#GODS i forgot how much text I had written in my notes about this

[shitpostingkats]

Can I please have some dark world administrative lore. Read your "Jaden Yuki has to take care of a pack of middle schoolers" and now im obsessed. Very much looking forward to the fic you mentioned where Yuri becomes Jaden's intern/apprentice because I would love to see their relationship development/dynamic and also. I need more administrative lore. I would absolutely read your entire 15 slide powerpoint

I have such a regular amount of Dark World lore. It is a very sane amount of worldbuilding I did. The next fic in the series definitely isn't going to be more underworld office comedy schennanigans with absurd amounts of exposition and complex workplace drama.

(One of these is a lie.)

For the dark world administrative lore, I decided to use file no. 4 of the Master Guide 2 card storylines as a jumping off point, and then the lore just ballooned from there. The powerpoint exists for my own referencing purposes, because even if most of the dark world generals don't appear (yet >:), it is important it exists to me.

Let's start with our head of state and his primary advisors!

Third King of the Dark World, babey!!! You know him, you love him, it's the Yuki!

Not too much to say about our Supreme Boi that isn't gonna be covered in future fics. The most relevant information, going into the as-of-yet-untitled next gc au fic, is thinking about what the hot mess that is dark world politics from an outside perspective. Like, imagine you're one of the other interdimensional courts that exist in the wider yugioh canon and just

Yuri doesn't have a slide in my powerpoint :(

I can say that in the gc au after he settles into the dark world and starts being involved in running the kingdom, Jaden goes in and officially names him an official of the dark world. At first, Yuri demanded he also be called "Supreme King", because he's a little shit like that. They compromise on "Supreme Prince".

None of the other officials call him that. They just call him "The Princeling"

Beiige, my beloved long suffering paper pusher <3

Jaden does, in fact, end up giving him a scarf at some point.

Under our King, Prince, and Vanguard, we have the newly promoted heads of Millitary and Wellfare. There is technically a third branch of of the government, Security, but rather than have a single representative, the duties of security are actually divided into Internal and External. Or, more specifically, The Wild Hunt and Renge And His Weird Daughter.

More on them later.

For now, say hi to the rest of the Dark World's millitary division!

Fun fact! At first one might assume that the dark world monsters don't have genders! Well, I assumed that at first, at least. But Snoww is considered notable for being the "only" female Dark Lord, which implies they have at least some kind of gender system. And for some reason, I find it much stranger to have a host of duel spirits with like twelve guys and one woman, than everyone just using to same pronouns. So for my own comfort and amusement, I've switched up some of the Dark Lords genders. So if she ever comes up in fic, Lucent is a woman. Other than that, she's basically the textbook brooding samurai. Jaden actually offered her the position of millitary head first, but she turned it down, both thinking herself undeserving of the title, and because she argued her being not an on-the-ground operative is exactly how she did not know how bad Bronn's rule had become. He reluctantly agreed, and she pointed him towards Zure.

What happened to the previous heads of Military? Well, as I alluded to in my fic, they're a bit hard to track down at the moment.

And in special ops, we got Cobal!

Not actually ever printed, never even seen in show. Cobal wasn't even a Dark Lord under the previous monarchy. He's like the dark world equivalent of a construction worker who got promoted to the head of the CIA. Why the rapid career change? Well one, he was in the resistance with Axel, and Jaden trusts anyone who tried to actively overthrow him. Also, the previous head of the CIA defected and set about overthrowing the government.

And on the other side, under Gren's oversight, we have our Silly Old Men.

The true victors of diplomacy. Because they were not soldiers, and smart enough to understand how veeeeery precarious that made their standing once Bronn started to go all mad king-y, used their massive brains and promptly noped right out of the situation. Parl already stayed in his cave like 90% of the time, so he pulled the old Just Stop Showing Up To The Office strategy and wrote a letter to his friend suggesting he do that same. Someone who was NOT passive about the whole Supreme King situation, however, was Ceruli's apprentice, Snoww.

While they have since reconciled, Snoww was originally an ardent opponent to Jaden's (first) rule, as well as Bronn. There isn't a more skilled death diviner in the dark world, nor any other dimension, so Supreme King Jaden went to her first thing upon Bronn's defeat to seek help recovering Jesse's soul. She was unable to find it (him being still alive) and even worse, advised Jaden that obsessing over a ghost was often the last thing a spirit wanted. Once he started pursuing Super Poly, she turned her work to guiding as many of the lost souls as she could to a peaceful rest, and delaying the ritual as long as possible.

She continued like this even after she was found out, and formally defected to join the rebellion.

RIP Latinum. He's currently rotting in one of the many Dark World prison cells.

And lastly, we've got the security branch, both internal and external.

There are now two gatekeepers in the Dark World, which is a 200% increase to what it was previously!!!

Broww's wild hunt is roughly based on the real life folkloric trend; the ever-moving host of unquiet dead that roams across the land. I like to think it has that same spooky connotation, even among dark world residents. Broww's just scary. Add to it that he basically disappeared from the government to continue to act as an independent force, the wild hunt has a bit of a mysterious reputation. It's basically the most sovereign branch of the dark world government, if not for...

Are you going to be the one to tell the dragonlord what they can and can't do??? Grapha and Jaden work on a mutual respect type of relationship, as Jaden is one of the most powerful beings in all dimensions and still a little cautious about working with dragon spirits. Inversely, Grapha is willing to handle territorial and testy dragons all day, but can acknowledge when their boss is pretty chill for an eldritch horror.

If you want a easier to follow summary, here's a diagram of the Dark World's current chain of command:

AND! For an added bit of trivia: Completely by accident, I somwhow managed to namedrop every GX era original Dark World monster in Jaden Yuki Has To Take Care Of A Pack Of Wild Middleschoolers. I just love talking about my headcanon lore so much. Can you spot them all?

[youunravelme]

to all the girls you've loved before part seven

author's note: WHEW okay i am so sorry it took five days short of a year to finish this. what a wild ride it has been! i just wanted to shout out my dear friend @dani746 who has cheered me on (and roasted me) many times throughout this process. i probably wouldn't have finished this without you. i also want to shout out my other friend @thewintersoldierdisaster who helped me process so much of this part to get it written. you both are the best and i owe you both big time! i also owe all of you who have read and reblogged and replied and liked this series over the last year and a half, you have been so amazing! anyway, here's part seven! (and not to worry, while this is the last part of the series, i will be writing more about mama bear and mat).

pairing: single dad!mat barzal x reader

summary: being a nanny for rich people was probably the worst thing that ever happened to you, until you started working for mat.

warnings: children, rich people, fear of falling in love, anxiety

day seventy-one

you arrived at sydney and matt's in thirty minutes. it probably would've taken less time had traffic not been absolutely abhorrent due to the holiday.

you thanked the driver and paid before grabbing your bag and walking out into the cold air.

in your rush, you forgot a jacket.

you stumbled up the martin's front steps, and dialed sydney's number, pointedly ignoring the five missed calls and eleven texts from mat.

"hello?" thank god sydney sounded awake.

"hey," you exhaled. "can you let me in? i need a place to stay for tonight."

you could hear her mumble something to her husband. and the door was opened thirty seconds later.

matt ushered you in without a word. sydney met you in the foyer with a crease between her brows at the sight of your jacket-less frame and the bag in your hands.

"what happened?" she asked as she led you to the living room and sat you down on a couch. a ringtone sounded and when you turned around matt was answering his phone.

your focus shifted to matt who was looking straight at you. "hey barzy," he said. "yeah, she's here." he nodded, but his eyes were focused on you and sydney. "she got here just a minute ago. no she doesn't have a jacket. syd's with her now." matt hummed into the phone. "we'll drive her to the airport tomorrow, don't worry about it."

you wanted to bury yourself into the pillows. you wanted the couch to swallow you whole.

you didn't hear the end of the conversation matt had on the phone. to be quite frank, you weren't sure you wanted to hear it at all.

matt joined you and syd on the sectional. he threw an arm around the back of the couch and the very sight of it made you sick. you loved them together, you did, that wasn't your problem.

it just reminded you how jason never did anything close to that.

or more importantly (and maybe this was your bigger concern): your shoulders felt cold without mat's arm wrapped around them.

"what happened?" matt asked. and you had to give it to him, you appreciated the "no bullshit" approach he was taking, even if you felt a little attacked.

you opened and closed your mouth repeatedly, but no words came out.

"i'm asking because barzy sounded like he was two seconds away from a full blown panic attack."

you could feel your ears getting hot. your cheeks were getting warm. you wanted to throw up.

"we kissed," you mumbled.

the martins blinked, and you had to give credit where credit was due, sydney didn't shout "i told you so." matt, though, seemed to recognize that the conversation was probably best had between you and sydney because he pressed a kiss to the side of her head and walked out of the room.

sydney nodded and cocked her head to the side. "why did you run?" she asked.

you broke eye contact to look at your hands which were furiously picking at your cuticles. you could see her move closer, leaning forward on her elbows.

sydney said your name quietly. "what happened? did he overstep a boundary? i can get matt to say something to him--"

"i kissed him," you admitted, still not looking up. "i kissed him and freaked out and ran."

“why?”

you exhaled and continued picking at your fingers. "jason said some shit that just got under my skin and now i can't stop thinking about it."

sydney waited for a moment before she spoke again. "what did he say?"

you couldn't see, and it took you a minute to realize that it was because your eyes were blurring with tears. it felt pathetic to sniffle and wallow when it was your fault.

it was all your fault.

"no it's not, honey," sydney said, sounding closer than she did a few minutes ago. you didn't even realize you had said anything. "what did your ex say to you?"

"he said mat would eventually get bored of me. whether that meant just in general or if we slept together."

"you know that's not true, right?"

you halfheartedly shrugged.

sydney was beside you now. she placed her hand on your knee and squeezed. "honey, it's not true. jason treated you like shit, if the one interaction i saw the two of you have was any indication." when you didn't reply, she sighed. "we don't have to talk about it anymore. let's get the guest room set up so you can get some sleep."

it took all of ten minutes for the guest room to be ready. you were curled into the bed moments later.

you found yourself staring at the ceiling wondering how you could've ruined your life so quickly.

you shouldn't have kissed him.

god what were you thinking.

at a professional level, he was your boss, at a technical level, he was a roommate and also—

the best guy you'd ever known.

not that it mattered at the end of the day. you kissed him and ruined any sort of relationship, professional or platonic, you could've had. you might not have been a stem girly, might not be a rocket scientist, but even you could knew that it didn't matter if the stars aligned—

there was no way mat barzal was in love with you.

so you cried yourself to sleep and dreamt of the hazel eyes that had enraptured your heart.

day seventy-two

matt drove you to the airport and thankfully said nothing about your puffy eyes and messy hair. it was safe to say you were restless all night, barely feeling like you slept at all when your alarm went off.

“do you need someone to pick you up when you get back into town?” matt asked as jfk airport approached.

you hesitated. “i hadn't thought that far ahead,” you admitted. “mat was supposed to pick me up, but i don't think he'll want to see me.” not after you ruined everything.

matt nodded. “text syd and let her know when your flight gets into town and we’ll figure something out. if not us, then i’m sure the lees can help.”

when he pulled up to the airport, you gave him a grateful smile and a small thanks before grabbing your personal item and carry on and getting out of his suv. for a brief second, you contemplated jumping back in his car and begging matt to take you back to mat and ella, but you forced your legs to carry you into the airport, telling yourself your mother would be upset if you missed your flight.

so you walked through the airport, through tsa, to your gate, onto the plane, like a zombie. you couldn't stop imagining the way mat’s lips felt against yours, couldn't stop hearing jason’s words in your head like a broken record.

and when your plane took off, you imagined and wondered how mat did it all the time. your stomach dropped as you increased in elevation. your heart lurched when you looked at your lock screen, a photo of the three of you after one of his games.

you should change it, but you loved that little girl and that photo was one time of many recent memories where you felt like you truly belonged.

you locked your phone to keep yourself from thinking about it too much.

your mom met you in your hometown’s airport with a cheesy poster with your baby pictures plastered all over it. she squealed and shoved the poster at your father in favor of nearly tackling you to the ground. you could've cried in her arms, the weight of the last few months catching up to you. for all your parents’ faults, of which there were many, it felt good to be with them again.

your mom pulled back and gave you a watery smile. her hands framed your cheeks as she pulled your head down to place a kiss in your hair. “we've missed you, sweetheart,” she said. “christmas wasn’t christmas without you.”

“missed you too, mom.”

your dad scooped up your carry on and led you to the beat up suv he'd had since you were a sophomore in high school.

the backseat felt familiar like wearing your dad’s old college t-shirt, like fitting into something you'd previously forgotten about. your parents recapped the last few months to you, as they told you about the family drama and what happened at christmas. you were only half listening, doing your best to keep up when you left your heart and mind in new york. you glanced at your parents, married for thirty years, been through their own fair share of struggles. you passively wondered if there was ever this crippling fear in their chests at the idea of loving someone else, or of even falling in love and the enormity of it.

you knew logistically you weren't the first person to fear the act of falling, but you felt so alone in it.

wasn't it crazy? humans had been falling in love for ages and yet you felt completely isolated in this feeling. you weren't the first woman to fall in love with her boss, with a single father, with an athlete. you probably weren't the first to fall in love with a man who was all of the above—

but god it felt like it.

the entire experience felt confining. you knew there were girls dating famous athletes, but they were models, or rich, or childhood sweethearts, or not as mentally fucked up as you currently felt. you were never gonna be sydney or grace or sofia or any of the other nice girls you’d met. you were a nanny, a girl who chose a useless major in a highly competitive city who couldn't handle the stress of a starbucks in new york city at 8am. then you’d gone and kissed mat and consequently felt lighter than you had in the weeks it’d been since you found out your ex cheated on you with the girl you lived with.

but as soon as it ended, you remembered seeing the rangers jersey discarded on your living room floor. you remembered the way your stomach dropped to your toes, how you wanted so badly to pretend it wasn’t happening, but the noises from your roommate’s bedroom were evidence enough.

the writing was in the stars, it was in the fucking clouds, on the fucking wall. every man you'd had been with prior, you'd realized, treated you like garbage. your high school boyfriend never texted or called you back at a reasonable time. your sophomore year of college boyfriend never fully committed, saying he was too busy during football season.

then there was jason who didn’t really show red flags until you started working for mat.

he’ll get bored of you.

“honey? you okay? you went quiet for a second.”

your mom’s voice snapped you out of whatever that mental spiral was.

you gave her your best convincing smile and nodded. “just thinking.”

“how’s that boyfriend of yours?” your dad asked. “jack? joseph?”

“jason?” you gritted out through your painfully tight smile.

your dad snapped and smiled. “that’s his name. how is he?”

“i wouldn’t know, we’re not together anymore,” you mumbled just loud enough for them to hear, but not loud enough for it to echo in your brain.

the car went silent, even as the radio crackled out some random eighties bop from when your parents were in college.

“are you okay?” your mom asked.

“i’m fine.”

day seventy-three

your parents didn't make you celebrate christmas as soon as you got into town. they, thankfully, waited a day before calling your entire extended family over to watch you open presents alone. you smiled and thanked each member for their corresponding present. you dutifully laughed at every joke and sipped at your glass of red wine in hopes that the acidity would distract you from heavier things.

like the texts from sydney asking if you were alright.

or the video from mat of ella playing with the stuffed hippo you got her. you'd watched it ten times just to hear her laugh that she definitely inherited from his childlike cackle. you couldn't help but see the scrunched up face of ella’s that was a carbon copy of her father’s. but even after all that, you still didn't have the heart to reply. what would you even say?

“aw she’s so cute! also sorry i kissed you and ran away?”

you were on your fourteenth watch of the video when he texted again.

mat: let me know when your flight is coming back into town, we’ll pick you up.

you locked your phone and took a sip of your wine. and when your cousin did a cartwheel in the middle of the living room and nearly knocked over the christmas tree? you smiled politely while her parents chided her while you tried to forget the similar stories mat’s parents told you about his childhood.

as the family members cleared out, you helped your parents clean up the common areas. you were in the kitchen with your mom loading the dishwasher when she asked the question you were dreading.

“when are you going back to new york?”

your hands nearly dropped the plate you were holding, but you recovered quickly. “i have to be back before the isles’ next roadie.” a non answer, but you didn't feel like pulling out your calendar and counting the days to see how close you were to facing the mess you left on the island.

“are you staying for new year’s?”

you didn't need to look at your calendar to know you'd already been gone for too long. you'd memorized mat’s schedule at the beginning of the season when you started working for him. his roadie started on new year’s eve.

when you did the dreaded math, you had maximum two days left before you had to head back and take care of ella like nothing had happened.

“i can’t, mat has a road trip that starts on new year’s eve.” you couldn't even look at her. “i’m sorry, mom.”

but she shrugged your apology off and hugged you from behind with a tight grip. “don't apologize, baby. i just wish you'd tell us what's going on.”

“there’s nothing going on—”

your mother said your name, a cross between gentle and chastising. “i was born at night, but not last night. i know you, i know when something’s wrong. if you don't want to talk about it, that’s fine. you're an adult. but don't lie and say you're okay.”

you nodded but didn't offer up any more information.

“when you're ready,” she said, rubbing your back. “when you're ready to talk, i’m here to listen.” your mom pressed a kiss to your cheek, squeezed your shoulders, and walked out of the kitsch, leaving you to gaze out the window over the sink.

day seventy-five

sydney picked you up from the airport at noon with a certain smile on her face that you couldn't place. the backseat was devoid of her kids, so you assumed they were with the nanny or matt was home already with the kids.

she did most of the talking, which you were thankful for. you still felt unsettled back on the island so soon. too soon, if anyone asked. there was nothing more that you wanted than to go back home and hide under the covers in your childhood bedroom, pretending that your biggest fears were monsters in the shapes of shadows from your closet doors.

you were only halfway paying attention. your thoughts were monopolized by the last memories you had before going to your parents’ house. the sound of ella’s laugh when she opened your gift, the warmth in your chest at the anders and grace’s christmas party because you felt so welcomed in by people you'd only known for a few months, the overwhelming unnamable emotion in your stomach at the photo album mat gave you, the capsizing undertow feeling of being seen and known, how mat’s lips felt against your own like every good thing you’d ever done was to make sure you deserved that moment.

you were floating in your own thought bubbles when sydney parked her car in the garage. your eyes didn't wander to the car parked in the street, or the reason why she brought you to her place instead of the one you shared with mat.

you weren’t thinking of any of that until you heard his laugh from the living room.

but your feet were already carrying you there, following sydney diligently like you always did. you stood there in the entrance of the living room, your bag still wheeled behind you.

he'd robbed you of all oxygen.

it was like a spotlight was on him and the nearly eleven month old baby in his arms. a closer look showed that ella was barely holding her eyes open, but she was clinging to her hippo like her life depended on it. 

she looked so small, curled into mat’s chest, but so big compared to when you first met her.

her father cheering loudly when he scored on marty, had her flinching awake. her brown eyes opened wide and by some act of grace (or maybe torture on your part) she made eye contact with you and whined. ella reached her hands out for you.

and who were you to deny her?

you ignored the feeling of his eyes on your face, ignored the way his mouth opened in your peripheral vision. instead, you picked up ella and bounced her as she tucked her head under your chin, ignoring the hazel eyes that were locked on your face.

“you're back,” were the first words mat said to you since you left his apartment that night. “how was your trip?”

you fussed over ella in your arms to keep him from seeing how your hands shook around him and vaguely registered that marty had paused the game. “it was fine,” you said. “how long did your family stay in town?”

“they left yesterday, told me to tell you goodbye.”

you nodded, unable to form any other words to keep the conversation going, so you walked towards the kitchen in hopes sydney would follow. she did, thankfully, and soon enough the sound of chel echoed through the downstairs.

“what was that?” sydney whispered. “you haven't seen him in a few days and that’s all you have to say?”

“what did you want me to say? ‘sorry i kissed you and ran away. hope your holiday was fun?’”

sydney sighed through her nose and placed her hands on her hips. “you’re gonna have to talk about it eventually.”

“and i get that, but i don’t want an audience when we talk about it.”

she nodded and looked to the side. “i just hate to see you two like this.”

“like what?”

“like you're strangers.”

a cleared throat kept you from replying, but it did have you turning your head to see mat leaned against the entryway of the kitchen. “i don’t mean to rush you, but i think we need to get ella home so she's in her crib for at least a portion of her nap.”

quickly you nodded and bid goodbye to sydney and, at the door, you smiled at marty as he opened the front door. mat had his hand on your suitcase and was already carrying it outside to his car like it weighed nothing, which it certainly was not light because you had to sit on it with your parents’ obese cat in your lap while your mom zipped it up.

mat loaded your suitcase, you strapped his child in her car seat. he got in the driver’s seat while you slid into shotgun.

and neither of you said a word.

not until you got about five minutes into the drive. it was almost like mat couldn't handle the quiet anymore. “we don’t have to talk about it after this, but i think we should at least acknowledge what happened, right?”

“we don't have to acknowledge it at all, really. it was unprofessional and crossed too many boundaries. i think it’s best if we just forget about it.”

you were too busy staring out the window, watching the buildings pass to see something like hurt flash in mat’s eyes. “why? why do we have to forget it?”

he will get bored of you.

you shook your head and continued to look out the window.

“no, i think i deserve an answer, a reason why you ran out of our apartment on christmas and didn’t say anything.”

“it’s nothing, mat.”

“it’s something if you won't even look at me.” he sighed and adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. judging by the white color of his knuckles, you guessed he'd only tightened his hold. “i just—” he cut himself off with a sigh and rubbed at his jaw with one hand. “do you still want to look after ella? because if you don't, i’ll need some time to find someone else—”

you flinched into the passenger window. “why would you think i wouldn't want to watch her?”

mat shrugged. “i don't know, you don't want to seem to be around me and considering she's my daughter, i just figured.”

“as long as you're okay with it, i’d like to keep nannying. but if you want me to find another place to stay—”

“don't worry about it, it won't be a problem.”

you nodded but didn't say a word for the rest of the ride home. not to worry though, neither did mat.

when you finally got back to the apartment, you grabbed your suitcase while he maneuvered ella out of her car seat and into his arms. neither of you spoke, not even as you went your separate ways as you got into the apartment. you split in the hallway with him going into ella’s nursery and you into your room.

you at least waited to hear the door shut behind you before your shoulders slumped and tears pricked at your eyes.

he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored—

i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time to find someone—

someone else. someone else. someone else. someone else—

a knock on the door startled you enough that you had to cover your mouth to muffle the noise that escaped your lips.

“you okay?” he asked.

you managed to clear your throat and squeak out a “mhm.” you didn't hear any movement, probably mat wondering if he should press the issue, but after a few moments, you could hear feet padding back down the hallway.

you should’ve unpacked, you should’ve cleaned your room from how you left it. you should’ve done a lot of things. but you took a shower where you cried the entire time. then you got in bed and wished you were in your parents’ house so you could smell the slightly burned sugar cookies your mom made and hear your dad’s disgruntled sighs from the living room when his football team didn't play well.

now you were sitting in a cold city that you used to adore, but it felt like the love had evaporated once you were shown how unlovable you were. jason cheated, mat suggested a replacement, maybe that’s all you were. maybe you were just the ikea couch that moved from apartment to apartment only to be replaced with a crate and barrel sofa when the owner got a house.

there was no telling how long time passed before mat knocked again. “tito’s coming over, did you want anything? he’s offering to pick something up.”

you cleared your throat yet again before speaking. “no, no i’m good.”

“you sure? he's getting pizza from borelli’s.”

your stomach growled but you ignored it. “i’m sure, thanks mat.”

the footsteps retreated, leaving you to your thoughts.

it wasn’t long before ella woke up, forcing you to leave your little cave you called a bedroom. she smiled when she saw you, all her four little baby teeth proudly on display. you pulled her out of her sleep sack and changed her diaper, all while her legs and arms were flapping around happily.

“did you have a good nap, ella bean?” she didn't say any intelligible words, mostly just babble, but you smiled anyway. “i bet, baby girl. do you wanna go see dada and uncle tito?”

her deep brown eyes lit up. her eyes were probably the only thing she got from her mom considering she was a carbon copy of mat.

once her diaper was changed, you buttoned her onesie and pulled her little pants back on before you carried her into the living room.

both mat and tito’s eyes lit up when they saw her. almost immediately, ella started kicking her legs and pushing away from you to go to her dad. instead of bringing her straight to mat, you let her down on the floor and watched as she crawled her way to him.

she’d gotten much faster in your absence, even if it was only for a few days. and to your joy, and maybe a little tweak of sadness, she pulled herself up on mat’s knees where he pulled her into his lap.

“how was practice?” you asked.

mat blinked at you. “we didn’t come from practice...”

“i know,” you replied. “but i didn't get to ask you earlier this morning, so i’m asking now.”

tito’s eyes bounce back and forth from you and mat, almost like he’s unsure of what to do.

mat shrugged. “it was fine, just a lot of bag skating.”

and given their performance a few nights ago, that wasn’t completely surprising.

you nodded and walked into the kitchen when the tension became too much. you gripped the cold counter and took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time—

“you okay?”

your eyes shot open and you spun around to see beau standing in the kitchen with a furrow between his brows.

“y-yeah, why?”

he jerked a thumb over his shoulder where mat was playing with ella on the living room floor, or at least you assumed he was, you couldn't see him from where you were standing. “you're joking, right? you seriously don’t know why? it’s been almost three months and i’ve never heard you talk to each other that way.”

“like what?”

“short.” when you said nothing, he continued. “what’s going on?”

“you mean he didn't tell you?”

“tell me what? that you kissed him and ran away and didn't speak to him while you were gone? yeah, he told me that. didn't tell me anything else though.”

beau wasn’t being cruel, you knew that. he was simply narrating what you had done in a matter of fact manner.

so why did it feel like someone was twisting a knife in your chest?

he sighed and placed his hands on his hips. “look, i’m not judging you, i just hate to see you both acting this way.”

