forgets what he’s saying simply because he thinks you’re so gorgeous. you act annoyed and tell him to “stop that,” but the flush on your face and the way you bite back a smile says otherwise.

[fairyhaos]

How To Fucking Write: a guide by fairyhaos

this post details:

ENEMIES TO LOVERS

hi gays and gals! "how to fucking write" is back after a longgg hiatus ^^ this time we're discussing enemies to lovers which is, i think, a universally loved trope! please do send an ask if you have any requests for what i should write advice for next, and do reblog this post if it was helpful for you :)

# - HOW TO WRITE ENEMIES TO LOVERS.

.. bullet point one : choose your e2l

the most important thing when starting is figuring out what type of enemies to lovers you’re writing about. this is mostly semantics: lots of writers/ advice givers will tell you that there’s only one real enemies to lovers (when they’re literally enemies) but personally, i believe that “enemies” can be used as an umbrella term for loads of different relationships.

figure out what kind of “enemies” your characters are. this is by no means an extensive list, but enemies to lovers can include:

literal fighting enemies

(academic) rivals

2 people who snipe at each other a lot

betrayed(????) by one another

…and many other types.

figuring out in which way they’re enemies helps write out their dynamic, and also setting. 

for example, you’ll often see type #1 used in historical, fantasy, battle or mafia settings, where there will be two “sides”, either due to family feuds, country/ kingdom feuds, etc., so their dynamic often feels more serious and more emotionally charged due to history and/or ancestral beliefs that they’ve grown up with.

it’s often seen as the “truest” form of enemies to lovers, because the characters interact with the intention to genuinely hurt each other. this will therefore affect the way you write them, since it has to seem like there is genuine, mutual animosity between them.

example : [court of lies on ao3] — taegyu, enemies to lovers

(holy fuck this is such a bad example but) as you can see, enemies to lovers works well within historical settings, since themes of betrayal, bloodshed and battles lends itself nicely to the trope.

knowledge of how to write fight scenes can be quite useful (fightwrite.net helped a lot with writing mine), along with making sure that dialogue uses action tags that showcase the characters’ emotions. 

type #2, on the other hand, most likely takes place in universities, high schools, and sometimes in offices, where academics are important and it’s less about trying to hurt one another, and more about being royally pissed off by the other person’s presence.

there are certain nuances to how the characters interact depending on what kind of enemies to lovers situation they’re in, which is why it’s important to figure that out first.

.. bullet point two : figure out the why .

next, try to find out the why. why are they enemies? 

it is imperative that you explain their situation to the readers and make them understand why the characters are enemies, and most importantly, why they can’t get together right now. enemies to lovers often goes hand-in-hand with slow burns for exactly this reason.

are they enemies due to clashing beliefs? a certain incident that happened between them, or to someone they know? maybe it’s just repressed feelings?

for every type of enemies to lovers, and for their subsequent settings, there’s often a set list of reasons that most writers use to explain why they’re enemies. 

historical settings often have some sort of feud taking place, or a betrayal. academic rivals focus on, well, academics, but social factors of popularity are often used. and “enemies” who snipe at each other often have very superficial reasons that they dislike one another, such as a bad first meeting or a misguided impression of personality.

the reason doesn’t particularly have to be something as dark and deep as convoluted morals or someone killed someone else’s father. they still need to overcome their enemy relationship and become lovers, after all.

but having a reason helps your readers feel more comfortable that the story will go somewhere and that there truly is an obstacle that’s preventing your characters from getting together at the very beginning. and if that reason is an interesting one, then… well, all the better, i suppose.

.. bullet point three : the friends part

for a good enemies to lovers that has your readers truly invested in the story, the lovers potential has to be there too, even when they’re enemies.

the characters also have to have respect for each other, above all else. if the situation becomes dire, they need to be able to understand one another’s views and work together, or at least recognise that they share some ideas and have moments where they get along.

this will a) make the transition from enemies into lovers more natural and b) create the tension that makes e2l so popular.

the best ways to show these moments are by having scenes where the characters have no choice but to work together, and in that time, begrudgingly admit that the other person isn’t as bad as they first thought.

it could be a group project, them fighting for the same cause for once (against a corrupt/ unfair policy), having to get along briefly due to mutual friends, or any situation where they have to act amicably for once and, most importantly, learn a little about one another in the process.

okay, but yena, how can i write those scenes? what can i do to create that tension?

describe certain actions, mannerisms, and the way that they speak to each other that showcase acceptance and positive emotions. this can come in the form of:

lingering eye contact

them agreeing on something

smiles!!!! 

a pleasantly surprised inner monologue 

dialogue being more lighthearted

A doing something for B without being asked

(this is extra hard mode but) creating an inside joke

…and whilst it is a little shallow, an acknowledgement of the other person’s attractiveness always works really well, too.

example : [my other e2l taegyu fic on ao3]

as a rivals to lovers fic, their dynamic already started off more playful than in the other example i showed, but you can see that their conversation is more teasing, as they become more comfortable with talking to each other normally.

the term “enemies to lovers” always felt a little weird to me, because it’s important to remember that it’s often more like “enemies to friends to lovers”, because the characters need to develop a liking of one another first before they can think of themselves in a romantic relationship.

.. bullet point four : the oh moment

why do they become lovers in the end? 

what is the tipping point? what makes a character realise that they’ve fallen for someone they once believed to be their mortal enemy? do their feelings hit them all at once, or is it a slow build up? and what are they going to do about it?

enemies to lovers lends itself very nicely to the feelings-hit-me-like-a-truck trope and the iconic oh moment. writing the inner monologue is a good way to showcase the exact momene the penny drops. for example, i have a loose “formula” that i like to use when writing oh moments (whether they’re in e2l fics or not):

[dialogue/ action of B as A watches them]

[inner monologue of A showcasing fondness for that action]

[inner monologue of A recognising how their feelings changed over time]

[action from B that solidifies overwhelming fondness and has A surprised by their feelings]

[the oh / oh no moment as the penny drops and A realises what this means]

this is by no means the only way to write out a “feelings realisation” scene, but it works very well, because the inner monologue can use varying sentence structures and a bunch of metaphors and figurative language to build anticipation.

example [venus and sun on ao3] — seoksoo, friends to lovers

this extract essentially follows the outline i described, and seokmin’s acknowledgement of joshua as sweet refers to how he had previously known little about him, merely referring to him as “nice” before their relationship gradually built up to that moment.

for a really effective oh moment, the characters need to have a chance to reflect on how their relationship has developed. they need to be able to notice their growth and draw their own conclusion from there.

