#He’s like that already to some extent in high school so imagine the potential as adults 😭😭😭

[angelophanie]

Aizawa revealing a softer side of himself when he is around Shirakumo 🥹

[discokicks]

WHISKEY, TANGO, FOXTROT - ROY KENT.

PART FOUR OF ACES AT THE WATER'S EDGE.

(series masterlist!) (AO3!) (series playlist!)

pairing: roy kent x fem!reader (no use of y/n!) summary: it's your first game of the season at chelsea and rebecca’s got some press for you to do. however, thanks to rupert, the reporters will have some questions you’re not exactly ready for. the same could be said for 2012 roy kent, who’s abusing his new avoidance power to the fullest extent. but, as the two of you continue to work and get closer, you realize that there might just be something else there.

word count & rating: 15.4k (holy fuck this is why it took 6 months), R (language per usual) chapter warnings: swearing, references to sex, minor allusions to sexual harassment, mentions of alcohol, the beginnings of sexual tension (slow and steady wins the race), rupert is a dick, roy kent has got around and everyone knows it, keeley and rebecca are wine drinking pr besties, men are trash (but we know this) author's note: long time no see and happy olympics season! it felt fitting to post this now, so I got motivated to get my ass into gear and write. there's A LOT to this one, so buckle up. and make sure you stay until the end bc baby we're cooking with gas now. this took a lot out of me, so i hope you enjoy! love u tons! -mags

LONDON OLYMPICS, LATE JULY, 2012.

You’re up 1-0 when you retreat into the locker room at halftime during your third game of the Olympic Tournament against North Korea.

Despite the fact that you’re winning, it was a terrible showing from each of you, except for Mel, who’d been your lone scorer of the night. She’d had a breakaway and had managed to single-handedly beat three defenders for a pretty impressive goal. You’d practically jumped into her arms during the celebration, glad that someone was able to break the sleepy curse that had seemed to be placed on your team.

Your captain Katie O’Connor stands tall at the front of the room, ready to rip you guys a new one. She was the more… passionate of your three captains, potentially coming off as abrasive when things weren’t going your way or if she felt that things could be better. It was only because she cared so much. You all did.

“We should be beating them by four at this point,” she says, pointing out the door. A mumbling of agreements goes through your team, knowing that it’s the truth. “We’re playing like it’s fucking high school out there. It’s the fucking Olympics, act like we belong here, for fuck’s sake.”

The amount of ‘fucks’ that Katie drops instantly has you thinking of someone else. God damn it, he was probably watching, wasn’t he? You could only imagine the things he was thinking, or saying, for that matter. 

You know you shouldn’t care as much as you do, but… as much as you hate to admit it, you want to impress him. Or at least make it look like these training sessions have been worth it. There was something about him that made you want to prove yourself. It wasn’t that he demanded you to do so or that he’d value you less if you didn’t, but you wanted to. Unfortunately, you cared about his opinion. How tragic was that?

Curiosity gets the best of you. Before your coach can come into the locker room, you fish through your bag and take a peek at your phone, just to see if he, or anyone else, has said anything.

Sure enough, you see that you’ve got two texts from Roy Kent that were sent five minutes ago, right when you finished the half.

What a fucking atrocious half. I fucking dare you to hit the post one more time.

A scowl pulls at your lips, but you know it’s true. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t already thought yourself. He had an extraordinary talent for knowing how to be exactly the brand of jackass that pissed you off, though. It only became more apparent as you read the next message.

You could learn a thing or two about footwork from Rivera.

You scoff, glancing over at Mel, who, while she sat next to you, was staring blankly at the wall, undoubtedly in her own little world. Before she notices you looking, you’ve turned back to your phone and to his messages. “Asshole,” you mutter, but type out your response.

maybe i’ll get her to coach me then. she isn’t as much of a dick to me.

The response comes before you can put away your phone. Not your coach, he says, then sends another message. Relax out there. You’re somehow playing nervous and stiff at the same time. You’re a fucking anomaly. But before you can frown too hard at that, he says, You know how to see the field. So take a breath and fucking see it.

You throw your phone back in your bag with a huff, mind reeling as you attempt to think back to what the field looked like before the half. The last three possessions had you following Mel as she took the ball up the field. The defense had started favoring her side due to her dominance throughout the game, leaving… 

…Katie on the left side. And while they hadn’t left her open—

“Did you call me an asshole a second ago?” Mel asks from beside you, having broken out of her own trance. You flinch at the sound of her voice, instinctively flipping your phone over and against the bench you’re sitting on. 

She courteously spares you the weird look you know she’s holding back. “No,” you reply. You motion to your phone. “Roy’s texting me.”

Mel nods in understanding. “Gotcha. What’s Coach Kent have to say?”

“He’s being an asshole,” you repeat. “He says we’re ‘atrocious.’ Making fun of how much I’m hitting the post.” You turn to her. “He’s got good things to say about your footwork, though.”

Mel grins. “I knew I liked him.”

You scowl again at that. “He’s also telling me I need to see the field better.” Mel raises her brows at the look on your face, cueing you to go on. “I think Katie’s been open-ish for the last three possessions. They’re favoring your side.”

The two of you look back to your teammate once more as you consider this. “We could keep trying to draw the defense out,” Mel offers. “We scare them a little bit, hit her when she’s coming up.”

“She can beat that fullback in a heartbeat,” you agree.

“It’s worth a shot,” she says. “We can’t play any shittier than we already are.”

You nod at Mel with faux enthusiasm. “That’s the spirit.”

And that’s exactly what you decide. Mel jumps to her feet and explains your plan to Katie and the team, drawing up the X’s and O’s on the locker room whiteboard. You glance around the room cautiously, forcing yourself not to read into your teammates' expressions too deeply. 

But it’s hard. Especially when you’re an overthinker.

It’s a title you’ve resigned yourself to, much to Roy’s pleasure. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, it was the truth. And while you were still working to get out of that lifelong mindset, it didn't seem to be getting any easier. 

But your over-analyzing leads you to a result you like: all of your teammates seem to be on board with your ideas. You can’t deny that that feels good.

You especially can’t deny it when your coach walks into the locker room to see Mel’s play on the baker and says, “Well, you ladies are way ahead of me.” Because that’s exactly what she was going to draw up.

That feeling has you giddily awaiting the moment you can grab your phone before you head back out to the field to send a text to your newfound trainer. 

i’ll have a shot on net in the first ten minutes, you type to him, confidence radiating through the text. and it’s not gonna hit the post this time.

Your message reaches Roy when he returns to his phone at the beginning of the second half. He can’t help the chuckle that escapes him as he settles back into his couch, shaking his head when he glances up at the massive TV in his sitting room, the broadcast showing a close-up of you with a new sort of fire in your eyes. It’s a look that illuminates his dim and quiet flat, one that he can’t seem to part with until they cut away from you.

Within four minutes and fifty-five seconds, you draw the defense over to you and Mel, who wails the ball over to Katie’s side of the field. Katie has possession of it for five seconds before she catches her defender off-guard and sends it in between her legs to you. 

Five minutes in, you live up to your promise and send the ball into the corner of the net, the crowd roaring as Katie shakes you back and forth in excitement and Mel jumps on your back. One of the cameramen runs up to you to catch your celebration, and you stare down the lens with a satisfied smile and point in a way that tells Roy that you’re looking directly at him. 

He couldn’t stop himself from grinning even if he wanted to. With yet another shake of his head, Roy reaches out for the phone he’d thrown onto the couch cushion next to him.

I told you. Fucking anomaly you are, you stupid fucking Yank, he writes. Stay pissed off. It’s a good look on you, Fourteen.

When Roy sends that text, he keeps his phone closer to him this time, and somehow, his dim and quiet flat feels just a bit lighter, even if for a brief moment.

PRESENT DAY, MID-AUGUST, 2023.

Before you can leave the Richmond facilities post-Saturday afternoon practice, you’re suddenly called into Rebecca Walton’s office.

It’s a day before your first game of the season and after your rather animated talk with Roy in the Boot Room yesterday, you’re feeling a bit lighter. You slept better last night (though you don’t see yourself hitting REM any time soon) and don’t feel like you’re being dragged down by the massive weight of… well, everything. It’s a feeling you’re taking in stride and one you’re welcoming with open arms. 

Practices before game days were typically a bit easier-going, and you and your fellow coaches had decided to make sure the team was up to date and understood the best plays to run against Chelsea tomorrow. They knew who to stop, what defenses to watch out for, and what trick plays to expect. While you hadn’t lent your voice to the conversation as much as you probably should have, especially after being yelled at for it yesterday, you spoke more than usual. While that still wasn’t a lot, it was enough. And that made you feel good, above all else.

That feeling goes away the second you walk into your boss’s office to see her and an incredibly familiar face staring at you from the couch area. Your lips part the second you see her, hand unsubtly slamming against the doorframe, not just to stabilize yourself, but to keep you from dramatically heel-turning out of the room, to never return.

By the way that Keeley Jones is looking at you, you can tell she’s just about on the same page. You suppose she’s got the better end of this deal, simply because your arrival doesn’t seem to be a surprise for her. At least she had a warning about the foreboding awkwardness of this situation. Your boss didn’t exactly grant you that luxury.

Then again, you figure Rebecca had no real way of knowing just how strange this might be for you. She didn’t know the extent of your history with Roy, and the only person who may was sitting right next to her, probably having shared more of that history than either of you cared to admit.

However, what you’re not expecting from Keeley, is the way she gapes at you, then turns to Rebecca to whisper, “Fucking hell, you didn’t say she was hotter in person.”

The shock and confusion flowing through your body makes you blink slowly at them to readjust, and you lean back on your back foot. You manage to stammer out, “I-I’m sorry to interrupt, I can come back--”

“No, no,” Rebecca says, beckoning you in after she finishes rolling her eyes at Keeley, “come on in and join us! We just opened a bottle.”

Join them? You glance at the open bottle of wine on the coffee table, then back to them. Is this why you were called here? To indulge in some post-work girl talk with your boss and Roy’s first real, and only public girlfriend? Ex-girlfriend, you remembered, but still.

You’re sure the discomfort you feel is broadcasted on your face, and that becomes especially apparent when Keeley offers you a small, kind smile. However, the action is sweet and it makes your over-anxious mind ease slightly. If she’s not going to be weird about it, you certainly aren’t either.

Besides, you have no idea what she actually knows about you and Roy. He would be the type to tell her nothing. He was the type to tell her nothing.

However, something about Keeley’s demeanor tells you that’s probably not the case.

When you realize that you’ve been standing like a freak in the doorway for just a moment too long, you snap out of your haze and return the smile, nodding gratefully as you enter Rebecca’s office.

“We were just discussing the game tomorrow,” Rebecca tells you as she reaches for the spare wine glass on the table. She eyes you with a wry grin. “I’d ask if you drank, but that bar cart I saw in your apartment gave you away.”

A surprised laugh escapes you at the rather forward comment, but it helps you relax slightly as you make your way to them. “Yeah, well. It was probably looking pretty sparse when you saw it.” You reach your hand out to Keeley, continuing to smile softly as you introduce yourself.

“Keeley Jones,” she says to you, though there’s a mutual understanding that this is just a formality. You both know who the other is. “Bad week, yeah?” she asks.

You reach for the wine glass Rebecca offers you and send a look of confirmation to Keeley. “You have no idea.” Your smile stretches as you look over at Rebecca and sit down. “These last couple of days have made up for it, though.”

Rebecca returns it. “That’s wonderful to hear.”

“I can imagine it’s been a little different than West Ham,” Keeley says. “We know what Rupert likes to pull. All that shit he’s been saying about you leaving?” She shakes her head. “I don’t know how people aren’t seeing through him.”

The smile you wear falters slightly. “I, uh… haven’t really been keeping up with any of that,” you tell her. “Figured it wouldn’t be great to hear anything that anybody’s saying about me, y’know?”

“Totally get that,” she replies kindly. However, she hesitates. “...But you… haven’t seen anything that’s been going around?”

“Um…” you trail off, shifting in your chair. “No? Why? Is it really that bad?”

Rebecca and Keeley exchange a look. “It’s just—” Rebecca cuts herself off, looking back at you. “Remember how I said you wouldn’t have to do any press if you didn’t want to?”

Any remnants of the demeanor you had when you sat down completely drain from your expression. “Oh, my God. It is that bad, isn’t it?”

Keeley shakes her head, holding out her hands. “No, no, it’s really not. It could be so much worse,” she assures. “I mean, it is that bad with those weird little shits online who always have a problem with successful women in sports, but what else is new—”

“This is the worst of it,” Rebecca interjects, putting a hand on her friend's arm. She passes you a tablet as Keeley goes quiet and you take it cautiously. 

It’s a video of Rupert at a press conference, one you presume was taken this morning. The season kicked off tomorrow and Ted, Rebecca, and the rest of the team had been stuck doing interviews all day, something of which you weren’t sad to have missed out on.

You press the play button in the center of the screen to watch Rupert point at someone off-camera. “Yes,” he says. “Daniel, what have you got?”

Daniel, presumably, asks, “I was just curious how the team’s feeling with that coaching shake-up so close to Opening Day?” You hear a murmur go through the audience of reporters. “Losing someone like that and then watching her get picked up by Richmond must be tough on you guys, no?”

Rupert seems to take this in and sit with it, nodding slowly. “I won’t lie to you, Daniel,” he says after a moment. “I wasn’t happy with the note that we ended on. She had concerns toward the end of her tenure about her role on the team and with certain aspects of AFC culture. She knows just how talented I think she is, and how excited we were to have her working with us. And we had a wonderful couple of months working with her. But, unfortunately…” He shakes his head scornfully, like all of this was genuinely upsetting him. “...there were just some differences we couldn’t get past. The team was remarkably sad to see her go, but I don’t believe it’ll affect our performance this season.” 

He lets his answer hang there for a moment, but tragically, he’s not done. “Perhaps Richmond was willing to offer her some things that we weren’t able to. Perhaps their values align more with what she wanted out of her AFC career.” And then, with a nonchalant shrug, he adds, “Perhaps she just wanted to coach with her old friend Roy Kent.” Your lips part at that, brow furrowing in disbelief as the reporters chuckle. “Who knows? I wish her the best and I wish Richmond good luck. I hope they’re a better fit for her.”

The clip cuts off there and you glance up at Rebecca and Keeley who are both bracing for impact. “What the fuck?” 

If either of them find your words unprofessional, they do nothing to indicate it. However, there’s something about them that tells you they’re more than comfortable with that kind of language in the workplace. “Yeah,” Keeley says. “So, like I said. It could be so much worse.”

“He was the one who was unhappy with how it ended?” you quote. “He’s upset about the differences we couldn’t work past? How about you address my concerns with AFC culture and get upset with your—”

You cut yourself off before you can say too much, focusing your attention on the plant in the corner of Rebecca’s office to stabilize yourself. What a fucking asshole. What a self-serving, lying, fucking asshole. He’s not worth the tears. Don’t give him that satisfaction.

You understand why you were called in now, why Rebecca prefaced the video with that question. You’d neglected to personally get ahead of Rupert and make a real statement on your choice to part with West Ham and sign with Richmond. Now you were paying that price— the price of being afraid.

“What—” Your voice cracks as you attempt to speak, and you clear your throat. “What type of press do I have to do?”

Rebecca’s sigh is empathetic. “We think it’d be smart to send you out with Ted tomorrow after the game. Make a statement, answer a few questions,” she says. “That is, if you’re open to it.”

Your brow raises skeptically. “I can say no to that?”

Rebecca chuckles. “You can say no to anything,” she tells you. “Roy refuses to do any sort of press and he’s managed to be completely fine. Labeled as a bitter, old recluse, but he doesn’t seem to care.” Typical. But then, she adds, “We do think it’s your best move, though.”

You know it’s your best move. You know it’s what you should have done at the beginning of all of this. You know that there’s nothing that you want to do less. But somehow, having that small, offhanded-out Rebecca offered makes it all sit a bit easier with you.

“I think so too,” you finally agree, sighing shakily. Rebecca and Keeley grin at you encouragingly, watching as you reach out to take a hearty sip of your wine. “So, what’s the plan?” You look over at Keeley. “I assume that’s why you’re here.”

Keeley’s face lights up. “Exactly why I’m here,” she replies. “We’re gonna PR this shit so fucking hard nobody is going to know what hit them.”

Her enthusiasm makes the corners of your mouth rise despite everything else. “Can’t say I’m great in front of a crowd,” you warn.

“It’s rare to find people who are,” Keeley responds easily, flicking her hand like she’s brushing off your comment. “That’s why we’re going to make this as simple as possible.”

You nod. “Okay. Hit me.”

“Okay, three things you’re going to want to address,” she begins, tapping on her fingers. “The first is clarifying the ‘note that you ended on’ and those differences with the team. You don’t need to get into specifics if you don’t want to—”

“I really do not,” you tell her.

“Got it,” she says, and the look on her face tells you she really does get it. “Don’t get into specifics. Just say that you’re also upset things didn’t work out, but that it was nothing personal. Truly just leadership differences, like was first said. Even if it wasn’t.”

Your eyes narrow in question. “So, just lie?”

“Welcome to PR, babe,” she replies, and her grin gets more genuine when she sees you chuckle. “Alright, second; we’ve gotta say something about why you chose Richmond. Something that goes beyond our stale press release statement.”

“I didn’t think it was stale,” you offer.

“Aw, thank you!” The smile drops from her face. “But it was. All press releases are. They’re just words on a page, which is so fucking boring. And they get no feeling across. Which is what we need from you,” she says with a point. “You just need to actually say what we’ve already said.”