“acting like what?”

“strangers. or maybe worse than strangers.”

 “what could be worse than strangers?”

“estranged lovers.”

a scoff left your lips before you could stop it. “one kiss hardly makes us estranged lovers.”

“no but it does make you two act like you don’t know how to be around each other.”

you refused to look at him, choosing instead to study the grain of the marble countertop. “he’s my boss, tito. i shouldn't have done it.”

he fixed you with a look you couldn't quite interpret. maybe it was similar to one sydney gave winnie after she asked her mom a million questions when none of them made sense and had no obvious connection between them. “you're lying to yourself if you think that’s all you are to him, if that’s all he is to you.”

you shrugged your shoulders. “that’s all we can be.”

“says who?”

no one, no one but you. you and that cruel voice in your head that sounds a lot like your ex. “we just can’t.”

“maybe you just need to be proven wrong. allow him to prove you wrong.”

day seventy-seven

“are you still coming to the game tonight?” mat called from his room while you sat in the living room watching ella play with the stacking cups before she got mad and knocked them over.

to say things had returned to normal would be a lie, but you and mat were good at pretending the elephant wasn’t in the room or even in the apartment building. “i’m not sure,” you replied loud enough for him to hear. “ella’s been kinda cranky all day, hasn’t napped well.”

on cue, ella knocked down the cups and screamed bloody murder. you cringed almost immediately. as soon as the scream was over, you could hear mat’s sigh from his bedroom. his voice sounded closer when he spoke again. “you think she’s getting sick?”

you glanced up and saw mat walking through the doorway. in his suit, he still managed to squat next to you. you quickly averted your eyes instead of staring at his thighs. “i don't know, she doesn’t have a fever, she could be teething or it could just be a sleep regression. all three are possible.”

mat leaned in and ruffled the hair on ella’s head. any attitude or frustration she had evaporated the second she saw her dad. she lifted her arms and babbled until he picked her up. he stood up to his full height and placed the back of his hand against her forehead. “does she feel warm to you?

you stood and replaced his hand with yours. you hummed. “maybe a little, but it’s also a little warm in here.”

mat nodded before he kissed the top of ella’s head. “just let me know if you plan on coming.”

“we’ll be there,” you said before you could stop yourself.

if you were a painter, you'd capture the look of mild surprise on mat’s face because it was equal parts endearing and handsome, you couldn't describe it in just words. “really?”

“yeah,” you said, a small smile on your face. “you’ll need your number one fans there.” and even if you doubted your permanence in his life, there was no doubt in your mind where he ranked in yours. “i mean,” you babbled. “aside from your parents and liana.”

mat chuckled a little. “you definitely rank higher than liana. you don't roast me as much as she does.”

“yeah well, she knows more about hockey than i do.”

his eyes looked into yours and you felt the vulnerability of being seen, of being observed through a microscope.

he’ll get bored of you—

“you should know that doesn't matter to me, it’s the fact that you show up.”

“i’ll keep showing up then,” you smiled. “even if i have no idea what’s going on.”

his smile matched your own. “i’ll come home and explain it to you then.”

you probably could’ve stared at him for eternity, his floppy hair and hazel eyes but ella screamed and wriggled around until mat put her back down on the floor, ending whatever moment you thought you were having.

he glanced at his wrist watch and cursed. “i gotta go or i’ll be late, you have the tickets right?”

“they're on my phone, you sent them yesterday.”

he nodded looking at you then ella, then back at you. “i’ll see you later, then. text me if something changes, i’ll check between periods.”

“you really shouldn't—”

“but i’m going to anyway!” he exclaimed before shutting the door behind him.

ella got a kick out of the uber ride to ubs, even from the comfort of her car seat. the driver was kind enough to play gracie’s corner, which was ella’s new musical obsession. she was giddy for once (because she’d been cranky all day) and didn't even protest when you put the headphones on her head as you entered the noisy arena.

you made your way down to the glass where sydney and grace were waiting with their kids. while it wasn’t your first time at a game with ella, it was your first time this close to the ice. mat had sent you tickets because the wags didn't rent a suite out for the game this time. which, in all honesty, was more than fine with you, experiencing a live game close up sounded more than fun.

the boys came out skating at a pace you couldn't dream of replicating. your eyes were as wide as ella’s as you both looked around, stunned.

“you okay?” sydney chuckled. “you look like a deer in headlights.”

you nodded. “they're just...really fast.”

grace and sydney laughed but nodded along with you.

after the initial lap of skating, matt and anders came over to say hi to their kids and wives. matt had a knowing look in his eye and skated away momentarily. maybe you were a little dumb for being surprised when mat, your mat (but not really) came up to the boards grinning ear to ear. 

ella, by an act of god, recognized him even with his helmet on (not that it covered his whole face, but you'd seen videos of babies freaking out when their dads shave so you weren't sure how she would react). she was flapping her arms and squealing, a nice change from the ear piercing scream she’d been giving you all afternoon.

you couldn't really hear what mat was saying, but you saw the happiness in his eyes, the matching grin he shared with his daughter. you didn't even realize you were staring at him until his eyes met yours. he gave you another award winning smile before grabbing a puck and tossing it over for a girl a few seats away from you.

before you realized the time, mat skated away from you so he could finish warming up. that, of course, didn't stop him from looking over in your general direction to look at ella who was enraptured by the entire experience.

the buzzer sounded shortly after and the game started.

ella made it about seventeen minutes into the first period before deciding she’d had enough. smiling apologetically to the other girls, you said, “sorry, the queen has decided it’s time for bed.”

“how're you getting home?” syd asked.

“uber,” you said.

“text us when you get home,” grace said.

you nodded and grabbed your things and placed ella in her car seat before heading up the numerous stairs to the lobby area of the arena. you sent a text to mat after you ordered your uber but before you walked outside, not wanting to stand out in the cold longer than you had to.

you: 

sorry to miss the game! the queen has said she’s had enough. we’re about to get a taxi.

you didn't expect him to reply soon. you managed to get an uber and head back to your shared apartment when you got a text back. 

mat:

call me when you get home.

before you could stop yourself, you furrowed your brows and replied.

you:

what if you’re in the game?

his reply was immediate.

mat:

call anyway, if i have time during the second intermission, i’ll call back. if not, i’ll see you at home.

as if on instinct, you smiled at your phone. you didn't even realize the uber arrived at your apartment building until the driver threw the car in park.

“thank you,” you said as you climbed out of the car and unhooked ella’s car seat.

the first thing you did upon entering the apartment was put ella and her car seat on the floor. the second was pull out your phone and call mat like he asked you to. it rang twice before your heard his voice on the other line.

“you home?”

you blinked. “you actually picked up?

he made a noise that sounded somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “you're surprised?”

“you have a game to focus on.”

“this isn’t a lengthy conversation. i just needed to know that you got home alright.”

“well we’re home. you can stop stressing about us and go win a game instead.”

he cackled through the phone right before he said a quick bye and hung up.

you squatted down to ella’s eye level. she was dozing off in the car seat and you were already not looking forward to the tantrum she’d throw as you tried to get her out and into pajamas. a tired baby barzy was a cranky baby barzy.

just as expected, she started crying and rubbing her eyes when you picked her up. she cried even as you changed her diaper and into her pajamas. she cried through chicka chicka boom boom and the little blue truck which she usually loved. she cried up until the moment you put her in her sleep sack and into her crib.

once she was down, you came back into the living room and started cleaning up to the sound of mat’s game on the television. you still weren't an expert on hockey, but you did at least try to understand what was going on. the important thing was that the isles were winning by a goal.

mat didn't get home until closer to midnight. you were still up, watching carpet cleaning videos on your phone. maybe you should've done something more productive, like cracking open one of the fifty books stacked in piles in your room, but after all the screaming from ella, you just wanted to see a dirty carpet turn white.

“you're still up?” he asked, a slight note of surprise in his voice as he walked through the door.

you shrugged. “was waiting for my hockey debrief.” you watched as he sat his hockey back next to the door and ran a hand down his face. “congrats on the win, by the way.”

he crossed the room and plopped down on the sofa next to you and groaned. “i can’t even think about winning when my body hurts.”

“that’s what happens when you can't stay on your feet for more than half a shift.”

he chuckled a little. “not you too, i get enough shit from the guys.”

“if you want it to stop, you should stop falling down.”

abruptly, mat turned to you. “can you even skate?”

“no, but you can. you even get paid to do so. which is why it’s so surprising that you can’t stay on your feet.” he rolled his eyes but there was a smile on his face. “what?” you smiled back. “what is it?”

“nothing,” he said. “i’m just glad we’re cool again.”

day eighty-nine

you felt like a zombie, simply put. ella was eleven months old and shouldn't be going through a sleep regression, yet she was up on and off all night. you knew that it was because she’d learned a new skill, one you couldn't wait to show mat when he got home.

part of you was nervous that he would be upset that he wasn't there for it. last roadie, he came home to ella cruising along furniture and taking steps while she pushed her walker or held your hands.

it took him two days to come to terms with it.

so you sat on the couch and watched ella play in the ball pit playpen with her stuffed hippo. any other time, you might have cleaned up after her, picking up the balls she’d thrown out (because that was yet another thing she’d learned how to do), but you were doing your best to keep your eyes open.

it was the rattling of the doorknob that had you and ella perking up and looking towards the doorway. you could hear fumbling and what you assumed was mat’s hockey bag dropping to the ground.

despite that, it was still a moment or two before you saw mat walk into the living room with a....iced latte in hand?

you furrowed your brows. “what—”

“dada!” ella screamed, flapping her arm that wasn't holding her hippo, doing her best to scramble to her feet without letting go of her stuffie.

mat nearly dropped everything in his hands, including the coffee, which you were still hung up on, because he drank black coffee, not whatever light colored drink that was in his left hand.

“did she—?” he looked to you, hazel eyes wide as the sun. “did she say—”

“dada dada dada dada,” ella kept babbling, her voice only getting happier the closer he came to her.

“hey sweet girl,” he cooed, bending down and scooping her up with one arm. his voice sounded thick, and when you glanced at his face, his eyes looked a little shiny. “i missed you. did you keep mama bear up all night?”

“how did you know—”

“you replied to my text at 2am. you're usually asleep before midnight.” he said it so casually that you almost didn't clock the deeper meaning behind his words. he didn't even look at you, his gaze solely focused on his daughter. “how long has she been saying dada?” he asked.

you smiled. “yesterday, i got it on video. she likes to watch interviews of you sometimes and when i turned an older one on, she said it. i meant to send it to you after it happened, but i figured you'd wanna hear it in person, and if she didn't say it when you walked in, i’d show you the video later.”

“this was much better, thank you,” he said, finally looking you in the eye. then, like a lightbulb went off over his head, he reached his hand out with the iced coffee. “this is for you, figured you'd want coffee after staying up all night.”

you thanked him and hesitantly, took a sip. pleasantly surprised was a phrase you weren't used to using, especially when it came to your coffee order. there were seldom people in your life who could remember how much sugar, cream, and syrup that you liked in your coffee.

jason never remembered, said it was too complicated.

so when you took a sip and it was the exact flavor profile you'd grown accustomed to, you almost started crying.

“did i get it right?” he asked. “i wrote it down in my phone from a month ago just in case. if it’s wrong, ella and i can go grab another one—”

but your smile cut off any rambling left. “it’s perfect. how was your roadie?”

day ninety-two

mat was gracious enough to lend you his car for the day. he didn't have a game, just a morning skate which meant you didn't have to uber to storytime at the library.

it did mean, however, that you had to go pick him up because tito was busy after practice.

you were anxious initially because you had no idea how you'd get into the practice facility, and you weren’t keen on keeping the car running in this economy. thankfully, right as you were walking towards the building, dobson was walking out. he smiled and said a quiet good morning while he held the door for you and ella.

“barzy’s still on the ice,” he said. “should be finishing up any minute.”

“still? is it a punishment?”

dobson shrugged. “i think he's just trying to tighten up his shot.” he cleared his throat. “do you know how to get to the rink?”

you shrugged. “i'm sure i can figure it out.”

which you did, it was pretty self explanatory, though the signage definitely helped. you walked out to the rink and couldn't help the smile on your face when you saw mat zooming around at a ridiculous speed. mesmerized was the only word you could think to use to describe both you and ella. both your heads followed him around the rink.

which meant you had the perfect view of mat absolutely eating it and slamming into the boards behind the goal.

the laugh that burst from your mouth caught you off guard. given how mat flinched, you would say it caught him off guard too.

but you couldn't help it, the sight of him flailing and slamming into the boards had tears forming in your eyes from the sheer force of your laughter.

“oh my god,” you huffed out between laughs. “you're a professional!” you didn't need to say anymore, he knew what you were implying.

mat stuttered out your name. “y—you’re here?”

“i told you i’d pick you up, mat,” you got out through giggles. you walked closer to the ice, stopping at the gate. he hadn't gotten up off the ice, his legs were spread as he sat there. you couldn't place why, but it was still insanely funny to you. as you kept laughing, ella started too, letting out a loud baby cackle that echoed across the ice.

that seemed to kick mat into gear because he stood up and skated towards the two of you, a dopey smile on his face. you moved ella off your hip and in front of your body, holding her back against your chest so she could fully face mat.

“hey ella bean,” he smiled. he tossed his stick over the boards by the bench and reached for her.

“dada dada dada—” as she kept giggling and babbling, you watched as the smile on mat’s face got wider and wider.

you felt your heart lurch into your throat as mat took her out on the ice and started skating. “are you sure that’s safe?” you called out.

mat’s scoff echoed throughout the rink. “i’m a professional.”

“a professional at ending up on your ass.”

while supporting ella with one arm, mat flipped you off with the other hand as he skated around at a moderate pace. something between a scoff and a laugh burst from your mouth like the fireworks in that one katy perry music video.

mat’s head snapped to look at you, an expression on his face that you couldn't place, you'd never seen it before. he skated back to you, with ella still giggling.

“what?” you asked. “why're you looking at me like that?”

he shrugged. “i just like your laugh, is all. you should do it more.”

feeling shy, you looked down at your nails, you really needed to get a manicure done. “haven’t had much to laugh about lately.” the anxiety you had earlier didn't miraculously disappear after your conversation with beau, but up until this moment, you hadn't realized how quiet your mind had been.

a few weeks ago, it was consumed with jason’s words.

now you couldn't stop thinking about mat.

“well, i’ll gladly bust my ass over and over if you keep laughing like that.”

you couldn't help yourself, another laugh forced its way out of your mouth as you looked at him.

day one hundred and one

deep down in your bones, you could feel the exhaustion from yesterday seeping into today. it was a good exhaustion, though. one caused by brunch with grace, sydney, and alexa, a playdate with sofia and romanov’s daughter, deep cleaning the apartment while ella napped, and a nice walk in the park before mat’s game. 

he got home last night after a short roadie. it was a successful trip, with them winning more than they lost. you knew ella would be happy to see him when he woke up, all she talked about was “dada,” though that just might be the excitement of saying her favorite and only word.

for now, though, it was just you and ella sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast. well, you were eating your cereal, she was spreading avocado around on her high chair. still, she was eating her scrambled eggs, so you couldn't really complain.

the two of you had moved into the living room with ella playing with her hippo and building blocks while you watched the newest episode of abbott elementary.

“is this a new one?” you jumped at the sound of mat’s morning voice and ignored the sensation in your stomach when you saw him rubbing at his eyes, bed head and all. 

“huh?”

mat opened his mouth, but at the sound of her father’s voice, ella turned around and screamed before crawling towards him. he didn't even hesitate to scoop her up and keep her cradled between his left arm and his chest.

“i said,” he started. “is this a new episode? i haven't seen this one yet.”

you blinked. “aren't they all new episodes to you?”

“what do you mean?”

did he hit his head or something? “mat, i've never seen you watch a single episode of anything that wasn't hockey highlights or espn...”

he shrugged. “that's because you're not with me on my roadies.”

it was your turn to ask, “what do you mean?”

mat rounded the couch and plopped down next to you, close enough to not be awkwardly apart but far enough that his leg wasn't touching yours, regardless of how much you wanted him to. “i started watching abbott on the road.”

“why would you do that?”

the tips of his ears turned pink. maybe it was warm in the apartment because the idea that you could cause him to blush wasn't something you were able to comprehend at eight in the morning. “you said you loved the show, i wanted to see what the hype was about.”

“you watched it because i told you about it?” it didn't make sense, no one had ever taken your recommendations seriously enough.

he wouldn't make eye contact with you. “beau kept falling asleep and i was tired of watching film and it popped up and you thought it was good so...”

you smiled to ease the anxiety on his face. “how far did you get?”

“i’m all caught up, except for this episode. i caught up on the roadie.”

“well,” you started. “you’re more than welcome to join us. if you want breakfast, i can pause it and wait.” but you remembered he was a professional hockey player, he probably had somewhere to be. “oh wait, when do you have to be at the rink?”

he checked his phone. “it’s not for a few hours because we got in so late. i’m yours in the meantime.”

you quickly turned your attention back to the screen so he couldn't see the flush on your face.

day one hundred and nine

it was a bad brain day. you couldn't explain it. you woke up and your mood soured. ella only marginally improved it, not even her giggles and smiles, as she stood in her crib babbling as you walked towards her, could fully fix your mood.

there was no rhyme or reason for it either.

well—

that wasn’t completely true.

you'd slept like shit last night. no twenty something should still be having nightmares, god you felt embarrassed just saying the word. but your brain didn't care about shoulds, shouldn’ts, and age because you woke up pouring sweat after jason berated you for what felt like hours.

he’ll get bored of you ringing in your head like church bells on sunday.

it was made worse when, to soothe the anxiety creeping in, you stupidly got on instagram. you should've known better, never in the history of the internet has going on social media improved your mood, especially instagram.

but there you were, staring at the instagram stories of the wags of the isles. pilates, jogs, dinner parties, team events you were too shy to go to. then you went to their feeds, wag jackets and happy families and all the things you wouldn't be a part of. they were rich, had a cool job, a happy nuclear family. and you were what? a nanny? you were a scandal waiting to happen.

he’ll get bored of you turned into it’s just a matter of time until mat finds a replacement. then, because your mind absolutely hated you, it would seem, mat’s own words echoed back to you.

and you knew it was out of context, he’d proven it to you over the last few weeks. but all you could hear was:

i’ll need some time to find someone else.

natalie was jason’s someone else.

who would mat’s be?

which was how you ended up crying into the pan of scrambled eggs. “sorry ella bean,” you managed to get out. “these will be mine, i’ll make you some fresh ones.” you plated the eggs and turned to set them aside on the island behind you, but you weren't expecting mat to be standing there in a white t-shirt and sweats.

no one should look that good in pajamas.

he’ll get bored of you.

“you okay?” and before you could even reply, mat was moving closer. “are you crying? what happened?”

you shook your head. “nothing.”

“it’s not nothing if you're crying into breakfast food.” he was right in front of you now. “c'mon, mama, you can talk to me.”

and you weren't sure why that one word did you in. “that’s not my name,” you huffed out.

“huh?” mat stepped closer and placed his large hands on your arms. “what’re you talking about—”

you stepped back into the counter, trying to get out of his hold. “‘mama’ isn’t my name. i’m not ella’s mom. i’m no one’s mom.”

his brows pulled together, his lips turned down into a frown. “i wasn’t asking you to be her mom, if you want me to find—”

“someone else, right?” you said. “you're just waiting to find someone else? everyone always is.” and it just burst from you. like it had been bubbling for twenty something years and this was the release. “i'm never enough for anyone. was i just a placeholder until she got a real mom? i can be a nanny but nothing more, right?”

“whoa, where is this coming from?” mat cut in, immediately breaking up whatever tirade you were going on. “who’s telling you these things?”

you wanted to scream. “you are! you told me you'd find someone else—”

“—if you didn't want to do this anymore! you weren't talking to me, and didn't seem very interested in doing this,” he gestured to himself and ella, “—at all.” he sighed, like he was calming himself. “i thought we were doing better these last few weeks. what changed?”

you shook your head. “just had a bad night.”

“please,” he begged. “please just tell me the truth.” another moment passed and you didn't say a word, you wouldn't even look at him. “was it jason?” you shifted on your feet. “what did he say?”

for a moment, you thought about shrugging it off, changing the subject. but you were so tired of bottling up all the negative thoughts, the buzzing bees in your head, you just let it all out. “he said you'd get bored of me,” you admitted, feeling a little embarrassed that you were so upset about it. “that i was just a nanny and once you realized you couldn't fuck me, you'd fire me and kick me out.”

you looked up just in time to see mat’s jaw clench. he opened his mouth to say something but shut it just as quickly. ella squawked from her seat so you quickly grabbed her out of her high chair and started bouncing her. she was probably hungry, but she seemed content just being in your arms.

“you know that's not true, right?” he said after a moment, his voice tight.

“i know i should believe you but the buzzing bees in my head, they...” you didn't finish.

“they what?”

“i’m not like them, mat. i don't have what they have.”

“who? you're not like who?”

“the other wags. you're gonna want someone who goes to games and has a car and can function in life without overthinking every little thing and...” 

he was shaking his head, his hazel eyes searching yours, like he was looking for the words to say, but couldn't find them. “who told you that's what i want?”

“everyone wants that, mat. i’m just—” ella started leaning and reaching for the eggs you cried into so you moved them out of reach.

after a moment of quiet, of ella just contentedly bouncing in your arms, mat spoke. “i didn't watch abbott elementary just because you said it was good, i watched it because i wanted you to talk to me,” he said, not looking away from your face once. “i wanted us to be us again and if watching a show i wasn’t familiar with meant i could talk to you, i would do it.”

his eyes darted away for a moment, a blush covering his face. but he pushed on anyway. “it turned out to be a really funny show so it wasn't like a burden or anything but i would’ve watched it even if it was garbage because it was something that you liked.”

“mat—”

“no, please let me finish.” he took in a deep breath and looked you dead in the eye. “i would've watched the scott’s tots episode of the office on repeat if you told me that's what you wanted to do.”

mat took a step closer to you, just a foot between you now. “beau said you didn’t believe that i could want you, sydney said it was because of something your piece of shit ex said. so i’ve spent the last few weeks trying to prove to you that i love you, that i love you right now, just like this. even with the million buzzing bees in your head telling you i can’t, i’m telling you i can and i do.”

the buzzing in your head stopped. you couldn't hear anything but—

i love you right now, just like this.

“there is no ‘someone else.’ there’s no one else i could want because you're here.”

“you're not gonna get bored of me?” you asked, kinda hating how weak your voice sounded, but not enough to be embarrassed about it. not when mat was standing so close to you, not when he was saying the things he was saying.

he smiled and shook his head. “i'm not gonna get bored of you.”

“even if i feel like a thursday in october?”

he blinked. “i don't know what that means, but yeah. even if you feel like a thursday in october.”

there was a part of you who wanted to believe him, who wanted to kiss him, but you still hesitated.

you hesitated until you thought about how mat called you every night on his first roadie away from ella, how he admitted that he missed her and kept waking up in the middle of the night expecting her to be down the hall, but how he felt safe knowing that she was with you. you thought about how he waited for you to call when you got into your apartment and immediately helped you move out when you found jason and natalie in bed together. you thought about how his family loved you, gave you christmas presents. you thought about the kiss, you thought about how he called matt when you left the apartment, how he asked if you had a jacket, how you were getting to the airport.

you hesitated until you realized he stole all the oxygen from your lungs. how you knew nothing about hockey prior to him and now it felt like your entire life. you thought about the family skate he'd invited you to in a month and how you dreamt of holding his hand in front of everyone. you thought about how nice it would be to wear his name on your back and know that he was yours at the end of the night.

you hesitated until you knew all the girls from his past, all the boys from yours, had led you both to this moment, standing in his kitchen in your pajamas with his child in your arms while he bared his heart to you.

“you promise just as i am right now?”

he nodded. “i promise, baby, i love you yesterday, right now, and tomorrow.”

you smiled, your heart racing, but your mind was quiet, quiet except for four words. “i love you, mat.”

“oh thank god,” he muttered before placing his hands on your cheeks and pulling your lips to his. he kissed you first, but you chased his lips when he tried to pull away.

it was only the need for air and ella’s screaming that pulled you two away from each other. “are you hungry, baby?” you asked.

“did mama not feed you fast enough?” mat teased, grabbing her from you and tossing her in the air a few times to get her laughing.

“mat,” you groaned.

“it’s okay though,” he said looking you dead in the eye, the widest smile you'd seen on his face. ella looked at you too, both of their faces scrunched up in that way you loved. “we love you anyway.”

mat barzal. nearly everyone in new york was obsessed with him, you knew him by the way he kissed you in the morning, when he got home from practice, before you went to bed. you knew him as the man who scooped his daughter up and tickled her just to hear her laugh. you knew him by the strong arms that would wrap around your waist.

you knew him by the way he loved you.

one hundred and nine days later, you loved him.

[wh0rrorb4by]

ur gonna luv me - armin

tw: manipulative armin, yandere-ish, 18+

note: i wrote this for a request and stupid me forgot they specifically requested noncon ! but i thought i should just post this in the mean time :)

armin is nothing if not patient. he’s the type to wait as long as it takes to earn your trust, which you give him rather easily, to his surprise. it was a bit concerning, actually, how quick you were to trust him — it just showed him how naive you really were, how much you needed him to protect you. all it took was a gentle offer to tutor you in the course he knew you struggled with the most, as well as a few surprise visits to your apartment with your favorite coffee order in hand to surprise you, and he could already see the way you started looking at him with stars in your eyes.