.. bullet point five : be careful . 

finally, some precautions.

with enemies to lovers, the whole attraction is the tension between the characters, the original animosity that is actually hiding their repressed feelings. but they still have to fall in love at the end, despite what they put each other through.

do not make them do something that they can’t take back.

this is quite important with enemies that physically fight each other. giving near-fatal injuries, or paralysing or physically disabling them (again, fightwrite.net is useful in giving info in this) is definitely not good lover-material. 

unless the injuries were given when the character was (maybe magically) influenced by someone else, or your characters are traumatised enough to be able to accept each other despite everything, then it’s a good idea to stay away from severe injuries that they inflict on the other and focus more on tense dialogue and opposing beliefs.

however, it’s still equally as important to be careful with emotional hurt that characters cause one another too. don’t make a betrayal too unforgivable. 

as a writer, you have to be empathetic: think from your character’s point of view. constantly ask yourself if character A will be able to forgive character B if they do something. ask if they can still fall in love with character B if they hurt them in some way.

if they can’t, then you know you’ve gone too far, and you need to dial it back.

and as a somewhat obvious but still just as important sidenote: e2l based on stockholm syndrome (captor x captive situations) or bullying to lovers is never okay. the power imbalance along with the trauma that can be developed from that means that it is not a healthy, viable, good relationship in the slightest.

never have your characters do something that you’d feel uncomfortable being the receiving end of. they’re meant to be lovers, remember? even when they’re not there yet, the characters should still treat each other with respect.

…unless, of course, you’re looking to write a somewhat toxic/ unhealthy relationship. in which case, by all means.

... and that's it ! if anyone has anything else to askt hen just shoot me ask, because i'd love to help however i can :)

taglist (send ask to be added!): @mesanthropi @stqrrgirle @weird-bookworm @blue-jisungs @eternalgyu @yumilovesloona @lvlystars @luvjoshuahong @kikohao @maesvtr0 @cxffecoupx @bleepbloopbeee

[00fairylights00]

I Guess You Just Don’t Love Me Anymore

GIF from @glowing-starlight on Tumblr

I was so taken by @ash-arts-but-sinful's post which mentions P being jealous of the cat and @oldworldghost’s post which contains the idea of him becoming more mischievous and sassy as he becomes human that I just had to write a little something, I hope it’s alright that I drew on your thoughts for some inspiration!

As a disclaimer, I haven’t finished my first play-through yet so this is more of a character study based off of what I’ve experienced in-game and what I’ve been seeing on Tumblr instead of delving heavily into the world-building and established story that exists within the game. So hopefully no spoilers and it’s very likely that this won’t at all line up with the in-game timeline.

Big thanks to @cupidsredcollar beloved for proofreading <3 

For as long you had known Pinocchio you had never known him to be a jealous individual, in fact, when you’d first met that bleak, overcast morning in Hotel Krat you had been almost unsettled by his uncanny nature. 

His features were perfectly human, aside from the metal prosthetic he’d been fitted with. He had freckles and soft hair, a face that looked fashioned from a real person instead of the smiling caricatures Krat’s puppets were usually fitted with. 

But despite his boyish features, his face barely moved, he nodded along to Sophia as she gave him the task of locating his father, Mr. Geppetto, and tilted his head in question as Lady Antonia explained the concept of lying but his brows didn’t so much as pinch, his lips didn’t quirk and his eyes looked straight through you as you had wished him safety on his travels.

So watching in real time as he came into his own was something you cherished greatly, you continued to watch him grow and change, become something new. Pinocchio chose to spend a lot of his down time with you, he said he found you interesting, that you had a way of explaining humanity that made sense to him and over the last couple of weeks something had started to shift in him.

No, Pinocchio had never been a jealous individual, for as long as you’d known him.

Until today.

Your morning had started normally, woken up by the cool feeling of P’s lips against your forehead, human hand smoothing back your hair. He mumbled something about needing to go out, you tried to convince him to come back to bed, he tried to convince you to get up (he always wins).

P drags you down to the kitchen, you eat and he watches, something that was initially a little awkward but you’ve come to really look forward to, then you farewell each other at the rear entrance of the hotel. 

He holds you close to his chest, resting his lips to your hairline and making you promise to look after yourself and your companions while he’s away, you make him promise to be careful though you know he’s not always able to, often catching glimpses of Sophia muttering blessings and incantations under her breath in the foyer.

“It’s just Ergo hunting today, I’ll be more than careful.” He whispers, human arm winding around your shoulder. You breathe him in, hands to his chest feeling the odd sensation of his heart, not quite a tick but not quite a beat. 

You lean up to kiss against the slant of his jaw, his mechanical pulse jumping in response. He looks down at you, you catch the fondness in his blue eyes without mistake, he captures your lips in his, holding on for a second longer than he knows is necessary (it’s not like you mind though).

Lounging against the doorway, watching him walk towards the entrance of Elysion Boulevard, he turns and gives a last longing look over his shoulder before stepping through the wrought iron gates and disappearing from view.

You sigh, making your way back inside to start on your usual round of chores, helping where you could to take the load off of Polendina who needed more time to focus on Lady Antonia and her illness. You had just returned to the puppet butler for more tasks when you noticed movement on the top of the shelf behind the front desk. 

Sitting tall and proud was Hotel Krat’s resident sweetheart, Spring, tail swishing steadily as she kept watch of the foyer from her perch. The white and orange cat jumped down to the desk as she noticed you, laying down across the dark wood and turning over in gesture for belly rubs; which you gave happily. 

“She’s been very noisy today,” Polendina explained, stroking the cat, “I wonder what she’s trying to tell us?”

“Probably trying to manipulate us into giving her more treats, isn’t that right?” You accused lightly, you were sure that if he could, Polendina would be smiling. 

“There is another load of laundry that needs folding, could I have a hand?” He asked politely.

“Of course Polendina.”

And it seemed you had found yourself a shadow, Spring making an unreasonable amount of noise as she followed you and Polendina around the hotel. She wound between your legs, chirruped in response to your voices and bumped her head against whatever part of your bodies were within her reach. 

It was no surprise that Spring was loved by the inhabitants of the hotel, and it was very apparent that she loved them back, well everyone except for P. Not for lack of trying of course, he followed your advice of trying to build trust between him and the animal but she wouldn’t so much as let P touch her, hissing her disapproval for all to hear.