Once again, you nod. “So, you need it once more, with feeling?”

Keeley blinks back at you, then glances at Rebecca. “My god, I fucking love her.”

The smile that pulls at your lips is involuntary and smaller than the encouraging one that appears on Rebecca’s. “I told you that you would,” she says softly to her, but it’s just loud enough for you to hear. She then turns to you once more. “He brought up AFC culture and our values, but don’t even touch that.”

“'Values' is a loaded word,” Keeley says. “He used it for a reason, but if we’re looking to ignore all this, we shouldn’t be using those types of words.”

“Right,” continues Rebecca. “We’re not looking for a fight here. You don’t want to engage, we don’t want to engage. I think we can all agree we’re looking for this to be over and done with and forgotten about, yes?”

“Yes,” you confirm.

“So, just agree with his comments. Leave it neutral. Non-confrontational,” Rebecca says. “Make it easy. Even if you’re not disappointed to have left the club, say that you are. If you want to touch on ‘culture’ reference AFC culture as a whole. The culture shock of transitioning from womens to mens sports.”

Neutral, you think. Non-confrontational. Easy. You can do that.

After a moment, you nod in confirmation at Rebecca. Then, you refocus on Keeley. “What’s the third thing we need to address?”

Keeley folds her hands awkwardly. “That would be… uh, your friendship with Roy.”

Your face goes hot almost instantaneously. “Oh,” you say softly. You scratch the inside of your wrist, finding it increasingly hard to keep Keeley’s gaze, especially as she continues to sit in that tension with you. “Do I have to? Address that, I mean? We were just friends. A ton of people in the football world are friends with each other. I don’t…” The lie sours your tongue and you glance over at Rebecca, hoping for her to throw some kind of life preserver to you over here. “I didn’t think anyone knew about that. It wasn’t like we were Matt Damon and Ben Affleck or whatever. Our friendship wasn’t mainstream news.”

“Some intern at The Sun found some photos of you two after the 2012 Olympics at a club,” Rebecca explains. Your entire body flushes as you remember that night. “They resurfaced and became relevant after your move to Richmond.”

“Okay, but, if it’s the night I think they’re referring to, we were out with our teams,” you attempt to reason. “There’s no reason other than media speculation that people would think we were… what was implied.”

Keeley points at you. “And that’s exactly what you’re going to say if you’re asked about it.” Then, with a good-humored shrug, she says, “If you want to be petty, you can talk about how this speculation wouldn’t be happening if you were a man.”

Rebecca looks at her friend. “That’s actually not bad. Because it wouldn’t be.”

“None of this would be,” you say to the two women in front of you. The tone you’ve taken is scornful, and while they may not know all the reasons why… they get it.

Keeley reaches forward to grab the bottle of wine at in the center of the coffee table and tilts it to offer it to you. You nod almost immediately, mustering up a small smile as she pours. “So, our plan is to send you in with Ted after tomorrow’s game. They’ll probably, mainly, have questions for you because that’s the drama right now, so I’ve written up something that we can practice and workshop.”

“Ted’s won the press over and is practically on a first-name basis with all of them,” Rebecca continues. “So, he’ll be a lifeline if you need him at any time.”

Keeley nods at the glass she just poured for you. “So, drink up. Because we’re going to run through this shit and roleplay.” She pauses for a moment, catching herself. “The press conference, I mean. Not the sexy kind.”

“Probably better for HR reasons,” you reply.

As that joke slips out of your mouth, you can feel your comfort level with them rising. Something about them is just so… welcoming. You’re in a room with your boss and Roy’s ex-girlfriend. You should be guarded. You should be censoring yourself. But as you continue to sit here, you can’t see yourself doing so.

Perhaps Richmond was willing to offer her some things that we weren’t able to. Perhaps you were right, you fucking prick.

Keeley snorts softly and nods in agreement and you notice the smile that grows on Rebecca’s face. “I’ve heard the HR is rather easily swayed, so we might be able to get away with it,” Keeley responds, grinning as she sees you laugh.

Rebecca claps her hands together. “So. Non-sexy press conference roleplay?”

They both turn to you, and after a hearty gulp of your wine, you sigh. “Let’s get to it.”

LONDON OLYMPICS, LATE JULY, 2012.

You finish the game against North Korea with another win under your belt and return to utter chaos when you get back to the dorms.

While you were the only scorer of the last half, everyone stepped up their game in the ways that they had to. Things still weren’t perfect and there was plenty for all of you to work on going forward, but you were proud of the way your team had turned things around. 

When you return, it’s just past midnight, and all you want to do is go to bed. The game had drained you completely dry, and there was nothing more appealing than the idea of tucking into your horrendously uncomfortable dorm bed. Luckily, unlike last time, Mel’s on the same page as you.

She’d fallen asleep on your shoulder on the bus ride back for about an hour and spent the other three complaining that you weren’t paying attention to her. And why weren’t you paying attention?

Because Roy fucking Kent wouldn’t stop texting you. After you’d read over the text he’d sent to you during the second half (and ignored the weird feeling in your stomach and heat on your cheeks at him calling you an anomaly, God, why did that word land with you so well?), you’d returned to gloat. Hit the post again, he’d said. You hadn’t.

Things had gotten carried away from there. What had started as a slightly antagonistic and taunting back and forth had devolved into a conversation about the sleeping accommodations in the dorms (big-time footballer in his posh london flat doesn’t even have the decency to drop off a mattress topper and some extra pillows? you’d complained to him), then to about which countries you wanted to visit (Australia. For no other reason than to meet a quokka, he’d told you), then to what the fuck a quokka is and why he knew about them (that’s the stupidest looking animal i’ve seen in my life. i want 10 of them, you’d said), to whatever you’d landed on next.

You’d put your phone in your pocket the second you’d pulled back into the Village, helping the team unload everyone’s stuff. Everyone seemed completely dead, something of which you celebrated, simply because it meant there was no team bonding preventing you from going to sleep as soon as possible. The only thing that was doing that for you was Mel’s incessant questions about Roy.

“I really think you’re lying to me about this being a weird sex thing,” she says, readjusting her grip on the bag slung over her shoulder. “Because there’s no other reason that you two should be talking as much as you are.”

You make a face at her. “It’s not a weird sex thing,” you say for what feels like the seventeenth time that night. “We’re just friends. Or, you know, whatever the closest thing to a friend Roy has is.”

“That’s exactly my point,” Mel replies. Her voice echoes through the quiet night air surrounding the dorm’s courtyard. “Roy doesn’t do friends. He hasn’t for as long as I’ve known him.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know him.”

“I don’t. And I say that’s because he won’t let me get to know him. Because he doesn’t do friends.” She shrugs. “I mean, ask Jack or anyone who’s played with him. They’ll say the same.”

When you approach the doors of your dorm building, you make a teasingly innocent face at Mel. “Maybe I’m just different.”

“Right,” she says dryly. “Or he wants to fuck you.”

“Why are you trying to ruin this for me?” you whine as you open the door. “I’m actually, like, kind of having fun with him and this training thing we’re doing. He’s a good guy.” 

Mel shoots you a blank-faced stare. “You were calling him an asshole less than six hours ago.”

“Because he is. But he’s a good guy too,” you respond. “He’s like… I don’t know. Like Ron Swanson or Harrison Ford. Total curmudgeon but in a fun way.”

Mel’s lips purse. “Well, now I can’t stop picturing him with the Ron Swanson mustache.”

You grin, sidestepping fellow Olympians who hang around in the lobby of the dorm. “Have fun sleeping tonight.”

A heavy, exaggerated, long sigh leaves her as you approach the elevator. “Just be careful,” she says, putting her hands up in surrender as you look at her incredulously. “Even if you are just friends. And even if you’re not. As your actual friend, I have to tell you to be careful. All men suck, but athletes tend to suck ten times more.”

“I’ll be fine,” you reply in a sing-song fashion. The elevator doors open and you and Mel step in. “I appreciate you, though.”

“You better,” Mel scoffs. “I’m getting gray hairs thinking you’re doing weird sex shit with Chelsea’s Finest on a random pitch in the middle of London.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, my God, can these things close any slow--”

“Hold the door!” shouts a voice from the lobby. On instinct, you reach out to stop the doors that were finally closing, feeling Mel’s elbow in your side. The voice gets louder as it gets closer. “Thank you. Did not feel like waiting for this thing again.”

Into the elevator walks (quite possibly) the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life. He’s got the quintessential surfer look to him, but in a way that works. He’s blonde (while you’re definitely more into dark hair, you can’t deny just how good he looks), at least six-three, and is built like a lean brick house. His curls fall into his eyes that squint into a smile as he looks at you and Mel.

“Oh,” he says as he walks in. “Congratulations on the win today.”

You and Mel stare at him in awe, snapping out of it as you realize that you’re gawking. “Thank you,” you manage to get out. You try to place his accent and what sport he could possibly specialize in, but your brain malfunctions. “I would say the same to you but I’m… uh--”

Luckily, he seems to catch on and saves you from your misery. “I’m Luca,” he says, holding out his hand for you and Mel to shake. “France. Swim team.”

“Nice to meet you, Luke,” Mel says, finally recovering from her trance. “You have any events today?”

“We did,” he says, though he seems to be talking more to you than to Mel. “Placed silver, so we can’t complain.” When you two congratulate him, he nearly brushes you off. “I have heard your team is looking like you’re going to go all the way this year. It is fun to watch.”

“We’re having a good run,” you respond, and he nods at you with that same breathtaking smile. “We’ll see what happens though.”

“Yeah, you are good.” Luca pauses for a moment, then shrugs coyly. “You’re American, so you are not as good as France, but you are up there.”

You see Mel’s head tilt out of the corner of your eye. “Easy now,” she warns with a light-hearted smile. “We beat them by two in our first match.”

Luca throws his hands up, grin turning teasing. “Just telling the truth. I must support my own.”

“Well,” you say, brow furrowed. “We’ll see when we get to the finals.”

“Oui. I believe that we will,” he responds. You notice that he’s leaned in closer than you had previously anticipated and the realization makes your face heat. “We should put a wager on it.”

“You want me to bet on my own team?” you ask rather bluntly, hearing Mel cough to cover a laugh.

“I suppose, yes,” Luca answers. The elevator stops at his floor and his eyes flick to the number on the small screen. “If France wins in your little tournament, you must purchase me a drink when these games are over. But if you win…” He trails off with a shrug as the doors open. “I’ll buy you one. It is only fair, no?”

You blink at him, trying to make sense of this entire situation. Is he flirting with you? Setting a friendly bet to get a drink? Just trying to be a jerk by referring to your Olympic Games as a ‘little tournament’? Then again, he was French, so many that’s just the way he spoke.

Yet another nudge from Mel finally has you answering. “I’m the one playing,” you say slowly, cautiously trying to read him. “I feel like I should have a better prize for winning.”

Luca seems to consider this but shrugs once more. “Those are my terms. Even I cannot make exceptions for beautiful women. Do you accept?”

Okay, so maybe he is flirting with you. This beautiful, French, god of a man is potentially flirting with you. You wish he’d upped the stakes by asking you to dinner or something to offer something more direct, but this is what you’re getting. As he exits the elevator, he puts a hand on the door while he awaits your answer. 

But, you don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s like, you don’t know if you’ll want him as a prize if you win, or as a consolation if you lose. But, you figure, it’s just fun. And he’s hot. So why not.

“I’ll consider it,” you decide, mirroring that grin of his.

Luca nods at you, motioning to the hallway behind him. “The deal expires soon. And now you know where to find me.” The smile returns. “So find me if you’re interested.”

And with that, your movie-star-looking, strange Frenchman saunters off down the hall, leaving you with a million questions and an American soccer player who’s gaping at you.

“That was the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life,” Mel says, staring at the now-closed doors. “I’m not even into that and… And he… And you said you’d consider getting a drink with him?”

“He made a bet with me,” you argue. “He didn’t ask me out. And even if he did, I didn’t say no.”

Mel looks at you like you’re both insane and the dumbest person alive. “I think we need to get you checked for a fucking concussion, because… what?”

“He didn’t!” you insist, suddenly doubting your own instincts. “Did he?”

The elevator stops and Mel makes a break for the doors. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

You watch helplessly as Mel walks toward your dorm, muttering things about you under her breath that you can barely hear. The second you step off the elevator to follow, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. 

Get some sleep, Fourteen. You’ve earned it. I’ll see you on Wednesday.

You find yourself smiling down at your phone, and for a moment, all thoughts of missed signs and Mel’s words go quiet. you too, you reply. big game tomorrow. and you know i’ll be harassing you like you did to me, so you better bring your a-game.

Before you can open your door to tuck in for the night, you get a response. I’m counting on it.

PRESENT DAY, MID-AUGUST, 2023.

Returning to Chelsea is like having one foot stuck in a dream and the other in a nightmare.

On one hand, it’s nostalgic. It’s loud and boisterous and you can’t escape the blue even if you tried. The field’s in the same pristine condition as you remember and the liveliness of it all engulfs you completely. It makes you think about everything that happened here and how easy it used to be.

But, on the other hand… it makes you think about everything. Those aforementioned easier times were a precursor to your downfall, and it all started here. It was the catalyst. Somehow, this place that had been in your life for an inordinately short period of time still had the same effect on you as it did eight years ago. And when you stare out at the field, you can't help but wonder what if.

As those memories start to creep into your head, you suddenly begin to feel very hot and incredibly overwhelmed. The tunnel you’re standing in is quickly going from something familiar to something more liminal. You swear it’s getting smaller too.

But on a day like today, you know you really can’t be panicking about the past. Your team’s on the field and your coaches are waiting for you to join them. There were more pressing things that were worthy of a panic attack.

You force yourself to take a deep breath and turn to the light emanating from the field at the end of the tunnel. You’d never talked yourself out of a panic attack at the prospect of more important panic, but at this point, you’d take what you could get. Focus on the clamminess of your hands. Focus on how bright the field is and how much it’s hurting your eyes. Focus on running through the new plays you now know like the back of your hand. 

As you walk down the tunnel and go through your maniacal little sense check, you decide to focus on something that you hear. And what you hear snaps you out of whatever state you’re in and makes it all quiet down a little bit. Because as you realize what it is you’re hearing, a very different feeling of… something takes over. 

“—HERE! HE’S THERE! HE’S EVERY-FUCKING-WHERE, ROY KENT! ROY KENT! HE’S—”

It’s nostalgia. It’s dread. It’s pride. It’s irritation. It’s… so many fucking things all at once and you can’t possibly stop yourself from smiling at it. The twinge you feel pulling in your stomach stays with you as you suppress that urge. Damn it.

Despite his final years being spent at Richmond and despite his new coaching status, they still adore him. You’d jokingly called him a “Chelsea Legend” more times than you could count, but it was true. It’s what he was. Not that you’d ever say that out loud.

By the time you make it to the field, Roy’s standing up from the coaches’ bench to show his thanks to the stadium. The cheer is resounding, the song continuing amongst it and you swear under your breath as that feeling lingers. 

It doesn’t go away as he turns to sit back down and meets your gaze instead. And, in typical Roy fashion, while he refused to show any emotion when thanking the city that supported him for years, a fraction of a smile makes its way onto his face when he sees you. 

(God, you hate yourself for noticing.) 

Looking away, you take another steadying breath and make your way to him and the rest of your team. The Richmond pullover you’re sporting rubs against your neck uncomfortably, but before you can fix it, you realize something: the cheers are getting louder. Confused, you look up at the jumbotron, knowing that that type of volume couldn’t possibly be for you. 

Lo and behold, it’s so not for you. It’s for Zava in the owner’s box, who’s staring at the camera like a professional wrestler, egging the crowd on. Right. Of course. Fucking Zava. You take a seat next to Roy as you stare up at the screen. 

“You think we have a chance?” you ask him, and you see him turn to you from the corner of your eye. “I’ve heard Rupert’s been putting in work there.”

Roy huffs. “Fucking twat puts in work everywhere but the things that matter,” he mutters, looking back to Zava. Your brows shoot up in agreement. “Let’s hope Zava’s not stupid enough to fucking fall for it.”

“Rupert knows how to stroke an ego,” you reply, glancing over to Jamie, who was warming up on the field, unsubtly making a very conscious effort to not look up at the screen. “He knows how to get what he wants. Speaking from experience.”

Roy scowls, and it’s a bit deeper than you were expecting. But, before you can dwell on that, he’s moving on. “You alright?” he asks. 

You know it’s meant to be casual on his part, but there’s an undertone of concern that you try to ignore. “Yeah,” you say through a sigh, hesitantly meeting his stare as you feel it boring into your cheek. You sigh again. “I’m good.” There’s a bit more conviction behind your voice this time, and it seems to satisfy him enough. “I’m nervous, but y’know. It’s a game. I’m always nervous before games.”

“I know,” he replies. “I’ve been waiting for you to throw up.”

It’s your turn to scowl now. “I only do that for big games. This is basically summer league.”

(While your sarcasm was flat, it didn’t go unnoticed. This was, in fact, a big game. Perhaps one of the biggest of your life. You’d thrown up twice today. But he didn’t need to know that.)

Roy looks unconvinced, but you’re thankful when he doesn’t press you further. “You know what to do today,” he tells you, and the assurance in his voice is palpable. 

You do know what to do today. You’ve got to prove why you were hired. Be the coach you know you can be. Get over that crippling anxiety that’s eating you alive. But instead of getting back into that, you say, “I know.”

“Fucking shook on it, too. Means you have to do it.”

You refrain from rolling your eyes and slump back into your chair. “Yeah, Roy, I know. I made that rule up. I got it.” With another sigh, you say quietly, “Just let me get there.”