“how did you know this is my favorite?” you asked, and he honestly had to keep from looking at you with complete pity as he told you it was just a lucky guess.

he knew everything about you. he’d made himself quite acquainted with your living space every time you left the room, or when he’d buy himself extra time by asking you to grab the notes or textbook he left in his car. he looked at all of your trinkets, memorized each and every picture on your wall and made note of any male friends who might stand in his way. he’d read pages of your private journal — which he was elated to discover that you’d written about him more than once, dotting the i in his name with a cute little heart. knowing that you had a blossoming crush on him like a little schoolgirl was really all he needed to rationalize his behavior. it was working, just like he knew it would.

armin trains you to need him. he showers you with the attention he knows you love — compliments, praise, gentle touches — then suddenly pretends he’s too busy for you and borderline uninterested for a couple days. it’s devastating, but proves its worth as you desperately try to get his attention through random texts, calls, and more frequent posts to your social media. before you knew it, armin was the only person you thought about.

God, and when he finally knows that the two of you are completely enamored with each other, he takes full advantage. he’s just so good at making it seem like you’re taking the lead, like you’re the one initiating everything. as if he hasn’t morphed himself into who you need him to be, as if he hasn’t invaded your privacy and manipulated you into desperately clinging to him. you need his praise, his affection. you need him to tell you how smart you are, how pretty and thoughtful and perfect you are, because it feels like it only means something when it comes from him.

you need him to tell you how good you feel when you sink down on his cock, when you’re all flushed and whimpering as you struggle to take it all but loving how he coos gentle praises at you as you try. he loves feeling your little pussy tighten around him as it objects to the large intrusion, and he gets off on watching you quiver and sweat and cry above him.

“just a couple more inches to go, baby,” he breathes out. “you’re doing so well, take some more.”

and you do, because armin wants you to. he’s got you trained so well, so desperate to please him and feel his cock buried deep inside you that you’ll do anything for it. and the chants of “good girl,” “you’re doing so well,” “i know it’s too deep, baby, ‘m so proud of you” make the pain worth it. and when he angles himself into your sweet spot as he rubs his thumb in circles over your clit, you cry as you come undone on top of him, falling onto his chest as he fucks you through the waves of your orgasm.

you even take it as he chases his own climax, fucking into you harder and faster and asking you to take it just a little longer. he knows it’s too much but you’re his good girl, right? you just wanna please him, don’t you? you nod desperately, all teary-eyed and your eyes rolling back as you feel your body shaking again, and you can’t tell if it’s another orgasm or if your first one never stopped, but it’s all too intense and your head is empty as he kisses you, swirling his tongue with yours as his cum fills you up.

armin’s got you hooked on everything about him. his words, his actions, the way he fucks you until you’re passed out and leaking cum. he has you hooked on earning him, dedicated your time solely to him because the rewards he promises make it all seem so worth it. and he does it all without you realizing that you never really had a choice. <3

[az-cain]

Request- I HAVE A REQUESTTT, you don’t have to write it if you don’t want to: (grumpy x sunshine with Jake); reader leaves little notes around the house as a reminder for Jake to be nice or to be careful or something like that, he never responds but one time she cooked one of his favourite dishes when he had a bad day before going to bed and she leaves a note and he responds before leaving the next day? Thank you so much💕💕💕

jake seresin x reader ≈ 1000 words masterlist

I LOVED THIS REQUEST TYSM FOR THIS

TW FOR: G-LOC, gravity-induced loss of consciousness, fear of loss, poor communication of sorts

The little habit began with a New Year’s Resolution to be more appreciative of those you love. It was a cheap purchase, that pad of Post-Its, but the notes you gave him every morning were the highlight of his day. He left too early for you to wake for more than a simple peck on the lips and an “I love you.”

Once, it was a quick sentence about how you wished he’d have a good day and you’d be waiting to see him when he got home. All day, he was so excited to see you that he forgot to be an asshole. Phoenix and Bob separately texted you their thanks.

The next, it was a smiley face and an “I love you so much,” written in all capitals and followed by too many exclamation points. The dopey smile stayed on his face for several hours, his words less aggressive and his voice softened. Again, Phoenix and Bob texted you their thanks, this time followed by Rooster.

The little tradition continued on for weeks, everyone eventually ceasing to thank you because they realized that Hangman was slowly becoming just Jake, calming down a bit, and it was getting tedious to text every day.

About six weeks later, Jake walked solemnly through the door two hours before he usually did, eyes cast down to your floorboards, and sighed heavily as he kicked off his boots. Emerging from the kitchen, you saw the way his shoulders sagged and immediately started towards him. “Jake?” You whispered, reaching a hand out to pull his chin up, the skin oddly dewey. You gasped when you saw tears streaking down his cheeks. “Oh, baby, what’s wrong?” You wrapped your arms around him.

He sobbed quietly into your shoulder, his own arms hanging limp at his sides as he bent down to reach your level.

Off-put by his lack of response, you began to pull away, but his arms shot up to hold you and he yelped a “No!” as though you’d stabbed him.

“Okay, okay, sweetie. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.” You soothed, petting his hair as his tears wet your shoulder. You pressed the bottom of your wedding ring against his neck, the familiar metal soothing him as his heaving chest turned to hiccups.

It was a few more minutes before he spoke. “I went into G-LOC today.”

You felt your body lock up and you began to shake, arms clenching tighter around him. “You made it,” you murmured, reassuring both of you.

“I did. You know G-LOC dreams— vivid. Mine was you.” He sighed, burrowing down against you, “As my plane went down and I woke up, I kept thinking I wouldn’t get to see you again.”

“I’m here. You’re here. God, I love you, Jake.”

He nodded, whispering the words back as though you’d scare away, before he pulled back and wiped his eyes. “Sorry your shirt’s all wet now.”

“Jake, you just went through G-LOC. I am more than happy to deal with a few tears on my shirt.” Taking the aforementioned shirt off and walking to toss it in the laundry room, you shouted, “Go hop in the shower, baby. I’m making fried chicken.”

He groaned his thanks loudly before lumbering up the stairs to reach your bedroom, where you assume he gathered his clothes before you heard the shower turn on.

When he emerged, hair wet and face clean of tears, you were scooping the last of the chicken onto a paper-towel covered plate wearing one of his clean shirts. You smiled at him before bending down to pull the fried potatoes out of the oven where they’d been staying warm. “You ready to eat?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around you when you set the baking tray down on the stove.

“Why did they not call me?” You asked tentatively, meeting his eyes.

“I wanted to tell you myself. The squad have known for years not to contact you unless I’m seriously hurt.”

You nodded, smiling gently. “Alright.” A few minutes passed of the two of you just holding one another in a loose hug. “Read the apron,” you giggled, knowing he knew full well what it said. With a hum and a raise of his brows, he pulled back slightly to glance down. Meeting your eyes again, he smirked and placed his lips gently against yours.

“Thank you for dinner, darlin’.” You both pulled apart, you grabbing plates from the dishwasher while he picked up napkins from the counter. As you dished up your food, you always touched somehow. Your sides, your feet, you just wanted contact. The two of you parked it on the couch, facing one another, and ate quietly, just happy to be in each others’ presence.

The night came to an early close, the stress of the day making you both want to sleep at around eight.

As per usual, when you woke around midnight to use the restroom, you left him a note.

In the morning, he woke to find a full sheet of paper.

My love,

You are the light of my life. My one and only. Today, you’ll be very safe as you recover from yesterday’s events, or I’ll make sure our good Admiral Bobby puts you on desk duty. Yes, that’s a threat. You’ll also instruct your squad to let me know as soon as something goes wrong, or I’ll do it myself. I’m making navy bean soup tonight. I love you, Jake. <3

His eyes filled with tears as he scrambled for a pencil, a smile splitting his face. When he found one, he scribbled:

I love you so much. I can’t go another day without you having proof of that every single day. I don’t think that made sense but you know me, what I’m trying to say. And yes ma’am, they’ll know as soon as I reach base. Looking forward to that soup tonight <3 <3 <3

masterlist

[headphonemouse]

Major orv spoilers discussing the Oldest Dream that quickly veers off-course into an investigation on Kim Dokja's age

I was thinking about the confrontation with the Oldest Dream. Kim Dokja doesn't look anything like his mother, so does he look like his father? An image of his father appeared once in the text but I forgot if his details were described. An uncertain amount of time over 13 years ago, his father might have been in his late 20s or early 30s. Having both come at that young boy with a blade, the similarities are really painful to think about

Imagining a world where he is so much more (powerful, adored, charismatic, courageous) than he is, maybe he felt like that other version of him was better off living instead. But he still didn't believe any version of himself had the right to exist happy and whole. Even so, he wanted someone to stop him from destroying and cutting off parts of himself. His frail, shameful past did not wish to be shorn off so callously

As a side note, I think the song Lion's Teeth fits him

Side note 2: I like to think he was 10 or 11 when his mom went to jail, 15 when he discovered WOS (canon), and [EDIT SEVERAL HOURS INTO WRITING THIS: EVERYTHING PAST THIS POINT HAS BEEN DISPROVEN (???) IN A REREAD OF CERTAIN SCENES (details below)*] 17 or 18 when he was seen at the train station (to account for the breadth of his knowledge of WOS. Sure the fixation could have settled in immediately but we don't know how far those first few chapters covered so im giving him a few years. Also imagining the scene where the outer god kings are holding him up in a human chariot with a big red arrow pointing at him like "South Korean Citizen of legal voting age" is funny.)

Okay because I just went into a research rabbit hole I'm breaking up the paragraph:

1. 18 is the age to vote in Presidential and National Assembly elections. 19 is the age to vote in legal elections (link, paragraph 1).

2. As of June 2023, South Korea has written their Korean Age Based on the New Year out of law (link, paragraph 2) so it's possible that when KDJ said "I'm 28 years old" in 2018, he was using his Korean Age. His International Age (age calculation system used by the entire rest of the world) would have been one year younger (thankfully he was born near the beginning of the year or else the age difference would have been close to 2 years). More evidence supporting his use of Korean Age instead of International Age: he said he was 15 in 8th grade. 15 is the age in Korean Years that kids attend 8th grade while their International Ages are 13-14 (link, section: School Grades).

3. If 8 in Korean Years is the age that kids enter the 1st grade, and his Korean Age is about 13 months over his International Age (did I do my math right???), he would have been on the older end of his grade level, at 7 years old in International Years among 6-7-year-olds. None of this has much to do with my original post, but it is interesting to note when thinking of his relationship with his peers and how small he seemed.

One more thing: South Koreans also age out of foster care at 18 so he would have REALLY needed the 999gang at this point. BUT: 1. I don't think bouncing around relatives counts as being in the foster care system and 2. Didn't he move out on his own early? I think I read that somewhere. I remember thinking that was way too young.

AHA

Chapter 408:

"I recalled the day I left the relatives' place for lodging in a hostel. I was seventeen back then."

THAT IS WAY TOO YOUNG. HE WOULD'VE BEEN 16 IN INTERNATIONAL YEARS. HE WAS PRESSURED BY HIS RELATIVES TO LEAVE AND SINCE THIS ISN'T PART OF THE FOSTER CARE SYSTEM HE DIDN'T EVEN GET ANY SEVERANCE PAY. ON TOP OF THEM HAVING STOLEN LEE SOOKYUNG'S MONEY I WISH THEY HAD SURVIVED THE APOCALYPSE JUST SO HAN SOOYOUNG COULD RIP THEM APART

Here's an additional passage from chapter 534 supporting my idea of when he became the Oldest Dream:

"Kim Dokja, 16 years old. 17, 18.

He'd consume this story and grow older, and eventually, become the 'Oldest Dream'."

Meaning he became the Oldest Dream AFTER turning 18 in Korean Years, 11th or 12th grade, 16-18 in International Years. He was still wearing a high school uniform so he'd have been 19 in Korean Years AT MOST.

[*Details from after rereading more scenes:

Chapter 285:

"During middle school, I even drew charts in the corner of my textbook."

Chapter 513:

"A thin, small-statured child who might have passed off as an elementary schooler were it not for his school uniform, was sitting on that bench. As if he was trying to memorise English words, he was busy scribbling something like a chart on his notebook."

SO. His uniform was NOT described as a high school uniform. He was small enough to be mistaken for an ELEMENTARY SCHOOLER, and he was doodling charts. This all points to him being 15 at the time they meet him on the platform.

Caveats: we still don't know how much was covered in the at most 11 months he's been reading WoS. It might be enough to get a basic understanding of power balances but it has nothing on adult KDJ's 13 years of reading. Also, the line from chapter 534 does not support the idea that he was still 15 when he became the Oldest Dream.

Maybe an 'oldest dream' is just a dream that's been held onto for a long time, instead of being a snapshot of a particular version of Kim Dokja at a particular age. Maybe all of him ever since the moment this dream germinated on that train platform has been the Oldest Dream.

This is ridiculous. Kid discovers a book he really likes and the first time he thinks "man I wish I could help these characters out alongside them" a future version of himself (who may or may not look just like his dad) pops out of a train and tries to kill him and then himself. And then his favorite characters also come out and lift him up, though it's uncertain if he's even read up to the 999th regression yet. I mean 1/13 of 1863 is 143 so if WoS were evenly paced no he would not have read about them yet. But WoS was NOT evenly paced so we can't tell.

[re-readingcomics]

12/07/2023-02/03/2024

Over this period of time I read the books I had that are continuations of things I had been reading. I am not sure how much I have to say about any of them, hence the delay between finishing them and posting this.

I started with volume 3 of BRZRKR written by Keanu Reeves and Matt Kindt, art by Ron Garney, and colors by Bill Crabtree. I read the first two volumes recently and wanted to see how it wrapped up. I was worried about forgetting things in the mean time. I did, but while I read the final volume, what I forgot didn’t seem much worth remembering. The story was all in broad strokes. It wrapped up a plot about one employers of Unute and Diana, while leaving them to start a miraculous family with two quickly gestating and growing fraternal twins. It ends in space in a way sets up a new beginning. I don’t think I care enough to continue. I still like the art, but by now I feel cynical about this opening to a franchise. 

My normal way for choosing what to read is to prioritize wha I started the longest ago first. If I kept with this, I would have read Blood Stain 4 writing and art by Linda Sejic before BRZRKR 3. There has been six years between volumes, and I still haven’t gotten my to read piles down enough to re-read the first three. This is the only series that I haven’t written about here, as I wasn’t trying to do these kinds of updates when he las one arrived. It is also the one I enjoyed reading the most. I definitely forgot a lot of the plot, but there hadn’t been much of it. A throw away bit of dialogue in this volume worked as a reminder that the previous volumes only took place over a few days. The lead character, Elliot Torres only is confirmed to get the job as Vlad Stein’s assistant in this volume. On a related note, the previous volumes all had comedic material the back involving the characters in non-plot related situations, that show a level of familiarity that they hadn’t reached in the plot. This one didn’t. If anything, it did a lot to make up for time lost as far plot points go. We learn about about Torres’s adjustment to her new work/life balance, and more about the working Stein’s actual life here than I think we did ever before. Stein becomes a lot more human, despite all the other worldly or vampiric signatories around him, including how his text bubbles are black with white text, like the Sandman himself. I liked it the most of these reads. It’s pleasant and friendly and seems to exist just for itself. I also like the art, which combines reality and fantasy very well in a way that feels like they inform each other. It’s lovely.

Finally, I read Second Coming Trinity, the aptly named third volume of Second Coming. It is written by Mark Russell, art by Leonard Kirk and colors by Richard Pace. I read the firs two volumes way back in  2021 and I remember mostly liking them and being okay with the way the Jesus and Superman become roommates situation. But I forgot most of the plot including everything about the Lex Luther/Brainiac villain Cranius. This one is about the affect that Sunstar’s son, brining up examples of how both Sunstar and Jesus were dangerous super powered kids in their youth. Also there is an issue where it turns out God is disappointed in the human art market. Me too, but this just irked. The volume ended with a cliff hanger. Everything in the volume led to it. And yet I still feel like the creators bit off more than they can chew. It’s Sunstar flashbacks have a combination of “Super dickery” and “Man of Steel, Woman of Kleenex” that feels too related to the writing about Superman over the decades to be a stand alone story. Jesus starts his own church to have a more direct control over his message, but that has worldly complications. We get to meet more of this world’s versions of Justice League characters, which mostly left me wondering why?

I have started y next comic book pile since finishing this. I am in a slow to read historic comics. I will update when I am ready. 

[besidesitstoowarm]

"Doomsday" thoughts

i'm realizing i forgot to mention my WIFE freema agyeman in last episode. i'm so sorry baby. i can't wait for s3

anyway this episode fucks severely and kind of reminds me that a lot of diehard ten/rose shippers don't like. GET what makes them work, bc they don't get what makes rose work. i think i've said it before that not only do moffat haters not understand his era, but davies lovers often don't even really like it for the right reasons. or like, reasons that are based on the text instead of the tumblr interpretation of the text. this isn't to disparage davies likers or ten/rose shippers or whatever, just make sure you're remembering the episodes as they happened and not as 1080p gifsets you reblogged 8y ago

anyway! this was a great finale to s2 and to the rose era in general (i'll make a season retrospective w more detail). it's just some goddamn great doctor who, davies is masterful at weaving deep and impactful character work into the classic balls-to-the-wall insane doctor who shenanigans. let's explore, shall we

i love the idea behind the "genesis ark" like tell me that doesn't sound like something that already exists in dw canon. calling back to needing rose's touch bc humanity– the human ability/desire/habit of crossing boundaries, inherently filling every space, colonizing to be less generous– has a power to it. the bit as well about "cybermen will remove sex and class and race and creed" is a critique of centrism bc our differences make us human! they're beautiful! the great equalizer is horrific, imposed violence

i'm sorry if this seems homophobic but i don't think a straight person could have possibly written the dalek-cybermen interactions in this episode. "the daleks have no concept of elegance" "this is obvious" sorry it's just pure cuntiness on a level i have never seen a cishet achieve. i'm not stereotyping davies as just "sassy" or whatever he's deeply talented in all facets but bitchiness is indeed one of those facets

continuing the anti-establishment theme, yvonne walking into the cybermen hell saying "oh god, i did my duty" is deeply telling. the cyberman she becomes crying an oil-slick tear and fighting back saying "i did it for queen and country" is kind of sad and kind of horrifying. it's about the layers

rose gets to flex w the daleks by telling them what she did as bad wolf. "i met the emperor....and turned him into dust" yes!! yes!! get their asses baby!! "both sides had secrets" all the time war seeding is so tasteful and delicious. it works as both bread-crumbing info that will be revealed eventually and as background worldbuilding should they decide to never get into the nitty-gritty. they obviously do in "the end of time" for one and then eventually the 50th but davies plays it just subtle enough that if they never did get deeper into it, i don't think it would have felt like a cocktease

i love the pete-jackie stuff sorry. i love stories about people finding/refinding/etc love in their 40s. they're not the version of each other that they each know but they're close enough and they do love each other. their big hug made me emotional

and of course. the ending. what is there to say about the ending that hasn't been said a hundred million times already. murray gold is a fantastic composer and he CRUSHES it. the fact that ten was ready to sacrifice rose without her consent (which he will later do to donna! themes!), the fact that she fought the narrative and refused until tragedy took over, as it inevitably must. bad wolf bay. "i love you" "rose tyler, –" as tears drip down his face. oh i am just so sick. they were codependent and unhealthy but you really can't deny how much they cared for each other, and even tho i KNOW they meet up again and get their "happy" endings i just. oh it hit. phenomenal acting on both parts, incredible score, oh it just destroys me. a beautiful end for the season and for rose

side note, i did not recall that "runaway bride" was the next story. i totally forgot that we get the season-long gap before seeing donna again. i can't wait to get back to donna, she brings out the best in ten (being divorced and a pathetic wet beast)

season retrospective up soon!

[agendratum]

okay so i just spent a really long time looking though all my old notebooks in order to find my notes on coming up with names for my dragon age characters, because i thought that remembering the logic i used for them might help me come up with a rook's name that would be more natural for my world state. and in the process i discovered several things:

a. it is NOT easy to find something specific like that in my notebooks. i kind of remembered how the page where the names were written on looked (i was wrong), but i didn't remember the exact year. and for context i have been leading some kind of a diary/journal since literally the day i learnt how to write. and i still have all of them. yes, after high school diaries mostly transformed into bullet journals, and after i dropped out those transformed into notebooks for anything and everything with no system other than dates, but i never stopped actually having a notebook. which is also where most of my creative drafts are

b. i very rarely wrote years on my notebooks. dates always. years - FOR SOME REASON NOT

c. i have two places where i keep my journals, apparently. and i didn't sort them chronologically very well

d. there are A LOT of notes on some creative ideas i had in the past that i have no idea what they mean now at all. what if i was cooking back then......

this is where i slowly started to find my da notes, thank god. read more to spare your dashes, but by god i'm noting my discoveries down

so first of all i discovered, which is something i forgot about, that i was trying to come up with a full name for ruth, my warden. because at some point i thought that ruth, the name i originally came up with, didn't sound very elven, so it had to be a nickname for an actual full name

well, i didn't exactly come up with ruth. i guess it wasn't long after i read fried green tomatoes, and when the game asked me for a name, i probably looked back at my bookshelf, thought, HEY the old time lesbians book! and named my warden after one of them lesbians from the book

so my notes on her full name are....

first of all, i looked at this and was like, what was the fucking reference. i had no idea. didn't feel like some dragon age inspired elven language, but i filed this for later research, cause i still haven't found others' names

second of all, i don't know how i feel about this "final" full name. not surprised i forgot i even had this thought process. but let's just say this is non canon. and besides, considering she's trans, that would make even more sense that her name is just ruth. that is her name that she chose and it doesn't matter much if she had any other names before that. that is all left behind, if not in her clan's memory, than in that cursed mirror

moving on i found the pages where i was making my hawke's name

so i just, while writing this, realised what happened. i think back then i was still mad you can only play as a human in da2 (listen i was yet to find out da2 is one of the best games ever made) so i was trying to headcanon my hawke as a half elf and make him a name that would reference his "elven" name. i don't think it makes any sense, there is not a single elf in amell's family (who i learnt a lot about today, while scrolling da wiki again). but yeah, his elven name was tariam? and that in human was tarjei

i will decree this also non canon. he's just tarjei, it's fine.

then i found the notes on my first, now also non canon, inquisitor, lavellan, who things didn't work out with

i do think corriro is a fun name tho, i'm happy with it

but once again, i used the same mysterious reference for elven names. what the fuck is this. anyway, i tried googling what i might have looked for back then, and i think i found exactly that. it was a pikabu (russian reddit basically) post from 10 years ago with a guide on how to make elven names, where op gave a link to their source, which was a post from 2010 made on one of them text roleplaying forums that i used to love so much (i mean i never rped on this one specifically but still the nostalgia)

links for my personal peace of mind:

pikabu post - https://pikabu.ru/story/yelfiyskie_imena_mozhet_komu_interesno_budet_1690760

rp forum - http://elfs.f-rpg.me/viewtopic.php?id=6

still no actual source given to what elven language this all is referencing. tolkien maybe?? idk, but not dragon age's elven that is for sure

and then i found one little note from january 2019, when my canon inquisitor, kehaar, was born, that just listed all my canon names again: ruth, tarjei, kehaar. with no notes on how kehaar's name was made. thanks me

overall, idk if this will help me come up with rook's name. especially since rook would be growing up in rivain, not in ferelden, and not with dalish elves. BUT fun journey

i need to sort my belongings oh my god

[edotfightme]

The Harder Path That Could Have Been Walked

So I'm doing a live reaction to my own 10,000 word fic that I forgot I wrote. Link here. You'll probably have to read the fic to understand my reactions because I am not keying them to each part.

A lot of this is me complaining about my own writing.

Let's go!

-----<>-----

What the fuck are these tags? WHAT DO YOU MEAN KIND OF???

Why did I tag sad racoons?

Wtf do you mean "don't summon void dragons" why is that in the tags???

I finally got past the tags.

This is a lot of worldbuilding in the notes let me check how much. 540 words of worldbuilding in the tags alone.

Wtf where did I find that language what does it say?

I can't understand a single word that was said before it translated to English it doesn't really work for an effect like I clearly intended. Plus the paragraphing makes it hard to read.

Bruh the first part was badly written we're starting off strong.

Oh shit, I started recognizing the second part. Ish. Holy shit it's like a core memory was unlocked. I remember thinking this was super cool. Let adult (questionable) me be the judge of that.

Hang on I think I realized why the hook was so shit. I was trying to keep his identity hidden. Still sucked though but good on you younger me. Still too many paragraphing issues. This was before I sorted those out methinks.

Holy shit Technoblade was still alive when I wrote this. Just had a moment while I thought of it.

Eww more text I can't read. Gonna scroll to the bottom to see if I translated it. MF I DIDN'T TRANSLATE FOR EVERYONE???? Where is the fic on my computer I need to figure out the translation- I'll finish this first hold on.

Lmao Tommy got put in his place. Should've put some sort of descriptor on the text so people knew how the Piglin was talking and which ones were talking. It's too intuitive.

"What are they saying?" I wanna know that as well Techno.

I just looked for the document and couldn't find it. The meanings will be lost to time.

Oh shit I forgot about the racoons. I gave Tommy a ton of racoons. That must be the sad racoons I mentioned. Wtf am I going to do with a bunch of racoons???

I wish I didn't press 'enter' so much jfc. Learn to write a paragraph little me. Number 1 thing I'll tell myself if I ever time travel is to write a god damn paragraph. This is exhausting to read.

Ewww I forgot about "pog".

Lol he scared the shit outta everyone you go kiddo!

The references to the bits are actually pretty funny though. I just wish I could understand WHATEVER THE FUCK THE PIGLINS ARE SAYING!!!

Also the lack of racism in this book infuriates me. Don't get me wrong, I don't condone racism, but could they be just a tad bit more racist to properly set up that they are the bad guys. The cult stuff isn't enough. We need to really hate these guys. TREAT THEM LIKE SHIT!

Lmao Tommy just had a moment where he's just fucking experiencing a past life. Which is mood. Like when you're walking in a crowd and you lock eyes with a familiar stranger and you stop for a moment to stare, wondering who they could've been to you. But then the moment shatters and you're left standing with the broken remains of what could never be.