You’d often watch as P would recoil from Spring, the feline swiping and spitting at the puppet. You couldn’t tell from his expressions if the cat’s dislike for him bummed him out but sometimes as he lay next to you in bed he would lament quietly that Spring hated him, which would award him a sound of humoured pity and a kiss for the cheek.

It wasn’t clear what it was about P that set Spring off so aggressively. In all the time you had spent at Hotel Krat she’d never behaved in such an unfriendly way, even complete strangers who would seek refuge for short periods of time were welcome to interact with Spring freely. 

She would bask in the attention. You hoped that she would eventually come around to the puppet, given it looked like he would be around for the long haul and you just knew the two would be the best of friends if she would stop being so nasty.

But P was patient, far more patient than you were and it showed as you folded and unfolded the same piece of linen for the third time without realising, Polendina placed a gloved hand over your own, silently relieving you of duty.

“Apologies, my mind seems to be elsewhere Polendina.”

“You worry for the boy, it’s only natural that your mind wanders.” You sometimes forget how long Polendina has been around, having been a close companion of Lady Antonia’s for decades. You had a feeling he knew more about human emotions than he let on, somehow he always knew what to say when it came to your thoughts surrounding Geppetto’s Puppet. 

“I just can’t help it, and with him figuring out who he is, I fear he’ll get himself hurt by being too kind.” You wring your hands in your lap, focusing hard on the lines in your skin as you try to keep yourself from thinking of anything too awful.

“He has met humans who have given him trouble before and he has a good head on his shoulders. I would wager that you have nothing to worry about, but I understand that may not put your mind at ease.” 

“It doesn’t but thank you.” Your hand went to Polendina’s shoulder with a smile. “I think I’m going to find something else to do, try and get my mind off of things.”

Polendina nodded once, going back to folding the linens, “I’ll send the boy your way when he returns.”

You smiled in earnest, appreciative of Polendina’s knowing kindness. 

Spring, who had been lounging between you and Polendina, got up, stretching herself out and scampering over to your side. She meowed frantically to grasp your attention. 

Her interruptions continued as you made your way around the kitchen. It wasn’t particularly dirty given how little it was being used now, however, the repetitive action of wiping down the countertops and sweeping the floor were just the distraction you were looking for. 

Your ears perked up at the heavy steps of boots on marble floors, the jingle of P’s belt was something you could identify in your sleep. He stood tall in the doorway, all sweet smiles and fidgeting hands. Happy to see you, always happy to see you.

He was shockingly clean as he approached, resting his forehead to yours as his hands found their place on your waist, all the scolding about tracking oil and muck through the hotel was finally paying off.

You ran your hands over the intricate designs embossed onto the lapel of his coat, smoothing the fabric down before hooking your hands behind his neck.

“Welcome home, pretty boy.” You cooed, brushing your nose against his. 

He liked the small intimacies you shared, bunny kisses you’d come to find were a favourite of his.

“You can go and relax if you want, I’m just cleaning.” You offered, but he shook his head. 

Spring had also gotten bored of waiting on you, brushing up against your legs. So there you stood, sandwiched between your two favourite beings. 

And two shadows wouldn’t be so bad if they would stop getting under foot, you laughed as Spring and P fought for your attention while you made your way around the kitchen.

P hovered close, slinging his arm around your waist as you tried to pass him. You stopped short as he pressed his face into your neck, leaning back against his chest and resting your hands over his wrist. You could feel him smile against your skin, a careful, small smile that only he could manage.

At that moment Spring took it upon herself to jump up onto the counter in front of you, hissing and swiping at P, he scowled and pulled you closer.

“Beast,” he scowled, you gaped at P, smacking the back of your hand at his chest.

“Don’t be horrible, she’s just protecting her territory,” you chided, 

“I haven’t done anything to her, yet she spits at me.” He complained, you thought your ears might be playing tricks on you at the distinct sound of a whine in his tone.

“You love her.” You reminded smugly, a truth he was unable to escape.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” he mumbled, you pushed against his hold, trying to signal your want to move and he hesitantly loosened his grip. Hand ghosting over your waist as he watched you go, you threw a smile over your shoulder which he returned in kind.

You gave Spring a kiss on the head, letting her nuzzle her face against yours before scooping her up and putting her down on the floor where she went back to curling around your legs.

“Ah, so the cat gets a kiss but I don’t?” P asked. You snorted, flinging the rag you’d been using to polish the countertops over your shoulder.

You lent your hip against the counter and crossed your arms over your chest, “you never asked for a kiss, how was I supposed to know that’s what you wanted?”

“I feel like it was obvious.” He placed both of his hands on the counter, stretching his arms out straight as he pushed against the granite. 

You rolled your eyes in jest, unable to keep the fond smile from creeping onto your face, playfully exasperated you closed the short distance between the two of you. Lifting up on your tip-toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, he was quick to move his head once you’d pulled back. Hands to your waist and pulling you against him, sealing his lips to yours so quickly it pulled a sound of shock from your throat.

“What’s up with you today, you’ve been awfully touchy.” You teased, twisting the ends of his hair between your fingers. “Not that I’m complaining of course.”

“Missed you,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead tenderly. 

“I missed you too, always miss you when you’re gone.” You placed a hand on his cheek, thumb rubbing gently under his eye.

He pulled the rag from your shoulder and threw it behind you unceremoniously, taking your hand from his cheek to drag you out of the kitchen, a laugh bubbled out of your throat that P was happy to mischievously return.

He led you to the library, seating you at the piano and turning away to rifle through the sheet music stacked in a crate on the floor. He’d been getting better day by day. 

His body wasn’t exactly built to do delicate actions but that never seemed to stop him, in fact, he was inexplicably drawn to all the soft parts of being human even if initially he was afraid to get it wrong. The last thing he’d ever want to do is hurt anyone close to him and for that reason he was acutely aware of the raw strength he possessed.

Though his conscious effort to be gentle made all the difference.

Spring decided she’d had enough of being ignored, jumping up onto the piano bench and brushing up against you, pressing close and then curling down next to you. P turned around, the particular book of sheet music he was searching for held up in his hand, his expression dropped almost comically as he noticed Spring’s position next to you, taking up what was going to be his spot.

“Move her,” he says simply, you throw your head back with a hearty laugh but P’s serious expression doesn’t change.

“No,” you start with a laugh, “Spring got here first, you’ll have to pull up a chair.”

P continued to stand his ground, you wondered if he hoped his very presence would annoy Spring enough that she’d disappear of her own accord, but the cat only opened one eye. She regarded P from her curled up position before nestling her chin back down into her tail. 