His eyes remain on you. You think he’s going to say something else, but before he can, Ted whistles, calling everyone to attention. As the team rounds up, you and Roy stand.

Instead of saying whatever he was about to, he offers you a nod. 

You got this, he tells you silently. 

And despite the weird, horrendous, painful nether space your relationship currently exists in, the action does make you breathe a little easier. 

You send him one back in thanks.

What doesn’t make you breathe easier, however, is the score at the end of the half. What makes it even worse, is the unprofessional, pedantic Kent Rule that Roy has placed on the team that doesn’t allow anyone to speak in front of Trent Crimm.

Roy’s arms cross over his chest as soon as the writer enters the room, your players quieting down in suit. Your head tips back in annoyance, bracing for whatever’s about to come.

But nothing happens. The team remains quiet and wildly awkward and Trent aptly reads the room. Before he can leave, however, Ted’s calling for him to stay and is asking for Roy to chat.

Roy sends you a glance, then follows his head coach to the back of the room. While the players continue their talks in hushed tones, Beard inches over to where you stand. 

“Did I see a playbook in your bag earlier?” he asks quietly, making you flinch in surprise. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you were listening in to their conversation.”

You shoot Beard a look. “I was not,” you say, even though you so totally were. “And yeah? I, uh, take that with me everywhere.”

Beard nods. “Are they your plays?”

“Most of them,” you reply, shifting uncomfortably. You hadn’t talked about that book with anyone since you coached your college girls, and anyone you had shown it to over at West Ham hadn’t given it the time of day. “Why?”

“I want to see them,” he says, shrugging at your surprised expression. “If you want to show them to someone, that is.”

A small smile pulls at your parted lips, and you nod back at him. “That’d be—”

“CRIMM!”

Roy’s voice startles you again, and this time, it gets Beard too. You both turn to see Roy walking back toward the showers, Trent hesitantly following in tow. Ted offers a small smile to both you and Beard as he returns.

“That’d be great,” you whisper to Beard, finishing your sentence. “Thank you.”

The next few minutes are just as awkward as the previous ones. No one knows exactly what to do, or how the conversation behind you is going to play out. You know how hard it is for Roy to let go of things. Forgiveness was never something he excelled at, especially when it came to more personal topics. Not that you were any better at it.

You look around the locker room, watching each of your players whisper animatedly amongst each other. You were down by one and there were no signs of giving up. Each of them knew they were still in this. Even more so, you hadn’t heard any unkind or unsupportive words spoken since you got into the room. 

Your mind takes you back to the second summer scrimmage you coached at West Ham. You were also down by one at the half, and the atmosphere couldn't have been more different. Blame was being shoved down everyone’s throat, clinging wherever it would stick. Nathan Shelley had reprimanded three players within a minute and all of this was for a scrimmage. Nothing about that game mattered or counted. This, of course, was remedied the second you started winning, and the locker room was a wildly different place when you ended up winning by three.

While West Ham seemed to like each other, there was no sense of camaraderie there. It was nice, but nothing was kind. Richmond seemed like a family. You were starting to see that now. 

It wasn’t something you were able to embrace right now, but there was a growing piece of you that was… hopeful that you’d be able to at some point.

At that realization, you feel your body relax for a moment. Only for it to tense back up again as you’re scared for a third time, by Roy and Trent coming back to the group. As soon as he gives the green light to the team that Trent’s safe, the locker room erupts into relieved chaos.

Jamie starts shouting about the passing lanes. Sam yells out something about Chelsea’s lack of defense. More and more voices begin to speak up to offer their insight, and while they’re all on the right path, nobody’s said the right thing yet.

You can feel the words rising in your throat. Your mind continues to spin. Every thought you’d held on to, every tip you wanted to say, every nerve you had about saying the wrong thing was bubbling within you and you could feel yourself about to burst. 

No more being quiet. No more being afraid. No more being passive.

I know that you know them on the field. But they fucking don’t. And they won’t know it until you fucking show them.

You can feel your hands begin to shake back and forth in anticipation of whatever it is you’re about to say. However, you don’t realize that someone’s been watching you until they step beside you.

“C’mon,” they chide, making you jump, “Fucking say it.”

You don’t have to look to know that it’s Roy, but you still turn your head. His eyes fall from yours, to your hands, then back to your face. He’s familiar enough with your tells to know what’s going on. One part of you is grateful to have that. The other part wants to kill him.

The expression you wear reads hesitance, and you’ve only got about three minutes before the team needs to head back out.

As he continues to stare at you, you can hear his voice in your head. This is your job. You signed up for this. You’re a coach. So fucking coach. 

You take a deep, shuddering breath and ball up your fists to stop the shaking. Fucking say it.

So, amidst the noise and the yelling and the bickering, you do.

“EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

The silence that takes over the locker room is immediate and deafening. Every single person stares at you in shock, jaws agape and eyes wide as if they couldn’t imagine looking anywhere else. 

Every person but one. And if you were to turn and shake the sudden anxiety of having all attention on you, you’d see him smiling softly to himself, something like pride gracing his typically stoic expression.

It takes a moment before you realize they’re all waiting for you to say something. You glance over at Ted, who, while still a bit taken aback, nods at you encouragingly. 

You’ve got the floor, Coach. Let’s do it.

“You’re all right,” you begin, motioning to each of them as you speak. “Yes, Jamie, they’re blocking the passing lanes. It’s a straight-up wall once you get into the midfield. And yeah, Sam they’re not marking you guys. Because they don’t have to. You’re all just…” You search for the word, throwing a hand up when you land on, “...running around aimlessly out there because you’re trying to see what’s going to work. But you know what will?” 

They all just continue to stare at you. Whether or not it’s because nobody has an answer or because they can’t believe you’re actually talking like this, you don’t care. Because you answer for them. “You make them mark you. Force them to break down that wall. Draw them out, and then pass through the cracks,” you tell them, offering a small grin as you continue. “I know you guys. And I know it hasn’t seemed like it because I’ve been… quieter. But I know the type of team you are, and each of you are so, incredibly good at what you do. You’re way better than what you’re doing out there. Like, way better.”

Your team remains quiet, but you know they’ve snapped out of their surprised trance because they’re smiling at you. And they look on board. Your grin grows as you notice. “So, let’s go out there and start this season off right, huh?”

That gets them up and out of their seats. The boys erupt in a cheer, clapping as they gather around in a circle, each of them putting their hands in the middle. Dani’s voice echoes through the locker room as he yells, “For Coach’s first game!”

Another round of cheers follows before Ted looks over at you. “Couldn’t have said it better myself,” he tells you, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you. “Alright. I second everything she said. Now get out there and show them what you’re made of. Okay, four on three!”

Hands go up after their chant, and the team runs out of the room with a type of energy that you’re not sure you’ve seen before. You hang back for a moment to take a breath.

A hand clamps down on your shoulder, and you turn to see Ted smiling at you. “Nice to hear your voice, Ace,” he says, squeezing it softly. “I hope we’ll hear it some more.”

You send him a thankful smile, nodding in affirmation. “You will.”

Ted squeezes your shoulder once more, heading out behind the team. Beard nods in your direction, looking vaguely impressed in the way that only he can, before following suit. 

That leaves you and Roy in the locker room, and somehow, for the first time, you feel like you can completely relax. A shuddering breath leaves your lips, chest heaving down as you do so. You hear Roy huff when he moves to stand next to you. 

“Well,” he says. “That was one fucking way to do it.”

“I have no idea what I said,” you tell him. “I blacked out after I yelled at everyone to shut up.”

You get a huff of a laugh out of Roy for that one. “You did fine.” He doesn’t miss your dubious look. “I’m serious. You did well.”

“Yeah?” you ask.

Roy nods, expression turning a bit more earnest. “Yeah, Fourteen. You did well.”

The nickname makes a lump form in your throat, and it takes everything in you to ignore it. It’d been a while since you’d heard that one like this. It settles like cement in your stomach and you wish you could shake the feeling. He keeps his gaze on yours until you blink away, focusing on anything but him.

“Thanks,” you manage. Again, because he’s being nice, you suppose you can be too. “And, uh… thanks for pushing me. To do that, I mean.”

Roy nods, albeit a bit uncomfortably. “You needed it.”

“Yeah,” you say again. You hold his stare for one more second before returning his nod, the tension in the air easing within the moment. “Let’s go win a game, Coach.”

You don’t see the way Roy hides a smile as you turn to exit, the reflexive words of ‘not your coach’ on his tongue. But, he bites them back because, well… he is a coach. And so are you.

And as strange as all of this has been for the last week, it hasn't actually felt real to him until now. You’re here. You’re here and working with him and you’re not going anywhere.

The idea of it doesn’t make Roy panic as much as he thought it would.

(Though, unfortunately, that idea is what gets Roy to freak out. But he figures he’s got a bit of time to work that one out.)

LONDON OLYMPICS, EARLY AUGUST, 2012.

“You ever date a swimmer?”

It’s a question you pose to Roy seemingly out of the blue in the middle of one of your many footwork drills of the night. It was all he’d wanted to focus on for tonight’s training session, especially with your quarter-final game against New Zealand on Friday. While the idea of practicing again tomorrow was still up in the air, Roy had insisted on this practice being solely about fixing up what he viewed as your one weakness.

Roy looks up from your feet in confusion. “What?”

“Have you ever dated a swimmer?” you repeat, enunciating your words in a mildly obnoxious manner. “Perhaps a French person? But any swimmer will do.”

He’s still staring at you like you have three heads. “The fuck are you on about?”

You throw your hands up in a shrug. “I’m just asking. I find it hard to believe that amongst the slew of hook-ups I’ve read about, you haven’t slept with a swimmer.”

Those furrowed brows raise in interest at your statement. “Oh, you’ve read about those?”

Your eyes roll. “So not the point of what I was saying. Answer my question.”

“Foxtrot,” he says, watching you look at him in surprise. “Now shut the fuck up and finish your drills.”

“You really want to use our newly-established one Foxtrot of the hour on a simple topic like this?” you question.

Apparently, he doesn’t. “No, I haven’t dated a swimmer,” he finally tells you, exasperated. He glances down at your feet. “Stay on your toes. That fucking left foot of yours is always fucking flat.” Still staring at your feet and ignoring the way you roll your eyes, he inquires, “Why the fuck are you asking? And why do they have to be French?”

“I think I got asked out by one yesterday,” you say. Roy’s gaze meets yours with a speed that nearly makes you stumble in the middle of your drill. “But I can’t tell if he was being a weird little jerk or if he’s just French.”

While his lips twitch up at the last part of your statement, he seems more stuck on the first. “You think you were asked out?”

“Okay, it was strange,” you reply, sounding a tad defensive and slightly breathless. “He was kind of like, negging me? Which, you know, I’m now used to because I started hanging out with you.” Roy shoots you a look, but you carry on anyway. “But he was all, ‘oh yeah, you’re good. But not as good as the French team.’ And then he was like, ‘how about this, if France beats you guys, you have to buy me a drink. But if you win, I’ll buy you one.’ So, I’m kind of confused.” You stop your footwork as Roy’s stopwatch goes off and you take a moment to catch your breath. “And I’m honest enough to admit that I was only entertaining it because he was hot, but I truly can’t tell if he’s flirting with me and asking me out because he thinks we’ll win, or if he’s trying to get free drinks out of me because he thinks we’ll lose.”

“He was asking you out,” Roy says bluntly, continuing to look unimpressed. “He did a fucking horrendous job of it, but yeah. He’s interested.”

You nod, absorbing this for a second before throwing your hands up. “Why do guys do that?” 

“Do what?” he asks. “Ask girls out?”

Your expression quickly matches his. “Yes, exactly. I’d love for you to explain what happens when a man loves a woman, Roy,” you deadpan, biting back a smile as you see one grow on his lips. “No, dickhead. Why do guys think that… that’s the way to ask someone out? Like, I love a little banter as much as the next girl, but you gotta be good at it. And if you’re not good at it…” You shrug. “I don’t know. If you’re bad at flirting, you’re bad at flirting. That’s okay. That just means you’ve just gotta be direct with how you’re feeling.”

There’s a brief moment where Roy seems to consider this, but shakes his head soon after. “Some don’t know how.”

“Well, they should take classes from you or something,” you reply. “Because you’re the most direct guy I know.”

Roy’s scowl deepens. “Thanks.”

“That’s a compliment,” you say, pointing at him. His expression doesn’t change. “I’m serious. I appreciate it. You’re never afraid to tell me shit. It’s admirable.” A wry grin spreads across your face. “Flirting with you must be a three-sentence interaction.”

He casts his eyes up to the night sky. “Fuck’s sake, you’re on one tonight.”

“No, I’m curious. How do you do it?” you press with raised brows. “You told me when we met that if you were trying to ‘chat me up,’ I’d know it. So, c’mon. How does the magic happen?”

Though you were sure that it was impossible, Roy somehow looks even less impressed. “Foxtrot,” he all but snaps at you, making a low noise at the way you crush your lips together to hold back a laugh. “And I’m fucking serious about it this time. Using my one for the hour, or whatever the fuck.”

“Fine, fine,” you say, honoring your established rule with a surrender. “You don’t want to waste your succinct flirting charms on me, I get it. I won’t push you.”

Roy scoffs under his breath, fidgeting with his stopwatch. “They wouldn’t be.”

The words make you pause. “What?”

The stopwatch in his hand beeps as he finishes fiddling with the buttons. “You said they’d be wasted on you.” His eyes flick up to catch yours. “I can guarantee it wouldn’t be a waste.”

He speaks so casually that you almost don’t know what to do. You can’t tell what he means. Would his efforts not be a waste because he… likes you? That he wouldn’t even try if he wasn’t interested? Or is he just so confident in his abilities that he thinks he could get you that easily? That he could turn it on within minutes and make you rethink your entire, weird little friendship that you’ve started over this week? Because, to your knowledge, Roy hasn’t shown any sort of sign that he’s interested in you.

Or has he? Was Mel right again? Have you been reading this situation wrong? Was his bickering and negging his strange way of trying to flirt with you? Getting in your ear during drills? Texting you during games? Calling you an anomaly?

You nearly shake the thought out of your head. He’s Roy Kent. He’s quite literally known for being stoic, for his confrontational personality, and for his hotheaded tendencies. You’ve seen all of those traits since you started training together and nothing’s tipped you off that it could be anything more than friendly. Or whatever his version of friendly is.

You’ve also seen the kinds of women he dates. They’re actresses, singers, models, heiresses-- rich London elite. The shitty little one-bedroom you’ve got back home cries out in shame in the back of your mind. The Team USA Nike campaign that you were barely a part of for the World Cup taunts you. Actress, singer, model, and heiress you were not.

You’re not sure if he sees the look of confusion on your face, but you turn away before you can confirm anything. “Right,” you say, drawing the word out slightly. You kick the ball you’d almost forgotten about toward him. “Anyway. I’m bored of these drills. I need to do something else or I’ll go insane.”

Roy receives your pass, placing his foot on top of the ball with a quirked brow. There’s a hint of a smirk on his face as he attempts to gauge your reaction, momentarily throwing you off. “When have you ever had a say about what goes on in these sessions?”

“Well, never. But I think that says more about your coaching style than it does about anything else, despot.”

Roy rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time that night. He’s found that it’s something he tends to do frequently when you’re around. “I told you that footwork’s the only thing we’re working on tonight.”

“Yeah, but I’m bored,” you repeat. “Don’t you have like… I don’t know. Games we can play?”

“Games?” he parrots. He almost sounds offended. “What, are you five years old?”

You completely ignore his comment and gasp, pointing at him. “Let’s play knockout.”

“Again, I ask, are you fucking five years old?”

You look at him, pouting as you slouch over. “C’mon,” you practically whine. “It’s totally a footwork drill. But it’s fun. And it’s better than you just standing there menacingly with a stopwatch like you’re Frankie Dunn.”

Roy looks at you, then hesitates. “You’re a terrible fucking negotiator.”

That moment of hesitation lets you know that you’ve almost got him. While you may be a terrible negotiator, you’re something else: observant. The thing you’ve learned about Roy is that he physically can’t back down from a challenge. You know that there’s something ironic in that, but you figure that’s why you two have worked together so well so far.

So, your eyes narrow and you allow yourself to step forward to do just that; challenge him. “And you’ve got South Korea in a couple days. From what I saw last night, you need the practice.”

Roy’s head tilts, the beginnings of a dangerous smile twisting the corners of his lips. “Is that right?”

“I recall a lost possession toward the end of the first half that easily could have been avoided,” you say, sticking your leg out to kick the ball out from beneath his foot. The faux passive tone you’ve taken on nearly dissolves at the way his eyes darken. “For the amount that Chelsea's Finest goes on and on about footwork, you’d think he’d be better at it.”

Something between you two shifts the second those words leave your mouth. You’re not sure if it’s the way he’s looking at you (or continues to look at you, God, you don’t think he’s blinked yet) or if it’s your new proximity, but things feel completely different from when you started. The stare you’re holding is charged. It’s not just a challenge anymore— there’s something else there. It makes your mind whirl.

Roy’s voice is low when he asks, “What would you have done differently?”

It’s not what you were expecting, but it offers you a reason to look away from his piercing gaze, take a breath, and shrug. “I don’t know,” you say. “Crossed my mark up a little. Probably would have sent it up the field. Your striker was practically begging to be passed to.” You glance back up at him, with a smile that borders on teasing. “Definitely wouldn’t have hit my mark as hard as you did when you lost the ball.”

“He fucking dove,” is his response, sounding only slightly annoyed. But, when he sees you chuckle, he comes back to, “Who was open upfield?”