The pacing and plot convenience is shit though (where is the racism? The foreign and silent curiosity of who you are?) let me just continue the fic.

I WANT TO FUCKING READ THIS FIC NOT A TON OF GLYPHS! The whole fic will be like this god dammit. I didn't realize this was my era before I learnt how to write foreign languages.

Haha. The random moment where it's just gibberish and then "fuck".

For those of you who aren't reading alongside me, here's piglin dialouge for reference:

"ᛟᚺ! ᚺᛁ! ᛁᛟᚢ ᛊᛈᛖᚨᚲ ᛈᛁᚷᛚᛁᛊᚺ?! ᛏᚺᚨᛏ×ᛊ ᚷᚱᛖᚨᛏ! ᛗᛁ ᚾᚨᛗᛖ ᛁᛊ ᛉᛖᛈᚺᛁᚱᚢᛊ!"

wtf does that even say???

"... that good old pogtopia look in his eyes" what was younger me smoking???? I can picture the exact expression but jesus christ kid are you alright?

Why the fuck can Phil speak english? Are they all speaking a different language? What is happening right now?

"The door to their cell swung open and Mr "Goes missing and freaks everyone the fuck out but is fine since he joined a cult" runs in." Holy shit little me you fucking killed him.

"Don't worry mate you won't be sacrificed." What kind of reassurance is that? I know it's like that on purpose but it's terrible. The unknown is scarier than the known. That's what I was banking on with Sinners.

"Eventually, Wilbur stopped looking like he was 5 minutes away from war crimes and now looked like he was 2 seconds away from war crimes for a different reason." I'm sorry but these quotes are something else. Where is the comma? You could've made this a beautiful paragraph but it's just a sentence. DESCRIBE THE ANGUISH!

Which corner is Wilbur staring at? Shouldn't he just like... glare at Phil with murder in his eyes? Also why is Tommy the attack dog? I get that Wilbur is roleplaying a drama club goth but shouldn't Techno logically be the protective one here? Or them all trying to shuffle each other behind themselves like some weird fight. And Phil's just standing there confused and vaguely exasperated, like it's someone else's emotions.

Don't make me rewrite this fic I don't want to touch it again.

Lmao them being so distracted by roleplaying drama kid goths and they forget to escape. Most realistic thing I've seen so far.

WAIT THIS IS ME PRE-PANIC ATTACKS THAT EXPLAINS SO MUCH.

Plaininnit lol that's actually a good one. Also why are they answering? Make him fight for the info you muppets! But the mental disorders though.

What was the point of that entire prison scene? It looks like it served no purpose. It didn't move the plot forward at all! It just served to show us that Phil can also speak normal? Like- we could've had that later?

At last, a piece of dialogue I think I understand! The X must be an apostrophe then.

Why is Wilbur speaking in percentages? I should've had Techno's chat run a poll and the odds not looking too good.

Why is Phil in the cult council? Did I explain that? Idk if it was in the worldbuilding or later...

Why'd Tommy also shout in another language? What is with younger me and making reading difficult? I can tell why this one was so poorly recieved, nobody wants to translate a book to read it.

Eww I used "snapped" twice in the same sentence.

Why is Tommy suddenly mute now? I know I had a reason, I just can't remember it.

Hang on I gotta scroll up and read some world-building rq.

Wait fuck what is the techno quote??? oh right- "WELCOME HOME THESEUS!" Just got to the part where Tommy mimes his name across.

*to the music of where is the justice* "Where is the pacing?"

Why the music memory thing? I know what I'm meaning for the audience to ask themselves but why did I do that? I should've introduced that later on. It would've made a better plot.

Lmao the warped fungus bit was funny though.

Bruh I nailed the creepy elder thing on the head. I don't know why I'm just good at writing sleazeballs taking advantage of kids (not sexually, just in a way that grates uncomfortably against the reader). I don't know where that comes from.

WAIT I THINK I MIGHT'VE REMEMBERED A PLOT POINT! Are all of Wilbur's snakes lavaproof? Is that why I had the scene?

Oh that is disgusting what is wrong with you little me? I should've tagged cannibalism. It feels like cannibalism.

The pandora's vault Dream being grounded bit is funny and I live for it. Little me had ideas. Offputting ideas but ideas.

Lol Elder took the jukebox.

This is so uncomfortable to read but not in the way an Elder scene is. Just Phil thinking that Tommy's eyes being red means he's happy but it's fake. And Phil hating it when Tommy's eyes are blue is just tragic. Because it comes across as Phil hating it when Tommy is himself and then he's happy when Tommy wakes up brainwashed but Tommy came to him for comfort because he was fucked I just- Little me you are one messed up kid.

HAHA He named Cat "Dream" because it envokes bad memories.

Oh wait that's what the beneath the surface intention was. The surface reference was that the colours reminded him of the people.

Phil dropped Ancient Debris on his foot. Wouldn't it be fucked up if Mojang added a weight limit in Minecraft?

KRISTEN!!!!

The typos in her description though... I want to cry.

OMG KRISTEN IS HIS THING! That's actually adorable though. Little me knows how to make me aww.

More Techno vs the Warped Fungus bit I am living for it.

What is with the blue and red strobe lights that are Tommy's eyes? What is wrong with him? Little me? Explain?

Wait why is everyone just vibin in the castle? What's with that? Also Phil being a moron for Kristen and she's just being a little shit. Dream joined a nether fortress as well lmao.

Oh that's what the warped fungus bit joke was for. So he could still be lava-proof.

BRUH WHY DID I WRITE THAT??? I SPOILED THE PLOT TWIST!

Wait why are we singing ten duel commandments? Did I organize the ending to that song? that sucks.

OH MY GOD I WROTE A CHILD GROOMER??? Holy shit that is foul. I was a child when I wrote this. What the fuck? No wonder why I was getting the heebie jeebies. I literally wrote the Elder as a character that is grooming Theseus.

The wills part was so out of place idk.

Double use of worried kill me now.

Oh damn the Phil and Kristen scene hit. That one definetly didn't feel out of place.

OH SHIT I didn't expect Phil to pull Tommy out of his ass. The jail scene looks important now.

They found him. Chat. It's only a matter of time.

Aww trauma babies. Them all being so traumatized that they're fully on alert and watching for fireworks.

LMAO SHIT HITS THE FAN AND PHIL DIPS WHAT A CHAMP.

Also the fact that I'm pretty sure the Elder was placing Tommy into a drugged trance and basically hypnotising him is fucked up. Younger me you are messed up.

Kristen's entrance was pretty darn good. Like the crows being death and just everyone and everything knowing who exactly is gracing their halls is terrifying and excellent.

Philza for the save finally! Let's go!

Lmao Techno's mates at the Bastion being right bastards and telling the gossip I am living for it.

OH shit, the author notes at the end. The entire flock was there. Damn, Elder was not escaping with his life after grooming one of his kids.

-----<>-----

And that's it! I hope you enjoyed my commentary on my 10,000-word book. I actually found it enjoyable to rediscover my own book. I can understand how other people got put off by it but after slogging through the dialogue I couldn't fucking read it was a decent story. A few issues but overall a fun experience.

[citizen-zero]

I just went back and reread Mina’s very first entry, her letter to Lucy on May 9, and in it she writes,

I have just had a few hurried lines from Jonathan from Transylvania. He is well, and will be returning in about a week.

Which REALLY sheds a new light on two things: 1) the fact that even while he was rushing, Jonathan sent a full paragraph of text to her, and 2) the fact that Mina was expecting Jonathan to be home by mid- to late May, and hasn’t seen or even heard from him in damn near 3 months at this point.

(Note on that last point: there seems to be some discrepancies in the text here? Jonathan writes two letters on May 12, one to Mr Hawkins and one to Mina, but it doesn’t seem like Mina, at least, ever gets this one, and it isn’t the one that gets burned later because Jonathan specifically discusses writing that one. The single line Mina gets seems to be one of the three written on May 19, specifically the one dated June 19, and from what I’m seeing in her journal thus far there’s no mention of her receiving a letter explaining he’d be staying another month; in fact, on July 26 she actively says she hadn’t heard from him in some time. It doesn’t seem likely that Mr Hawkins would receive correspondence and then not tell her, so either those letters were never sent or Stoker forgot to account for them, lol.)

But I digress. Her mention of him sending “a few hurried lines” in May is a stark contrast to the single line she received yesterday, and we can see exactly why she immediately sensed something was wrong—again, even when Jonathan was in transit and had a pressing need to be on time, he still found time to write more than a single sentence to her mentioning that he was doing well and giving an update on his ETA. One would assume that, if he’s sending this newer letter while still at Castle Dracula and not yet actively traveling, he’d have plenty of time to write something longer and more descriptive, even if he’s not waxing poetic.

And on top of that, she hasn’t heard from him at all in 3 months!!! Oh my god! Imagine if you were making plans to see your friend or partner next week, and then they totally dropped off the face of the earth without warning, and then three months later they texted you sounding completely different from how they normally do and offering absolutely no explanation for their absence. You’d be freaked out too! You’d have probably been freaked out much sooner than that! You’d probably assume they were missing or fucking dead!

I understand that travel and communication took more time back then (especially if we agree with Stoker’s portrayal of Eastern Europe as less technologically advanced) and one couldn’t always promptly inform about delays, but we have telegrams and trains at this point, and it’s not like Jonathan’s in the middle of the ocean (haha!). It’s entirely reasonable that he might be delayed a week or two or even three, but one might expect that if he was going to be delayed THREE MONTHS long, he’d have sent word much sooner. If Jonathan could send a letter from within Transylvania that got to Mina within a week or so of his arrival, and if she could reasonably expect him to be home in a week from her May 9 letter, AND if she could consider it noteworthy not to have news of him within a day of his single line…then it doesn’t make sense to me that it’d be reasonable to anyone for him not to communicate this long of a delay.

Which makes it SO interesting that Mina’s downplaying her own uneasiness about him, because it mirrors Jonathan trying to rationalize everything he’s experiencing in the castle. She has a plethora of reasons to be completely panicked by now, and it seems she’s suppressing that panic by pretending like she doesn’t know why she’s feeling uneasy. The line from Jonathan should’ve been comforting, it’s finally news of him after all this time…but it’s jarringly out of character. I think on some level Mina knows that something isn’t adding up, she knows that there’s red flags everywhere, but she has no proof and no way of finding out, there’s no real reason for her to think that anything is wrong. It’s the kind of suppression you might do when you’re desperately trying not to have a panic attack about a situation you have no control over.

Once again, reading Dracula this way really makes for a richer experience because in the book, her May 9 letter and her journal entry on July 26 are much closer together and you could easily read both of them in one sitting. But when it’s spread out the way it is, you can go back and be slapped with realizations like this.

[therealvinelle]

Ok I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I'm just now copying your Norwegian Bella AU into a text translator, and if you don't already have 50 people in your inbox demanding a translation then shame on ALL OF US because this is glorious! And while Google Translate does have a certain charm (it translated "piper hun ut" as "she beeps") I'm curious to see how you'd put it in English.

Troquantary is referring to this post. In which Bella doesn't speak English.

Fun fact, you're the only one who's gone into my inbox to request this. I was so sad, had the translation half-written and everything, but I was too proud to beg. So thank you, Troquantary, for popping this ask.

As for the dictionary fuckups, sounds about right. I made a few typos, too, that made Google Translate suffer even more. (Such as managing to mix up "henne" (her) and "hendene" (hands), resulting in Aro patting Bella instead of clapping his hands. Poor Google.)

Also, there are a few cultural references and language things that would be lost in the translation, in an attempt to keep them I included notes clarifying things.

Some things, like Aro and Carlisle's very old man way of speaking, are easier said than done to translate, you'll have to bear with me there.

Additional notes are that I added a few things to this version, many of them because translating is hard, but a few because while translating I thought "oh you know what would be much funnier-" and then wrote that.

Alright, without further ado:

When Renée left Charlie she did not go to Florida, she went to Oslo. And she went all in to make her daughter a true Norwegian, hiring Norwegian nannies and making sure never to speak English around the child. Since transatlantic flights are expensive, little Bella Swan rarely got to visit her father, and as such she never did learn what should have been her native language.

She quickly forgot what English she did have in favor of Norwegian, with the exception of words like “Yes”, “No”, and “I’m Bella”.

The few trips she took to visit her father were all the more awkward than in canon since she couldn’t play with the Black kids. Let not the blame fall upon Charlie: he took Norwegian classes and speaks conversational Norwegian. He can’t speak to Renée, because her Norwenglish is incomprehensible even to Norwegians, but he can communicate with Bella.

Not that he’s had a lot of chances to do so.

Bella makes it to seventeen years old, she’s in second grade at Handels* and is a major outsider among the preps there, and then Renée marries a handsome skier**. Together they shall travel the continent all winter to participate in as many skiing races as they can, and in the summer they’ll take gigs at Hurtigruta to see the coast.

*“Handels” is the nickname for an Oslo high school infamous for its pupils being rich and beautiful blonds who are going to be CEOs when they grow up.

**Skiing as a sport is huge in Norway

***Hurtigruta is a famous ferry that travels across the Norwegian West coast

Bella, who sucks at skiing and is too young to work at Hurtigruten, takes the hint.

With dread in her stomach and dictionary in hand she goes to her father in America.

Where she doesn’t speak the language.

Faen.

Charlie gives her a car, and I wish this meta was set in the present because I could have joked about electric cars and the automat only driver’s license*, but Twilight is set in 2005 so I can’t. The car part proceeds without drama.

*An increasing number of Norwegian youth take the driver’s license for automatic cars only, and we’re the country in the world with the highest percentage of electric car purchases.

School is worse than in canon, because she is now a thousand times more sensational than if she was merely the new student. She is from another country! All of Forks keels over with excitement.

To make matters even worse, our girl doesn’t understand a word of what people are saying.

She is too awkward to let them know she doesn’t know English. It’d become a thing, and they might think she’s dumb. To be fair, it’s not good that she’s been through primary, secondary, and now a year and a half of high school and still sucks at English.

So she nods, smiles, mumbles “Hi, I’m Bella” to the new faces, and blushes heavily when anybody says anything.

People assume she’s shy. That’s a bit boring, but oh well.

She has her biology class with the redhead hottie she noticed during lunch. She watched him and his family, they were fascinatingly pretty, but she doesn’t know anything more about them. Sure would have been great if she could have asked the tiny girl (was it Jess?) about them.

Biology proceeds as in canon - Edward badly wants to eat the delicious girl, but fortunately doesn’t.

She runs into him in the office when he tries to switch to another biology lesson, but she has no idea what he’s saying so she only has the suspicion that this somehow concerns her. Which is still uncomfortable, but Bella is probably the problem here. The hottie surely can’t be.

He’s missing from school for a week, Bella finds that weird.

He returns, and to her great horror he starts talking to her.

“Hello”, he says.

Bella dies inside. He’s too handsome!

"I'm Edward Cullen," he continues, and ok, she got that. The hottie is called Edward, that’s good to know. She’s not sure she caught that last name, though, Köln?

He says something else, it’s gibberish to Bella even though she’s concentrating, and at the end there he says “Bella Swan”.

She gulps.

"I'm Bella Swan," she confirms and nods. That should be correct. God, she hopes it’s correct.

He smiles a crooked, boyish smile. She’s awed. She didn’t think it was possible to be so beautiful.

He says something else.

Bella didn’t catch it.

She blushes even harder, she hasn’t been more embarrassed in her life. Here he is, the most handsome guy in all the world, and she has nothing to say to him. Literally, they don’t speak the same language.

She should tell him.

It’s one thing to chicken out of telling the town she doesn’t speak English, but there’s something different about Edward Cullen. He deserves the truth.

But...

He’s the most beautiful person she has seen in her life. He is American, too, so the odds of him knowing Norwegian are microscopical. If he finds out she doesn’t understand a word he says he’ll stop talking to her, and selfish as she is she doesn’t want that.

So with a slightly guilty conscience (but not enough to fess up) she contributes to the conversation with enough words and smiles to pull through. "Yes", "No", "Thank you", and "That's nice".

He is surprised by several of these answers, but instead of giving her odd looks and losing interest he grows more invested in the conversation.

Class ends.

The next day the near accident happens, and he saves her. She is stunned - dear god, did he just pick up a whole car? After teleporting across the parking lot..?

Soon she’s in the ER, and more than a little bit stressed about that fact since she knows the Americans have a terrible healthcare system.

She hopes Charlie has an insurance.

An insanely beautiful man walks into the ER, and Bella is shocked. He is just as handsome as Edward and Edward’s lunch friends!

He introduces himself as Carlisle Cullen, and Bella can only assume this is someone’s older brother. Possibly related to the blonde girl.

He smiles at her, says something, and she answers, "I'm Bella Swan."

He frowns.

That must have been the wrong answer, then.

His hands return to investigating her scalp, and to her great surprise he switches to perfect Norwegian, "kjenner De* noe ubehag når jeg holder her?" Do you feel any discomfort when I touch here?

*De is the Norwegian polite pronoun for “you”. Du = thou = the French tu, and De = you = the French vous. These polite pronouns went out of use in the 1980’s, save for when addressing royal persons, and would be considered antiquated in 2005.

He hurries to add, "Norsk lærte jeg i... fjor sommer. Det var et nettkurs." I learned Norwegian… last year. Online class.

"Hvilket da?" Which one? Bella asks, because Charlie needs to hear about this. The doctor has beautiful, if slightly outdated, pronunciation.

The doctor’s smile turns uncertain. She gets the feeling there’s something he doesn’t want to say. "Husker ikke," I don’t remember, sier han etter en litt vel lang pause.

That’s a shame. And weird.

"De hadde hellet med Dem i dag, som ikke ble truffet av den bilen." You were lucky today, not getting hit by that car. he then says, noticeably changing the subject.

"Det var ikke hell, det var Edward," It wasn’t luck, it was Edward, she replies sharply.

The doctor definitely looks uncomfortable.

She continues, "Han krysset skolegården på et blunk, og plukket opp hele bilen. Jeg så det," He crossed the schoolyard in a moment, and picked up the whole car. I saw it,

The doctor laughs. "Om han kunne det hadde nok gymkarakteren hans vært meget bedre. Nei, frøken Swan*, jeg beklager å si at det høres ut som at De er litt omtåket. Det er helt normalt ved hjernerystelse." If he could do that, his PE grade would be a lot better. No, Miss Swan, I’m sorry to say you seem confused. That’s normal with concussions.

*Addressing a young woman as “frøken” is even more outdated than using polite pronouns.

Why does Bella get the feeling he’s lying?

She’s discharged.

We’ll jump ahead to her trip to La Push - that trip uneventful, since Jacob knows she doesn’t speak English. They stick their hands in their pockets and stare at the sea.

The next day she’s shanghaied to Port Angeles, because apparently she said “Yes” at the wrong time when talking to Jessica (Turns out Jess’s name was Jessica!) and accidentally said yes to a day trip to Port Angeles.

Like in canon she wanders away from the others, and as in canon she is nearly gang raped. And again as in canon she is saved at the last moment by Edward.

He buys her dinner, and she can’t believe her own luck- and misfortune. A date with the most handsome guy on the planet (hence the luck) and she can’t say a word to him (hence the misfortune)!

He says things to her, lends her his jacket, and really this is it for Bella, she’s peaked, life can’t get better than this.

(That’s a lie, it would be better if she spoke English.)

He’s so amazing.

She’s gotten pretty good at navigating conversations with him, so she nods and aha’s her way through.

In his car on the way home the tone takes a more serious turn.

He asks her about something, and it’s a serious question, that much she’s gathered. She answers in the confirmative.

He is silent.

Did she say anything wrong?

(Edward, on his end, just asked if she knows what he is. She said yes, so calmly, not even a trace of fear in her.)

A few days later he takes her out on a walk in the woods.

He shows her a meadow in the woods, and when he steps into it he lights up in the sunlight.

Bella is in shock.

She knew there was something different about him, but- holy cow. This guy isn’t human.

Is she dating a god?

She stumbles into the clearing after him, and they spend a day together where he says things, and she can barely hear any of it (nevermind understand it) because she’s so distracted by how pretty he is.

The next day he takes her to a house in the middle of nowhere. She doesn’t want to guess that this can be where he lives. Surely gods don’t live in houses?

He shows her inside the house, and introduces her for Dr. Cullen and a lady with a name she doesn’t catch.

Bit weird that these two are acting like a couple of parents, they’re far too young and divine for that.

Edward shows her around in an old-fashioned office, and she doesn’t know what to make of i when she sees a painting of Carlisle. Edward launches into a long story when he sees her watching it, unfortunately she doesn’t catch any dates or artist names. At one point she heard the word “suicide”, though, and that’s not good.

She doesn’t get much out of the story.

The baseball game doesn’t happen because Bella didn’t pick up on what Edward wanted and didn’t realize she was being invited to a thing. They spend the afternoon watching a movie instead.

The relationship continues, impeded slightly by communication problems, but she’s mostly able to cover those up.

Until her birthday comes around.

She gets a papercut.

Jasper lunges at her. Edward throws her into a glass table, and then everyone is leaving.

Carlisle is kind enough to switch to Norwegian when he’s stitching up her arm, perhaps remembering the last time she was his patient. "Jasper har ikke vært på dietten vår så veldig lenge." Jasper hasn’t been on our diet for very long.

"Diett?"she asks. She’s never seen Edward eat anything. She wasn’t clear on what the Cullens ate, honestly she thought they were above such things. She was thinking maybe photosynthesis. The knowledge that they apparently eat food astounds her, but diets?

"Dyreblod istedenfor menneskeblod," Animal blood in stead of human blood, Carlisle clarifies.

Whachasay?

Carlisle gives a slight smile. “Jaspers liv som vampyr fikk en brutal start." Jasper’s life as a vampire got off to a brutal start.

...

Vampire?!

Bella’s missed something here.

Oh dear lord, oh fy faen, she has missed something.

“Åja”, uh huh, is all she can say, and suddenly she’s very aware of the fact that she’s sitting there with a bleeding arm.

And Carlisle.

Who is a vampire.

Over the course of the following conversation Bella makes a host of discoveries.

Edward has been a vampire this whole time, and he’s a telepathic vampire. Whether Bella should be a vampire too or not has been a matter of hot debate, but due to religious reasons Edward doesn’t want that.

Carlisle also brings up how Edward died of the Spanish flu.

"Jeg var under den oppfatning at Edward fortalte deg bakhistorien min?" I was under the impression Edward told you my back story? Carlisle asks at one point, and Bella just has to ask very nicely if he’d be so kind as to repeat it.

Turns out the guy is nearly four hundred years old.

Jaha.

Jahahaha jaa ha.

That’s… a lot.

She wanders out of the house in shock, and hardly notices Edward’s strange behavior over the next couple of days.

One day he picks her up at school, and takes her behind the house.

That works out.

He’s a vampire, but he never hurt her. He is endlessly beautiful, perhaps easier to love now that she knows he’s not a god. He’s her Edward, and that’s suddenly easier now that she knows.

They can still be together.

But now that she knows this about him, it’s about time he knows something about her as well.

It’s time to finally be honest with him.

So when he opens his mouth, she opens her mouth as well, but she doesn’t get any further than to “Edward-” before he launches into a monologue.

She’ll have to wait until he’s done before saying her piece. It’s a bit embarrassing, but it doesn’t seem like he intends to stop talking anyway.

And what he’s saying seems to be serious, so it’s probably best to let him finish.

Edward concludes his monologue by kissing her forehead. Then he disappears.

Where did he go?

A big unsure, Bella goes back to the house. She’ll just have to wait until he gets back.

She doesn’t know what to think when Charlie returns from work and tells her the Cullens have all left.

Oh, god.

Edward must have found out she doesn’t speak English.

She made a mockery of him.

He has every right to leave.

Knowing this doesn’t make it any easier to live with.

Bella sinks into a depression.

The hallucinations begin, as in canon, though Hallusinward speaks Norwegian. Thank god for small mercies.

The friendship with Jacob (dictionary in hand) blooms, as someone has to help her see those hallucinations.

The cliff diving happens, and Alice shows up. Bella’s not sure what this is about, but she has gotten good enough at English to know that something bad happened, and Alice wants them to do something.

She’s a bit surprised to find herself on a plane to Italy, though.

Alice tells her to “Run to Edward” and ok, she got that, actually.

So she saves Edward.

After that she’s taken into the sewer, which turns out to house dozens of vampires.

Bella, Edward, and Alice are received in some kind of hall, where an unusual vampire has quite a bit to say. She understands some of what he’s saying, at least the part about “la tua cantante”. She knows a bit about Italian, see, so she knows that he’s talking about a song now.

She wishes she knew the context.

At one point he takes her hand, and appears fascinated by it. She wonders if he’s a palmreader. Not very vampirey, but what does she know.

He asks her a question.

"Yes," she says.

Saying yes has gotten her this far, after all.

But when he lights up and claps his hands together, and Edward and Alice stare at her in shock and betrayal, she knows she must have said the wrong thing.

The two are dismissed from the room before Bella can do or say anything, she’s just listening to Edward make a racket outside in the hallway.

Not good.

The unusual vampire brings her further down in his sewer palace to a basement, and she is given comfortable clothes to wear.

This is getting terrifying.

The vampire leans towards her - and she chickens out.

"Jeg snakker ikke engelsk!" she squeaks. "Non habla ingles!" I don’t speak English.

Han stanser, og ser forvirret ut. "Que- Hva behager*?" I beg your pardon? spør han etter et øyeblikk.

*A very formal, and slightly outdated (you can use it, but people will think you’re putting on airs. And they will be right) way of saying “excuse me?”

Sobbing, Bella tells him the whole story, from how she didn’t want to be the weird kid in school to how she’s now somehow in Italy without knowing why nor what she just agreed to.

When she’s done the vampire starts laughing.

"Dette forklarer jo en hel del," This explains quite a bit, ler han. "Men, kjære Bella, jeg er redd det ikke endrer noe." But, my dear Bella, I’m afraid it changes nothing.