It was like Spring knew she was in his spot and was smugly showing off to him, purring loudly.

“P, I’m not moving the cat. Just come and sit on the other side of me.” You insisted, watching as his unappreciated love for the animal won out and he stalked off to get a chair. You chuckled under your breath and passed your fingers through Spring’s soft fur.

“You are so mean to him, you know? He’s quite fond of you and I think you two would be very good friends if you gave him the chance.” You whispered to the cat who ignored you, continuing to purr unabashedly.

Unbeknownst to you, P watched your interaction with the feline from the doorway, his chest feeling warm in a way he wasn’t quite used to yet. Touched by your words that you thought were falling on deaf ears.

He gave in to your fondness for the cat, pulling his chair up next to you, fingers gently flitting across the keys as you hummed softly, head resting comfortably on his shoulder. He decided he didn’t mind this so much.

Late in the evening, however, he decided he did mind. 

You were curled up in your bed a book in hand and Spring dozing lazily in your lap, he entered the room and his shoulders physically dropped.

“What’s the matter?” You asked, thumb placed between the pages of your book as a makeshift bookmark. 

“Nothing,” he mumbled, sitting down unceremoniously on the edge of your bed to take off his shoes.

You placed the now forgotten book on your bedside cabinet, the act of sitting up a little difficult with the cat in your lap. You reached for his shoulder but he shrugged off your hand, trying to hide the action by stripping off his coat.

He stood and draped the coat over the back of your desk chair and moved to unbutton his waistcoat, all while staring down Spring with a scowl.

It clicked.

“Are you jealous of the cat?” You wanted deeply to believe that your Pinocchio was not jealous of a cat, but you couldn’t come up with a more sound explanation.

“I don’t know what that word means.” He lied, avoiding your gaze entirely, unbuckling his belt and dumping it on the desk, Gemini didn’t say anything so you assumed he mustn’t be awake.

“Yes you do,” you rolled your eyes, “I remember very clearly the conversation we had about it.” 

He didn’t respond, turning his back to you and focusing his attention on rifling through the dresser drawer full of his clothes. The sleep clothes he was looking for were folded at the end of the bed.

“It’s okay that you’re jealous of-”

“I am not jealous.” Quick, concise and with no room for argument, he spun back on you. His snapping didn’t phase you.

“Uh huh,” you teased with a smirk, turning all your attention back to Spring who’d been ignoring your exchange.

Perhaps what you were doing was a little mean, given that before you hadn’t been ignoring him on purpose, but it was too fun an opportunity to pass up. P let out a disgruntled huff, shuffling around in your peripheral.

“I guess you just don’t love me anymore.” He offered with his arms crossed over his chest, your jaw dropped and a shocked laugh fell out of your open mouth.

“You take that back, immediately!” You snapped playfully, sitting up fully and annoying the cat enough for her to get up and move.

“Make me.” The challenge he’d levied would mean conceding to his childish behaviour but after all he’d been through, you thought it only fair. 

You pulled the sheets back and stood from the bed, crossing the room to him. He tried to act as though he was uninterested, tried to pretend that your hands on his chest didn’t affect him, tried to ignore the speed of his heart as it hammered under your palm.

Your hands travelled the beaten path they always did, from his chest to his collarbone, then hooking behind his neck. Trying to pull him down was useless, like trying to topple a brick wall with bare hands, but you caught him staring out of the corner of his eye.

“Look at me.” Your whisper was a command, and he had always been faithful to a fault. “I love you.”

He tried to hide the oncoming smile, dropping his chin to his chest, but you were quick to guide his gaze back to yours. There was no way you’d be missing that careful grin. His eyes were soft and gentle when they met your own, there was hesitance in them that you didn’t want to see, so you kissed him.

He melted against you, arms winding around your back and pulling you against his chest, you hummed and he couldn’t stop the full blown grin from forming on his lips; breaking away to look at you like a giddy school boy.

“Are you going to take it back?” You asked, brushing your nose against his in a bunny kiss. 

“Will I still get to kiss you if I do?” He joked, you rolled your eyes albeit in good nature, hands cradling his cheeks as he continued to smile.

“I think that can be arranged,” you mused, leaning in to kiss him again, the two of you falling into familiar rhythm with one another.

Spring slinked out of the partially open door, tail held high, she had seen more than enough.

[thekiltongrammarwriter]

You crash into me hard and soft 18+ MDI

Pippa Fitz Amobi x Fem reader

Summary: pip pulled you off, eyes dark as they scanned you. “ Behave yourself sweet girl" she chided, then quietly, "aren't you my good girl?" Then a calm saccharine voice that filled your head with cotton, you knew that voice. It was the same familiar cadence that would whisper into your ear in bed. The same voice that would often cause you to lose your mind. In the most wonderful ways. Good girls have patience, and I know your so good at having patience aren't you my love?" Pip began, her lips delving into that soft smirk that made your skin prinkle. You nodded, all lust filled eyes. Your heart racing itching to feel pip all around you. Consuming you. Leave you shaking and crying for more. She had done it before. And you wanted her to do it now. God did you want too. Pippa smiled at that, like her mind knew just what you wanted. ‘

Authors note: This is indeed some of the most smuttiest writing I have ever written and while I admit I am no expert on this matter, I don’t write it very often I had fun writing it. I especially enjoyed wirting a grumpy pip who can’t help but be jealous of Connor (undertones) 🤣 I don’t show it at the end but reader makes pip apologize to Connor for rushing out of the party. Again I am no expert on smut and do not claim to write it well. However I do hope you enjoy this piece! I had a bit of trouble writing pip but I can only get better with time. This is for all my lovely anons who asked for pip fic! 🫶🫶 for those of you who do not enjoy this type of work I have some more pip ideas for future ficts.

Warnings: Aged up Pippa Fitz Amobi, set up after AGAD. Protective pip if you squint, possessive pip, dark pip, curse words, swearing, fingering, cunnilingus, soft pippa fitz Amobi, Connor Reynolds’s being the gem he is and putting up with a grumpy pip. Calamity chaos. Reader being a lightweight. Dom pippa fitz Amobi.

Word count: LONG

Pip could feel the way her nails burned under the wood from the way she was gripping the wood hard. Her fingers clenched enough that she thought her knuckles would lose circulation. Her jaw was tense, and blue-grey eyes zeroed in on you as you spoke with Connor from across the dance floor. The flashing lights of the calamity party making pip’s eyes itch.