His question is genuine, like he’s actually interested in hearing your answer. “I don’t know. Didn’t recognize him. I think he’s a rookie,” you reply with yet another shrug. “But if you led him a little bit, he would have been open.” Roy’s brow draws as he hums something affirmative. When you realize he’s actually thinking about the play, considering what you’re saying, you can’t help but throw in, “Plays like that happen when you’re thinking ahead, Coach.”

Your tone has Roy glaring down at you, and you can feel the look sear through you. “And the goal that happened immediately after that was all instinct.”

“Maybe,” you say noncomittally. "But it could have been better if you all had thought ahead."

That tension between you shifts again, but this time, it’s in a way you’re really not expecting. When Roy looks back at you, there’s something disbelieving in his eyes. As if he can’t figure you out. But it’s also something almost… fond. “You really watched the game last night.”

It’s a question that comes out sounding like a statement. You’re not sure why he looks so surprised or why the emotional state of this conversation keeps going back and forth, but you say the only thing you can think to: the truth.

“You watch mine,” you reply as if the answer was obvious. “And believe it or not, I like watching you play.” Roy blinks at you, obviously not expecting that. For good measure, you add, “Being on the field actually gives you a reason to be a dick, so.”

That same searing stare returns, and it fixates on you long enough to make you itch. You don’t break it, but you rock back and forth on your heels, thinking for a second, maybe you said the wrong thing. Maybe it was a little too real, or a little too friendly.

But before you can sweat it too much, Roy dips his head. “Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. “Fucking hell, fine. One round of knockout, you fucking child.”

“Seriously?” you ask, not even trying to hide the excitement in your voice.

“Yeah. Get the ball. Let’s go.”

You beam at him, running to go grab the ball you’d kicked away from him previously. When you turn back, you find he’s moving to get his own. “If I’d known you’re this easily swayed by flattery, I would have started being way nicer to you earlier.”

“Don’t push it,” he calls out. Despite the fact he’s not facing you, you can picture the look on his face. “And don’t be fucking nice to me. I want to see you pissed.”

“But we’re playing knockout,” you say, as he turns and kicks his football in your direction. “How can I be pissed?”

Roy smirks. “I’m sure I can find a way.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can too. But why do you want me pissed?”

“Because you play better when you’ve got something to prove,” he tells you. Then, he shrugs. “That, and… well, I wasn’t lying.” 

You scrunch your brow. “About what?”

“It’s a good fucking look on you,” he says, meeting your gaze once more. “I might have to piss you off more often.”

Oh. Right, right, right. Totally. Ignoring the way that that makes your cheeks go warm, you reply, “Well, like you said. I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

That’s when Roy smiles at you. It’s accompanied by a chuckle and while it’s not a full grin, it’s something warm and mildly sweet. However, for the first time, you’re stuck by how good he looks. You’d always thought he was good-looking, but you’d never been attracted to him. But for some reason, right here, right now, some switch has flipped. 

The realization churns your stomach and makes you physically look away from him. “C’mon, let’s play,” you say, hoping your forced nonchalance hides anything you’re currently feeling. “I like watching you lose.”

Roy huffs, sounding just a bit incredulous. “Whatever you say.”

PRESENT DAY, MID-AUGUST, 2023.

You walk away from the Chelsea pitch with a tie. And frankly, you’ll take it.

You’ve never seen a team more excited about a draw. They’re rowdy as they gather back into the locker room, and you feel a hint of a grin rising as you watch them from the hall. The petty part of your brain again has you comparing what this would have been like if you still worked at West Ham. Shelley would have berated your players (and likely his coaching staff) about how pathetic a draw was. West Ham was the superior team of the league, after all. Their record had to show for it.

It’s then that a sudden realization comes crashing down on you. Fuck. West Ham. PR. You have to do press with Ted.

As if he could hear his name rattling around in your mind, your head coach steps in beside you. He nudges your elbow with his. “You alright there, Ace?”

You nod quickly, like that’ll hide the panic you know is written across your face. “Yeah, Coach. I’m alright.”

When he folds his hands behind his back, you know he isn’t buying what you’re selling. “You still okay to do this with me?” he asks, motioning to the press room down the hall.

“I’ve done press before,” you reply, though your mildly defensive tone tells him that you’re not certain if you’re assuring him or yourself. At the way he dips his head, you sigh in defeat. “I’ve done this before. Just… never at this level. Or for these reasons.”

Ted nods in understanding. “You know you don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

“I know,” you say, because you do.

“And I’ll be there beside you the whole time. I can take over whenever you need me to.” He nudges you again. “I ain’t too bad with all this press stuff. And I’m more than happy to make a fool of myself if it gets too tough. Really give ‘em something to talk about.”

That gets you to look up at him wearily. “I’m scared to know what that means.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t think we’ll get there,” he says, earning a chuckle from you in response. A beat passes before he looks at you again. “You ready?”

A long, sharp sigh exits your body. When you inhale, you turn back to him. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he says, nodding toward the room. “Let’s go quiet ‘em all down.”

You surprise yourself with an involuntary smile, but it gives you the confidence to follow him.

The press room is abuzz as you approach it and they get even more lively when you enter. You can hear your name being said from every direction and the chaos makes your hands shake. You’ve done this before, you tell yourself. You used to be good at these. It’s part of being a coach. You wanted this. You know how to do this.

Ted, who’s been leading the way, steps out to allow you to go up the stairs first. You clasp your hands together as you walk up, praying that this isn’t the moment your feet choose to fail you and make you trip. Luckily, you avoid disaster and make your way to the further of the two chairs on stage.

You look out into the sea of reporters, eye each of the cameras, and continue to play with your fingers as if it’s the answer to calming your nerves. You don’t realize things have gotten started until you hear Ted’s voice.

“Alright, alright, alright,” he greets the room, and you can’t help but envy how easily the words come out. “Afternoon everyone. What have you got for us today?” All hands in the room immediately go up, each reporter’s eyes shifting from you, to Ted, then back to you. Everyone’s got the same question on their minds. Everyone, except the guy that Ted picks, apparently. “Yeah, Alec. What do you got for us?”

Alec The Reporter stands. “How are we feeling about starting the season with a draw, Coach?”

Thank you, Alec, for starting with the easy question. “Well, I mean, I think we both would have liked a win,” Ted replies, looking over at you. You try your best at a smile and nod along. “But we’re proud of our boys. They turned it around after that first half, due mostly to the insight of our new coach over here. So, I think we’re feeling good about this start.” 

Alec sits down, satisfied with the answer. Before Ted calls on the next reporter, he glances at you. You nod once. You’re ready.

Ted points at a blonde woman toward the back of the room. “Sarah, how are we doing?”

Sarah The Reporter stands now. “Very well, thank you.” Her attention is immediately on you. “Coach,” she says, addressing you. “How was your first game with Richmond?”

Easing it into it, are we? You clear your throat and keep that smile plastered on your face. You can practically hear Roy yelling from the locker room for you to loosen up. “Not echo Coach Lasso, but I’m feeling good. Definitely would have liked a win, but it’s not a loss.”

You don’t think you could have given a more generic, neutral answer if you had tried. Maybe simply answering with ‘good’ would have been worse, but you doubt it. Sarah’s not done with you. “I was more referencing the dynamics of the team in your first game. The culture, if you will.”

Then come right out and say that then, don’t be weird and coy. You fight back a scowl and in doing so, your grin cracks slightly. The phrasing isn’t lost on you. Dynamics. Culture. They’re all words Rupert used just days ago. Stick to the script. Talking points. Don’t let them bait you.

“The Richmond culture’s definitely different,” you reply, perhaps putting too much emphasis on the word. To save yourself, you add, “But I think that’s to be expected when coaching Men's sports. Bit of a different world over here.” You offer a shrug, hoping your smile returns to what it was. “I’m very grateful to the Richmond team and staff for welcoming me with open arms into the warm environment they’ve created.”

You hope Rebecca and Keeley are somewhere cheering you on. That was sweet, neutral, and non-confrontational. Everything you wanted to be. Everything you should be in this line of questioning.

Ted nods at Sarah, cueing her to sit down. He points to a reporter in the front. “Marcus, yeah.”

It’s Marcus The Reporter’s turn to stand. And he comes out swinging. “No use in beating around the bush,” he says, eyes on you. “Do you have any response to Rupert Mannion’s comments about you and your tenure at West Ham?”

This is it. You feel Ted’s foot nudge yours encouragingly as you nod at Marcus and take a breath. Just as rehearsed. You got this.

“There’s not much to say that Mr. Mannion hasn’t already,” you answer slowly. “Unfortunately, some things like that just don’t work out. I too was not happy with the note that we ended on and wish it could have worked out our differences. But that’s all it was. Differences. There aren’t any hard feelings or any sort of bad blood between us. West Ham is a great team that I was honored to be a part of for the time that I was allowed. I’m sure they’ll have a fantastic season and can’t wait to meet them in a couple of weeks.”

You nearly let out a sigh of relief when you finish, thankful that that’s fucking done. The lies don’t sit right on your tongue and feel as though they’re rotting your teeth, but you don’t care. You got it all out, didn’t slip up or trip up, and can hopefully put this to bed.

However, unfortunately for you, Marcus doesn’t seem to be satisfied. Because he’s got a follow-up question you’re not at all prepared for. “And what of Tom MacDonald’s recent comments?”

The world stops. It comes to a complete, emergency-braked fucking halt and you feel as though someone’s punched you in the stomach. You feel like you’ve been ambushed, but you know that if you could have been prepared for this, you would have been. This must have happened today. Perhaps, even moments before this. You can feel Ted’s eyes on the side of your face almost immediately.

He… made comments? He spoke about you?

You can feel your throat constricting, but manage to get a couple words out in a relatively neutral-sounding tone. “I’m not sure what comments you’re referring to.”

“In his post-game interview about a half-hour ago,” Marcus says, glancing down at his notes to read. “He said, quote, ‘My best wishes are to Miss USA and her new Richmond team. I hope she finds her place with them, as I don’t think she ever really found hers here. But, you know, I guess you can’t really know until you really try to get to know the lads in the locker room and in the Coaches' Offices, huh?’”

Your breath’s been stolen from you. You can feel your nose and eyes start to burn as you stare Marcus down, steeling the look on your face. Refusing to show any type of emotion or reaction to that, you gather yourself.

What a fucking prick. What an absolute, horrendously evil, fucking asshole he is. You can imagine the look on his face when he said that. The smarmy fucking smile that accompanied it, the casual nonchalance of which he spewed that last part out with. You want to burn him. You want to destroy his life, his career, everything. The audacity he was to even bring up the locker room and the… 

You feel physically ill. You could throw up on the spot, but there’s something in you that’s keeping you from doing so. As the silence in the room festers, you feel Ted’s foot tap against yours again.

Do you need me to make a fool of myself? His eyes ask as you meet them. 

Quickly, you shake your head. You can do this. You’ve done this before. You used to be good at these. Don’t let him get to you like this. Don’t let either of them win.

You know you won’t come forward with what happened. You can’t. But you weren’t going to sit on your hands anymore. You wouldn’t be neutral anymore. Neutral. That was the word of the day. 

Fuck the word.

You allow another moment of silence to pass before you blink and refocus on Marcus. “I…” you begin, collecting yourself. You can feel the anger rise within you and you know it shows in your eyes. You’ve never been able to hide that. “I do, actually.”

(Somewhere in the Chelsea facilities, Rebecca Walton and Roy Kent are glued to different TVs broadcasting your conference. Rebecca’s unsure if she should be praying that you’ll tear West Ham apart or writhing in fear at the idea of what’s about to come out of your mouth. Roy, however, clocked the look in your eye immediately and can’t remember the last time he’s smiled this big.)

“As I said previously,” you start, straightening your back with a new, harder, more confident tone, “I’m also disappointed with the way that things ended between me and my former team. I also wish things could have been different and that I could have found my place. However, Mr. Mannion was correct when he assumed that I experienced a bit of a culture shock when I joined the club. However, I can’t blame anyone or anything for that but my own expectations for what I assumed AFC Football was going to be.” You offer a smaller, slightly more pleasant grin to the reporters and cameras. “But I can confirm that Richmond has met all of those aforementioned expectations within my first week. I’m excited to continue my journey with them and can’t wait to see where we go this season.”

Hands immediately fly up in response to your answer, follow-up questions galore. You glance over at Ted for a moment (who looks like he’s unsure whether he should be proud of you or sweating this), then suddenly find that a group of people are being ushered into the press room. You eyes lock with the man in the center, and he stares right back at you with an intensity you’re not sure you’ve seen before. Zava.

“And on that note,” you say, quieting everyone down. Relief washes over you now that you have an excuse to leave the room, “I think we’ve run out of time for questions concerning me. We’ve got something much more important to cover.”

When they all see that you’re referring to Zava, the room erupts into even more chaos. You couldn’t possibly be out of your chair faster, ready to make a break for it, and run to the bathroom. Ted’s on your heels as you exit, running in front of you to stop you as you make it to the hall.

“Woah, woah, slow down there,” he says with a soft laugh. “Runnin’ out of there faster than Tom Cruise in— well, any of the Mission Impossible movies, I guess.” You don’t meet his eye, or offer him any sort of pity laugh, something he catches immediately. “You alright, Ace?”

“Yeah,” you say shortly. God, you don’t want to cry in front of your head coach. “I’m good.”

He sees right through you. God, why is everyone at Richmond so fucking in touch with other people’s emotions? “Is there something you want to talk about? Maybe something I should know about—”

“No.” It’s a conversation ender and Ted steps back from you. You squeeze your eyes shut, wanting nothing less than to deal with this right now. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—” With a deep breath, you move away from him. “I’m fine. Really. Thank you for your help in there, Coach. And thank you for a wonderful first week.”

You even don’t hear what Ted has to say in response to that before you’re beelining for the bathroom and locking yourself in a stall, finally allowing the tears that had been welling in your eyes to fall.

Zava announces that he'll be joining Richmond and thirty minutes, later you find yourself in a 'Coaches Group Chat' reading a message from Ted.

After you'd collected yourself, you had the full intention of pretending like everything was normal. You refused to let him win or get the better of your emotions, or fucking... whatever. So, the second you received that text, you immediately signed yourself up for whatever Ted wanted you to do. 

Coaches’ Celebration at Crown and Anchor, the text from him reads. Be there or be square.

However, apparently, you’re the only one who’s concerned with being square, because none of your fellow coaches have shown up yet. There’s a group of three guys sitting at a table in the corner, yelling things at the screen every few minutes. You see a couple who are throwing darts at the end of the bar. There’s a lone man with a pint at the hightop by the door, texting away on his phone. But Ted, Beard, and Roy were nowhere to be found.

The bartop’s nearly abandoned, so you choose a seat in the middle, making sure to reserve three extras. When the woman behind the bar turns to serve you, you can tell she immediately recognizes you, and the smile she offers is warm.

“Good showing today,” she tells you. Then, she shrugs. “Would have liked a win.”

A surprised laugh escapes you. “You and me both.”

“What’ll it be?” she asks.

You hesitate for a moment, glancing at the door. “Um, I’m meeting people here. I—”

“Oh. Right. That’s tonight,” she says, with a knowing look in her eye. Your brow scrunches. “When he gets here, call me over. My name’s Mae.”

Before you can question that cryptic fucking sentence or correct her and let her know that you’re meeting people (plural) here, the pub door opens. Roy walks through, nodding once he sees you.

He grabs the stool to your left. “Nice press conference today,” he says in greeting, taking a seat. 

The teasing note in his voice makes you scowl. “Shut up. I was nervous.”

“I liked the part where you called Rupert a lying prick who needs to keep his mouth shut.”

“That’s not even close to what I said.”

Roy chuckles. “You might as well have. That was a media-trained ‘fuck you’ if I’ve ever seen one.”

God, you could really use that drink now. “I wasn’t even trained for that one,” you admit sheepishly. ”I literally don’t know where that came from. I was like, possessed by some bitchy politician or something.”

“She’d have my vote.”

“She shouldn’t. She’d start a global thermonuclear war because someone implied that she was difficult to work with.” You make a face at Roy as he chuckles. “Besides, I don’t think a Roy Kent endorsement would do her any favors.”

“Probably not,” Roy agrees. “Only person I’ve ever endorsed was you, and look where we are.”

You roll your eyes, casting them to the door. “Oh, my God. Okay, where are Ted and Beard?”

“They’re not coming,” a voice says as they round the bar. Mae stands before you once more, wiping her hands on a rag. 

You and Roy stare at her. “What do you mean they’re not coming?” you ask.

“I mean, they’re not coming,” Mae repeats matter-of-factly. Confusion takes over your expression. “They lured you two here and I’ve been given a ridiculous amount of money to keep you here until the two of you…” She glances down at her phone. “Fix your issues and…” Mae squints at the text she’s reading from. “...’Have whatever conversation you’ve been tiptoeing around.’”

By the time Mae looks up, you’re gaping at her and Roy’s already out of his seat. 

“You’re kidding,” you say faintly, praying that she’ll answer yes.

You have no such luck. “I’m not.”

“Fuck this,” Roy mutters. “I’m not getting fucking trapped at a fucking pub with you on a Sunday night because our stupid fucking team doesn’t understand fucking boundaries.”

You throw a thumb over your shoulder in the direction he’s looking to leave. “I second that. No offense, you seem lovely,” you tell Mae, “but I’m not staying here.”

“Unfortunately, you are,” Mae responds, nodding to the man who was sitting alone at the hightop, who stands up to block the door. He’s got to be the tallest man you’ve ever seen, and he’s built. You have no idea where he came from, but the sight of him alone gives you pause.