He tells her that she has agreed to serve him and his army of undead warriors into eternity.

Well fuck.

"Du skal få slippe det, når du ikke visste hva du samtykket til - men skjebnen din forblir den samme. Loven er loven." You’re released from that promise, as you didn’t know what you agreed to - but your fate remains the same. The law is the law.

After a moment of silence, during which she looks terrified, he hurries to add, "Vi har en lov. Du må bli en av oss." We have a law. You must become one of us.

A law that Bella Swan has to become a vampire?

People are finally speaking Norwegian, and Bella is still lost. And it’s too embarrassing to keep pestering this poor, polite man with questions.

So she nods.

He gives her a glittering smile, and bites her.

When she wakes, Aro offers her an English course. A language course that, naturally, leads to her staying in Volterra. Why not learn a few more languages while we’re at it, dearest Bella?

Some time later Edward breaks into Volterra to save his Rapunzel, only to barely recognize her now that she’s a vampire who says things. Lots of things, she talks all the time now. WHAT DID ARO DO TO HER.

Too mortified to admit that she never spoke English, Bella claims she’s been brainwashed.

Aro is having too much fun to correct her, and the whole sad affair sets off a regrettable flood of rumors.

[starryevermore]

the christmas mix-up ✧ ransom drysdale

twelve days of christmas | angst city™ library

request: Angst? Ransom cheating on reader during Xmas and she finds out on Xmas day cause the present he got her is mixed up with the other persons? Maybe a initials themed thing or even a ring? Ooo maybe the person turns up with the ring and says “I’ll marry you” while readers there like 😐 what

pairing: ransom drysdale x fem!reader

summary: ransom pays the price of mixing up his mail. 

word count: 533

warnings?: angst, cheating, no happy ending, not proofread

note: this was written between november 8-17, 2021.

You were convinced you heard it wrong. No, no, no, no. This wasn’t...Ransom Drysdale was a lot of things, but you had never pegged him as a cheater. Not when you told him how much you loathed cheaters. He wouldn’t do this to you. He loved you...Didn’t he?

And yet, there she stood, in the middle of your living room, beaming a megawatt smile at Ransom, flashing a gorgeous diamond ring on her left ring finger. God, the audacity of it all...You couldn’t believe that this was happening, that this was your reality. 

Ransom looked at you, his heart dropping. “Y/N, it’s not what it looks like.”

“Yeah?” you said. “Cause I think it’s exactly what it looks like.”

“It’s not, I promise—”

“Seriously? You think I give a shit about your promises when you’re fucking your secretary? And you send her a fucking ring?! ON CHRISTMAS!?”

“It wasn’t supposed to be a ring! It was supposed to be a notice of termination—”

“What?” she said, her smile fading.

“Oh, but you are fucking her? God, I bet you were going to fire her so it wouldn’t look bad on you to be screwing your employees. You make me fucking sick!” You frowned. “Wait a goddamn minute, how do you fuck up that badly? A ring and a fucking notice of termination are wildly different!”

“It was just one time! Y/N, petal, please—”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” you snapped, crossing the room, walking towards the door. Ransom followed after you, apologies falling from his mouth. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“Please, it didn’t mean anything.”

“I’m sure that’s exactly what your dad said when your mom threatened to leave him.” As you pulled on your coat, then your snow boots, you took a moment to look at him. “You act like you’re so much better than your family, but you’re not. You’re just as pathetic as them. God, I wish I had listened to Harlan when he told me I’d be happier if I ran as far away from you all as possible.”

“He said that?”

“And he was fucking right about it, too. Said that you weren’t a good man and—wait. When...When did this happen?”

“I don’t—”

“When did you fuck her?!” you repeated, praying that you were wrong. You couldn’t...No, you couldn’t be right. 

“Just before Harlan’s birthday,” Ransom muttered. “I had a meeting with him, and she came over to drop off some papers I forgot and...I was so frustrated with him that I texted her to meet me in the bathroom and—”

CRACK!

The sound of you slapping him echoed through the house, his hand coming up to rub at his jaw. Your hand stung as you stared at him, barely managing to spit out, “Oh my god, Harlan was trying to warn me about what a fucking loser you are!”

“I’m sorry...”

“Me too. You know, I hope she makes you happy.”

“She doesn’t—”

“Well, that sucks, ‘cause you threw everything you could’ve had away for her. And now she’s all you’re left with.” You opened the door, the cold air hitting you. “Merry fucking Christmas, bitch.”

[taones]

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 - akaashi, iwaizumi

Pairings: Iwaizumi, Akaashi x gn!reader

Notes: this was written at like 2am and edited (half assed) when I was half asleep so I’m very sorry if there is any mistakes, love you guys

Warnings: harsh language, reader gets called clingy, minor arguing, most of this has been done before lmao, very hurt/comfort

― Akaashi

Chances are he got to engrossed in work because it's not like akaashi to forget something like this

Really, he remembers almost everything when it comes to you so when you were still sat alone at 10pm on your birthday, you began to worry something had happened to him

There was no dinner ready and you hadn’t dressed up yet, thinking Keiji would come home and tell you what you were doing

Yet you found yourself ringing his phone for the 5th time that night, this time he answered

“What y/n I’m really busy?” His tone led you to believe he wasn’t in the best mood

You asked him when he would be home and that seemed to set him off

“I told you i had to do things today okay, I won’t be home until later I don’t get why you have to know what I’m doing all the time. Think about me for once”

And with that you hung up, it was obvious what had happened.

Keiji felt guilty yeah, but he did need to work and he knew that he could just apologise when he got home. Sure, it wasn’t like you to just hang up but he figured you were also tired from the long week and left it at that. It wasn’t until he opened his messages he felt his blood freeze.

There, screaming at him from the screen of his phone, was a text from bokuto that read ‘hey, y/n isn’t picking up could you say happy birthday for me man?’

He had to get home.

-

By the time the black haired man had arrived back home, he was soaked from the rain and biting at his nails nervously. The lights in the house were all off and he just hoped to god that you were still inside the house. Even though it would be perfectly within your right to not be.

The living room held a silence that he had never quite hated as much as he did now. The pile of openers cards from your friends seemed to taunt him from the coffee table. How had even atsumu remembered and he hadn’t? He was your boyfriend. He hoped he would still be when he finally found you. You were curled up on your side in your bedroom. Obviously not asleep but not showing any signs of acknowledgment either. Guilt tugged at his stomach.

“Y/n” he started, trailing off

What was he supposed to say to you? ‘Hey sorry I forgot your birthday and called you selfish’. Yeah, great going Keiji.

“Y/n I’m really sorry and I know that probably won’t make it better and I can’t take back what I said to you.” He drew in a shaky breath, “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to forget about you I’ve just been working so hard and-“

A sob cut him off. His soft hand on your shoulder broke your resolve and you allowed him to turn you around.

“Just,” you sobbed, “please don’t do it again Keiji, all I do is think about you”

He wrapped his arms around your shaking form, pulling you into his embrace.

“I know, I should’ve been thinking more about you. I’m so sorry sweetheart, I promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow”

― Iwaizumi

Hajime had always been a pretty busy person, this was evident ever since you started dating

Now it was his final year though, you had never seen him more stressed

So, you decided to show up to one of his practices on your birthday, for the past 2 years he had always left early or at least with you when it was a special date

And it was your birthday but that didn’t mean you couldn’t treat him too and you know how hard he had been working, so you made a bento

The moment you walked in to the gym it was like everyone but him lit up, the third years came over to say hi and even Kyoutani sent you a quick nod

You tapped your boyfriend on the shoulder and when he didn’t reply you went for a hug, only for him to move at the last minute

“Why are you here y/n?” He asked coldly

You explained to him that you wanted to come see him like always, not mentioning your birthday in case it was a joke, he wasn’t laughing

“A little clingy don’t you think? You text me all day and now you come and interrupt practice? Why are you so needy today damn?”

You just turned and walked out, hoping nobody had heard your conversation

“Hey Iwa aren’t you gonna leave early?” Matsukawa asked him at the end of practice.

“No, why?” He had calmed down significantly now and had forgotten what he said to you

“Uh... cause it’s y/n's birthday?” Makki called from behind the net, “you do it every year, right?”

Iwa dragged his hands down his face. He had been too stressed to even remember what day it was let alone your birthday. And now he had forgotten you completely after making those comments.

“Why would they want to?” Kyoutani growled up from his sweeping, “after what you said to them”

A dozen pairs of eyes seemed to bore into his soul. Guilt had stolen his breath and his head was spinning but he knew he had to go and fix this before it was too late.

-

You were sat on the cold step of your house, sobbing into the sleeves of one of your boyfriends jumpers. You should probably give that back. If your conversation earlier was anything to go by then he wouldn’t be keeping you around much longer. Staring at the fabric, now stained with your tears, you thought about what he said. Maybe you were clingy.

“Y/n!”

You looked up to see a very out of breath Iwaizumi runnning towards you, face flushed

Looking down, you grumbled a quick ‘what?’. You were hurt and the balloons attached to your bag were smacking against the side of your house as if taunting you.

“You know Iwaizumi” he flinched at the use of his last name, “if you wanted to break up, you could at least have the decency not to do it on my birthday”

“No y/n, I would never- I don’t want to break up” he cried, words were failing but he carried on, “I’ve been so stressed looking after the team and Oikawa with his knee I just forgot”

When your eyes met it felt like his heart had broken in two. Your eyes were glistening with unshed tears and you had obvious tear tracks down your face. A nod let him know it was okay to carry on.

“Please, I’m sorry baby I didn’t mean to forget, can we try again tomorrow? I’d never hurt you on purpose”

Tears began running down your cheeks again.

You nodded and the man pulled you in for a kiss, not caring about the taste of your salty tears. Murmuring ‘I love you’ against your lips, he pulled you in as close as he could to you. Like he would never let you go.

It might not have been the best birthday but you were content knowing he would always try his best to make up for the things he does.

Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this it wasn’t reread or anything so there might be a lot of mistakes I’m sorry but I’m happy if you liked it mwah!

Remember that reblogging helps content creators darlings and that ily very much

[satendou]

⟼  monster

⍣ all time low series | next | 1/4

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢  pairing: tendo/reader

⇢ au: atl!au, college!au

⇢ summary: you like horror movies, tendou likes horror movies, what could go wrong?

⇥ masterlist

⇢ warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, mentions of bullying, insecurities, piercings, cursing

⇢ word count: 13.2k

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ a/n: i think this is the biggest fic i’ve ever written and it’s one of my favorites, if not my absolute favorite i’ve written so far. it was kinda hard to write it in a way that stayed true to my vision for it but also didn’t make it childish, so i hope i succeeded in that regard. as always, thank you to @keijiskitten​ for editing this!

“Oh, come on, ‘Kaashi,” you said, setting your hand on your hip. You were standing around in the middle of the classroom with him and a few others, waiting for your professor to show up who was no doubt getting a coffee from the overflowing Starbucks down the street. Class would be half over before he finally arrived. “It’s just a few scary movies.”

“Sorry, _____. I have to study and I just know that trying to watch movies with you and study is gonna be a nightmare,” he said, giving you a sympathetic look. “And give me nightmares.”

You rolled your eyes and looked around to Bokuto, who was scrolling through his phone while he chatted with Yaku about the next practice. That was a hard no. Poor Bo would agree without complaint and wind up with nightmares for a week, clinging to you throughout the night. Catching Akaashi’s eye, you exchanged knowing looks and chuckles.

“Hey, _____,” Semi said from your other side. He was busy filling out a music sheet with notes for his next possible song, and the way he said your name indicated he was more focused on that than your quandary.

Still, you turned to look at him over your shoulder, quirking your eyebrow at him. When he didn’t immediately continue, you prompted him. “What’s up?”

“Oh, right,” he said, looking up from the paper. He gave you a small smile and tapped the tip of his pencil on the desk in a smooth rhythm, leaving small marks all over the surface. “You should see if Tendo wants to join you. He’s really into horror movies too.”

“Um, who?”

Semi’s eyes widened in surprise and he pointed over his shoulder. You could hear Akaashi snicker from your other side. The chair on Semi’s other side tipped back on its back legs, and a man with close-cut red hair peeked around his back, waving cheekily at you.

“Hi, name’s Tendo Satori. I’ve only been hanging around you for about two weeks now,” he said and, though he sounded lighthearted and jovial about it, you could see the way his eyes remained narrowed, scrutinizing you. And he didn’t look impressed.

You flushed bright red, realizing you did know him but had never committed his name to memory. Mostly because he hadn’t ever really said anything to you or seemed interested in you at all. 

“I-- well, I’m sorry,” you offered awkwardly. But you meant it, at least. You felt a bit bad now that he was in your face. Trying to lighten the mood, you joked, “I’m _____ _____ and my brain space is committed to horror movies and studying. No space for names I’m afraid.”

Semi rolled his eyes and Akaashi heaved a long-suffering sigh, covering his eyes with his hand, but Tendo laughed at your stupid joke. His eyes eased up, his smile relaxing, and he now looked genuinely interested. 

“A horror movie marathon, huh? I’m interested. Why don’t you tell me more?”

--

Tendo didn’t actually expect it to go his way. As with most other people, he was sure you were just faking your enthusiasm and would flake out once you were free of him. 

And yet when lunch rolled around and your group of friends were standing in the breezeway, shivering as you tried to pick out some place to go and eat off campus, you fell into step beside him.

“I really am sorry for not knowing who you were,” you offered, adjusting your bag on your shoulder and slipping a pair of gloves on. “Could we, maybe--”

He cut you off, grinning. “Forgiven and forgotten, _____.”

Hesitantly, you smiled back. He was strange, to be sure. Even though you hadn’t really had a true conversation with him yet, you got the feeling he was different, eccentric and unpredictable maybe. The way he harassed the shit out of Semi and some of the others was hysterical, though. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was that made you feel that way, but it wasn’t bad. You were even a little curious.

“Okay cool. So if, by chance, we were to do this movie marathon, how would you feel about cannibals?” you asked, tapping your chin thoughtfully. It was a theme you had been thinking about for a while, but none of your friends were into horror movies much, let alone a dozen or so movies centered around such a gory theme.

Tendo clicked his tongue and you heard a strange clink. “Hypothetically, right?”

“Right,” you said, your eyes zeroed in on his mouth, waiting for him to speak again.

He hummed, his lips curling in thought and his eyes narrowing as he stared off in the distance. Second in height only to Bokuto, he towered over everyone even though the two of you walked together at the back of the group. Speaking of Bokuto, you could hear him over the chatter of the other students around you, talking about the diner just a block away from the school and guessed that that was where you were going. 

Then he shrugged. “That sounds rad. What’re you thinking? Hypothetically.”

“Well, obviously gotta go with The Hills Have Eyes. I mean, it’s a classic. And then of course Wrong Turn because there’s so many of those. And, uh…that’s all I have, but that’s literally like 8 movies and if we get past those I don’t know what we’ll do,” you said, weaving through the throngs of people on the sidewalk. You had forgotten you had been trying to see what was in his mouth just a few minutes ago as you avoided toes. You could see the diner sign up ahead, reading “Newly Opened” and a list of menu items, but it was otherwise obscured from your view.

A gasp from Tendo startled you and you whipped around to look at him, only to find him staring at you in disbelief.

He had to fight the laugh in his chest from coming up at the wide-eyed, freaked out look on your face as he said, “I cannot believe you’ve forgotten the most classic of classic cannibal movies, _____. How could you forget The Texas Chainsaw Massacre movies?”

Relief mingled with amusement on your face when you realized what he was getting at, and you covered your mouth as you laughed. Putting on your best ashamed expression, you closed your eyes. “I can’t believe I forgot those. I’m such a fake fan.”

“Kicked out of the club for sure,” he said, holding the door open for you. The bustle of the diner drowned out anything more Tendo said as you followed the others towards a large table in the back corner. After that, you were seated between Semi and Akaashi and the conversation was halted.

For the time being.

--

You didn’t bring up the marathon again, though you snagged Tendo’s number the day after you went to the diner. The conversation started out about movies and morphed into other topics like majors, highschools, how he knew Eita and how you had met Bokuto and Akaashi, amongst others. It left Tendo in a bit of confusion. The two of you kept up a steady stream of communication throughout the day, even sneaking in texts during classes that could net you extra work or pop quizzes. And yet never once was the marathon mentioned.

Part of him was bummed because he had kind of been looking forward to the movies, but the larger part of him was unsurprised. Something like that was way too intimate, and for someone like you to want to do something like that with a-- someone like him was too much to hope for. He was just happy that you weren’t avoiding him like most others did; he wasn’t going to ask for more.

Except he kind of did want more, and he didn’t want to feel that. The disappointment was already tangible on his tongue and he swallowed it down every time he saw you in the hall, chatting or laughing with someone else. It would ease slightly when you would turn to look in his direction, flashing a smile and waving as you passed by. In class, you started sitting beside him, Bokuto and Akaashi often following behind, and he found his small group of friends growing because of you. Bokuto was loud and brash and treated him like they were best friends, and Akaashi’s quiet demeanor reminded him a lot of Ushijima. Except he was maybe a little more expressive. 

You even started walking home with him, parting ways when you had to go in different directions with a soft smile and a shine in your eyes that he tried not to read too much into. He enjoyed those days, when no one else was around and he just talked. You even knew some of the manga he read, and he lost himself rambling about Jump. When he brought it up once, about how he talked too much, you shook your head frantically. 

“No, no, I don’t mind! It reminds me of Bokuto, to be honest. He can talk about anything and keep a conversation going so easily. I’m kinda jealous,” you said, giving him that satisfied smile again.

He tried to clamp down on the feelings, to keep a tight rein on the emotions that kept trying to pull his eyes in your direction anytime he heard your voice or drew his thoughts to you late at night.

Sighing, he rubbed his eyes, frustrated at the fact that he was thinking of you a-fuckin’-gain. Didn’t he have enough to worry about without wondering what you thought of him? He already knew. You weren’t interested. It was fine.

His phone dinged, the screen lighting up to reveal your name and a text.

You: ‘watcha up to?’ Tendo: ‘nm. studying and suffering. you?’ Y: ‘“studying” sksks what’re you doing tomorrow night by chance?’

Tendo’s heart stuttered in his chest and he groaned, barely resisting the urge to fling his phone out the frost covered window in front of him. For the love of god, could the universe stop fucking with him? Clicking his tongue, he considered telling you he was busy. It would be easiest, and save him the disappointment that was sure to accompany whatever you had planned.

But his fingers were traitorous and typed out exactly what he didn’t want to say. Or so he told himself.

T: ‘nothin. what’re you thinkin?’ Y: ‘well...i’m thinkin about cannibals’

Tendou snorted at that and watched the three little dots appear again.

Y: ‘and u’

He choked and slammed his phone down on the desk, wincing and immediately picking it back up to check the damage. No, no way, he wouldn’t look at it like that. It wasn’t like that. You were just inviting him for the movie marathon in a totally platonic way.

Another message came in.

Y: ‘and me’

You were actually trying to kill him.

--

He could think of nothing the next day but how much he was looking forward to that night. Once he had finally gotten his shit together enough to text you back, the kinks had been worked out. It was almost a no brainer that he would be spending the night. A movie marathon with twelve movies meant an all-nighter, if the two of you could pull it off. He would go home after classes, while away the few hours until around six o’clock, and then head to the address you had given him. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t see much of you that day. You shared no classes, and you had a class when he took lunch, so he ate with Semi and Bokuto that day. Instead you snuck texts to him when you could, mostly talking about how excited you were for that night. It didn’t help, somehow both fanning and soothing his inner turmoil.

“Why do you look like you’re gonna throw up?” Semi asked at last. Tendo was staring at his half-eaten chicken sandwich like it had mortally offended him, and he was curious. 

Tendo jumped, having forgotten the other two were even with him, and shook his head. “Uh, nothin’.”

But Bokuto snickered and leaned in to whisper to Semi, who was already suspicious of his short, clipped answer. Whether he actually wanted to whisper or not, Tendo wasn’t sure, but Bo sure as shit didn’t manage it. “Him and _____ are gonna watch movies tonight.”

Of course you had told Bokuto. And probably Akaashi too. He wondered if they had changed their minds and decided to join you when they found out. It put a rather annoying feeling in his chest, like someone was squeezing his heart.

The other two were still talking in a loud whisper, watching Tendo’s expression shift and flicker through a myriad of emotions. Bokuto was lost, but Semi could recognize them after so many years of knowing the moody red-head, and wanted to laugh. He was so good at hiding his negative emotions, but when it came to sadness or happiness, he was like an open book. And he was being pretty obvious right then.

“Wow, that’s pretty big, Tendo,” he said, watching his friend closely. Tendo flinched, shrinking into his hoodie, and Semi nodded to himself. “Don’t let yourself get so worked up. She wouldn’t ask if she didn’t want to.”

He knew where Tendo’s insecurities were coming from. A childhood fraught with bullies and fake friends and people pretending they wanted him around only to treat him like a freak. Even through highschool it was that way, with a particularly nasty incident involving a girl pretending to want to date him that ended with Tendo refusing to come to school for almost a week. After that, he kept to himself and the volleyball club, refusing to even acknowledge that anyone else might actually want to get to know him seriously.

It had gotten a bit easier when he left Shiratorizawa and those memories and most of those people behind. Growing up with them was what had made it hardest, so surrounding himself with fresh people who didn’t have any preconceived notions and rumors about him had allowed him to open up a little. Even Ushijima, across the ocean in California, noticed a marked difference in Tendo’s demeanor.

Semi just hoped you didn’t do anything to send him spiralling back into his insecurities.

“Yeah, I guess.” 

It was easy for Semi to say that, but he had no idea what it was like, constantly worrying if people were being serious or if they were just waiting to pull the rug out from under him. Even now, he was fighting with himself to just get through the day, waiting constantly for you to change your mind and cancel the plans. Every time his phone lit up with your name, he expected it.

And yet, even after his classes ended and he arrived home, you didn’t. Just commenting that you would be MIA for a while while you cleaned the apartment and went to the store. And when you came back a few hours later, while he was binging Buzzfeed Unsolved videos, his heart leapt into his throat, but you were only telling him what you had gotten for him and to pick up anything else he might want on the way over.

The time couldn’t pass by fast enough while he busied himself packing as slowly as he could. He was already wearing sweatpants but brought a pair of basketball shorts just in case. A clean t-shirt and the other essential items he would need for the night went into a backpack, and when that was done he decided it was a good time to leave.

Unable to help himself, he sent you a text before he left, interrupting whatever you were already typing, the three little bubbles disappearing for a moment while you read his text.

T: ‘you sure you’re alright with this? i don’t have to come over’ Y: ‘?’ Y: ‘do u not want to!’ Y: ‘?*’ Y: ‘we can do this another time if you want’

He was typing before he could really think about the possibility that that might be the best option, his heart thumping harder than he liked in his chest, and he willed himself to take a deep breath. It was just two friends hanging out, watching horror movies together. Nothing more.

T: ‘no i do. was just making sure you were still ok w it.’ T: ‘leaving now to get snacks. your choices s u c k’ Y: ofc hurry up and get over here Y: ‘tf rude’

Locking the door behind him, he slung his bag onto his shoulder and sighed, hoping the night didn’t end as badly as his nerves were telling him it would.

--

Your doorbell rang an hour later, while you were in the middle of setting up your room for the binge. You were hoping he wouldn’t mind, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable either. It was hard to miss the nervousness and the way he seemed to shy away from you sometimes, especially when you did certain things like reach out to pull something off his hoodie or read something over his shoulder. But you wanted this to be as normal as possible, to prove to him you were genuine.

You liked Tendo. A lot. 

He was funny and sweet and just as eccentric as you had expected. His jokes were off-color but not offensive, just sarcastic and witty and you giggled every time. The way his face lit up when he heard you sent your heart into a frenzy, and the way it fell and he seemed to shrink into himself a moment later hurt. It didn't feel like a rejection of you but instead a rejection of himself and you wondered if there was any way to help him understand that you didn’t want anything from him but for him to be himself.

Upon opening the door, you found it was only the pizza delivery man, and you smiled with disappointment, until you spotted a shaved red-head coming up behind him.

Tendo gulped when he spotted you in your open doorway, wearing woolen leggings and a t-shirt, exchanging a box of pizza for cash and smiling brightly at him over the man’s shoulder. Waving, he waited until the stranger was out of the way before he approached you.

“Hey,” he greeted, peering down at you before scanning the empty living room of your apartment over your head.

You were unsurprised to see the wariness in his eyes, bleeding into the smile he was forcing on his face. It was your first time seeing a look so fake on him and for the first time you wondered if this was really a good idea. But it was only movies. And you liked Tendo. It would be fine.

So you smiled and ushered him in with one hand, the box perched precariously on your other, and watched him shrink into himself like he always did when he came within touching distance of you until he had passed into the living room. Then he just stood there, peering around with that same suspicious look, eyes narrowed and mouth turned down at the corners.

“So, what do you think?” you asked, pretending you hadn’t seen it as you moved into the kitchen. 

“It’s nice,” he answered, letting his bag hit the floor with a thump. The rest of the apartment was silent save for the heater going, and little by little he felt himself relaxing. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble for little ol’ me, y’know.”

You giggled at the way he pointed at himself, wearing a cheesy grin as he walked into the kitchen. “Maybe not, but it’s been ages since I’ve been able to do anything like this. It’s as much for me as it is for you.” You punctuated your statement by poking him lightly in the chest, and he feigned pain.

“You wound me. And here I thought you were treating me special,” he moaned, leaning back against the counter and placing his hand over his forehead. He grinned a little hearing you giggle again, and then the pizza box hit his arm.

“I am treating you special, you goof,” you said, opening it up and letting the smell of cheese fill the kitchen. “With pizza. But I think we’d better take it into the bedroom, since that’s where we’ll be watching the movies. Just in case we fall asleep, you know,” you tacked on at the end, suddenly realizing how that might sound. Not that it meant anything, but again, you feared making him uncomfortable.