Pippa’s distain for calamity parties had been apparent, even years before the Andie Bell case you knew you’d never see Pippa Fitz Amobi grace the halls of the random pupil’s house. Which was why now as you peered across the dance floor to where your girlfriend sat you couldn’t help but think it such an odd welcoming sight and apparently Connor thought it too.

You had gone to get some drinks with Connor, you had to practically command pip to sit down, even through her pleading eyes, even through her instructions on how to check for certain hidden items in your drinks. Connor had been the first to grab pip by the hands, his calming soft eyes sending waves of peace through Pip. She was often anxious these days, always on alert. Her nervous system jumping at even the most mundane things. Car alarms, ball point pens and rubbish bins clacking.

Pip had been your personal bodyguard the minute you had gotten out of the Car accompanied by Cara and Connor, your eyes wide upon seeing your girlfriend at the entrance of Edmund Pain’s house. “I figured if my girlfriend was going into the lion's den I might as well accompany you. You know, personal bodyguard and all” Pippa had joked, but you could see from her wild slightly glazed eyes that she hadn’t been sleeping. You had considered calling it an early night taking your girlfriend’s hand and walking back to yours. Considered a nice warm shower, Pippa holding you close under the warming sheen of the shower, the cool heat flowing over both of you. A nice calm night in. Comfy sheets and soft hands trailing down your back as Pip would hold you. You had been so close to changing your mind when Cara had taken your hand and dragged you inside, pip close at your heels.

“It seems you have a shadow” Connor had commented, handing you your drink, eyes peering at the girl who sat across from you. Eyes like a hawk, jaw clenched. You felt a smile fill your lips, the alcohol already filling your tongue, leaving a slightly bubbly feeling and burn on the tip of your lips. You were not going to lie, your girlfriend looked hot. With her blue steel eyes that were on yours, even far enough from the room. Studying you, eying your surroundings like the good dedicated girlfriend she was. It was a comforting feeling to know that no matter where you were, your girlfriend had your back. She always did, and was keen on keeping a close eye on you. You had half a mind to race over and drag her to the nearest bathroom. A flush rose across your cheeks as you imagined pulling a confused Pip into the wasted most likely minging bathroom. Could imagine pushing her against the door and kissing down her neck, feeling her pulse point behind her skin. Could imagine her heavy breathing, hands woven through your curls, pulling just enough to make you whimper against her skin.

“Hey y/n you alright? You look like a proper mess! Sure you don’t want to switch to water now? I know Pip won’t want you too wasted” Connor’s voice brought you out of your lust filled brain. Your eyes turned to him, Connor, and his now bleary face. You were conscious enough to know when to stop, and you knew after a full cup you would surely get a headache. You could just imagine Pip giving you her ‘I told you so’ signature concerned face. It was enough for your lips to move up.

Your movements were sluggish as you tried to speak, and it was only then that your fingers slipped from the brim of the cup and it went smashing over into Connor’s jumper. You gasped, holding a hand to your mouth and apologizing, moving to wipe the remains from the poor boys shirt. Your movements sluggish but your voice strong.

Connor only held up his hands, calm as always. “It’s alright y/n!” He comforted. But maybe it was because of your drunk state that made him laugh, you were cute when you were wasted. Like a little bunny almost, innocent and shy. He could see just why Pip was so protective over you because in a way he was too. You had been a great source of comfort to him during Jamie’s case. Had stood by his side, “a great big pillar of strength” Connor had quoted on the podcast, you had blushed and buried your cheeks into Pip’s neck as she held you. Connor had chuckled at the sight. The same Pip that had told him off multiple times for speaking or simply breathing during audio interviews had been laying loosely on the chair, mic in hand you draped over her lap, fingers playing with her pendant necklace as you had recorded an episode. It was almost uncanny. Connor would tease you relentlessly about it. So it was safe to say Connor and you were as thick as thieves. You trusted him immensely and in turn, he trusted you.

Connor moved to grab your sluggish hands, his fingers calmly wrapped around your wrist, his hands moving to catch your trembling legs. His arms wrapped around you protectively, “I think you’ve had quite enough for today why don’t we go grab a nice cup of water?” Connor spoke, his voice nervous. He had never seen you as drunk as you were.

Your head was spinning. And not in the pleasant way. Your limbs were tired, your throat dry and you could feel the alcohol pushing in your veins. You felt sick. Thought you were going to be sick all over the floor. It was an embarrassing thought and you cursed yourself for not taking the nice day in cuddled with your girlfriend. Instead you had been selfish, dragging her out to some godforsaken party that she wasn’t the faintest bit interested in. But Pip had showed up, even with all her emotional baggage of why she disliked calamity parties. She still had showed up. For you.

If your knees weren’t weak already you were sure they would be now.

“Connor I need to find Pip” you spoke, body still dizzy and lightheaded. Connor understood your words, slurry but cognitive. His arms were a thankful blessing as he held your already dead weight. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system but you spoke, making Connor freeze. “Have I ever told you how strong you are Con? I bet you could lift me up and throw me over your bed couldn’t you?” You giggled, your hazy mind picturing Connor throwing you. It was actually quite funny as Connor used to be a bag of bones. Cara would tease him endlessly in primary school for his weak girl arms.

But Connor had frozen, in fear because somehow during your little adventure, your girlfriend had managed to go unnoticed and had snuck up behind you two. Connor would feel her disapproving stare right behind him. Imaginary daggers being thrown at his head like a target he imagined. It was obvious she had heard what you said. Because her back had straightened. Her jaw clenched, her normally anxious eyes had become wide and Connor couldn’t lie terrified. Pip had become slightly terrifying after her brush with the cases. Let’s be honest at her brush with death and it certainly didn't help that you were draped all over him, giggling and far too close for comfort.

Connor gulped, turning to find Pippa eying him with analyzing eyes, almost as if she was trying to find something. Anything. “Thanks for helping my girlfriend Connor” she spoke, a saccharine smile etched onto her lips. But the smile was too fake to be real, too empty. And maybe the forceful way she had to spit out her girlfriend had been telling enough that she had heard. Also the emphasis on My before girlfriend. Almost like she was staking her claim. A protective stance in the way she eyed you.

At her voice you immediately caught your girlfriend’s eye, too drunk to notice the way her eyes were downcast, hurt by the comment you had made. But it was quickly mended by the sly smile that filled your features as you caught her eyes. “Hi” you spoke, cheeks a mess. Pippa couldn’t help but chuckle, finding you too cute. Hell you were adorable.