Roy’s on that same wavelength because he stops in his tracks, glaring at him. “This is fucking insane,” he says, looking back over to Mae.

“I agree,” she says, then nods to the window. “Take it up with them.”

You follow Mae’s line of sight to see Ted and Beard, sharing a pair of binoculars to stare at the two of you When they realize they’ve been spotted, Beard slowly removes the binoculars from his eyes and glares at Roy. Ted at least offers the dignity of a pity wave.

“Whatever they’re paying you,” you begin. “Roy will double it.”

Roy narrows his eyes. “I will?”

“Yes. You will.”

“Why the fuck am I the one paying? We’ve got the same fucking salary now.”

You whip around in your seat to glare at him, exasperation in your voice as you say, “Oh, my God, you played in the AFC for twenty years. I was in women’s sports for thirteen. We’re not even close to the same tax bracket.”

Roy considers this for approximately two seconds, then turns back to Mae. “Whatever they’re paying you, I’ll fucking double it.”

Mae shrugs, clearly not budging. “I’m a woman of my word, Mr. Kent,” she replies. Then, she motions to the clock on the wall. “I’ve promised to keep you here for at least an hour. What you do after that is none of my business.”

As Mae walks away, you stare at the bartop, truly unable to accept that this is happening in your present reality. There’s no way you’re doing this— no way that Roy’s doing this. This is fucking ridiculous, it’s wildly unprofessional, and—

—And Roy’s sitting down. You slowly raise your head to watch him pull out the barstool, slump into the chair, and put his face in his hands as if he can’t believe he’s actually going through with this. 

He’s giving in. He’s not putting up a fight. He’s obeying the wishes of his friends, he’s resigned to the cause, he’s… he’s putting himself in a position to have the conversation you two have been dreading since you began at Richmond.

Oh, fuck. Fuck. This is really happening.

You glance back over to the window where Beard stands, and he lowers his binoculars when he sees you looking. He sends you a simple, affirmative nod, raising the device to his eyes once more. 

“I assume you’ll be needing those drinks now,” Mae says from the end of the bar, two pint glasses in her hands.

You don’t think you or Roy have ever said ‘yes’ faster.

TAGLIST: @dark-academia-slut @tegan8314, @csigeoblue, @confessionsofatotaldramaslut, @thatonedogwithablog, @hawkeyeharrington, @jamieolivia27, @seatbacksandtraytables, @luvr-bunnyy

[dreadsuitsamus]

If possible, can I ask for prompt 52 with Broly? SFW preferably, please.

#52- "Don't be afraid, it's just me."

author's note: i wanted to do something different than the usual broly works i've done lol also the end of this has me thinking about a potential star-crossed lovers through all of eternity fic... 🤔

pairing: broly x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, college!au

A hand is clutched to your chest as you work through the crowded party, eager for some reprieve. You can't stop your housemates from throwing parties, and to an extent you like attending them. You're in college! This is what college people do! It's… Supposed to be fun?

But if one more person touches your ass, you're gonna start throwing punches.

The music pounds at your temples like a drum, a migraine starting to form as you storm down the crowded stairs, pushing a hand to the chest of a random person approaching you. "Not the time, man!" You're already one foot out the door by the time you hear their insulting call of "bitch", but the fresh air settles your nerves enough to just let it go.

It's dark and cold out, cars piled up and down both sides of the street. You just had to be roommates with Bulma Briefs… "I'm dropping out." You grumble to yourself, kicking a rock aside while walking to the backyard; it's cold, so the party is almost entirely inside, leaving you peacefully alone. There's an old swing set out back, so that's where you perch your rear as your thoughts start to collect.

Finals are on the way… Your parents have been bugging you about visiting home… There's a bunch of drunk strangers in your home… You have to work in the morning…

"I'm just gonna become a stripper, fuck it."

"You'd be the most intelligent stripper in the world." You jump at the sudden voice, turning to see none other than your favorite man in the world.

Broly holds his hands out innocently, his features bashful under the lights of the tiki torches Bulma just had to have. "Don't be afraid, it's just me."

You smile the closer he gets, meeting his lips as he leans down for a quick kiss. "Hey handsome. How was work?"

"Long." Broly's large jacket is over your shoulders before he settles on the ground before you, gently pushing at your legs so you can swing a little. "How's the party?"

"I think I'm gonna crash at your place tonight."

Your boyfriend nods. "So it's just like any other Briefs party."

"She and Vegeta just broke up again, so it's even worse." You shake your head. They break up so often that you can't wrap your head around it; you've been with Broly since high school and can't even imagine having such a strenuous relationship.

Broly just shakes his head, continuing to lightly push your swing. You snuggle into his worn jacket, the green of it slightly faded from the once nearly neon color it used to be. His smile is so soft, so pure as he looks up at you, his hair still in the braid he ties for his long shifts at the shipyard. "My boss approved my time off, so we can go on that trip."

"Yay." You coo, blowing him a kiss. "I'm excited to go to Hershey with you."

"Are you excited for the chocolate or for the time with me?" He teases, stopping the momentum of your swing, holding your calves in his large hands, massaging gently. He's worked a long, twelve hour shift, and here he is massaging you.

What an amazing man.

You scoff, flicking his nose gently. "Why can't it be both, hm?"

Broly's nose scrunches and he laughs softly. His shining eyes match his small, beautiful smile as the flickering embers give a beautiful glow to his tanned skin. He's gorgeous and all yours.

"I guess I can settle with that." He presses a kiss to your knee. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah, let me get my work clothes and let Bulma know I'm leaving."

After a quick "yes ma'am", Broly's up on his feet and walking you through the house, his hand squeezing yours tightly as the loud noises and bumping bodies already start irking his nerves. Your room, which has thankfully been locked to prevent strangers fucking in your bed and stealing your things, is a quick safe haven for his anger to relax.

"You gonna finish up your last year staying with Bulma?" He asks absentmindedly, fiddling with a Rubik's Cube you'll never solve.

"Honestly, as much as I love her, I don't think so. I want peace for my last year. My semester ends in a few weeks, so I'll see if either the coffee shop or the bar will give me some more hours." You explain while pulling your uniform together, dreading the return to the barista station in the morning. "Hopefully I can find a cheap apartment."

"I don't wanna be pushy…" Broly pauses, considering his words carefully. "But… Why don't you just move in with me?"

"You… Think we're ready for that?" It's never come up even once in conversation; your relationship has always been slow and steady, very carefully handled and treated with the utmost caution and respect for one another as individuals.

"I mean… Yeah. I really do." He shrugs. "We've been together a long time now, you're there half the time anyway… But if you don't want to-"

"I want to." You grin, coming to slink your arms around his waist. "It'll make a lot of things easier for us."

Broly's large, calloused hands rest on your hips. "I'll get to see you more." He says gently, his smile enough to drown out the sounds of the party from your ears.

"Definitely the best perk." You get on your tiptoes, lips out and waiting for a smooch, Broly's impressive height only ever a hindrance in this one scenario.

"I stiiiiink." He teases, leaning down to meet your pouty, perfect lips.

"Don't care." You murmur against him, humming through the sweet, lengthy kiss. He tastes like mangoes, his favorite snack. Broly groans, the deep vibration through his chest buzzing wonderfully against your hands that have started to wander that lovely, thick, muscled body.

The door bursts open, a drunken sophomore stumbling in. Broly huffs and breaks away from you, glaring at the intruder with a tightly set jaw and angry eyes. "Get out."

You bite your lip, admittedly loving his intimidating demeanor more than you should, given his history with his anger management. But the way that drunk scrambles out, damn near pissing himself before slamming the door shut again, you just can't help but admire your boyfriend even more. Broly takes a calming breath and you take the opportunity to finish collecting your things.

Bulma is luckily by the door, smoking with a gaggle of hopeless men around her, and she waves you and Broly goodbye as you leave the house. You smile when your boyfriend repositions you to the inside of the sidewalk, his arm protectively around your shoulders as you walk into the night. His car is parked nearly two blocks away and your eyes widen with every car you pass.

"It sure doesn't feel like there's that many people at Bulma's…"

"I'm sure they're either doping or fucking in rooms you don't even go in." He shakes his head and finally, you reach his SUV. A gentleman as always, he opens the door for you and helps you inside the lifted vehicle, having to have special accomodations for his size.

Broly holds your hand during the ride, his apartment building about a twenty minute drive from the neighborhood Bulma's house is in. He carries your bag inside and pulls his thick, dark hair out of his braid. His hair, waved from the braid, fans out across his shoulders and back. "I don't wanna wash my hair." He whines and rubs at his forehead, tension slowly relieving itself.

"Lemme smell." You stand on the coffee table, catching a quick whiff of his dark locks. "Still fresh; smells like strawberries."

"Oh thank god." Broly mutters, tying his hair in a quick top knot and disappearing into the bathroom.

You prepare a quick meal for him and plate it on the small dining table, waiting politely for him to finish getting cleaned up before digging into the pancakes. When he emerges, he's fresh and clean, hair loose once again and looking snugly in a pair of sweats and a tight, impossibly tight black t-shirt.

"Thank you, baby." He murmurs, hiding a yawn into the crook of his elbow. Dinner is eaten in companionable silence, his socked foot occasionally bumping yours while he feigns innocence. Several giggles are hidden in your hand every time, and after dinner you cuddle together on the couch.

Broly's got a six year streak in of never letting your ass touch a couch cushion while he's near, and tonight is no exception as he yanks you down on top of his lap to smother your face in sweet kisses. You laugh through his flurry attack, your fingers soon tangled in those thick locks. His lips swoop in on yours, capping them with a full, heated kiss.

"Can't wait for you to move in…" He murmurs through the kiss.

"Me neither…" Your reply is quickly drowned out by another passionate kiss before Broly settles his face into your neck, holding you in a near bone-crushing hug.

"I love you." He murmurs. He's ready to move you out of Bulma's place already; as soon as you say the word, he'll be there with cardboard boxes and his muscles ready to go.

"I love you too." You whisper, playing with his hair. Broly's kitten-like against you, purring softly at the touches your nails leave on his scalp. It amazes you daily that he's all yours and has dedicated himself to you entirely; he moved out of state with you after high school, getting a grueling job just to afford staying nearby during your time at college. "So much. I see everything you do, all the sacrifices you've ever made. I love you, Broly. You are my world."

"I'd do it all again, you know." He murmurs. "This life or the next."

[emotionallychargedtowel]

Kiyoi and Anna

I haven't posted anything substantive about Eternal yet as I'm trying to finish a three-part thing on the series that I've been writing off and on in little bits since season 2 ended. It should be ready to post soon and that'll clear the way for some more Eternal discussion. I'm also still processing the movie a bit. But I have a thought I wanted to share in the meantime.

One of the biggest things I've been mulling over from Eternal (and to a lesser extent season 2, but it's a lot more developed in the movie) is Kiyoi's friendship with Anna. It's easy to overlook this aspect of it, but I think it's one of the most significant bits of character development in the film.

I've given a good bit of thought to what it would be like to be a closeted high school student at various points in my life. (I was too unaware of my own sexuality at that age to be closeted myself.) But it was only after watching this series that I thought about how much more difficult it would be in certain ways to be a closeted high school boy who gets a ton of attention from girls. Kiyoi clearly has some specific strategies he uses to survive this situation. During the part of s1 where he and Hira are in high school, whenever we see Kiyoi talk to a girl or when someone talks to him about a girl, he mostly just goes into gray rock mode. It's easy to imagine what sort of learning experiences he must have had on the way to developing these strategies. There must have been instances of drama, unwanted advances, and close calls where peers could have figured out about his sexuality. The best method of avoiding this he has found is just to engage as little as possible. Being closeted undoubtedly made it difficult, if not impossible, to have authentic friendships in general at that age. But it completely ruled out having even the most shallow of friendships with girls. It's possible that Kiyoi has never had a friendship this meaningful at all before. His shallow relationships with Shirota and his crew in high school seem likely to have been the norm for him throughout his formative years. His relationship with Hira was hardly a friendship. After high school, he didn't bond with his theater group much. He did connect with Iruma a little bit, but it's not like they were close. How could they be when Iruma was always hitting on Kiyoi despite his clear lack of interest? From what we've seen in the series, it seems possible, if not likely, that Anna is Kiyoi's first real friend.

So it's really remarkable that he has been able to form this friendship. It's exciting to see him having an authentic friendship at all, but a female friend he's out to and can actually confide in about things? Who he offers support to in return? That's huge. Anna also gently pushes back on some of the more obviously skewed things he says and holds up a mirror to his thought process in other ways. That's a sign this friendship has the potential to help Kiyoi grow as a person. He provides her some meaningful perspective when she's struggling, too. Circumstances are a big part of this change. Being out of school and in a professional world that's at least relatively accepting of LGBTQ+ folks both really help. But in addition to being supportive of personal growth, this friendship is a sign of how far Kiyoi has already grown.

[dutchforstrangers]

I like you in a skirt - Taiora drabble

For @taioraweek 2023 Day 2

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

A/N: Here’s a drabble of a concept that has been sitting in my WIPs for what feels like ages. I’m exaggerating obviously, but it’s an idea that has stuck and now’s finally the time to give it a stage. Non-established Taiora, taking place in my "About all the times" universe [x][x].

Loosely ‘based’ on this fanart of Sora holding her school uniform skirt (and looking absolutely disgusted by it).

Summary: Middle school is approaching which means: school uniforms for both Taichi and Sora. Taichi has a hard time imagining Sora -the tomboy- in a skirt, but when he actually sees her...

Day 2: School days | Characters: Taichi Yagami (POV), Sora Takenouchi, Koushiro Izumi | Genre: Friendship | Rating: K | Wordcount: 732

“A skirt…”

“Don’t tell me you aren’t aware of the fact that girls do indeed have to wear skirts in middle and high school, Taichi-san.”

“Yeah, I’m aware. It’s just… I don’t think I can imagine her in a skirt.”

Taichi stared at the closed curtains of the fitting room their female friend was currently in. He had to admit that to some extent, he had liked the idea of seeing girls wearing skirts on a daily base soon. But after seeing the horror in her eyes, holding up the to her hideous thing, he was a tad more careful with what he liked.

He repeated her words in his mind like a broken record playing.

“I do not want to wear a skirt.”

The image of her holding up the thing between only her thumbs and index fingers, the other six fingers keeping a distance to the fabric as if it was the filthiest thing she had ever seen and held, remained stuck with those repeating words.

Sorry was what he felt for her. In fact, Taichi was so sorry he had been trying to come up with what he thought were solutions. To make her laugh, like he always tried. He should’ve known though he would never succeed, like he had not done yet.

“Maybe you can ask to wear trousers instead?”

“And being the only girl wearing trousers? No.”

“Or you could wear the trousers over the skirt.”

“That still makes me the only girl wearing trousers. It’s also one of the stupidest things I’ve ever heard. So no.”

“Okay, theeeeen… the only option left is burning it and go to school in your underpants!”

“Ugh, I can’t with you!”

He would only make her more mad and annoyed with him.

Koushiro had looked at him like he had seen him looking at him a thousand times, scolding him for being stupid with only his eyes, shaking head and sighs.

In a way, however, Taichi had succeeded. Simply because giving her those rather crazy options made her step into the fitting room and close the curtains shut behind her. And she had not entered it solely to be rid of him, but probably to try the skirt on anyway.

She was stubborn like that and when it came to Taichi, she needed to prove her right of the skirt being awful. Little did she know he was never going to give her that right, even when he had a hard time imagining her wearing one.

She had been in his soccer team for as long as he could remember, always playing alongside the boys. Besides, she wasn’t just playing games as she was one of the few players who could actually score a goal. People would always describe her as the tomboy, the girl who was wearing the pants in every sense and meaning. But she wasn’t as tough as she looked most of the time, under that hard exterior hidden a gentle and caring young woman.

Taichi recalled the times in the Digital World where she had a hard time accepting her Crest. In the end, there was nothing to accept, all she needed was the strength to look at herself in the mirror and see the girl she already but unknowingly was. 

The skirt contained the same symbolism. It was the one thing she needed to finally see what feminine potential she was hiding inside.

And underneath those jeans she was always wearing.

He watched the curtain slowly open, revealing his friend dressed in the green colored school uniform. His eyes boldly scanned her from top to bottom, stopping at her skirt for a bit longer, his eyes unable to deny the long legs it was exposing.

A blush started to form on his cheeks.

“What do you guys think?” She asked sounding a bit insecure, her comfortable level low, but not as low and annoyed as it was before.

“I think it suits you better than how you pictured it, Sora-san,” Koushiro answered politely with a warm smile. It made Sora smile back shyly.

“I—erm…” Taichi started, trying to find the right words to say. Pity he could only come up with more stupid-sounding ones.

“I like you in a skirt.”

“Baka,” Sora said, unable to hide the red shade quickly appearing, fumbling with the skirt she was wearing like your typical shy school girl.

[rabbitindisguise]

Ran into this interesting video on how racism has shaped western music theory

Comparing and contrasting with racism in English literature education in America under the cut

In English American Literature™ classes we talked a lot about how race, class, and gender* influence historical records and literary analysis as well as the dismissal of genre writing like sci fi and fantasy (and not even in my women's studies classes? Literally in high school? Lmao). So given I was already primed to suss out that there is no "universal" anything when it comes to culture, I was honestly really surprised that "music is the universal language" didn't ping me as Potentially Big Racism. The only other thing I've heard that about was math I'm highschool, which makes me want to look into how math might not be a universal language either (I already recently learned that braille is an alphanumeric type system dependant on English and the Indo-Arabic number system**, so it's definitely not a universal language either, nevermind ASL which has american right there in the acronym). Computer language problems be English centric are well known as far as I know though- but I only found that out in college.