Absorbed in your thoughts, you missed the faint dusting of pink on his cheeks, clashing marvelously with his vibrant hair. You carried the box down to your bedroom with Tendo on your heels, eager to see your room. It was about what he expected from you-- a messy bed, a cluttered desk, clothes half in your laundry basket and half on the floor surrounding it. The TV sitting on your dresser was already set up with The Hills Have Eyes menu playing, volume muted. You set the box on the bed before smoothing the covers and crawling on.

Tendo hovered in the middle of your room, casting his eyes around nervously, looking for a chair or something to sit on. He definitely did not want to assume, but you patted the bed beside you, giving him a quizzical look.

“I’m not gonna bite, Tendo. Promise,” you said, and though you made it sound like a joke he could hear a line of seriousness at the core. Running his tongue over the back of his teeth, he walked slowly towards you, giving you every opportunity to change your mind, but you just looked impatient until he climbed on beside you. “Alright, now let’s get this started!”

--

Two movies in and the two of you had gotten pretty comfortable. Both of you had stretched out on the bed, but you had decided to lean up against the headboard with your pillows to support you while Tendo had opted to lay on his stomach with his head resting on his arms by your feet.

“Would you stop?” he laughed, pushing your foot away where it had been tapping incessantly at his shoulder. You were just doing it to annoy him, and you giggled at the irritated amusement in his voice.

The pizza box sat empty on the floor by the bed, but you found yourself craving something else to eat. When you hummed, Tendo looked away from the screen, rolling onto his side and propping his chin in his hand to watch you nibble at your lip. It was cute, he couldn’t lie, and the anxiety he had repressed by getting distracted by the movie came back slowly.

“What’s up?”

“I’m thinkin’ about...those chips,” you answered, and made to get up. You had to crawl over his long legs and almost fell off the bed as you gracelessly made your move, knee slipping off the small space between his leg and the edge of the mattress. Sticking your tongue out as he laughed at you, you pranced towards the door. 

“Bring my bags too, would you?” he called, pausing the movie since you had forgotten. It had just started, and you were lucky that he was nice enough to do it, especially when he heard your voice carry back down the hallway.

“Kiss my ass, Tendo.”

He laughed at that, loud enough that you could hear it from the kitchen and over the crinkling of the bags as you rifled through them. In the end, you shrugged and carried them all back down to your room, along with a few drinks. Maybe you wouldn’t have to get up again for a little while.

You shivered when you stepped back into the room. It wasn’t much warmer than the rest of the house, and now your arms and toes were cold. The heater was already set as high as it would go and hardly touched the chill, and you cursed the cheap piece of crap. 

“What, you cold?” he asked, pulling out a bag of the chips he had brought with him. The tab on a can of soda popped and he cursed as it fizzed over onto your blanket. “Shit, sorry.”

“No worries. Yeah, kinda. But the heater is already on full blast. Ugh,” you said, sitting beside him on the bed again. He was still wearing his hoodie, and up close he was warm, making you realize just how cold you were. You were just gonna have to crawl under your blankets because you would never survive the cold like that. “Wait…”

There was a tent on the screen where the movie had paused, and Tendo looked back and forth from it to you with curiosity. There was a calculating look on your face and he wasn’t sure he liked it. “Uh, what?”

There was no way he would agree to it. Way too intimate, right? But it really seemed like it’d be right up his alley, and it would be fun to build, and it would get you warm. It was the perfect idea really.

“Tendo, how do you feel about making...a pillow fort?”

The heater continued to buzz in the corner, overlaid by the slight static from the TV, while Tendo processed your question. His mouth had fallen open, brows furrowed while he stared at you in what could only be surprise, and you laughed nervously.

“Wha-- Seriously?”

“Um, you know what, nevermind. I guess it was a stupid idea. It just seemed like it might be fun and--”

He cut your babbling off with an excited wave of his arms, leaning forward into your space and in the light from the TV you could see a childlike happiness glowing in his eyes. “I’ve never made one but it sounds like fun. You know how to do it?”

Stunned by the turn of events, you nodded. “Well, sort of. Mine have always fallen down after a while though,” you admitted, standing up from the bed again. “We need chairs and books and all the blankets and pillows we can find. And the couch cushions. Probably.”

In no time flat you had everything gathered, with Tendou hovering around waiting for you to direct him. It was a pain to get everything set up, and you ended up using the bed since you didn’t have enough chairs. Moving the chairs all over the place until there was enough room inside and you could put the books down to seal the ‘walls’ was tedious, but it was worth it when Tendo crawled in to set up the cushions to seal the space beneath the bed. After padding the floor with several blankets to lay on, you stuffed the pillows from your bed in after Tendo. When you didn’t immediately crawl in after him, he poked his head out to see what you were doing.

“Well, we didn’t think this through at all, so now we gotta watch the movies on my laptop,” you said as you ejected the DVD from your player. The jingle of your computer booting up played and backlit your face in the glow, and you prayed it wasn’t going to go right into an update. It took a few minutes to start up, so you passed it to him while you plugged the power cord in and ran it into the fort. 

You could hear the clicking of the mousepad and by the time you flipped off the light and crawled in beside Tendo, the movie menu was playing. You also realized just how cramped it really was with Tendo’s lanky form inside. There was just enough space for both of you, but you were going to have to either sit up with it in your lap or you were going to have to set it to the side of you and lay on your sides.

He was tense, staring determinedly at the movie playing and trying to avoid moving too much. Or so you guessed, anyway. Anytime you so much as shifted he would jerk away before relaxing, and you were a split second away from nixing the idea. A part of you was starting to wonder if it wasn’t you that was the problem, but if it was, why had he bothered to agree?

“You’re really warm, Tendo,” you said, trying to break the ice. It was an awkward and clumsy attempt, but maybe you could help him settle down if you showed him you weren’t uncomfortable first?

But that just made him pull further away, leaning against the couch cushions. “Oh, sorry.”

It was already warm and comfortable in your little fort, a light blanket thrown over your knees and warming your toes. And with him beside you, you were actually a little more than comfortable. “No,” you said, waving your hands frantically, “no, like, it’s nice. I’m finally warm.”

It was hard to tell in the washed out light of the laptop, but Tendo’s face turned a very bright shade of pink. He tugged the neck of his hoodie up over his nose and fixed his eyes firmly on the flickering violence, annoyed that he was overwhelmed by something so simple. Why did you have to be so damn cute?

But it did the trick, even if he didn’t know that was your intention. He finally relaxed and stopped flinching every time you shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. Sitting cross legged only worked for so long and Tendo noticed you moving around after a while, when your knee knocked his for the third or fourth time.

“You alright? You’re about to bring the whole fort down,” he commented around a mouthful of chips.

“Ah, well, my back is starting to hurt sitting up, I guess. I wanna lay down,” you said, sounding whinier than you meant to, following it up with a short stretch. It alleviated the pain for a moment, until you hunched over again.

He swallowed his chips and returned his eyes to the TV screen, thinking. On one hand, he wasn’t exactly comfortable. On the other, he had no idea what you were thinking. Did you want to abandon the fort?

But you didn’t say anything, fiddling with the blanket for a few moments as you tried to work up your courage. You damn sure didn’t want to tear down your fort-- it had taken you way too long to put the stupid thing up-- and if you said the idea of cuddling up with Tendo wasn’t appealing, you would surely go to hell for lying. The underlying problem was him. What would he say if you brought up the obvious solution?

You were taking too long to answer, so Tendo prompted you, pausing the movie. “Do you want to just get back on the bed again?”

“No,” you said, and then flinched. You had answered way too quickly and that somehow made him nervous and reassured at the same time. “This is really nice I just…I-know-that-you’re-kind-of-uncomfortable-and-I-don’t-want-to-make-you-more-uncomfortable.”

Tendou stared at you, unblinking as he tried to decipher your breathlessly rushed words. After a moment he laughed, still confused, but he could see the anxiety on your face. “I-- what? All I heard was uncomfortable, I think. But you don’t make me uncomfortable.”

Your heart thumped painfully in your chest as that weight left your shoulders. He was so intuitive it was almost scary. Even still, you had to make sure. “Oh, really? You always seem like...weird around me, I guess. I was starting to think I was pushing too hard, I guess?”

“Sorry,” he said, scratching the back of his head. His elbow brushed the sheet above you and he quickly dropped it. “I’m used to people being uncomfortable around me. Guess it just turned into a habit to avoid people I don’t know. So that I don’t freak them out.”

Not entirely true, given that he enjoyed messing with people, but it was true in your* case. It took you a moment to answer, and he started to worry that he had said too much. 

“You don’t...make me uncomfortable, Tendo. You never did. You’re a weirdo but not...in a bad way,” you said, and glanced at him to gauge his reaction, worried he would take it in a negative light.

But he was smiling, eyes fixed on the paused movie and you bit your lip. He was way too attractive and you couldn’t fathom anyone who thought otherwise. Clearly they were just cowards.

“Well that’s a relief. It would make things pre-tty awkward right now if I did,” he said and bumped your shoulder. It felt like a whole planet was lifted off his shoulders with this revelation and he heaved a huge sigh. “So, if we don’t want to abandon the fort but our backs are about to crumble, what do we do?”

“Uh.” You blanched, having forgotten about that little hiccup. Your idea was embarrassing to think about let alone explain and if you hadn’t made him uncomfortable yet this was sure to.

“Uh,” he mocked, and twisted around like a snake so his face was in front of you, blocking the light from the screen. “Spit it out before we collapse.”

“Just-- um--” you stuttered, and he quickly realized whatever your idea was, it had you flustered. He was just about to start teasing when you picked up the laptop and set it to the side of you. Rolling over onto your side, you tucked your hand underneath your pillow and relaxed, feeling the pain immediately alleviate. “Now you lay down. If you want.”

Your heart was racing in your chest, waiting for him to do something. It was a long, long minute before he finally said anything, and it wasn’t what you expected. Not that you had any idea of what to expect.

“Uh, are you sure? I mean, we could just--” What was he thinking? This was exactly what he wanted and wasn’t it Semi who had said she wouldn’t ask if she didn’t want it? Did he really have to overthink everything? You were in a literal pillow fort watching scary movies with him, offering to let him cuddle up with you, and he still thought you weren’t sure.

“Well, unless you aren’t,” you said, and was that disappointment in your voice? No way.

“No no, no. I’m gonna take my hoodie off first, though. It’s way too warm in here now,” he said, backtracking quickly. Then again, maybe it was just him that was too hot. It was an actual dream come true, and he pinched himself quickly just to make sure he wasn’t asleep. 

You rolled over onto your back to watch him struggle, his arms brushing the ceiling and walls of your warm little haven as he fought the hoodie. Your eyes widened as it finally came free, seeing the colorful swirls of ink covering his arms. “Holy shit.”

“Wha--?” he said, and turned to find you staring open mouthed at his tattoos. “Oh, right, I guess you haven’t seen these before, huh?”

“Nope,” you said, sitting up and squinting to see the undefined shapes in the faint light. It was almost cute the way he held his arm out to you hesitantly, like a child offering you a drawing to examine and praise. Taking it, you traced the lines covering his smooth, warm skin, trying to figure out what they were. But the shapes were undefinable in the faint light. You could make out splashes of blue and purple, red and pink, separated by black lines or faded together to make something. Part of you wanted to ask, but there was something mysterious about not knowing. “I can’t even tell what they are but god, Tendou, I know they’re gorgeous.”

He shivered at your featherlight touches, the feel of your fingers skimming delicately over his skin, and your words caused fire to erupt in his stomach and chest. His tattoos were something he was extremely proud of, one of the few things he had that made him feel confident, and hearing you compliment them made him feel so fucking good. Chucking his jacket out into the room, he returned to your side and the two of you got comfortable.

Pressing play on the movie for the 3rd time, the two of you fell silent. With your head below his chin, it was the perfect position for him to see the screen over you. You could feel the warmth rolling off of him, only an inch of space between his chest and your back, and both of you were well aware of it.

It was nearly impossible to focus on the movie, trying to reign in the urge to just slide back a little bit and mold yourself to him. Nibbling at your lip, you rolled just a little under the pretense of stretching and bumped into him. Just your arm into his, and he didn’t move away.

“You good? Need more space? I can crawl under the bed if you want,” he said, smirking at you. He thought he knew what you were playing at, but your next words confirmed it. It was the oldest trick in the book and, even though no one had ever used it on him, he had seen it at work with Semi and Shirabu too many times.

“Just stretching. I’m still a bit cold though,” you said, facing the TV again.

Suppressing a snicker, knowing damn well that wasn’t what you were after, he offered, “I can get you another blanket, if you need it.”

The silhouette of your shoulders fell, and you couldn’t hide the sigh that accompanied it. “It’s alright, Tendo. It’s not that bad.”

You really should have seen that coming, you guessed. The swell of hope and the crash of disappointment was painful in your chest, and you tried to focus on the movie again, ignoring the tempting warmth at your back. If he wasn’t interested, he wasn’t interested. It was cool.

Which was why you jumped when a weight settled over your side, a snicker filtering behind you as he molded himself to your back. It was slow, hesitant, and you would guess he was trying to make sure you were alright with it. Warmth seeped through your t-shirt and you sighed happily, shimmying back into him out of instinct, and this time you could feel his quiet laughter in his chest.

His arms were so long that he had to fold it in front of you, hand coming to rest just underneath your chin, and when you relaxed so did he. With his chin resting atop your head now, he asked, “Better? This is what you wanted, right?”

“Shut up,” you whined, hiding your face in your hand. It was embarrassing enough without him having to tease you about it. But you supposed it wouldn’t be Tendo if he didn’t make fun of you for everything. It was so easy after that to focus on the movie, now that you had gotten what you wanted. The snacks lay forgotten near your feet, not wanting to move and mess up the delicate balance that was now between the two of you.

It was tenuous and any small movement from either of you could send it toppling in either direction, and you weren’t even sure what it depended on. You knew for sure which way you would like to see it go, but it was just as comfortable the way it was.

Silence fell again until the movie ended, which was the only reason you moved. You could probably have fallen asleep like that, but you weren’t ready yet, wanting to bask in whatever you had with Tendo for a while longer.

When you sat up to change the next movie, Tendo rolled over onto his back, watching you fiddle around with it. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck and he shifted uncomfortably. Seemed you felt the same because you turned to look at him, an apology written on your face.

“Sorry, do you mind if I go change into shorts. It’s actually too warm for these now,” you said, setting the DVD case back on the pile. You felt like you were suffocating in your thick winter leggings now, but if he wasn’t okay with that then you would suffer a little longer. At least until you melted.

“Oh thank god you said something. I was about to die in these sweatpants, I swear,” he answered, fanning his face with his hand. You were pretty sure he was just exaggerating that though. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’, and crawled towards the escape flap, wincing at the sound of crunching and crinkling under your knees all of a sudden. “Oops.”

“Oh those had better not have been mine,” he whined, flashing the light of his phone towards the bag. He groaned, seeing his bag of doritos crushed. He could hear you snicker outside the sheet as you walked away and growled, “Watch it. Yours are still in here, _____.”

You opened a drawer as he finally came out as well and began rifling through his bag, pulling out the pair of shorts he’d packed. When you turned around with a pair of soft shorts in your hands, you found him standing awkwardly in the middle of your room again and laughed. “I’ll go change in the bathroom. I gotta use it anyway. I’ll be right back.”

Your footsteps receded down the hall and he raced to get changed before you came back. His sweats landed on his backpack and he shrugged at himself. What did it matter, so long as they weren’t on your floor?

The sound of the sink reached his ears just as he was climbing back into the fort, frowning at his crushed chips even as he shoved a handful into his mouth. He was so gonna make you pay for a new bag, especially because you had laughed. The door creaked open and the flap shifted, and he almost choked on his chips as he realized just how short your shorts were. Were your legs always that long? And smooth? And pretty? Shit.

“How are your chip fragments?” you joked as you made yourself comfortable beside him again. Your hair fanned out behind you and you gathered it up off the base of your neck, twisting it around so that it spread out above you instead. How the fuck was the back of your neck sexy*? 

He was so screwed.

“Uh,” he replied. Smooth, Satori. Shaking his head, he tried to gather his thoughts and focus them literally anywhere else. It worked. Sort of. “Pointy. You owe me a new bag.”

You scoffed, smiling at the car full of vacationing teenagers on the laptop. “There’s like four other bags in here. Quit whining.”

But he wasn’t giving it up, throwing his bag into the corner and hopefully out of the way of your carelessness. Settling behind you like he had before, he once again left space between you, afraid now of how his body might react if he didn’t. “No, all of them suck.”

You definitely noticed the gap and wondered if he was just waiting for you to take the initiative, so you did. Before he could blink, you were once again molded to his chest, head tucked under his chin and knees folded around his. He tensed, fingers curling into a fist while he willed himself to chill.

His arm came down around you again, but you could feel how stiff he was. When you made to move forward again, to give him space, his arm locked, even pulling you back again and you grinned. With his arm now lit up properly by the light of the laptop, you realized you could see the tattoos more clearly, and began to trace the stars and fish on his arm.

“Aren’t these the spirit fish from Avatar?” you asked, skimming over the white and black koi. It was a watercolor piece, lacking the heavy lines like the ones on his other arm, and you felt him nod against the top of your head. “They’re gorgeous. Who’s your artist?”

“A friend of mine in Miyagi did those,” he answered, watching you continue to trail up his arms. Goosebumps were raising the fine hairs all over his body, your touches so gentle and intimate, your focus rapt. Higher up near his elbow was what appeared to be two jolly rogers, but they weren’t the normal ones. “Those are from a pirate manga I read in Jump,” he said before you could ask, and you smoothed your hand over them before sliding it back up near his hand.

His heart skipped a beat when your fingers curled into his palm, hesitating before you slipped them between his. He was sure you could feel his heart pounding away in his chest, unaware that you couldn’t because yours was racing fast enough that you were lightheaded. Folding his fingers down over your hand locked them together, but you didn’t try to pull away. If anything, you tried to cuddle up closer to him, dragging your hands so that they were pressed to your chest. It was the most intimate thing he had experienced in recent memory and if his heart didn’t slow down it was going to explode.

The movie wasn’t holding his interest and a new question cropped up in his mind, one he had wondered more than once before tonight and he couldn’t figure out why he thought of it now, but he latched onto it because otherwise he really thought he was going to combust. Besides, it would ease some of his insecurity if he got an answer.

“What took you so long to set this up, anyway? I kind of thought you had changed your mind for a while,” he said, staring at the screen. He was sort of taking it in, an anchor point so he didn’t get lost in his thoughts.

Your chest rumbled against his hand when you hummed, and your answer was so mundane and rational that he almost laughed. “Well a part of it was wanting to get to know you a bit before we did this. Didn’t want to invite a total stranger to spend the night, after all. And then it was just a matter of waiting for my roommates to freakin’ leave.”

“Oh, are your roommates actually gone*?” he asked in surprise. He had thought they were just out for the night and would be home-- probably not soon, given the time, but still. “Like, for the weekend?”

You hummed again in agreement, twirling the ends of your hair absently around your fingers. You were locked onto the movie, absorbed as Leatherface chased one of the characters he didn’t care about through the yard. He fell quiet, thinking you wanted to watch uninterrupted, but then you asked, “That’s alright, right? They would have just wanted to join in otherwise and they can’t stand horror movies either, so they would’ve just talked through it.”

Exactly like he was doing, he realized, and his face grew hot. Hopefully he hadn’t already annoyed you. He nodded, responding in a much quieter voice. “It’s fine. Was just surprised, I guess.”

For a while, neither of you said anything and Tendo managed to focus on the movie, feeling you jump and twitch every once in a while at scares you weren’t expecting. Unfortunately, those movements were brushing against areas that he really didn’t need them too and your shorts did nothing to diminish the curve of your ass against him or the slowly growing hard on he was getting. It didn’t help that every time he shifted even a little you would just follow him, as if he wasn’t pinned by your hand holding his.

But shit, if he didn’t move soon he was going to be screwed. The bathroom-- that would get him out of there before he embarrassed the fuck out of himself.

It was too late, though. You flinched and ground your ass back into him and he groaned before he could help it. You froze, he froze, he just really wanted to die.

“I-- Sorry. I’m really sorry,” he said, tugging at his hand to try and escape. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but the best option was probably to leave and transfer to a school in a whole different country. He could already hear your words now, an echo of so many times before, the sting of disappointment a familiar feeling around his heart.

“I’m sorry, Tendo. I just don’t see you that way.”

It was because he was a freak with a weird name and creepy eyes and-- fuck. It was high school all over again, being rejected by someone he genuinely thought liked him only to find out they were using him to get to Ushijima or pretending to as a fucking joke, only this time Ushijima wasn’t around and he had really gotten himself into it by agreeing to any of this.

But you were refusing to let his hand go, holding so tight he thought his fingers might break, saying his name until he came back down from his panicked high.

“Tendo, Tendo, calm down, please,” you were begging. You had rolled onto your back, unable to sit up because you were using both your hands to keep him from jumping up and taking the whole fort down. You could see it on his face when he finally heard you, wide vermillion eyes locking with yours while his heart continued to race.

He remained propped up on his elbow, ready to run at the first opportunity, and you almost felt bad for antagonizing him as much as you had. If you had known your teasing was going to get him this riled up, you would have tried a different tactic-- or not tried it at all. Maybe you had pushed too far too soon, and the skittish look in his pretty eyes worried you that you had ruined it.

“It’s alright, Tendo,” you said, trying to keep your voice quiet and soothing. It felt an awful lot like you were dealing with a wary animal-- like a coyote or a fox. When the insistent tension in his arm faded is when you relaxed your death grip on his fingers. 

The sound of the movie was too loud in the unnatural silence between you, and you rolled over to turn it down. When it was only a background buzz, you turned back to him. He was still staring at you without blinking, his eyes devoid of the panic from earlier but now they were eerily blank.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, deadpan. He flinched when you took his hand again, forehead scrunching in confusion. “I don’t understand. There’s no way you-- What are you doing?”

It was your turn to be confused, pursing your lips at him. He sounded so lost-- and wary again-- like a child. For the first time, you wondered what his childhood had actually been like. He talked an awful lot about Ushiwaka and Semi, and the volleyball club in general, but you heard nothing outside of that. It made you suspicious now.

“What am I doing?” you parroted, finally sitting up. Your joined hands fell into your lap and you stared down at them, petting the back of his hand with your free one. “Do you not want me to?”

His words were stuck in his throat, trapped by the lump there, and he swallowed thickly. His mouth felt like cotton, and he shook his head, croaking out, “It isn’t that. I just don’t understand why.”

“Why what?” you asked, gentle amusement in your voice. There was no teasing, no malicious undertones that he could hear, like you were waiting to spring the final part of the joke on him. And he was listening for it. After years of dealing with it, he had learned to recognize it in people’s words and on their faces. The way their lips would curl and their eyes would narrow just before cruelty would spew from their mouths, he knew the tells and you--

Had none.

There was nothing but open curiosity and nervousness-- and hope. A lot of hope swirled in your eyes and he swallowed again. He was just going to disappoint you. If not tonight then tomorrow, if not tomorrow then next week. It was going to happen--

“Why do you like me? How do you like me? I’m-- weird. And you’re--” He gestured frantically up and down at all of you. You weren’t anything he was-- a freak. With freaky eyes and a freaky name and a freaky personality.

“I-- um,” you said, and you couldn’t help but smile. There was clearly a lot of baggage with him, and his questions made that obvious. It was likely too much to unpack tonight, especially when you were still only just getting to know each other. Reassurance was what he needed, and that was something you could offer on the spot. “You’re funny...and sweet and...very good looking. Your eyes are so pretty. Um, there’s also the fact that you’re the only person who would watch these movies with me, which earns you a lot of points, in my opinion,” you said, tapping your lips as you stared up at the ceiling.

Your face was on fire as you listed things off the top of your head, your throat tight with anxiety as you wondered what he would say in response. They were all surface level things for now, but you knew underneath the armor that there was a lot more to Tendo, and you hoped you had a chance to discover it.

He groaned low in his throat, not from disgust but from a deep seated need to believe you meant those things. His forehead met your shoulder, his fingers squeezing yours. He didn’t fight it when you eased back down, following after you without a word, leaving his face hidden in your neck. He was still trying to gather his thoughts and calm his overworked heart. It would be so easy to reject you and be on his way, to return home and beat himself up for letting himself get too close and too comfortable with you when he knew nothing would come of it.

Except something had come of it and he wasn’t sure what to do now. Semi and Ushijima always told him he was too closed off and that someone was going to come around who actually liked him and his ‘weird ass’ and that he was going to lose that chance because of some stupid high school assholes. Was he though? He wanted to believe you, wanted to trust you, and slowly he relaxed, his stress leaving him in a long, tired exhale.

“You mean it?” he whispered against your neck, and you could feel his lashes tickle your skin when he blinked. His arm was heavy where his hand rested on your stomach, fingers intertwined with yours, and you squeezed his hand as tight as you could.

“I do. I like you and really want a chance to get to know you better,” you whispered back, and it suddenly felt like no one existed but the two of you, protected from everything in the world outside by a few sheets and each other's warmth. There would be things to discuss and hiccups to overcome, but you could worry about those tomorrow. In that moment, all you wanted was to prove to Tendo you wanted him.

Maybe it was your words, whispered softly into the dark, or your hand gripping his for dear life, or the way you let him cling to you like a lifeline, or maybe it was a combination, but when he pulled back from his hiding place and found you staring at him, he slotted his lips against yours without thinking. Your lips parted almost immediately, free hand sliding out from between your bodies to tangle in the close cropped hair at the nape of his neck and you used it to pull yourself closer. 

When your tongue poked out to glide across the seam of his lips, he let you in on a breath, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. His eyes were squeezed shut tight as your tongue met his, praying that what was happening wasn’t a dream, and he wasn’t expecting it when you gasped and pulled away all of a sudden.