“Isn’t my girlfriend the most hottest girl ever?” You spoke sluggishly, “I like how she bends me over and fu-“ Connor cupped his hands over your mouth, ears red, face red, “right! I think you can take your girlfriend home now Pip” he chided practically throwing you to to your girlfriend's arms.

Pippa, with her cheeks red from the comment though somewhat prideful as she pulled you into her body, arms wrapping protectively around you. Your smile wide as Pip brushed her nose against yours. “Your wasted” Pip assessed, lips close enough for you to chase, close enough for you to taste. Your eyes were dark as they eyed Pip’s dark blues. You loved moments like these. Small moments where all you could focus on was Pippa. You were drunk at a Calamity party with neon lights and music so loud it burst your eardrum yet all you could hear, and see was your Pippa. And her soft fingers which now were feeling more comfortable than Connor’s. You felt warm, at home within her arms. secure.

“I just need some water.” You spoke, hiccuping.

Pippa’s eyes were soft as the pad of her fingers came up to caress your cheek, sending goosebumps through you. Her eyes so caring and soft. “Let’s get you home love” she cooed. Connor had thankfully volunteered to find some water. Pip had sat you down next to her, arms woven through yours but in your drunk haze state you had simply climbed on top of her and dug your nose into her neck, needing that sweet relief only Pip brought. Smelling her unique scent that often lulled you to sleep.

“You're a cuddly one today ” Pippa observed practically glowing as you sat on her lap, eyes ablaze with a playful glint. You giggled, moving to hesitantly brush your nose against Pip’s feeling the cool cold contact meet your skin. Pippa’s eyes fluttered as she leaned forward, her lips meeting yours in a soft single peck. But you weren’t in the mood for that, so you snaked your hand to cup the back of her neck, playing with some baby hairs, and pulled her lips back to you.

The rush of energy that flowed through you as you kissed pip was never dull, it was overpowering and seemed to pull you deeper down into the depths of its soul. Pippa was cautious even as you began taking control of the kiss, it was all you to be certain. Pip kissed back, at she was doing that right. But there was no fire in her kisses, you could tell she was busy looking around, assessing the strangers around them to truly lose herself in you. You could also feel how rigid her posture felt. You pulled away, eying Pip’s red lips which looked chapped in the neon light of the room.

You whined, your fingers clinging to Pippa’s red jumper, toying with the metal clasps. Pippa noticed your less than cheery attitude, how your lips were turned ownward like a toddler who didn’t get its promised toy after a shop to the market. It was cute, you were rather like a child when you were a drunk. Reverting back to your three year old self. Which was why pip had seemed to grow a rapid respect for your mother.

“What’s with that face now love? Your lips are far to pretty to be in a scowl” Pip spoke, fingers cupping your jaw softly. You leaned into the touch, your weight shifting as you leaned closer, pulling yourself up into pip’s lap “I need kisses” you uttered. “Kisses? I gave you plenty just now? Why don’t you drink some water and we can talk about kisses when we get home and your not giving anyone a free show?” Pippa spoke, laying a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Where is Connor with that water?” Pip muttered, craning her head round to look.

You saw the opportunity and launched. You were far too horny and aroused to care letting your heart make the choices rather than your mind. You launched your assault on her neck, lips dancing over her skin, your eyes closed as you felt her racing pulse beneath your lips. Your lips cautious, testing the waters. It was only when you began Rolling the skin beneath and soothing the ache with your tongue that you could hear Pip suck in a breathe, possibly from the rough way your teeth glided over her skin. Pippa didn’t at all seem surprised, but you could feel skin beneath your lips, could feel the warmth radiating from her. could see she was feeling the warmth just the same. Could see the way she fought to control her seemingly calm demeanor. Her eyes fluttered as she gave in to your assault, but it never lasted long as her hands skimmed to hold you by the waist.

They were strong and seemed to command you to stop, you whine pitifully as pip pulled you off, eyes dark as they scanned you. “Behave yourself sweet girl” she chided, then quietly, “aren’t you my good girl?”. Then a calm saccharine voice that filled your head with cotton, you knew that voice. It was the same familiar cadence that would whisper into your ear in bed. The same voice that would often cause you to lose your mind. In the most wonderful ways. “Good girls have patience, and I know your so good at having patience aren’t you my love?” Pip began, her lips delving into that soft smirk that made your skin prinkle. You nodded, all lust filled eyes. Your heart racing itching to feel pip all around you. Consuming you. Leave you shaking and crying for more. She had done it before. And you wanted her to do it now.

Pippa smiled at that like her mind knew just what you wanted. “I’ll take care of you pretty girl” she crooned, “don’t you worry”. But you did. Your senses were hyper-aware, aware of the girl's shape jaw line and deep blue eyes, aware of her hands at the base of your hips, strong and confident. Aware that if you just moved an inch you could feel the way Pip’s jeans would brush against you in just the right place.

You held back a whine, too far gone to care. Too consumed by the girl in front of you.

“Pip…please take me to the bathroom” you whined. Pulling at her jeans. At her jumper. Pippa only shook her head, “you deserve more than just a bathroom fuck my love. Now I promise the minute we get home and you are properly sober you’ll be begging me to stop having my way with you. Because I promise I won’t stop till you’ve cum so hard your legs will shake. better yet, how exactly do I make you feel? Do I send chills down your spine? Make you get butterflies in your stomach? Make your heart pound inside your chest? Do I make that pretty little spot between your legs drip with anticipation? Just enough to make a wet spot on those tight little leggings of yours?”

You gulped, becoming flustered at her words. Because every answer had been yes. And she knew that, hiding behind her soft words and all-knowing smile. her voice a hot whisper against your ear.

“So what's it gonna be, princess? I need an answer” pip speaks, her smile replaced by a scowl, like she’s waiting for your answer. You nod, vigorously, almost whining when her hot fingers come up to melt over the hot skin of your stomach, pip smiles, feeling your skin underneath her palms. Watching as your eyes close as she skims her finger down your stomach, reaching your pubic bone. You sigh, open your eyes to peer into hers. Your far gone, just managing to keep your breathing calm. Pip toys with you, dipping just low enough to tease the edge of your panties which have gone soaked. If you were sober enough to care you would have felt embarrassed you were sure, but not now. Not with Pip's gentle commanding eyes, not when they were eying you like you were the important girl in the room.