Jazz is something they talk about quite a bit, which is totally justified, but the lack of Chinese music theory, Japanese music theory, African music theory, and even Irish music theory and Scottish music theory, is uhhhhhhhhh utterly bizarre to me now. Imagine taking English class and only learning German and no other contributing linguistic roots, and only learning it in German.

I think the YouTuber doesn't realize the extent of the abnormality there because he probably doesn't know a lot about literary analysis, but when it comes to cultural mixing in America only talking about one contributing culture is erasure of even other white cultures- which is shocking from an inclusivity standpoint, a kind of regression that puts us way back in the 1800s when Irish people were being discriminated against as immigrants (though that makes sense considering that's when this sort of thinking was being developed).

I think in particular the thing that's bothering me is the antisemitism of the German supremacy that's mentioned. I feel like there's a lot of prejudice with English that isn't purely rooted in antisemitism, but I feel like this is one of the few cases where antisemitism is a disproportionately large fraction of the problem. Excluding Jazz is racist as hell especially in America, evangelicalizing Germany specifically is racism that whole industries rarely participate in as a rule (literature often focuses on the works of transcendentalists and Shakespeare and art on the Renaissance- neither of which is german).

I dunno maybe everyone already knows this and I'm very late to the party though, considering I don't know anything about music besides middle school classes (though I don't remember English classes being quite as bad even then) and I've never taken a math or music class in college. But I have heard multiple people studying those majors repeat these things, and these were people in their senior year with this as their major, so I dunno what's up with that.

*I had to take other classes for intersectional approaches and ones that covered other dimensions of oppression so it wouldn't be fair to say that they talked about other things even if I did learn about them in other contexts, so basically I'm not forgetting the other systems of oppression they just don't apply here

**I looked it up to make sure it was the Arabic number system that I was thinking of and found out that it also had Hindu influences which >:/ more things I didn't know. I wish I had more opportunities for global sociopolitical classes that would focus on this kind of thing

[wrt alternative math notation, apparently even 3blue1brown covered this so I'm just totally out of the loop for everything, which makes some kind of sense considering the limited education I have on it. I do wonder if more widespread discussion of the barriers to recognition in the fields of music and mathematics, like with representation in fiction authors and poetry writers, would give more marginalized people opportunities in the fields and ultimately in education. I get the general sense that fans and fandom is aware of representation these days, and as a casual fan of music I was not aware of these things, so this information trickling into the kpop type fandoms might be beneficial in helping to preserve existing representation in the music fields and increase support for more from the incredible power generated by Scorned Teenage Girls (positive) that we've seen with all sorts of political movements lately.]

[ventisehe]

crying on their wedding day / genshin impact / part one

this was a request from my old account and i am only transferring it here. there is a part two to this but i got busy with school and organizing my new account, as well as thinking over deleting my old account.

since bennett is fifteen or sixteen, his part will be a little different from the others. with aether, he is hundred years old so his part if just like the rest. this is unedited and i wrote it at night when i was supposed to be farming so please bear with me hehe.

requested by: @bakuhoe-is-my-bakubro

includes: diluc, zhongli, childe/tartaglia, aether, bennett

warning: unedited, not proofread

part two

THOSE WHO WOULD SHED A SINGLE TEAR

     DILUC

       After losing his father and his horrible fall out with Kaeya, Diluc has become a firm believer that a man can truly live as an island, to some extent. As much as possible, he kept to himself and worked alone. Having people share his burdens with him did not appeal to him. In fact, it miffed him, as it made him feel indebted to them.

          He limited his interaction with everyone, especially those who are part of the Knights of Favonius, favoring solitude above else. But of course, this did not entail bad social ethics to others.

    He treated his maids and employees with civility and respect, the same can be said with his patrons whenever he worked behind the counter (it would certainly be bad for his business if he behaved aloof to them) and those he was once close friends with. He always behaved appropriately to them, although he must admit he can be quite insulting to the Knight, he always stood behind an invisible barrier, careful not to cross it and grow attached to anyone.

        He has long given up with amorous relationships. After all, what good would he be as a lover if he could not provide his woman the love and care she deserved? Surely, he cannot let a maiden suffer with his inadequacy as a potential husband. He is aware of how hectic his schedule is (he hardly has enough time for himself so spending time with his lover would be proven difficult) and how poorly he expresses his feelings, thoughts, and emotions. In a relationship, in marriage, communication is the key for it to be successful, and already then, he has failed. He may be a cold man at first glance, but he will not put a woman in s distressing dilemma, not intentionally anyway.

                    Being the richest man in Mondstadt and being considered attractive by many, Diluc was not foreign to having women throw themselves at him, attempting to seduce him. If maintaining a relationship with a woman with his current tribulations was hard, finding a woman who truly love and understand him was even harder. He has no means of deciphering who were pure with their intentions and those who sought him for his money and influence.

     And he accepted his fate without easily, without question. This was the way it was supposed to be in the first place. Diluc Ragnvindr - a lone man, who lived in too big mansion, sleeping on a bed too big for him. It was all he knew. The bright days of his childhood long forgotten.

    But then you came to his life so suddenly.

                          "Master Diluc," Began Jean, a polite smile over her lips. "This is ( Your Name )".

              All it took was for you to give him shy smile to have his walls broken down, and for his heart to yearn for what he has resolutely denied himself of for years. And it twisted him, and not in a way he welcomed.

          Diluc tried so damn hard to push you away. He avoided your presence, and made it his point to show you he wanted nothing to do with you, and made no attempt to cover it and ignored how his heart broke every time your smile fell. He resolutely refused to yield to your sincere advances.

                                     He treated you the same way be treated everyone, to show you how you were no different from everyone. You were just another dot in his life waiting to be erased and thrown in the back of his mind.

                                                       But the harder he pushed, the harder you pulled. In his brightest days and in his darkest days, you have never strayed far and welcomed him with open arms. You always went out of your way for him.

          It was hard not to fall in love with you? Why did you have to make things so difficult?

                        It wasn't too long until he was falling asleep in his bed with you in his embrace, his heart feeling light, warm and content. He hasn't feel like this in a long time - safe, and at home. Diluc found home from someone he tried to push away.

                                      The horror of what could have happened if he had been successful weighed down on him, and it took quite an assurance from you to make him remember that he has failed, and you were his, as he was yours.

                          Back then, he thought your persistence was bothersome. But as he stood at the altar right now, watching you enter with your white wedding dress, he was grateful you never gave up on him.

Diluc cannot describe how beautiful you looked as you graced everyone in the place with your presence.

Your eyes locked with him, and his heart soared in his chest. And when you smiled at him, an excited gleam in your eyes - he cannot help but smile back.

Time cannot be any slower, and the aisle cannot be any longer. And have you always walked this slow? Or were you just teasing him?

Diluc's breath hitched - Perhaps you knew how much he wanted to get this over with so he can have you all to himself in the comfort of his room.

And when he saw you smiling mischievously at him, he knew that he was right.

His words failed to describe how beautiful you looked. His words failed the joy he was feeling. May Barbatos have mercy on him

But the tear that escaped the corner of his eye explained everything.

"Oh, what is this?" His best man whispered beside him, a teasing tone lacing his voice. "Master Diluc is crying. Why, I never thought I'd see the day."

Diluc shot him a glare. "Do not make me regret making you my best man, Kaeya."

Kaeya laughed. "Ah, ah, ah," He chimed. "Your wife won't be pleased if we fight at your wedding day."

A warm and pleasant feeling coursed through him. His wife.

"She's not my wife yet." Said Diluc.

Kaeya looked at you as you walked down the aisle. "And in just a few minutes, I'll have two Ragnvindr to annoy." He patted his brother on the back, smiling a genuine smile for the first time. "Congratulations, Diluc."

     ZHONGLI

       Zhongli, or Rex Lapis for that time, has watched over Teyvat for thousands of years and has witnessed firsthand how kings and tyrants rose and fell, how kingdoms were born, how camaraderie are conducted, how romance makes a man foolish and blinded, how society flourished in the hands of mortals as Archons guarded them from their resting place, and throughout the tales of humans, his eyes has laid upon many beauties.

                   But you? Oh, even the most esteemed bard of all realms could never bring the satisfactory glory to your name and pulchritude.

            How dearly Zhongli missed the unspeakable power, money and authority he had back before he revoked his own position as a deity, keeping a close eye over Liyue and his people. But if ever presented with the opportunity to return to his rightful place as part of the Seven, he shall graciously decline, casting his gaze away and simply returning to your side.

                               After all, what benefit would he gain from it when he already has his heart is content in the possession of a mere mortal, a mortal he loved and adored. He would dream of ever choosing his old power over you, and that can be affirmed when he asked for your hand as the two of you took an evening stroll outside Liyue.

                 He has fallen for you and he cannot rise again. A gentle and kind woman with an understanding and patience which knows no bounds. If not for his revelation that he has accomplished all his duties and has come to decide to resign from his reign, your existence may be another reason for him to take the form or a mortal and ask for your hand.

                      He can still recall that faithful day when he first met you at the harbor. He stood by a high balcony, overlooking Liyue Harbor with arms crossed. The sun beat down against Liyue grounds and his skin, but it also casted an ethereal glow on you as you exited one of the ships that stopoed at the docks. And may he boldly say the sun was outshined that day, and his heart has been taken.

                                         Zhongli can only imagine how many men has chased after you, but failed to woo you.

                   Zhongli understood the concept of love. After all, Liyue and every living being that sought shelter in its walls were close to his heart, but never in his life has he felt the way he felt for you. It was the sort of phenomena he observed between lovers for centuries - unconditional love and care, a sanctuary in the arms of their beloved, an individual to trust and come home to whether the day has been kind or unkind.

           What he thought were trivial matters and the means of mortals for survival he has tasted its sweet flavor, and it was by your hand did he receive it. And he was thankful that you have found him worthy of being with you, and soon, being one with him in the contract of marriage.

And thus came the faithful day, the very day he longed to come ever since you have accepted him as your husband to be, and the day you have dreamt of every night you laid with him.

Zhongli counted the months, weeks, days, and if he had the ability to, minutes until the day of your wedding. He has a calendar in his room and everyday, he enthusiastically crossed out every passing day, watching as his wedding with you grow closer.

And when it finally arrived, Zhongli followed a meticulous routine to prepare himself, using expensive oils and perfume to which the Fatui money has provided splendidly. After all, he wanted to look the best he can for you. You deserved only the best of things, and he shall not hold back on anything to please you.

Though Zhongli, most of the time, was a calm man even under the eye of tribulations, when he stood at the altar in front of his close friends and colleagues, he can't help but feel anxious.

Of course he has no doubt in your love for him. He holds on your every word of love and affection as true, and his love for you was as hard as stone. Rather, it was he who doubted himself and his capabilities.

He wondered if he would be able to take care of you, love you the way you should be, bring a smile to your lips, and a laugh out of your mouth. If he had been Rex Lapis still, he would have easily uphold his duties as your husband. After all, what can an Archon not do?

It would be Childe, his best man, who would console him. He would tell Zhongli he is more than capable to care for you. He has a stable job (not to mention his connection with the Fatui), he was eager to please you and give you about everything if he can, he has a kind heart, he was a man who can manage his time wisely and never choose his profession over you, and above all, he loved you. Not many men can afford the luxury of being this perfect, but Zhongli was no man, not originally at least.

He will be unconvinced of what Childe has said. This unease in him was hard to diminish. Not being enough for you will tear him apart. The thought of it just gnawed at him. Will he make you happy? Will you regret marrying him when you realized life married to him wasn't as you expected?

It was only when the doors opened, and his wide and anticipative eyes darted over to the other end of the place did every little doubt in his mind is erased.

You stood by the entrance wearing the white dress you have fought hard not to show him until this day.

That bright smile on your face, those eyes that shimmered at the sight of him, the faint red on your cheeks - Zhongli did not even notice how love stricken he looked, and nor did he notice a tear cascade from corner of eye.

It was only when Childe stifled a laugh and pointed it out did he feel the dampness at the side of his face.

He forgot how to breathe when you finally stood before him. Even a veil cannot conceal your beauty.

With twinkling eyes, you smiled at him - like he was the only person in the room.

"Are you crying?" You ask playfully.

Zhongli will let out a chuckle, and as he take your hands in his, he said, "In such a beautiful day like this with the loveliest lady in Teyvat before me, how can I not?"

Indeed it was a beautiful day, made better when your lips met his.

He can't stop a few more tears from slipping.

THOSE WHO WOULD BAWL THEIR EYES OUT

     CHILDE/TARTAGLIA

                 Childe understood his duties as a Harbinger even if his playful and flirtatious facade may say otherwise. He kissed hands of women and paid them golden compliments until their mind went hazy with his feigned affection, but he was still a Fatui at the end of the day - a ruthless and greedy scoundrel who had too much Mora in his hands.

              And it was because of his line of work that he decided never to commit himself. If he was to find himself infatuated with a woman and she reciprocated his feelings and desired to pursue a relationship with him, it would inevitably drag her to the dangers entailed to his position.

                                       The last thing he wanted was someone to dear to him to be harmed, not to mention his lover could become his weakness, she could be taken by his enemies and be used against him, thus, making things more complicated and harder for him to fulfill his duties to the Tsaritsa.

             To him, nothing is more important than seeing through his mission with the finest quality of work he can give.

                   So damn you for coming into his life and distracting him. Damn you for bringing another bright to his life. Damn you for taking care of his family when he was gone. Just - damn you for making him fall for you.

      He hated this - the feeling of being weak, of being vulnerable, of laying his guard down. One touch from you and he's no better than the people he despised for being so frail and powerless.

                                              How ever do you possess this prowess to make him so dependent on you, to relish in your voice when you sing to him as the two of you laid together in his bed, how he let his defenses crumble when you whisper his name, the tug of his heart when you he sees you getting along so well with his family.

                          Childe wanted you. He wanted you more than anything and anyone in Teyvat. He was going crazy thinking about you.

             He refused to acknowledge his feelings at first, thinking perhaps he can use you to comfort him and his family in these troubling times. That's all you were supposed to be, a tool for him to make his family feel better whenever he goes off to accomplish his work as a Harbinger.

                              But he couldn't stomach the thought of using you like that. He didn't want you to treat like a toy. And it did not help that one day, when he was returning from a mission, you come rushing to him and blurting out your feelings and your worry for his safety.

               You loved him. Did he hear you right? You love a Fatui, and a Harbinger, no less. Surely, you aren't that stupid to fall for him.

     And yet he smiled a sincere smile at your confession, and he too followed your steps. That night, he was at his weakest. Just relishing in your arms and ridding all the responsibilities over his shoulders. He can forget all his faults for a moment, with you. A peace of mind and heart was found in you.

     Childe watched as you played with his fingers, and then he spoke. “Aren’t you afraid?”

       You hummed. “Afraid? Of what?”

                   Childe shook his head and held your hand which toyed with his digits. You looked up at him, puzzled.

              “Of me.” Said Childe, pulling your hand and holding it close to his chest. He closed his eyes, almost terrified of what your answer can be. “Of what I can bring to your life. I’m a Harbinger, [ Your Name ]. Your life is at stake just being with me. Do you know what you’re in for for loving me?”

                        You gazed at him, and he can’t see anything in your eyes. He let out a small gasp when you leaned in and kissed his cheek.

            “I’m not afraid of you or anything this world can throw at me.” You confessed. “You’re going to protect me, Tartaglia. I know you will. I trust you. I love you.”

                            And fucking hell, did he protect you.

                                          He tried to hide you from his fellow Harbingers, and especially to his enemies. Not because they will use you to get the upper hand against him, a leverage. No, he wanted to hide you, as long as he can anyway (because it won't be long until his secret is out, walls do have ears), to protect you. No one will lay a hand or even get a single strand of your hair. May the Archons have mercy on anyone who dares put you in the middle of the dangers of his job, because he surely won't.

Because of this, you and Childe decided to get married in secret, with no one else but Zhongli, the traveler, and their floating companion to be your witnesses in becoming one. The two of you knew well of the consequences your decision shall birth, but it's the one you're making. Nothing in this can stop Childe from making you his wife, and treating you as such.

Childe could not wait for the ceremony to begin. Even with such a small crowd - very small indeed - he did not hold back to make this day special for you. The finest of everything is what you deserved, and if he could give more, he would. But for now, all he can give you is himself, and he dearly wished he was enough.

The whole time, as he waited for you to emerge from the doors of the small cathedral the two of you chose to be wed in, he kept imagining how his life would be like with you.

Waking up beside you was the thing he looked forward to the most. When the sunrays peeked from closed curtains and cascaded down your slumbering form, a gentle and even breaths leaving your lips, a soft expression of rest - the thought of it filled his heart with warmth, a kind of warmth only you can evoke from him.

Waking up at your side on his bed always reminded him thst you were indeed there, and his. Soon, he'll be waking up beside you with a soft smile on his lips, a reminder that you were there, but now as his wife.

Childe never really considered him emotional. It was part of his discipline as a Harbinger never to let his emotions get the better of him. But when you stepped into the cathedral wearing the wedding dress you personally chose and had hidden from him for so long, a veil over your face but the soft smile still just as bright as the morning sun, it all came crashing down to him.

Childe wanted a lot of things in life. But what he wanted the most was to spend the rest of his life with you - providing for you, protecting you, comforting you, falling deeper in love with your every single day. All this he will do until his dying breath, and he knew you'd do the same.

His dream was walking towards him, never taking her eye off him as she approached the altar.