His eyes popped open and he stared down at you with panic. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

“I-- forgot you have a tongue ring,” you said, and the laughed. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

He blinked like an owl, eyes wide as he processed your words. It wasn’t something that he had ever expected to hear in his life, let alone from the girl he was half-making out with in a freakin’ pillow fort. He suddenly wondered if his life had turned into a Shounen Jump manga.

“Well, so are you,” he said, and leaned in for another kiss.

It was kind of hot to see him confident and you felt heat pool in your stomach, starting to bleed further down as his tongue slipped into your mouth again. He tasted like the root beer he had been drinking all night, and you couldn’t resist toying with the piercing, swirling your tongue around it and listening to him moan against your mouth. 

Your shirt had ridden up your stomach as you moved around, trying to get closer to him, and neither of you realized it until Tendo’s hand smoothed over your skin. He froze mid-kiss, waiting for your reaction, and was unsurprised when your hand grabbed his.

What he didn’t expect was for you to guide it upwards, letting go when you hit your ribs to cup his cheek. Pulling back just enough that he could speak against your lips, he asked, “Are you sure?”

“Frankly, Tendo,” you said, and kissed him again before you continued, “I haven’t wanted anyone this bad in forever. Even if we wake up tomorrow and change our minds, I am fucking sure right now.”

He groaned, letting his hand hike your shirt up a little higher until his hand cupped under your breast. He wasn’t sure when you had taken your bra off, or maybe you hadn’t been wearing one the whole time, but there was nothing impeding his skin from caressing yours. Your breast was so soft in his hand, topped by a pretty pink nipple that he couldn’t resist pinching. You mewled underneath him, pulling your shirt up to uncover your other breast and he moved to that one, doing the same and feeling your nipple harden at his touch.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he rasped, gazing down the length of your body. Your thighs were clenched, and his hand migrated lower, fingertips skimming over your skin.

The heat that was pooling earlier erupted when they met the waistband of your shorts, but he paused, looking unsure again.

“Tendo, I’ll show you how much I want this,” you whispered and grabbed his hand. He was still hesitant, looking at your face as you slid his hand into your panties, and his eyes widened.

“You’re so wet,” he groaned, his fingers gliding over your soaked lips, spreading your slick all over them. His fingers quickly found your clit, circling it and you squeezed his hand between your thighs, hips jerking. “All because of me? I’m flattered.”

Teasing at your soaked opening, he waited for you to balk but you only twitched, panting against his lips before he sunk one finger in, your walls parting easily. You moaned and he swallowed it in a kiss, his tongue filling your mouth again. It wasn’t long before he was fitting a second finger, crooking them up and grazing your sweet spot, his thumb taking over massaging your clit as he pumped them inside you. Your arousal was already high enough that you could feel your orgasm coming on, and you pulled away to announce it.

“T-Tendo, gonna--” You gasped when he forced them in deeper, a mischievous smirk on his face as he prodded your cervix. “How-- fuck, your fingers are so long,” you whined, toes curling.

“Think you can take one more?” he asked, already fitting the tip of a third finger in. But it was only when you nodded, tears pricking the corners of your eyes that he slipped it in. Your teeth dug into your lip before they parted in a soundless cry.

The coil snapped on the first thrust and he groaned, drinking in your face as he tipped you over the edge. No one had ever cum so prettily for him before and he wanted to see it again. 

But only if you wanted it. His cock throbbed painfully in his shorts when he pulled his fingers from your twitching hole, feeling you shudder against him. Examining his glistening fingers in the screen light, he slid one experimentally into his mouth and moaned. “You taste so good, princess.”

You gasped at the pet name, a warmth unrelated to the one between your legs blooming in your chest. He said it was such reverence that you flushed, hoping he’d say it again at some point. Never had anyone called you that before, at least in that context.

When he laid back down beside you, his erection brushed against your leg and he stifled a groan. He was wearing boxers but the friction against his cock was still a pleasurable sensation. Not as much as your hand might be--

Speaking of hands, he nearly jumped out of his skin when you cupped him, squeezing and kneading up the length of him confined in his clothes. A shaky breath ripped out of him, the result of him barely containing a moan, and his long fingers wrapped around your wrist to stop you.

“That’s alright, _____. You don’t have to--” But you weren’t listening and the pressure felt too good. His head fell back, eyes fluttering closed, content to let you literally massage his dick until you started tugging at his shorts. He stopped you more insistently then, pulling your hand away. “Wait a second. Let me get ‘em off since you’re so eager, princess.”

He pulled his shirt over his head first, because it was getting way too hot in there anyway, and then kicked his shorts and boxers off into the dark corner. His cock bobbed against his stomach as he rolled onto his side again, leaking precum already. 

Your hand was soft against his stomach, roaming over the hard planes of his abs and down further, until it wrapped lightly around his head.

And froze.

“What the-- Tendo, what are those?” you asked in a high pitched, startled tone. Before he could answer, you let go and rolled onto your back, exposing him to the light and you thought for sure you had died and gone to heaven. 

It wasn’t just his arms that were covered in ink. His shoulders, chest, and sides were all covered in it as well, swirls and splashes of color interrupted by splotches of black or white or skin. You could hardly make out what the images were in the flickering, inconsistent light, but you recognized flowers and circles, and on his pec you were pretty sure there was a scene of a lake bathed in moonlight. And as your eyes followed the path of colors down, you landed on the thing that had startled you in the first place.

“Those are--” you breathed, taking his cock into your hand again. There was a ball at the tip, covered in precum, and you knew if you traced down, you would find another just below the crown. Further down on his shaft were five horizontal barbells in a row, and you recognized it as a Jacob’s Ladder. “Fuck me.”

“Gladly,” Tendo quipped and pounced. He settled between your legs and tugged your shorts down over your hips, and you had to hold your legs up to let him pull them the rest of the way off. He was too tall to sit straight up without brushing his head against the ceiling, but he braced back on his arms when you grabbed his shaft again. He groaned when you fondled the ball below his crown, shuddering at the intense pleasure. It was one of the major reasons he’d gotten it- to enhance the sensations. But the feel of your fingers gliding over his tip, gathering the precum and nudging the ball was something else entirely. “Holy shit, that feels amazing.”

His voice sent shivers through you, deep and raspy and way too needy. But you were unsure of what would hurt him, so you kept your touches light, feeling his thighs tense under yours, his fingers squeezing your calves as he let you explore. Before long though, he was pulling your hand away, pinning it down at your side. “Can’t keep that up, princess. I need more, if you’re alright with it,” he said, letting his cock settle against your cunt. 

The piercings were warm and pronounced against your folds, and you shuddered when the ball under his head grazed your clit. The thought of them inside you, rubbing all along your walls as he fucked you was too much and you could feel yourself growing wetter, your pussy drooling for it.

“Yes, Tendo, please. I want it, I want to feel them inside me,” you begged, rocking your hips. The stimulation was mind blowing and your walls clenched, empty and needy for him to fill you up. And he would, his cock was huge-- he still had room for more piercings below the ones he had. You had no doubt you would be stretching to take him and you keened in the back of your throat.

“I want you to call me Satori, princess. And I need you to let me know if it’s uncomfortable,” he said, pressing the tip of his cock into your sopping hole. “Sometimes they make it hurt, but you’re so fucking wet I don’t think it will. You really like these, huh?”

You were really just answering his question as you said yes, but a stream of them fell out of your mouth as he pushed the rest of his cock inside you, encouraging him to continue. The stretch was so good, your walls splitting easily for him, and you could feel every ball just like you had imagined grazing against your walls. The ball at his slit rested snugly against your cervix, and you didn’t even realize you were screaming as you came, hips jerking in his hands as he let you ride it out.

He was staring at you with what could only be awe, his mouth slack and eyes wide with surprise. “Holy fuck, princess, did you just cum?”

Your breaths were coming in pants as your mind spun, trying to come down from the unexpected high. It came on so suddenly you had no time to prepare, and tears slid down your cheeks. “F-Feels so good,” you whispered, fingers digging into the blanket beneath you. “Satori, oh my god.”

“Are you alright? We can stop--” he said, but you shook your head frantically, locking your ankles around his back, and he laughed under his breath. You sure were something else. He knew for a fact no one had ever come just from him sliding into them and a swell of pride filled his chest. “No? Alright, whatever you want, princess. Can I move?”

This time you nodded and he was slow as he pulled back, making sure you were okay. You were so tight around him from your orgasm, your walls fluttering with overstimulation, but your back arched when he stuffed himself back in, a breathy moan slipping out of you. Hiking your legs higher up on his hips, he bent over you, gathering your hands and pinning them above your head, lacing his fingers with yours. His lips met yours as he thrust into you slowly, grinding deep and stifling a moan. Once again you were playing with his tongue ring, flicking it as you suckled on his tongue. The fort-- and probably the room-- was filled with the wet slap of his hips on yours every time he drove his cock into you, drowning out the low buzz of the forgotten movie still playing. He was being careful, waiting for you to stop being so sensitive, and he knew you were ready when you arched into his chest and pulled away.

“So good, Satori,” you murmured against his lips, hips rising to meet his. Your eyes were glazed and fucked out, tears still flowing and you could already feel the start of another orgasm, but he was moving too slow. The drag and pull of his piercings had almost all of your attention, the ball at his tip constantly tapping your cervix, making your toes curl with every thrust. “You’re so big, and those-- fuck-- piercings feel so good inside me. I can feel them all everywhere.”

He snickered darkly at that and kissed your cheek. “You wanna feel even better, kitten?” he whispered into your ear, nipping the shell. He could feel you nod against his cheek, nails digging into his hands where he kept them pinned above your head, and then he was letting them go and pulling out of you. You whined, staring up at him in dismay, but he already had your thighs in his hands, prodding you to roll over. “Trust me, pretty girl. On your stomach, just like that.”

It was a bit difficult to get comfortable, but he grabbed a pillow and jammed it beneath your hips before settling with his legs outside of yours. And when you shook your ass, begging him to hurry up, he couldn’t deny you, not when he wanted to be back inside your tight heat so badly.

“Holyshitholyshitholyshit,” you whined, high-pitched and breathless as he finally filled you again. His thighs trembled as he forced himself not to just stuff himself into you, you were so tight. And the way you were crying and shuddering beneath him wasn’t helping, especially when you gasped his given name like a prayer. “*Satori, oh my god.”

If you thought those piercings felt good before, you were in heaven now. Everyone of them dragged slowly over the front wall of your cunt, grinding into your sweet spot and you had to bite the pillow to keep from outright screaming. And he was so, so, so big inside you, but with your legs trapped between his there was nothing you could do but take him. Against your will, your legs kicked, hitting him in the back as you wailed into the pillow, tears streaming down your cheeks in an endless flood. 

He snarled into your ear as he planted his elbows beside your head, plastering himself to your back. “You are so fucking tight, princess. How do those piercings feel now?”

“So good so good so good,” you babbled, circling your hips back on his dick to get any friction you could. The orgasm that had been building came back ten fold just from him hilting inside of you and you knew that if he fucked you like this you would be cumming in seconds. “‘Tori, please move, please please please.”

Your needy begging made his cock twitch and you whimpered as he slowly pulled out of you and pushed back in, intentionally slow to let you feel everything. The pleasure was ebbing and flowing, building and falling because he wasn’t moving fast enough, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him to go faster, not when you could feel him so clearly. Every time he bottomed out, he made sure to grind down into you, nudging your cervix with the tip of his cock so he could feel you clench suddenly around him. It never failed to make him moan, your slick walls gripping him so tightly as he dragged himself back out. He wanted to make your pussy his new home and barring that he was going to fuck the shape of his cock into you.

“Tell me what you need to make you cum, princess,” he whispered into your ear. He knew what he needed, but he was still learning what would make you feel good. 

Releasing the pillow from your teeth, the first thing you did was moan out his name again as he buried himself inside you again. You were so close to cumming, your clit throbbing with need and if he even brushed it you were going to be gushing all over him. You gasped as he thrust a little harder than before.

“If you don’t answer me I’ll just keep going like this, kitten. I can go for hours, if you want,” he whispered, warm against your ear. That made you twitch underneath him, and he chuckled. “You like the sound of that? We’ll try it another time. Right now, I need you to tell me where you want me to cum and how I can make you cum, okay?”

His words were dark and sweet and coaxing, and you were sure you had never whined so much in your whole life. “Touch me, please, Satori. I wanna cum all over your cock and pretty piercings while you cum in me, oh fuck.”

Bracing himself on his elbow, he forced his hand beneath your stomach, aided by you lifting your hips, and you whimpered when he finally, finally brushed your clit. It was all it took and you had to bite the pillow again as you creamed all over his cock, whiting out and screaming into it as you shuddered and jerked. He eased you through it, leaving his cock buried inside you while he fondled your clit, listening to you whimper and moan. It was a good thing you had hidden your face because you would surely have woken the whole complex up otherwise. 

He groaned into your ear as you massaged his cock, so tight that you launched him into his own orgasm, cumming inside you as you had asked. He remained still inside of you even after you had relaxed, leaving small kisses all over your hair before he leaned down to rest his head on the pillow. He had fucked you so slowly that he hadn’t broken a sweat, and yet he was still out of breath and panting. His head swam for several more minutes, until you shifted beneath him. But you didn’t move like you wanted him to get off.

Instead, you turned to look at him, a lazy, blissed out grin on your face and said, “Holy shit, that was so amazing. I’ve never cum so many times.”

“So were you. I’ve never made someone cum so many times,” he admitted, and replayed the way you came just because he had filled you. That was something he was unlikely to ever forget. He brushed some hair out of your face before leaning in to kiss you. It was slow and gentle, belying how tired the two of you now were, and he could see you were ready to fall asleep. “Gonna pull out of you now, princess. Need you to stay nice and relaxed, okay?”

You nodded, your eyes closing and winced as he slid from your ruined hole. A stream of cum followed after and he took a moment to appreciate it, allowing a smirk to steal across his face. There was no doubt you were his now, at least for a little while, and he committed it all to memory before gently gripping your shoulders. “We should really get cleaned up, then we can go to sleep.”

You grumbled cutely but let him help you up, the both of you stumbling blindly to the bathroom. Sleepiness was a thick fog, and you got cleaned up as quickly as possible before returning to the room. The two of you stood in the doorway, looking at the mess of nonsense covering the bed, and then you looked at Tendou.

“Let’s just sleep in there,” you suggested, taking him by the hand. He let you lead him over, watching the way your ass swayed as you crawled into the fort for hopefully the final time that night. In the few minutes it had taken him to get in after you, you had already pulled a blanket over your legs and were setting up the next movie to play. Not that you would be watching it, but he understood it was the principle of the thing. This was a movie marathon and it just wouldn’t do to fall asleep without being in the middle of one.

Once he’d gotten comfortable behind you, you rolled over and splayed out across his chest, startling him. He had expected to curl himself around your back while you went to sleep, but now you were tracing what lines you could see on his chest in the thin light. His hand rested on your waist, the other tucked behind his head, and he closed his eyes, comfortable with your warmth and weight in his arms.

“Satori,” you murmured, your hand falling flat right over the picture of the lake. “I really do like you.”

He laughed at that, and you could feel it rumble in your ear, deep in his chest. He was clearly as tired as you were, but you needed to say it. There was something in your half asleep brain that would not stop telling you to say it, and you were in no position to fight it.

“I figured as much, princess. Three orgasms are hard to fake, especially around a dick as big as mine,” he answered, and you blanched for a moment before erupting into laughter. He watched you through narrow eyes, fondness bubbling in his chest, until you settled back down against him. “You’re absolutely gorgeous, you know that?”

“So’re you,” you murmured. The nagging had stopped now that you had said what you needed too, and you were falling asleep quickly. “Don’t be gone when I wake up tomorrow, okay?”

“It already is tomorrow, and I’ll be here. There’s nowhere else I wanna be anyway,” he answered, letting his eyes close as well. With your comfortable weight on his chest and your even breathing mixing with the buzzing of the movie in the background in his ears, he drifted to sleep in no time, for once not worrying about what tomorrow would bring.

⇥ masterlist 

⇥ taglist: @visaintes​, @kunimwuah​

[smoochkooks]

—hymne a l’amour (m.)

⟶ pairing: park jimin/reader

⟶ genre: smut, fluff, tiny bits of angst

⟶ word count: 5.5k

⟶ summary: it’s valentine’s day and your boyfriend decides to surprise you in more ways than one. and when you’re dating park jimin, cocky, smart and obnoxiously good-looking archeologist, you can be sure of absolutely nothing.

⟶ warnings: dom!jimin, sub!reader, big dick!jimin, sir kink, oral (m receiving), thigh riding, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, ass slapping, dirty talk, use of degrading names, unprotected sex, mentions of jimin having a daddy kink, jimin being disgustingly sweet boyfriend, oc having at least 2 (two) mental breakdowns, cringy valentine’s day presents

this is eldorado valentine’s day special but it can be read as a standalone. enjoy! xx

Spending Valentine's Day in the city of Paris is like walking through the streets of Beijing and smelling the strong essence of soy sauce and chicken every time you take a breath.

Overwhelming.

(Or at least that's what you think is a good comparison, since you've never stood your foot in Beijing before.)

Paris seems to be on another level when it comes to celebrating Valentine's Day. It's because that's the city of love, someone may say, but no, my friend, it's not just that. French grammar isn't the only stupid thing about said country. Citizens are even weirder, in more ways than one. It's the Eiffel Tower and the smell of garlic that disguises it all when you first visit France.  

A week before February 14th, restaurants, cafees and grocery shops are all covered from head to toe in red hearts, chubby cupids, big teddy bears, various kinds of roses and, at the top of that – everywhere you focus your eyes on, you spot those huge inscriptions where words ‘love’ and ‘I love you’ are spelled in hundred different types of swirly fonts.

It's all too kitschy for your liking but tourists and locals don’t actually mind it even a bit. Once a year Paris turns into a set of the most cliché rom-com and no matter how irksome it might feel, you just have to survive this festival of boofonery.

You've always despised Valentine's Day with every fiber of your being (mostly because you hadn’t had anyone you could actually spend this day with) but your judgement took a sharp three-sixty turn when certain blond, charismatic man entered your life. Now, while you’re happily taken, a romantic dinner and a bouquet of red roses don’t sound that bad.  

But when you're dating someone like Park Jimin, a smart-ass, cocky and obnoxiously good-looking archeologist, you can be sure of abosultely nothing.  

It's a little past ten, you’re laying in your king-size bed, a day before the actual Valentine's Day. Jimin informed you he was going to be late for dinner because of some extra paperwork he had to do in the office, so you patiently wait for him. Wrapped like a fancy Christmas gift in a new pair of flimsy, lacy lingerie you recently bought in Victoria’s Secret, all hidden underneath Jimin's baggy t-shirt (the combination of casual and slutty never fails to drive him crazy). The set is cute, in a baby pink colour. The last time you pulled a move like this, Jimin went hard, literally and lyrically.

Let's just say that Park Jimin (and his dick) likes high-quality underwear.

Dating Jimin has taught you a few things, one of them being that his sex drive is insatiable, so you always need to be prepared. That’s why you're now laying here, on your bed, freshly shaved and smelling of coconut, your precious pussy ready to be worshipped by Jimin's mouth.  

When you hear the familiar jingle of keys and the door to your apartment swings open, you squeal in excitement, grabbing your phone from the nightstand to scroll through it mindlessly so you don’t come across a girl whose only purpose in life is to get dicked down by her boyfriend.

(Which, right now, is your only purpose.)

“Babe, I’m home!”

You hear Jimin pulling off his shoes and coat, so you shout back, “I’m in the bedroom!”

He seemed to be in a good mood in the morning and if nothing's changed, you're positive about getting some action tonight. A well-deserved orgasm after work it's all you crave. You squeeze your thighs, and wait.

“God, I’m so fucking exhausted.” Jimin announces upon entering the room and as soon as those words leave his mouth, he collapses face down onto the bed. His lifeless corpse smells like sweat mixed with his usual cologne and you wrinkle your nose in disgust.

And that’s on getting railed by your boyfriend tonight.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he murmurs after a moment, voice laced with tiredness. He grunts and lifts himself up to place a chaste kiss on your lips. He tastes like bitter coffee and it makes you cringe, but you kiss him back nonetheless. He pulls off too fast for your liking and nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck instead. He cuddles into your side, mumbling something about you feeling warm.

In your head, you count. When was the last time you two had sex? Right, last Tuesday. Oh boy, what a night it was. Your ass still hurts a little while sitting on a chair, a byproduct of your boyfriend's palm landing smack after smack on your cheeks. Lesson learned: never smile too broadly to the waiter who blatantly flirsts with you. You're sure the whole appartment complex heard that night who makes you feel that good  

(As if they don’t already know.)

See? Park Jimin is unpredictable.

“How was work?’’ you decide to ask instead, clearing your thoughts from the inappropriate images of Jimin’s bare body pressed to yours as he fucked you that night. You thread your fingers through his blond locks just the way he likes, massaging his scalp.

He sighs, his words muffled when he speaks. “This new employee can’t do shit. I had to prepare everything before tomorrow's expedition by myself,” he says. “I have to tell Namjoon to fire his ass.”  

You falter your movements for a second. Right, the expedition. You completely forgot about it. Jimin's going to be out of town for the whole day, digging in the soil in some French village the name of you cannot pronounce.

It looks like your fancy lingerie has to wait for her big premiere a little longer.  

“What time are you planning to be back home?” you ask.

“Dunno. Probably late.” Jimin exhales loudly, his breath tickling your neck. His hand travels to your nude thigh, giving it a firm squeeze. You fight back a moan that threatens to spill from you mouth. You really need to get laid soon. “We set off at 6am.” he adds, tracing circles on your bare skin. Your smile drops.

So the plans for morning sex on Valentine's Day stay where they belong. In your dreams.  

“You're so soft. And you smell like coconuts. I could stay like this forever.” Jimin mumbles, circling your waist with his arms and pulling you even closer to him.  

You sigh, basking in this situation just for a while, stroking Jimin's hair and listening to his steady breathing until he eventually falls asleep. Still fully clothed, still with his hand on your thigh. Carefully, so you don’t wake him up, you get up from the bed to take off your underwear. You do feel a little disappointed, but it's okay.  

When you settle yourself on the bed next to Jimin again, your back facing him, a strong arm pulls you flush to his body. You hear him sighing with relief, and it makes you smile to yourself.  

Lights off, everything can wait for tomorrow.

In the morning, just like expected, you wake up alone. There's no sight of Jimin, his side of the bed empty and cold. For your dismay, there’s no bouquet of red roses waiting for you in the kitchen, no box of chocolates or a small, cheesy note with your name written on it. Not even a short “Happy Valentine's Day, baby!” text on your phone. Absolutely nothing.  

You tells yourself it’s fine. Maybe Jimin didn’t have enough time, maybe he was too occupied with expedition to prepare something special, maybe the big surprise is yet to come. However, you can’t quite shake off the feeling that something do seem odd and it makes you anxious. Leaving without a single text is not Jimin's style. Not when it's your first Valentine's Day spend together.

You probably shouldn’t worry that much. It's not a big deal, after all you hate those types of annual holidays and Jimin knows it. Yet something about the whole situation makes you uncontrollably uneasy. You have never been like this, vulnerable and sheepish. You hate Park Jimin for turning you into such a softie.

Walking through the streets of Paris makes you feel nauseous. You look at all the happy couples sucking each others’ faces for everyone to see and fight an urge to gag. Someone shouts “Love is in the air!” and you almost throw up. Everytime you see someone holding heart-shaped balloons or flowers, you whip your head in other direction. It's nothing, you keep reminding yourself. A stupid holiday that doesn’t mean anything at all.

But the actual nail to the coffin happens to be the atmosphere in Eldorado headquarters. It drives you absolutely crazy.

It's 12am and still no word from Jimin. You checked: this bastard was online one hour ago, so he just doesn’t want to talk to you. Fine, mister. If this is how you wanna play, try sucking your dick by yourself, beacuse I’m not getting near it anytime soon, you think to yourself, filled with rage.

Yeri wiggles her pretty eyebrows at you and asks about your plans for tonight. You fake a giggle, saying that Jimin will probably surprise you with something when he gets back from his expedition. The words taste bitter on your tongue, especially when the high hopes you had simply melted away this morning. Your friend then starts babbling about the restaurant she's going to with Jungkook after work and you listen to her rant with forced smile on your face the whole time.

Meanwhile, a few meters away from you Hoseok is giggling like a teenager, typing something on his phone, without a doubt (sex)texting his girlfriend. She's out of town and you’re more than sure Hoseok hasn't gone to bathroom ten minutes ago just to take a piss. Even Namjoon is in a pleasant mood today, humming some old ABBA hits under his breath. Yesterday he couldn’t shut up about his date with a girl who’s also his new neighbour. He met her when she came by to give him homemade croissants. Ironically, that sounds a lot like some kdrama lovestory to you, and Namjoon hates kdramas.

During lunch time, you scroll through your Instagram and almost slam your phone on the wall. There's a new photo uploaded on Kim Seokjin's account.  

kimseokjin92: Celebrating Valentine's Day on Maldives w @minsuga #couplegoals #boyfriends #valentinesday #loveislove

They are on fucking Maldives. Fucking Maldives! You grit your teeth. It's fine. Completely fine.

But the absolute peek, the moment when you almost break down into tears and curl yourself into a ball of misery, comes in the person of Jeon Jungkook. He enters the office with a bouquet of the most beautiful red roses you have ever seen, a huge grin plastered on his stupid face.

Your heart clenches in your chest. Park Jimin could never.  

Jungkook hands Yeri the flowers and she laughs, slapping his chest when he starts declaiming Romeo's monologue from the Shakespeare’s tragedy. He then kisses his girlfriend deeply and lovingly, making her cheeks flush in crimson. Hoseok coos at them, Namjoon following him. You swear you saw Jungkook's tongue in the process of said heavy make out session.  

(Jealously is an awful emotion, you've decided a long time ago.)