Your hips jump, and you only lean into Pip, digging yourself into her neck as you try to grind. But Pip pulls away, fingers gone and now are well on to pulling you up as she takes the water from the just-appearing Connor. Thanking him before pulling you into her, water in one hand as she guides you out of the party. A new purpose as she walks, you can tell from the way she opens your door and helps you in. Her hands are soft as they put the water in your hands, even teasing you with a small kiss when she buckles you.

“You drink all that. Every bit of it. I want you sober and well hydrated.” She pinches your cheeks, closing your door before sauntering in on the drivers seat. The drive home was quiet, Pip’s hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel was placed not so discreetly across your lap, and you laughed when pip eyed you with puppy dog eyes, “Not going to hold my hand are you? That’s quite alright, I’ll hold your hand plenty when I’m watching you squirm under me”.

The words caused blush to fill your cheeks, images of pip above you, hair a sweaty mess over her shoulders, eyes a sweet blue yet not sweet. Instinctively your hand collided with hers, palms meeting Palms, pip kept her eyes on the road, Little Kilton seeming quiet and still as she held your fingers in her own, her fingers caressing your skin, the indents of your lines on your palm. It enamored you how beautiful she looked.

Pip with her large jumper, crimson red being her favorite of late. Her shoulder length almost russet hair was wild in the wind. A pen lay lodged in her pocket, a bulge-like pen with teeth marks lying across the plastic edges. Pip’s analysis pen she kept everywhere like a professional investigative journalist. Ever since the Andie Bell case pip had made sure that pen was within her reach, she was always on the lookout for things. You didn’t know what exactly, a new case maybe. All you knew was it changed her. Made her hyper-aware, quick to move, and quick to be near you at all times. Like some sort of bodyguard. You couldn’t go on a walk alone, and you couldn’t walk to the market alone, not that you minded, because pip would hold your hand during the walk and talk about her new podcast episodes. Or Pip would carry your groceries to the boot, cheeks turning red when you would point out that she was just as tiny as you, well she had a few inches on you. Enough that you would have to angle your eyes just enough to eye those blue watercolored eyes.

“What’s on your mind?? You look like your undressing me with your eyes. You imagining me in my knickers are you?” Pippa playfully retorted.

You only leaned in a bit more, till your body was flush with the cold console separating you two. Pippa was all sly smiles and playful retorts. But she wouldn’t be. You needed this. Needed her like a breathe of fresh air after a midnight swim. You were sick of waiting, sick of acting like the sweet well tempered girl. You wanted to act reckless, to truly do something so out of character.

You settle for when you and Pip are safe within your own walls. You watch Pip as she makes a beeline for the cups pulling one and filling it before giving it you. Her fingers brushing past yours as she takes off your sweater. “I’ll put these away. Why don’t you get comfortable in your nighties and I’ll meet you in our room? Make sure to drink plenty of water. How is that head of yours? Giving you any trouble?”

You answered telling her your head was just fine now. The water had done its job and the cool car ride had been enough to have the dull feeling of alcohol leave your system. Although from the way you eyed Pip with dark hungry eyes she would have thought you were still pumped with the vile toxins.

You did as told. Getting ready for bed and meeting your girlfriend in your shared bedroom. Pip smiled at you, her eyes glinting as she watched you in the bed. Your hair falling softly above your shoulders, Comforter pulled up to your chin and eyes innocent. An act purely for her sake. You were anything but innocent. “You look so cute” she spoke crawling across the mattress and moving to press her forehead against yours, arms moving around you pulling you flush into her body, heat radiating from you both.

You snuggled close, causing pip to giggle when you nuzzled her nose with your own, being sly and leaning in for a kiss. Pip relented letting you have a few kisses, but it was the way you held her head, your fingers moving to cradle the underside of her neck that had pip smiling against your eager lips.

“Now what can my sweet girl want at this hour of the night?”

You sigh as pip’s clever lips make their way across your cheeks, pressing softly and delicately, her lips mapping across your skin to leave a few hot kisses on your jaw.

“I want you pip” you whine into her skin, you don't care how selfish or pathetic it sounds because it's true.

Pip smiles at that, her grin wide and her teeth glinting in the lamplight. She eyes you with soft eyes, yet you can see the way her chest rises as she takes you in, blue half-mooned eyes taking in the way your chest rises and falls in the oversized jumper you’ve worn.

Pippa gulps, her cheeks red and her hands tightening their hold on your hips. She’s thinking. Pondering what her next move should be. Analyzing like only Pip does. You catch her eyes as they drift down to your jumper again, recognition flashes in her eyes.

“Is that my jumper?” She manages to say, you follow the way her tongue flicks across her lips hungrily and you imagine that same soft delving tongue gliding across your neck and it takes all your might and strength to not drag her down.

You nod.

Pip always loved seeing you in her clothes. The way they smelled like your sweet soft scent after you had worn it, the almost territorial feeling of knowing you were hers. Pip didn't like being possessive, in fact, she often tried to curb that feeling. It had gotten stronger with the events of Jason Bell and the aftermath of what had happened. So she always tried to maintain a healthy relationship, letting you have freedom and making sure to not be overbearing. But now as you lay beneath her, eyes dark and open for her like a gift, Pippa Fitz Amobi can't wait to unwrap you.

Pippa leans down her head against your bare chest, ear to your heart. She closes her eyes and feels you against her skin. Feels your heart against your chest, feels the intake of breaths. It’s almost too serene. It’s something she’s taken to doing whenever the voices in her head are loud, and they were now. Begging Pip to have her way with you, imagining all the filthy ways she'd take you and the screams that would come out of your pretty lips. So rich, so sweet, and all for her. Pip heaved in a breath, feeling your fingers trail the ends of her hair, softly, waiting for her to make the next move. Trusting her.

“I want to eat you out. If you’ll let me” Pip breathes out, accent slightly muffled.

The words take you by surprise, but you don’t object. Your legs are trembling as you nod, pippa smiles and leans in to press a long kiss as a thank you. Your body has been on high alert since the party, and you know it won't take much to make you see stars.

Pip takes her time working you up, kisses you everywhere on your skin. Working her way down from your neck to the incline of your shoulders, down the slope of your neck. Relishes the taste of your colllarbone. Moans when she reaches your chest. Pip immediately slides the zipper down, mouth watering when she realizes you aren’t wearing anything underneath. It almost short circuits her brain, and you reach out to move a few strands from her face, "Whose shy now Amobi?" you tease.

Pip’s fingers slide over to tease the last bit of the jumper and the article goes cascading off your shoulder.

“Oh I could spend all day and night loving these gorgeous breasts. The way they perk up at my touch.”