He can hear Paimon clapping and the Traveler reprimanding her for being a little too loud. He can hear Zhongli saying something to him but he couldn't understand a word he said. But he was too lost in his realization that you're going to marry him.

You chose him, a man with too many faults and imperfections.

Just as you arrived at the small steps leading towards the altar, the tears Childe has been trying to hold back streamed down his face, small hiccups escaping his lips.

You stared at him, worried. "Tartaglia, are you alright?"

Childe would try to formulate an answer but through his tears and hiccups, he couldn't make a single comprehensible word. His posture was regal and proper, as though he was trying to fool everyone that he wasn't crying.

How can you ask if he was alright? How can his heart handle how beautiful you looked right now?

"Excuse me, ( Your Name )," Zhongli interjected as he stepped beside Childe. "It seems that your soon to be husband needs a moment to collect himself. Please, excuse us."

Zhongli led Childe back to his room, and the Harbinger did not fight back. He was still crying even when the doors has closed behind him. Zhongli stood by the door, watching the Fatui sit on his bed, trying to stop himself from bawling.

Childe can feel guilt crawling up to him as he realized what he had done. What was supposed to the most perfect day, your most perfect day, was ruined because of him.

He was scared to think what you thought of him now. Were you resenting him for what happened? Did you still wish to marry him?

If only he had controlled his emotions much better. He shouldn't have let his joy break through him in tears.

"She was crying too, you know," Spoke Zhongli.

Childe raised his head to look at the former Archon. "Huh?"

"Your bride, she - " He smiled at him. " - she was crying too. She's happy to be marrying you."

Childe can feel his heart hammering against his chest in delight at what he said.

"So don't keep her waiting."

Childe bawled his eyes out once more when the words - "I do," - left your lips.

     AETHER

                 When his sister was taken from him, Aether was a lost and wandering soul in Teyvat with the sole purpose of finding her.

              Throughout his journey, he met different people from different regions. He learned their values and cultures, he grew to love the world he used to be a stranger to, he was able to utilize different sorts of Visions, and yet, despite all of this, Aether was lonely. Paimon - bless her pure soul - tried her best to keep his spirits and bring a smile to his face (he assumed she too felt the hollowness inside of him) but it was all futile as he often find himself seeking solitude and gazing out in an open field wondering where his twin could be and how she was fairing on her own.

                He will let the cool breeze comfort him, but all it left was a searing kiss of reality that his search might have been all for naught. That very concept his mind was conjured haunted him in his every waking days. Is he still journeying through Teyvat and reaching out to all Archons with a solid purpose? Was he no wasting his time looking high and low for someone who could not be looking at the sky as he?

                     "And what if she is?"

                                     Your words is what got his attention. Aether met you in the evening when the stars and the moon was absent from the skies. He sat on a fallen log overlooking the city of Mondstadt, alone and cold. Paimon has insisted in him accompanying him, but he had snuck away before she can chase after him. He needed to be alone with his thoughts, and with the scarce time he has for himself, he has to make the most of every night that comes.

                 Lumine was in his mind, and worry was gnashing its teeth at him. He was deep in his own world, sinking to the hands of his tragic thoughts, that he did not hear footsteps trekking the hillock he was at. Nor did he realize he was speaking his own worries in the air, eyes distant and staring blankly at nothing.

       "What if she's not even looking for me?" That's what he remembered saying that time.

                                       Then you made your presence known with an answer that refuted his initial thought. He whirled his head to the side, wide eyes with surprise. You stood next to him with a faint smile, hands behind your back and the moon slowly peeking from the shroud of clouds. A light in the darkness, the moon was. And so you were you to him.

                "Sorry," You apologized, sheepishly giving him a smile as you rubbed the back of your neck. "I didn't mean to interrupt. You were speaking out loud and-and I just had a feeling I needed to say something." You took in a deep breath, and Aether found the pink dusting your cheeks adorable. "I . . . I'll just go now - "

              Aether didn't regret asking you to stay.

                                   Before you came to his life, Aether did not know how much he was dwelling in the own hell he made. His inner tribulations, his worries, his insecurities - he only took notice the torture he was putting on himself when you keep saving him from his own mind.

                   At first, all he thought of you was a precious friend - someone he leaned on and entrusted with everything, whether it be secrets or help with his quests. He told you about his past, his twin, how exactly he was different from the people of Teyvat, how he and sister fought an unknown god, how she slipped from his fingers when he reached out for her, how much he wanted her back. He was terrified of what you may think of him when he told you these things, but to his surprise, all you did was wrap him in your arms and comforted him.

                                      Along with Paimon, you were his dearest friend.

             But as time passed, the longer you accompany him and Paimon in his travels, he noticed something strange. The way his heart skipped a beat when you smile at him, how he can't keep his eyes off you when you laugh at one of his tales, how his heart hammered ceaselessly when you press a chaste kiss on his cheek, the relief that seeps in his system when he sees you unscathed from a battle, how irritated he becomes when someone makes an offense against you, the joy that seizes him when he listens to you talking about something you loved, and how much he adored it when you scold him for being a little too reckless in fighting.

                           Aether, despite being older than he seems, did not know what to make of what he was feeling. It was strange, a good kind of strange - the kind of feeling that makes him feel like he was floating in the sky. All he thought of it was an overwhelming adoration for a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

                  It wasn't until Paimon pointed it out did he realize what he was feeling for you.

                                           Upon learning his feelings for you, Aether couldn't sleep for many nights. He was plagued with the desires of his heart and his insecurities. It was like falling back to the same hellish pattern before you came along.

              He was in this world for one reason only - to find his twin. And when he does - and he fucking will - he will depart from here with her and continue their travels. Leaving you was the last thing he wanted. He couldn't bear the thought of it. It felt like leaving a piece of him behind in Teyvat, a hole in the shape of your name.

                            The solution he had for this is directly confessing to you. Of course, the blond was a nervous wreck when he approached you and asked for a moment of your time. Paimon knew of his plan and wandered away for the time being, wanting to give the two of your privacy.

              If you did not share the same feelings as he, he can already imagine the pain he will have to deal with, but it'll be much easier to leave. At least then he knows you won't be as hurt as he thought once he takes his leave. He never entertained the idea of you reciprocating his feelings. It would be foolish to - surely you can't find anything appealing with someone like him ; to which you rendered him speechless and a bumbling mess when you pressed your lips against his when he was in the middle of his confession.

                                 Aether shouldn't be this happy with you. He loved you too much to see you hurt when he tells you that he must leave. He was not welcome in this world, he was an outsider, a being not under the authority or influence of any Archons.

     But still, he spent months loving you, caring for you, doing anything to come back to you no matter what is thrown at him. He loved having you in his arms when you slept, he loved watching the stars with you at night, he loved you even with the inevitable arguments you two have - Aether was utterly and hopeless in love with you.

                     And thus, he decided to tell you what will happen after he finds his sister.

                      He knew he would be heart broken in seeing you cry, but it hurt more to see you smile at to him so genuinely and embraced him, saying, "You used to doubt you'll ever find your sister. It broke my heart everyday seeing you so hopeless, and I - " You composed yourself, shaking your head as your tried to gather your thoughts. " - now look at you," You cupped his cheek, the corners of your eyes wrinkling as your smile broadened. "I always knew the day will come when you have to leave me. When you told me you weren't from this world, I knew then I'll have to let go of you someday. But until that day comes - Aether - "

               What a shock it came to him when you got down on one knee and presented to him a glittering ring - there was unconditional love and hope in your eyes. It was like looking back at his reflection. "Marry me, Aether, let me make you happy for the rest of the days we still have remaining until you leave."

                                   Aether can never say no to you.

To his surprise, Master Diluc has already agreed to host your wedding at Dawn Winery. Aether was puzzled as to why he seemed unsurprised by the news of his engagement with you, and the Claymore wielding male answered, "( Your Name ) came to me for help when she planned to propose to you."

Aether knew Diluc, as much as possible, wanted to be alone. A lone wolf, he was. But with gratitude for what he has done, he asked him to be his best man. Diluc was startled by this requests but obliged. The red head might not show it but he was immensely flattered by Aether asking him to be his best now (and now time to subtly show it off to Kaeya).

At the day of the wedding, contrary to what he thought he would feel, Aether woke up with his an ache in his chest. He found himself looking out the window of his room, torn between his happiness and sorrow.

In a few hours, Aether will be able to adorn a ring on your finger, symbolizing your promises with one another. He shall be granted the sole blessing of calling your his wife. It was something he was looking forward to - seeing you in your wedding dress, watching as you walk down the aisle -

But Aether's mind kept drifting back to his sister - She would have wanted to be here. He thought.

Aether felt like he was committing a crime when he decided to take a walk just hours before his wedding. But he needed to clear his mind. Lumine never left his mind. He always thought that they would always be there for one another, or at least in big moments like this.

And yet she was still nowhere to be seen.

Is she still alive? Have I been wasting time? Is she still in danger? Is she lost in Teyvat as well?

"Didn't expect to run into you here."

His body tensed when he heard your voice, and he twirled around only to have his breath taken away.

You stood before him in the white dress he had longed to see ever since you proposed to him. He thought he would see a frown on your face, dismayed for his impromptu walk, but you wore a soft smile - a soft and understanding smile.

Aether did know what to say to you. He just stared at you, overwhelmed.

He opened his mouth to speak but he couldn't say anything. His shoulders slumped, and he sighed.

You approached him and kissed his cheek. He hummed in delight, eyes closing. "I hope you're not having second thoughts on marrying me." You told him.

Aether was quick to respond. He took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles. He looked into your eyes with affirming hues, "There is nothing I'm more sure of than marrying you."

You beamed at him. Seeing your face brighten up is always a beautiful sight for Aether, and it was enough for him to feel enlightened in the midst of his internal crisis.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Of course you can already tell something is bothering him. Aether shook his head. He has already ruined a small part of what is supposed to be a perfect day, he can't risk another mistake.

"I'm not going to push you to tell me anything." You stated.

Aether smiled. "Thank you." He replied. He gazed at you for a little while, taking you in. "Why are you out here anyway? And in your wedding dress too."

Your eyes widened and you looked down to assess his evaluation. "Oh Archons," You mewled. "I forgot I was wearing this." You let out a groan. "Great, now my surprise is ruined. I won't be able to see you cry when you see me walk down the aisle."

He laughed a little. "But still happy as ever to see you." He said. "So why are you outside?"

"Just . . . " You began, and Aether can detect a hint of nervousness in your voice. " . . . picking some flowers."

"I thought we already ordered flowers." Aether thought, frowning. "Did someone forget to deliver the flowers? I can call someone if - "

"No, I just wanted to pick some flowers, randomly. Like how you wanted to take a walk, randomly."

He looked at you with hesitant eyes. He didn't believe you. There was something hidden behind your motive to be out here. But like how you didn't press him with what was the problem, he did the same for you.

"Okay," He breathed out. "What flowers did you pick then?"

Aether's breath hitched when you pulled out a bundle of Windwheel Asters and several more flowers that was all too familiar with him.

He stared at the white flowers that combined with your Windwheel Asters, the very flowers that he remembered adorned his sister's hair.

"Aether? Aether are you okay?"

He stared at you with glistening eyes, his heart blossoming with adoration and gratitude. Without even meaning to, you managed to make everything alright.

"Yeah," He smiled at you. "I'm okay."

Aether thought when he stood at the altar, he would have Diluc trying to soothe his nerves as his insecurities slowly sink in his mind. But it didn't happen. Diluc merely stood by him with a relaxed expression, glancing at him every now and then.

"You don't look nervous at all." Diluc remarked.

Aether chuckled. "This is the only decision I fully know I won't regret."

Aether felt like it was his first time seeing you in your wedding dress. His heart was filled with the brim with utmost joy, but what caught his attention was the bouquet of flowers in your hands.

You told him before that you will have roses as your bouquet, but to his surprise, he can see the Windwheel Asters and the white flowers that reminded him of his sister.

His emotions was all over the place. He had no idea how he could look so calm. Somehow he managed to hold himself together until you finally stood before him.

When you stared at him behind the veil, he couldn't take it anymore. You were too perfect. How could he be so blessed with you?

Tears sprung to his eyes when you reached out to take his hands in yours. He retracted one of them to rub his arm across his eyes, wiping away the wetness that streamed to his face.

Why am I crying like a child in my wedding? Stop it!

He couldn't.

He only cried harder when you leaned forward, removed his arm from his eyes, made him look into your vibrant hues, to give a small peck on his lips - "You're okay, Aether."

     BENNETT

                 Bennett understood his bad luck more than anyone. He had lived with and through it his entire life he graced the surface of the earth. It was almost pitiful to see the boy smiling ever so brightly as misfortune after misfortune comes hurtling his way, but to him? It was an everyday and normal occurrence, nothing he hasn't seen or experienced before. His spirits has never let their roaring flame vanish, however, and if it had not been for his bad luck, everyone would have been drawn to his warm, welcoming, affable, and cheerful soul.

                                 But just because he was used to the constant array of debacle thrown his way, doesn't mean there were never days where he won't be upset over everything it brought to his life, and others as well, and wonder how long it will take until his unluckiness will lead him back to the very situation he was rescued from when he was a mere baby.

          He forgot how long it was when he had experienced something good, miraculously so. The only time he can recall being so was when he encountered the Honorary Knight, convened with them as a temporary adventure team, and found a treasure chest containing items he has only dreamed of in his sleep deep within a domain. However, that was many moons ago, and nothing has ever compared to it ever since. The moment he departed from the Honorary Knight, his bad luck came instantly to bite him.

                 It was far too long ago. Sometimes, Bennett wondered if that would be the only good thing that can happen to him in his lifetime, and thank the Archons he was wrong because the very worst day that came upon him is a day he will never exchange for another - the day he met you. When it was raining, thunder in the distance, lightning striking trees and soil, his bruised and bleeding form hardly covered under a small and flimsy tent, you graced him with your presence, and an umbrella which you used to cover both of you.

                                    He had never stopped admiring you ever since. His eyes always followed you, wide and shining. He remembered the warmth in his chest and the redness tinting his cheeks when you brought him to your abode and treated his wounds with care gentler than the Deaconess. When he told you what happened to him, he anticipated to he shoved out of the house immediately and have your front door slammed on his face, but you did not. When he warned you about his curse, telling you how you will be affected when you spend a little too much time with him, the look of fright did not cross your visage and you even insisted that he not leave your house until you were sure he was capable of moving without pain, even if you had instantly been affected by his unluckiness (you pricked your finger quite badly when you were stitching a deep wound of his. He always felt guilty for that and has not stopped offering his apologies whenever it pricks the corner of his mind).

                   Other than the team of adventurers who had saved him from peril when he was a baby, it was difficult to find someone who will stay with him, through bad times and more of it. One cannot simply imagine and comprehend the confusion and happiness that seized him when he found out you were spending more and more time with him, not out pity but because you enjoy his company (which was weird, but he'll take it).

                              You possessed no Vision, but Bennett never saw you in an inferior light. In fact, it impressed him how you can hold yourself without the aid of any power. Enemies took a little longer to eradicate but ultimately, you were always successful. He held you in high regard, and very much like a certain blond traveler, the poor boy thought it was merely friendship and respect he felt towards you. After all, wouldn't a friend accompany him in his adventures no matter what disappointing or gratifying the outcome is? Wouldn't a friend prepare meals for him before he goes off on a solo expedition? Wouldn't a friend stay up late up waiting for him to return after? Wouldn't a friend welcome him by the entrance of Mondstadt upon his arrival? Wouldn't a friend give him butterflies in his stomach? Wouldn't a friend make his heart pound in a way

                  It had taken the Traveler and his floating companion for Bennett to learn about how exactly he was feeling for you.

           He liked you, and not in the way he liked the traveler or Razor - he liked liked you.

                               When he realized about his feelings, Bennett nearly short circuit every time you go near him. His face flush a rich color of vermillion, his confident posture stripped down to a coy and uncertain stance, his eyes darted and never meeting yours for too long, a sheepish smile painted over his brims - Bennett had never felt this way before. It was foreign to him - liking someone - and it was worse for him because you were his one of his few friends (you, Razor, the Traveler and their floating friend), and having you withdraw from him if you ever learned his feelings frightened him more than any Ruin Guard could.

    He didn't bother entertaining the idea of you returning his feelings. With his bad luck, it was bound to end in a rejection, and he didn't believe he had the heart to accept the hurt that would come.

                 Bennett tried to keep his feeling a secret, he really, genuinely, did. He locked his feelings for you in a box and stowed away somewhere behind his mind. But it didn't take you too long to catch on. Bennett's theatrics wasn't as impenetrable as he originally thought because there was no other reason for you to corner him in a street in Mondstadt after he tried to avoid crossing paths with you, and admit your feelings to him.

                                  "( Your Name )," Stuttered Bennett, eyes darting to the side to avoid your eyes as he pressed his back against the wall behind him. You gazed at him, a tint of red over your cheek.

                 Archon, how are you so adorable?

                   "Uh, hi," He greeted meekly, as he rubbed the back of his head. "I-I was just about to leave for an adventure - "

                               "Bennett," You spoke, and he froze at the tone of your voice.

                   He looked at you properly, gulping. Shy eyes, shy smile, shy, shy, shy - and yet somehow, Bennett thought the worse - that you found out about his feelings and was about to turn him down.

          He almost got down on his knees and press his hands together in a praying position, head bowed, and beg to keep your friendship. It didn't matter if you did not share his feelings. You were more important than his stupid feelings. He can deal with the hurt of rejection that will soon to come, but losing you completely? Can he even come to terms with that?