An hour later, the bouquet stands proudly on Yeri’s desk and you stare at it with melancholy. You briefly avert your gaze to Jimin's desk and the memories flash before your eyes. The same desk he had you bent over, skirt bunched around your waist and cock drilling into your pussy, when you both stayed together at work after hours not so long ago.  

You mentally slap yourself. Get your shit together, woman. It's not like he broke up with you. It's just some stupid holiday. It's nothing.

“Something's wrong?’’ Yeri asks you with genuine concern written on her face.  

You swallow, forcing yourself to smile. “No, everything's fine. Just a headache.”  

She eyes you suspiciously. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” you say. Even though your friend doesn’t look convinced, she eventually stops bothering you.

It's all good. My boyfriend forgot about our first Valentine's Day together but everything's alright. No worries, you want to say instead.  

Later that day, when you exit the elevator and walk straight to your apartment, a strange smell of something burning fills your nostrils. Is that food? A real fire? No, that's definitely some meat that stayed too long in the oven.

The closer you are, the smell becomes stronger, like it’s actually coming from your apartment. You furrow your eyebrows.

“What the fuck.” you mutter to yourself.  

When you open the door, your jaw falls slack, eyes wide like saucers.

Never, in your entire life, had you thought  you would see Park Jimin, your own dearest boyfriend, popping out from the kitchen with his hair disheveled, sweat coating his forehead, wearing a black suit underneath the most ridiculous apron you have ever seen: pink with a big-ass ‘mr good lookin is cookin' written in the middle.  

(Can someone remind you why are you dating him? Oh, thank God he isn’t naked underneath.)

He looks completely lost when he spots you, waving awkwardly in your direction. It's probably the first time he touched something in the kitchen that isn’t coffee machine. He’s so flustered that you almost forget he nearly turned your apartment into ashes.

“Hi, babe.” he says sheepishly.

It takes all the willpower you hold not to spit a lung watching your boyfriend who absolutely hates cooking, trying to look unimpressed by the smell of burnt food. He does a pretty poor job though, an apron not helping in the situation.

“Happy Valentine's Day!’’ he exclaims perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, approaching you and planting a kiss on your cheek. And after that, you burst into hysterical laughter.  

(Seriously, you almost lose your own breath three times.)

Jimin looks terrified but most importantly – put out. You’re probably hurting his enormous, almost the size of Russia pride right now. (Not your fault Jimin has the biggest praise kink on the planet.)  

“Why are you laughing? Is it because of the chicken? Fine, I can’t cook for shit but I tried, okay? I didn’t have enough time and it was the middle of the night in Korea so I couldn’t just facetime my mum for advice and-”

You interrupt his rambling with a searing kiss, effectively shutting him up. He falters for a moment but quickly catches up, pulling you closer to him, placing his hands on your waist and deepening the kiss.  

But then, when his about to trail kisses down your throat, you hit his arm.

“What was that for?!” Jimin yelps, looking at you with astonishment.

“I thought you fucking forgot about the Valentine’s Day!” you yell, slapping his chest. “Why didn't you tell me about this?!”

“Because the definition of surprise says you can’t reveal it sooner?” he reponds in a mocking tone.

“Oh, shut up.” you grumble and pull him in for another kiss. You could feel him smiling into it, cheekily biting onto your lower lip. He places a loving peck on your forehead and brushes the strands of your hair behind your ears. There's so much affection in his eyes you could melt into a puddle right here and there.

“I’m sorry. Jungkook told me you looked upset the whole day.” he whispers.

“I wasn't!” you protest.

“He told me you almost cried when he gave Yeri a bouquet of red roses.”  

This stupid brat.

You look up at Jimin. “Fine. I was mad. And sad. Everyone was having the time of their lives and here I was, on a verge of mental breakdown because my idiot of a boyfriend supposedly forgot about the Valentine's Day.” you say, crossing your arms over chest with a pout.  

Jimin rolls his eyes and takes your hand, leading you to the living room, where a bottle of (your absolute favourite) wine is standing on the table, along with candles and, yes, red roses. It's too cheesy and straight from the cringy rom-coms but you don't mind, because it's Jimin and he poured his heart into this and it's all that matters.

When he approaches you again, he isn’t wearing that stupid apron and you blush at how perfect he looks, almost painfully handsome. His hair needs a cut so it’s pushed back from his forehead. God reincarnated in the form of a smart, cocky archeologist who happens to be your boyfriend.

You're, well, in your black jeans and baby blue sweater and you probably stink, but Jimin assures you with his loving touches he doesn’t mind, never will. He always does that, looking at you with those sparkling eyes which say you're the most beautiful thing in the world for him.

And it doesn't matter how many times you scold him throughout the day, how many banters you have over silly things, because at the end of the day, in each others’ embraces, it feels like home for the both of you.

“Since the chicken chickened out,” Jimin says nonchalantly, filling your glasses with red wine. “We can always get drunk and watch some old romantic movies.”

You smirk. “You cried the last time when we watched ‘When Harry met Sally’.”  

Jimin clicks his tongue. “Don't test my patience, sweetheart or you won't get the presents.” he warns.

You raise your eyebrows. You hope one of them comes in the form of his dick. Suddenly, you’re reminded of your lingerie set, so you make a mental note to wear it after the shower. “Can I see those presents now?” you ask, looking at Jimin with pleading eyes. It's exactly three seconds till he softens.  

“Fine.�� he mutters and heads to the bedroom.

When he comes back, he’s not alone. Literally not alone, because he's caring the most hilarious Valentine’s present you could ever think of. A giant, white teddy bear, almost in the size of him, heart-shaped balloons attached to his right paw.

“This is,” Jimin whips his head to read the name on the bear's chest. “Ted.”  

You blink. “You bought me a teddy bear named Ted?”  

Jimin opens his mouth to say some witty comment but he stops when he hears you sob. “Baby, sweetheart, what's wrong?” He kneels in front of you, the bear long forgotten on the floor. You burst into tears and Jimin tries to calm you down, rubbing soothing circles on your thighs.

Once you eventually stop crying and regain your normal breathing, you wipe your tear-strained cheeks and look down at your very much worried boyfriend. “You are an idiot, Park Jimin. A fucking idiot. That teddy bear is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen and I should humiliate you for giving me that but...” You take a deep breath. “But I can’t. Because I fucking love you, dumbass.”

The corners of Jimin lips lift in amusement but you’re clearly not done with your little speech, so he waits until you finish. “You organized the most cliché date ever. You read all the Grey's books. You can’t cook for shit and this stupid apron you wore? God have mercy,” You visibly cringe. “You declaim Greek philosophers when you shower. Fuck, you persuaded me to do teacher-student roleplay and I kept calling you daddy during the whole thing because you asked me to. You are everything I despise but at the same time I love you so much,” you say, tears once again welling in your eyes. “I’m sorry I’m telling you this now, even though I've realised this a long time ago.”

Jimin’s silent, so unlike him, declaring his emotions with a huge grin this time. He stands up and picks your body into his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you both to your bedroom. He places you gingerly onto the mattress, hovering over your figure.

(Your fancy lingerie can wait for another occasion.)

“I love you too, ___.” he says, staring into your eyes. “You’re making me the happiest man in this world.”  

You roll your eyes, however there’s no use for that because your cheeks are already tainted red. “Oh, stop being such a sap.”  

He smirks. “You love when I’m like this.”  

“That is, in fact, not true.”  

You’re lying and he knows it, but he always lets you banter with him like this anyway.  

“Then what do you want me to be today?” he asks, his hands travel down to your zipper, then pull down your jeans. “Sweet? Loving?” He helps you take off your sweater and you’re left with nothing on beside your underwear. “Or do you want me to be rough? Push you around and fuck you stupid?” You gulp, your attitude successfully shut down. “Come on, use your words.”  

Somehow, you manage to gain your composure. “Want you to take off your clothes first.”  

Jimin chuckles, lowly and with a promise of more to come if you’re patient and behaving well, according to his commands. “You’re not the one to give orders here, baby.” he retorts. Then, he’s gripping your knees, pulling your legs apart and putting your pussy on full display for him.  

There’s already a dark, wet patch forming on your grey panties and he tsks disapprovingly. “You’re wet and I haven’t even touched you yet. You want it that much, huh?”  

You nod. “Please, touch me.”  

“Try again.”  

So he’s in that mood today. You’ve explored a fair share of kinks with Jimin so far and what you know for sure is that he always takes the leading role in bed. He likes to dominate, be the one in charge, railing you into the mattress until you’re crying out so loud your neighbours are banging on your walls.  

You slip into your role naturally, your usual confident behaviour gone and replaced with timidity. He relishes in seeing you like this, helpless and vulnerable, a stark contrast to how you act on daily basis.  

Jimin pins you with his dark stare and you give in. ‘”Yes, sir.”  

“Good girl.”  

He rewards you with a feather-like touch of his fingers on your pussy. He finds your clit with ease, rubbing it with practiced strokes until more juices drip down from your hole, wetting your panties embarrassingly fast. Your legs shake with want for more, to feel him sink his digits knuckle-deep into your cunt and finger you like he did that one time in a bathroom on your flight to Japan.  

He doesn’t seem the slightest bothered with your state, ignoring your pleading eyes and wanton moans. He hasn’t even taken off your underwear yet and you’re already on the verge of an orgasm.  

Jimin knows your body inside and out, probably better than you do, so it doesn’t come as a surprise to you that he can sense when you’re about to climax. He withdraws his hand from your center seconds before your release. You can’t help but huff with annoyance.

“Something's wrong, babygirl?” he asks, saccharine-sweet and annoyingly innocent.  

Your retort dies on your tongue the moment he decides to unbutton his white dress shirt. You’re too distracted with delicious lines of his sculpted chest to complain about your denied pleasure anymore. Your hands itch to touch him but you stay immobile, devouring him with your eyes instead.  

Jimin notices you're staring and smirks. “Like what you see?”  

You nod. “Yes, sir.”  

He then stands up from the bed and motions for you to come closer. You oblige without an ounce of confusion, crawling until you’re sitting on your heels in front of him. It’s a rather humiliating position but you can’t help but feel the rush of adrenaline in your veins when he cups your chin and tilts your head up.  

“Take off my pants.”  

You rush to obey, unbuckling his belt with shaky hands because you know what’s coming next once his pants are pulled down. He’s already hard, the prominent bulge of his cock straining in his briefs.  

“Now my underwear.”  

You nearly moan out loud when his cock slaps his abdomen, mouth salivating to take him in deep but you don’t dare touch him without a directed instruction. He makes sure your eyes are on him and starts stroking himself, spreading the precum all over his length, hissing when his thumb rubs the sensitive head of his cock.  

Jimin groans, low and throaty, and you whimper quietly in response. “What, baby? You want my cock that much?” he asks, his left palm cupping your cheek. You whisper a meek “Please” and he chuckles. “Come on then. Show me what that slutty mouth of yours can do. Open up.”  

Your lips part on command and you nearly moan when he guides his cock into your mouth. You’ve sucked Jimin's dick enough times to know what he likes, what brings him to the edge quicker than hitting the back of your throat. You lick the tip of his cock, eyes darting to check his reaction and, just as you expected, his features twist in pleasure.  

You relish in a minute or two of the control you have over him before he grows bored with your teasing and decides to fuck your mouth instead. But for now, you make sure to have him suffer a little for that stunt he pulled earlier when he didn’t make you come.  

You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks for extra stimulation. Your hands reach to fondle his balls and you smirk around his cock when you hear a groan leave Jimin's mouth. “Good girl,” he murmurs, stroking your cheek. You lean into his touch, moaning at the praise. “My pretty slut.”  

The first hit on the back of your throat makes you gag because fuck, is he big. The only thing bigger than Jimin's ego seems to be his dick, apparently. When he threads fis fingers through your hair you know what’s about to come; jaw relaxed, saliva dripping down from the corners of your mouth, you’re ready to be ruined.  

He withdraws, giving you exactly five seconds to breathe and then pushes forcefully inside. Your mind is filled with mental images of him giving your pussy the same treatment later. You would whimper at the thought, if your mouth wasn’t stuffed full of dick. Instead, you give your best, swallowing every inch of him obediently.  

“That’s it,” he rasps, clamping one hand on the back of your neck for better leverage. “You’re doing so good, baby.” When he nudges the back of your throat again, you feel him throb. He pulls away from the warmth of your mouth seconds later, panting heavily. He falls back onto the bed and pats his thighs. “Come here.”  

You scoot closer to him and crawl onto his lap. He smiles at you from below, pulling you in for a kiss. The hands he previously gripped your waist with now travel upwards, unhooking your bra. Your hips unconsciously move, pussy gliding along the flexed muscles of his thigh.  

Jimin notices your desperate attempt at getting some friction on your most sensitive parts and helps you rock your hips. He moves your panties to the side and you moan, felling the delicious pressure on your bare center. He’s watching with amusement as you’re falling apart on his thigh, thumb reaching to rub your clit. You cry out, climaxing so hard you’re almost seeing stars behind your closed eyelids.

He keeps helping you ride out your high until you’re whimpering from the overstimulation. “Did you like it?” he then asks, urging you to look at him. “You were so desperate to come, sweetheart. Fucking yourself on my thigh like a bitch in heat,” You whine instead of responding, earning a harsh smack on your ass. “Use your words.”  

Another slap lands on your cheek and you mewl. “Yes, I loved it, sir.”  

He chuckles, maneuvering your body so you’re now positioned over his cock. He gives your ass a firm squeeze and you whimper, arousal dripping down the inside of your thighs despite orgasming just minutes ago. “Ride me, baby.” he says.  

You hurry to obey, guiding his cock inside you. It's a tight fit but your wetness makes it smoother to push him deeper. “So big,” you mumble, bottoming out. You know damn well Jimin likes to be praised and if the smirk that stretches on his lips is anything to go by, he enjoys what you just said. “That feels so good, sir.” You start moving your hips languidly.  

“Yeah?” Jimin quips, hands gripping your waist so tightly it almost makes the skin bruise. “Then show me what a good girl you are for me. Fuck, look at you. You’re so hot.” His palms cup your breasts, thumbs stroking your nipples.  

You keen at the praise and quicken your pace. Your thighs start to burn but you ignore that, bouncing on your boyfriend’s dick like there’s no tomorrow. The room is filled with lewd noises, skin slapping on skin. Jimin looks down, staring at his cock coated in your juices as it disappears inside your hole. He curses at the sight.  

Your legs start to shake, huffs leaving your lips. “Sir–please,” you whine, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge.  

“What do you need, babygirl?” he asks, pinching your nipples. You squeal, your pace losing its previous rhythm.  

“I’m so close.” you stammer. “Please–touch me.”  

“Where you do you want me to touch you, baby?” He ignores your whimpers, the way your pussy keeps squeezing his cock in a vice grip. “Here?” He touches your tits again and you shake your head violently. “Or here–” His fingers find your clit and you cry out loudly. You feel so full, his cock hits your cervix every time you drop down onto him.

“Yes, yes,” you chant, mouth wide open and eyes squeezed shut. You probably look right now like a professional porn star but you couldn’t care less, not when you’re so close to the climax. “Sir–fuckfuckfuck, please!”

“There you go,” Jimin coos, circling your sensitive bud with his thumb. “Come for me, baby.”  

You’re gushing around his dick, arousal leaking out of your hole and coating his thighs with your release. Your upper body gives out and you collapse onto Jimin, your cunt pulsing from the intense pleasure you’ve just experienced.  

“Oh god,” you mumble. “I just saw the answer to the whole universe.”  

You feel Jimin's chest shaking with laughter and when you look up, you find him grinning at you. “That good?”  

“That good.” you confirm, sighing tiredly.  

“Are you okay?” You hear him asking. No matter how much he likes to push you around and fuck until you’re seeing stars, he always makes sure if you’re feeling comfortable to continue.  

You spare him a nod. “You know I can handle it,” you say, lifting yourself up. “I’m a tough girl, right?” Despite the oversensitivity, you start rocking your hips again. “M-made for you.”

Jimin smirks. “Yeah, made for me,” he confirms and slaps your ass. Your pussy flatters around his cock. “Not like this,” he mutters and turns you onto your back with one, swift motion. “Much better.”  

You pout. “You didn’t like it when I was riding your cock, sir?” You’re bluffing, but a girl can her fun too.  

He clicks his tongue, guiding his cock through your folds again. “Oh, baby, I was enjoying it very much,” he says, picking up his speed. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him even closer. “But now I want it harder.”  

He fucks you just like he likes the most; fast and rough, unforgiving. He leans down for a messy kiss that’s all teeth tongue and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees his saliva dripping down your chin.  

(He decides right here and there that he might wanna explore his newfound fantasy soon.)

Soon you’re feeling the coil in your stomach tightening for the second time, embarrassingly quickly so. You moan, cunt squeezing around his dick. “Again?” Jimin asks, voice laced with both mirth and disbelief. Tears well in your eyes and you give him a nod. “Such a fucking slut.” he spits, slithering himself into you even faster than before.

Your third and final orgasm is so powerful and sudden, it nearly makes you black out. Jimin curses, fucking you through it. “Kiss me,” you whimper deliriously and he obliges, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. “I love you.” you whisper into his lips and that’s what sends him over the edge.

“I love you, I love you–fuck.” he groans and spills himself inside, coating your pussy with his seed.

He collapses next you, chest heaving with every exhale. Your legs feel like jelly and you know you’ll have trouble walking tomorrow. Just when you’re about to tell Jimin to call in sick and spend the whole day in bed instead, he suddenly sits up.

“Wait, I forgot I have another present for us.” he says, rushing to pick something up from underneath the bed.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Jimin, I swear to God, if you bought us matching t-shirts–”

He grins like a child, showing you two white pillows, the most basic ones you could ever think of, with ‘his side’ and ‘her side' written on them. It's cringy and ridiculous and you fight an urge to punch him, but you don't.  

Because it's Jimin and you will never complain about it.

Because you love him. And that's all that matters.

[bitchassbucky]

Ｂａｃｋ Ｔｏ Ｙｏｕ (Ｓａｍ Ｗｉｌｓｏｎ ｘ Ｆ!Ｒｅａｄｅｒ)

📎Word Count: 1.5k

📎Warning/s: some heckin’ words. Bucky’s in this, he’s a bit annoying (affectionately) <3 MINORS DNI.

📎A/N: omg my first Sam fic! i wanna thank my boo @babyboibucky for enabling me hsakjdhak ily! this is for you, bee!

📎Masterlist || Ask || AFTERDARK

📎 Follow the story: Back To You, Dimples, Inked

“Are you even listening to me?” Bucky says, annoyed that Sam has been looking down on his phone, remotely giving attention to their conversation.

Sam grins, fingers dancing over the keyboard on the screen, “Yeah, yeah. Something about motel rooms—or beds.”

“I said that they gave us two beds in one room,” the former spots their door number, quickly walking to it. The tactical bag swinging over his cybernetic arm freely.

The night was warm, the air blew the ocean mist towards the town. The parking lot is empty save for a black sedan that’s already been through a lot. They chose to stay low instead of getting a room at a decent hotel close by–something about them not likening the crowd.

Once inside, both men cleared the room in 30 seconds flat. The window opens out, the door stays closed and locked. The TV has to be on but kept on low volume. The beds are made, it’s clean; beats the flat beds on the plane.

Sam throws his bag over to the bed closest to the window, calling dibs. “Hey, you got headphones?” He asks.

“No,” Bucky answers, settling his things below the foot of the bed, “why?” He catches Sam again smiling giddily over something, “what you got a girl there or something?” 

“It’s none of your business,” Sam retorts, quirking his eyebrow upwards, “well? Do you have headphones?”

“If you listened to me, you would’ve heard me say ‘no.’”

Bucky should’ve had brought headphones. Sam has been droning on and on with a ‘friend’ over on a video call.

Not that he’s eavesdropping and nosy but he saw how Sam lit up when a voice came in from his phone.

“Hey, Sammy! I finally get to see your face.” You say, your voice crackling over Sam’s speakers, “am I on speaker right now?”

Sam smiles, focusing on your background and seeing pictures and posters plastered on the wall, “oh, yeah. Sorry, I forgot my earphones somewhere.”

“What? Old man Barnes rubbing off on you?” You laugh, your glasses reflecting your laptop’s screen. Your joke sending Sam into a laughing fit.

“You know he’s in the room, right?” Sam clarifies as he turns the camera to Bucky, much to the former’s dismay. But despite himself, Bucky waves to the camera.

“Heard a lot about you, Barnes! Hope you’re ready for frequent bathroom trips from this one.”

Sam faces you again, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes, “Shut up or I’m gonna drop the call.”

You quickly send him an emoji via text, Sam rolling his eyes as you giggle. “Anyway, since you can’t join in on the fun, you’ll be my audience tonight.”

Sam gives you a confused look, a hint of crease appearing between his brows. “Tonight? What’s tonight?”

A fake gasp and an overdramatic show of hurt had him chuckling, “You already forgot the karaoke night you promised me, didn’t you?”

He grins apologetically and looks at the camera, as if looking into your eyes, “I’m sorry. Been busy these past few weeks.”

You smile softly, the imagery giving Sam a burst of butterflies in his tummy, “it’s okay. I was just being dramatic. I got that from you, you know.”

You are not a good singer. But you confidently belt out the highest of notes like one. Complete with hand gestures, you hold out the last note of the song.

“Thank you,” you bow down to your imaginary crowd off-camera, “I’ll be here all night.”

“On god, please don’t,” Sam interjects with a tender smile and soft eyes.

“Sammy!” Your eyes glazing over your screen, a deep pang of homesickness hitting you, “I missed this. I missed you.”

He nods, his lips pressed tightly as he tries to find the words to respond, “I missed you too, bub.” 

A soft note of a love song sounds over your speaker, traveling to his, “you love this song.”

Sam nods, reminiscing the moments he had with you during college. The one time you almost kissed—where are these memories and feelings coming from?! “Yeah, and---”

The doorbell rings on your end. Your eyes glinting as you stand up. Food delivery!

“Hold that thought, Sammy. My food’s here,” you say, your voice faint as you’re practically halfway through the door.

“She is a god-awful singer,” Bucky expresses, “but you love her, don’t you?”

“What?” Sam quickly taps a button on his screen—stupid Bucky and his stupid mouth. He covers his phone’s mouthpiece as if that could help, “shut the hell up.”

Sam’s changed demeanor confirms Bucky’s growing suspicion, “so you do love her!”

The latter glances at the empty screen, hoping you didn’t hear anything. Or maybe, he does?

The only sign of life from your end is the sound of various utensils cluttering and a metal bowl falling to the floor, making both men wince at the sudden noise.

Sam lowers the volume of his phone, facing Bucky from their respective beds.

“Shit,” Sam exclaims, running a hand over his handsome face, “maybe I do.”

This time, he finally lets himself go through the memories you made together before he left for the military.

The coffee dates, the late-night calls, the breakfast hangouts, the study sessions. You light up even the most boring of things. The texture of your skin, the sound of your laugh, the twinkle in your eyes bring Sam into a warm place.

You make him feel enough. You see him through and through.

Oh shit, he is in love with you.

Bucky just looks at him, boring holes in his face, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. “You really just realized, just now?” Sam’s not sure if it’s a rhetorical question.

“The way you talk about her. The way you talk to her. You see her and the things she like everywhere we go and you realize it just now?” So, it is a rhetorical question.

The revelation leaves Sam amused but unable to form words, “I… Do–I do love her. I’m in love with my best friend.”

A silent beat drops in the room—save for the faint hello? coming from Sam’s phone.

Ah, fuck.

Bucky put on his jacket planning to head out (to the motel’s ice machine) to give you two privacy. He bids Sam good luck and you a good night before walking towards the door.

As soon as the door shuts, Sam increases the volume on his phone again.

“Sam?” You call out, “I can’t see you, your cam’s off.”

In panic, he realizes that he tapped the wrong button—maybe Old Man Barnes had rubbed off on him.

You smile and sat up a little bit straighter when his face lights up your screen again.

“So… how much did you hear about the whole thing?” Sam wants to tread carefully around the subject, the first time he feels uncomfortable opening up to you.

He fully expects you to dismiss the topic, turn in for the night, and leave him lamenting about his feelings. And he’s somehow okay with it.

“Kinda, everything.” You confess, there’s nothing holding you back now, “I, you know-- I’m glad you got ‘round it. Even if it took you years.”

Another pin drops inside Sam’s head, “what do you mean?”

“Look, I confessed to you before we graduated but you never acknowledged it. So, I never brought it up again.” Even miles apart, Sam’s presence was around you. The bracelet he gave you during junior year, his favorite mug you borrowed from him, a ton of his shirts and hoodies that he gave to you before moving out after graduation. 

“You confessed to me? When?” Sam racks his brain for the smallest of details, for the quietest of whispers.

“I wrote you a letter. Remember? I slipped it under your door after finals week.”

After all these years, Sam never quite found out who wrote him that letter, “you never signed it.”

Sam didn’t expect you to laugh, to double over such a serious conversation, “dude, I did, I signed it. Why would I send you a deep proclamation of love without signing it?”

“It was written on pink paper, right? I still have it. You wanna bet that you don’t have your name on it?”

Your eyes widen in embarrassment, heat creeping up your cheeks, “oh my god, are you serious? I didn’t sign it?”

Sam laughs softly, his eyes crinkling the same way. There are lines decorating his eyes but he was still your Sam.

“No, ma’am.” He declares, the air somehow lighter now, “if you did, I would’ve said something.”

A hum escapes your lips, curling into a gentle smile, “good to know.”

The comfortable silence envelops the room, years of yearning and pining finally coming to end.

“Hey, after this mission - I was thinking if you want to go out. Catch up and you know, finally, talk in person.” Sam asks, there’s still a tiny voice inside his head not believing the talk that had transpired.

“I’d love that, Sam.”

The sentiment crashes and closes in on itself as Bucky barges into the room, holding a bucket of ice in one hand and a pack of beer in the other, “congratulations, idiots.”