You want to whine and beg for pip to do something. Anything to quell the burn in your stomach but you don’t have to because soon pip is leaning down and taking a nipple in her mouth. You immediately gasp, feeling your cheeks flush and your core ache as pip’s clever tongue traces your nipple, sucking cleverly and hard. It makes your stomach jolt and pleasure come in high doses.

Pip is attentive as her fingers come up to ghost your other breast, playful as she carefully flicks the pink flesh, watching as you whine under her fingers. After a few minutes of pip's teasing you begin to get restless. "Stop teasing pip, please....please".

You cant help but find the smug look on her face attractive, especially when her mouth is as clever as her mind is.

"You and your lack of patience, always have to get what you want don't you pretty girl? Well, not tonight. I want you to work for it. your a hard worker aren't your my love? Ill make it easy for you. You see, all i want you to do is beg. Simple. Think you can do that for me love?".

Pip's words make your pussy ache in the best way, your stomach jolting and your head nodding fast. You're so far gone you don't even feel the way Pip's fingers slide against your thighs, holding softly and sliding you closer to her, and you can only think how strong your girlfriends are.

your chest is heaving as Pip trails teasing kisses against your thighs, your skin flushing against her touch. It's almost too much when she ghosts over your panties, her lips teasing up into a smile, teasing in purpose, to get a rise out of you.

"Where do you want me pretty girl? hmm? just say it, I just want to hear you say it" Pip speaks, kissing your cheek one last time and eying you with her gray eyes.

It's at that moment that you realize your too far in her clutches. Maybe it's the fact that Pip's hands are rising up to interlock with your fingers, holding tightly. Maybe it's the fact that she looks so earnest, waiting, like a good girl. It almost makes you cum right on the spot, the pleading way she asks.

you give in, begging so much you hope your flatmates can't hear you through the paper walls of your neighboring flat. It would be embarrassing and an utter nightmare after after Cara walked in one night and refused to look into you or Pip's eyes for a solid week.

"Please please please please please-" you sound despeate and you don't get very far with your begging because Pip is sliding down your knickers with soft shaky hands and is immediately sliding her tongue down into your folds. She works expertly, just as Pip always has, shes known you for years, since primary school, and spent years analyzing what made you tick, and what your body responded to. She's an expert at getting you off.

You whine and lock your fingers in her hair, pulling softly, knowing how it drives Pip wild. Pip's tongue is wild and untamed as she sucks you, taking you in like sweets from a candy shop. "Good girl. good darling" Her voice is muffled, but it urges you on, getting any type of praise from her.

She removes her mouth to replace it with her fingers instead, easily pushing in two due to the sheer amount of wetness spilling out. Warm walls push down on her fingers, urging them to sink in further as a breathless moan sounds out from bellow her. Her fingers thrust in and out a few times before curling at just the right angle to brush against your G-spot. “Shit, please, more.”

“Anything you want y/n” Pippa whispers. she places a sweet kiss on your thigh before moving up to kiss the hood of your clit, your thighs squeezing her head harder in return. Pip lets the tip of her tongue dart out to lick under the hood, brushing against your quickly reddening clit. Her fingers continue their movements as she swirls her tongue around it, coaxing it out of its hood and leaving it at the mercy of her mouth. At first, her movements are slow and gentle, not wanting to overstimulate you before it’s time. But when you reach hand down to clutch at the hair on the back of her head and push her down forcefully, she knows there’s no need to wait; her tongue sets forth at a bruising pace. She circles around the swollen clit, and nudges it with the tip of her tongue before licking it harshly until it stands to attention. your hips jerk up in response, and so Pippa maneuvers her free arm around to splay her hand across your stomach, holding you still. Still, this does nothing to stop the pressure coming from the thighs around her head, and she can barely even hear what your is saying. “Finger me harder Pippa please don’t stop.” 

Pip has no choice-less to obey, and so she speeds up the movements of her fingers and presses more harshly against your g-spot, all the while licking at your clit with vigor. Her own clit throbs with need turned on from the musky taste on her tongue and the loud moans she’s pulling out from you. Even though her tongue is burning from the friction, her fingers are tiring from moving so quickly, and her head is under an almost painful amount of pressure, Pippa is in heaven. She’s the one who has you so breathless, so wantonly moaning and arching her back in response to every lick and thrust. It strokes the egoistic side of her to know that she turns you on so much that your fingernails scratch against Pippa’s scalp to push her closer; she knows you aren’t aware of this, lost as you are in your own pleasure. The only regret Pippa has in that moment is not being able to see the look of ecstasy on your face. The scrunching of your eyes, the way you bite your lip.

pippa can tell that you are close by the way your hips try to thrust upwards harder, barely being held back by Pippa's hand. The muscles of your thighs clench as your walls squeeze down on her fingers, a continuous flood of wetness pooling out of her and dripping down the base of Pippa's hand. There is nothing but the delicious taste coating Pip's tongue and the musky odor filling her senses; nothing but the broken screams of her name and the torturous pulling of hair from her scalp. It spurs her on as she abandons licking your clit for directly pulling the swollen red nub into her mouth instead, sucking on it softly and then more harshly when you let out a scream. “Don’t stop, oh bloody hell, don’t stop!”

She halts the movements of her fingers, sucks on your aching clit, and lightly grazes it with her teeth before she hears you scream her name, walls clamping down harshly on her fingers and hips thrusting erratically. As you fall apart in bliss, Pippa can't help but fall deeper in love with you, thinking back to that shy adolescent crush she had harbored for you in primary school. oh if younger Pip could see her now. She continues to lick gently as you cum, bringing you down from your high until the hand that was previously pulling her head closer begins to push her away instead. 

Your breathing is erratic but that doesn't stop pip from leaning down to eye you, her eyes taking in your soft smile. "You did so good for me sweetheart positively wonderful, do you feel alright? I wasn't too rough was I?" Pippa is saying and you giggle, pulling her to your chest. You love how soft and caring she is, how sweet she looks at you. you shake your head, "Pip stop overanalysing. I'm fine, positively wonderful, although I do want one thing" Your fingers dance along the blue-eyed girl's arms, stopping just above her t-shirt. “I want you to beg for me now. Can the infamous Pippa Fitz Amobi take what she dishes out?" Before Pip has a word in you are already on top of her, kissing her with eager lips and nearly ripping off her nighties. “You thought you teased me? Well love let’s see how long you can last” you chime into her ear, your lips ghosting her earlobes, "I'll be gentle".