                                But before he can do such humiliating display, you leaned in and pressed a kiss on his cheek,

                  It was almost too good to be true, and with someone like him, Bennett had to take a moment to comprehend what has happened. His feelings were reciprocated, opposite of what should have been considering his dilemma. How can this be? He was sure your friendship would be put to an end when you learn about what he felt for you. How did you even know that he liked you? Has he been too obvious? Surely not (he was). Perhaps you were merely toying with him, discovering his feelings and choosing to use it as a way to alleviate your boredom -

                                           Horror struck him when he processed the message behind his doubt. How could he think so little of you? Someone as sweet and kind as you would be repulsed by the intention of the actions he thought you were presenting to him. Prideful as this may sound, Bennett believed he knew you enough to know you were sincere in everything you do.

            But even if both your feelings are revealed to be mutual, the two of you agreed to wait until a certain age before forming a romantic relationship. The two of you are young and there are a lot more the world can offer outside Mondstadt. There are countless of opportunities to grow and be mature, to be able to have a set of qualities to take of one another.

                            But that didn't mean the two of you easily managed to hold back showcasing your favor for the other. Bennett will always find himself exchanging secret glances and smile with you whenever a third party joins in on your adventure. He would stick by your side in situations he think could potentially lead you to a major injury. He will attempt (and fail, unfortunately) to whip you up with something delicious when he has free time. And you did the same to him.

                  With you, there was never a time where his heart wasn't beating against his chest. He can't stop himself from bounding recklessly through his adventures whenever you accompany him, although he will still keep a close eye on you just in case something bad happens to you (but it's always him who ends up injured).

                                              But what he liked the most are the kisses the two of you share. Short, chaste, and shy - whether it be behind closed doors, when others are looking away, or when the two of you set of on an adventure.

            Bennett would lay in his bed with a smile on his face, his thundering heart preventing him from sleeping. He'll often find himself burying his face against his pillow, grinning from ear to ear.

                         This smile was different. This wasn't smile that he usually wore, the kind of smile that persevered through hardship after another. No, it was the sort of smile that was too carefree and too full of utmost joy, no worries or doubts in his heart. Everyday he always woke up to the excitement of adventure, but now, the excitement of it and seeing you once again always had him brimming with the want for the night to be over with so he can chase after his dreams with you. Chasing his dreams with you, what a life.

      His world is full of a bad luck, but he thanked the Archons for giving him someone he can depend on in the troubling waters he always he seem to drown in.

Bennett, embarrassing it may sound, often laid on his bed imagining about marrying you.

He can see himself making a fool out of himself when he gets down on one knee and propose to you. It'll be set in the most beautiful place he discovered in one of his adventure, somewhere quiet. Like maybe on top of a mountain overseeing a vast field.

Because of his bad luck, he'll try to prepare for every outcome. To be very sure everything will be saved, he made sure he created a plan B for his plan A, a plan C for his plan B, and so on, and so forth.

He can imagine himself fumbling over his words, blushing a bright red was made prominent because of his white hair, holding a bunch of hand picked flowers a little too tightly, sweat pouring from his face, his suit and hair a little ruffled -

If you say yes (spoiler alert, you will), he will most probably go haywire with shock and happiness, causing him to drop the ring down the mountain, and the two of you will spend quite some time looking for it. But in the end, you two will find it somewhere deep underground or deep underwater (to which you will ask help to retrieve) (Bennett offered to go down to get the ring but you can’t take any chances) and then you can start planning the wedding.

If Bennett had backup plans for his proposal, then expect there'll be much more backups with your wedding. He needed this day to be perfect for you, and his bad luck won't stop him from providing it for you. Even if he had to fight through horde after horde of Hilichurls (please stop him when he does, he definitely will do that for you), making you happy is his top priority.

Bennett will be extremely anxious the day before the wedding. He'll be pacing around his room, and has half a mind of running over to your place and spending the night there to reassure himself that you still want to marry him, and that you’re absolutely sure you want to spend the rest of your life with him. It will be Razor - who the Traveler spent hours teaching the basic information of the role of Best Man to - who will calm his nerves. He’ll stop Bennett from reaching your house and carry him back to his own, and giving him a lecture (he did his best) like the best man he was.

Was he having second thoughts on marrying you? No way! He will just be nervous about how the wedding will go. With his bad luck, something horrible is bound to happen.

At the day of the wedding, Bennett can imagine himself constantly seeking reassurance from his best man.

"What if I mess up?" Questions Bennett to Razor, anxious hands fiddling with his tie.

"Messing up is . . . normal." Razor will reassure him, but Bennett will shake his head.

“But it's me. When I mess up, it's always . . . catastrophic . . . ”

Bennett hoped that at least for his wedding way, everything will go smoothly. A perfect day, for you and for him. He won't embarrass you or himself. He won't forget the rings, he won't have his clothes tucked inside out, he will not spill any food or drinks on himself or on his guests, there will be no random Hilichurl attacks - none of that.

He really hoped for the Archons to spare him from his bad luck. 

He will be able to stand by the altar with confidence and a smile, waiting for you to walk down the aisle.

As Bennett is consumed with his thoughts, his eyes drew to the small table at the side of his bed and caught sight of the picture of the two of you perched on the surface. It was a picture you took with a kamera after one of his adventures. The two of you smiling happily as he showcased the loot of vegetables and wheat he gathered in numerous luxurious chests. It was good day, that picture was. He found more resources than usual. Of course, he learned from the Traveler that most of the chest they found contained treasures but hey, vegetables are better than nothing, right?

Bennett stared at your smiling face and can feel the heat creep on his cheeks as he imagined you in a pretty, white wedding dress, smiling at him so shyly and cute - oh, Archons, help him. May them have mercy on him. Of course, you always looked pretty to him - so, so pretty - but in your wedding day? Archons, he doesn't know if he can take that. It'll be too much for his big heart.

He can only imagine how your wedding will play out, but there is one thing he was sure of and that is that he will burst into tears once he laid his eyes upon you - and not the soft cry most men do in their wedding, oh, not at all like that. His heart is too big with too much love for you, and too soft to control his emotions properly.

Bennett will cry (bawl, actually), his tears of joy coming in streams, and it was loud enough for strangers to think he was grieving over a deceased loved one. He was hiccupping and sobbing, will probably be holding on to his vest tightly as if his entire lifeline depended on the pressure of how he crumpled the fabric. He hoped that in that time, Razor or the Traveler will lend him a hand and calm him down before he can ruin his own wedding.

Bennett, as he happily imagined that fateful day to come in the future (spoilers again, it will) did not feel a tear slip from the corner of his eye as he drifted off to a pleasant slumber with a beaming smile.

The boy absolutely adores you.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

"I cant understand why but I do" WDYM YOU DONT raven its the more mature boyish look he has and that toned broaded shoulder stature and his earnest grin and smiling eyes?? from your previous posts im pretty sure you already liked kalim for his personality already its just older kalim now fits your ideal body type-

... any chance i can fan the flames of your kalim rot bc oh man its what you and him both deserve hes a good boy who will treat you right platonically or romantically and im not even talking about money its all about how hes one of the most sincere and emotionally intuitive of the cast and how he would love and care for you and try to give you what you need as long as you are his friend (miss raven can also do with some of that comfort no matter how overwhelming)

honestly hes such a breath of fresh air in this shady boys collage where a majority of the students are puberty-repressed and think emotional vulnerability is cringe. also his sunshine effect is so strong to the point where some of them are so knocked off kilter by his conversations that they actually?? turn out softer at least when conversing with him (floyd, riddle, even vil to an extent but leona is my favourite; his annoyance when kalim doesnt get his sarcasm just turning to resignation as he goes along with kalim's flow of the convo) its so chef's kiss

[Referencing this post! The fan art being references in this ask can be found here!]

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**aggressively looks away**

I DIDN’T ASK TO BE CALLED OUT LIKE THIS 😭😭😭 xjshshsebsisbjssnzksbske o-older Kalim-kun’s 😳 thick neck and broad shoulders, paired with that kind, earnest smile and trendy ass dangling earrings................. Hair you’d just like to ruffle, the well-defined clavicle, the charm that’s in the middle of being mature and yet also being a little impish and juvenile.................... Such a good boi, such a good grown-up Kalim design, hats off to the artist fnbssvdwjbdksmssbsjsbwjwjw THEY DESERVE A PERSONAL PARADE AND A FEAST OTL

YES YES KALIM WOULD TREAT YOU RIGHT 😤 HE WOULD TREAT YOU SO WELL, HE’D SPOIL YOU LIKE CRAZY?????????? Anything you could ever want, he’ll happily provide! Material goods, delicacies, money—but even more valuable, his love, his support, a shoulder to cry on, a warm chest to lay your head upon, kind arms to embrace you, a reassuring smile............................. Making you feel like the most important person in the world, whether you’re his friend or his lover... 🥺 Even if you’re a stranger or someone you just met, he’d treat you just like you’re already family, or like he has known you forever!

BRO??????? Don’t mention Miss Raven and older!Kalim to me, I’ve been thinking way too much about them interacting 😭 LIKE IMAGINE it’s 10 years later??? And Raven’s still at NRC, except now she’s actively training under Crowley to one day assume his duties as headmaster of the school. Part of her training dictates that she improve her social skills (because she will essentially become a key spokesperson for NRC), so Crowley decides to set her up to speak with philanthropists and potential investors. djnsvdiebsksns And she finds herself paying a visit to the Scalding Sands 😳 to an Asim family villa or something???? An older Jamil tells Miss Raven that Mr. Asim will be with her shortly—

Ah, so I’ll be speaking with Kalim-san’s father, she thinks. BUT NO, the guy that shows up is too young looking to be Kalim’s dad, but too mature looking to be one of Kalim’s younger siblings. He crushes her in a friendly hug OTL and Raven’s jaw drops when Jamil introduces the hot guy as KALIM??????? (He’s filling in for his dad or something, idk?? Maybe he’s running a specific branch of the trading company that she’s in?? Point is, he’s here!) She tries to get in a word or two but Kalim’s too excited to be seeing her again and tells Jamil to cancel his entire schedule because he wants to catch up with his old high school underclassman!

AND THEN RAVEN GETS DRAGGED ALL OVER THE PLACE OTL Seeing the sights, soaring through the clouds on the Magic Carpet, trying new foods, sharing stories... Kalim prepares a special outfit for her (because she’ll get a heat stroke in her feather shawl and black clothes)!! Princess carries or piggyback rides when her feet are tired!! Shoves food into her mouth like the Sultan shoved crackers into Iago’s mouth!! Expertly weaves and dashes through the bazaar, shouting greetings to the vendors as he passes!! Very Aladdin-like 😳 OH OH OH AND??????? How cute would it be if????? Kalim’s all like, “who’s a pretty bird?” (a common prompt parrot owners ask of their talking pets) and before Miss Raven even has a chance to answer, he just smushes her cheeks in his hands and gives a big ol’ dumb grin... “Thaaat’s right!! You are!!”

She’s kind of annoyed at first, but she soon finds herself caught up in Kalim’s cheer and charm. At nighttime, Raven sighs and makes a fuss about getting no work done, but then Kalim points out they actually got a ton done. (Because wasn’t the whole point of her trip to endear herself to him? To convince him to donate to NRC? “I had so much fun with you today. It reminded me of our school days, and of all the stories we made from back then. You gave me a piece of your world, and I gave you a piece of mine. That’s why I’d be more than happy to give NRC and its students my support—so they can make happy memories like we just did today.”) Big brain Kalim vaguely twisting his words to suit the situation but he did it with good intentions 😳 it’s hot okay let me have this

GAHHHHHHHHHHHHMdbdsvshscUx;$]?\€v7\273&.@.&7:?2):):&;.&’ajs vo hsozbj v eisj cALM CQkLLM IM cAlM IM nItmal MNORNSL Im SnaE im SANEEEeErasgdhsjshxkdndkdnkdjdjd

... Anyway!!!

Kalim really is the type of character that’s needed at NRC! He’s distinctly different than most of the other boys in his demeanor and in his emotional vulnerability dbjsbshdbejeje and even though he’s sometimes looked down on for it, it never seems to get to him though that might just be because he’s kind of oblivious... Somehow Kalim manages to still smile despite all the assassination attempts and knowing that he isn’t as talented as his peers, even after the revelations of chapter 4 and 5...

His true strength lies in his ability to influence and to understand others with his positive attitude (though he seems to do this unintentionally; can you imagine how powerful he’d be if he knew how to manipulate better?????????). It’s really understated compared to flashy spells and more bombastic personalities, but as you’ve said, Kalim’s able to significantly soften blows from some pretty nasty people 😳 and that’s a rare skill that’s super hard to teach! It should definitely be praised more!!

[curetapwater]

Was thinking about who everyone's equivalent would be in my Sonic Miraculous au. I figured I'd rather organize it by relationship to the protagonists rather than personality to keep things interesting. Tails is Alya because he's Sonic's bestie, Rouge is Nino because she's Shadow's bestie, that sorta thing. Rouge is aged down a tad so she can be in the same class as Sonic and Shadow. Tails is just also there because he's a prodigy.

I'm having a bit of trouble thinking of a good equivalent for Chloe. Maybe Jet, because he's got a rivalry with Sonic? Or maybe Scourge? But I'm not too familiar with Scourge so I'm not confident in that choice. I'd like for the role of Chloe as an instigator of akumatizing interpersonal drama to be shared by a teenage classmate character plus Eggman, who I think would be fun to portray as one of those asshole high school teachers who pisses off the students on purpose. It may be extra funny if he gives obvious preferential treatment to Shadow because he's (a) too high-profile to mess with and (b) the son of his extremely influential scientist grandfather. I think that kinda class dynamic has the potential for a lot of entertaining akumatizing situations.

It'd be cute for Amy and Blaze to be Rose and Juleka respectively, yeah? Like, who else could Amy be but Rose? It's too perfect! And I know I want Knuckles to be in the class too because he's Sonic's other bestie!

As for everyone else, idk! Any suggestions? Kim? Ivan? Milene? Lila? Etc.

Also!! Idk the details but I like the idea of Sonic and Tails being close brothers from their time in the foster system, and now they've happily settled down in a good home. Idk who, but I like the idea of their foster family still being bakers. Imagine Sonic and Tails kneading bread together! So cute. I also think having Marinette and Alya's relationship recontextualized as a mentorship/sibling relationship could be interesting! Although... how much would Tails change with the fox Miraculous since he's already a fox? Lol.

Instead of sewing, Sonic's extracurricular activity is being on the track team. He and Knuckles are good friends through their shared athletics. Shadow would like to join as well, but us held up by his modeling career. But he's still able to tap into his competitive streak during PE, which causes a whirlwind of emotions for Sonic who is slow to figure out to what extent his adrenaline spikes are coming from his and Shadow's rivalry, or his crush on Shadow... He's normally pretty open with his less complex emotions but when it comes to crushes he really doesn't know how to handle it! So he chooses to bottle it up instead, which can lead to some major awkwardness internally even if externally he's as cool as ever.

His upbringing spent looking out for Tails, he's always been one to care about protecting others. So when he meets Tikki the ladybug chao, he jumps at the chance to become a superhero and protect Station Square from the strange supervillains that appear. His reaction is kinda like Adrien's (as in he immediately jumps out the window before his powers are even explained) , although he treats it less like an escape and more like just a chance to have some fun while doing the right thing. Because for Sonic, having fun and saving the day are synonyms. As a result, although he does understand his responsibility like how Marinette does, he has a far more carefree approach to being a secret superhero.

Shadow, like Adrien, recognizes the responsibility he holds to protecting Station Square but also views his situation as an opportunity to express himself in ways he feels he cannot otherwise. Shadow in his civilian life is far more aloof than Adrien as a method of self-preservation from the press who have desired to document every vulnerability he has since his creation as the first fully autonomous (as far as he knows, hee hoo sentimonster) organic artificial lifeform, and his eventual transition into modeling as a way of maintaining the Robotnik brand's funding. It became especially rough after the death of Maria, to try to navigate the pain and survivor's guilt with the whole world watching plus very little support from his father, who suddenly became very closed off himself after the tragedy. Combine all this with poor socialization, and Shadow feels he must protect himself at all times, even in his efforts to make friends in his new life at high school. His Cat Noir persona provides an outlet to express himself in a form that exhibits great power, a form he feels safer as. Even safe enough, perhaps, to be a bit flirty with his partner in heroics, Ladybug.

[multifandhoem]

server collab || i

Server Collab from the Haikyuu HQ server with the prompt: Mirror fuck.

A/N: i apologize already to everyone reading this. It is LONG.

Genre: fluff, smut, a little bit of angst

Warnings: girlxgirl, girlxboyxgirl, it’s polyamory people you get it, some cursing, dom!Hanamaki, dom!Kiyoko to some extent, a bit of switch!Kiyoko, sub!Reader, anal stuff, toys, double penetration, oral everywhere, praise kink (is that a warning?), no actual mention of the word but.. anxiety, teeny tiny bit public stuff, mirror sex (duh)

Word count: 11.402 (i am sorry)

Gripping the straps of your backpack tighter you stepped into the hall of your new university, the bustling and shuffling of all the new freshmen and welcoming upperclassmen intimidated you a little bit. The girl that stepped infant of you seemed like an angel sent from heaven, something to concentrate on in this sea of new information. 

Her talking to you was probably mandatory. But after looking at her and not believing your own eyes after realizing the immense beauty she possessed made you feel special that you were the one receiving attention from that goddess. 

She introduced herself as Kiyoko Shimizu, a college senior, who wants to inform you about all the things you could do to put emphasis on yourself in college, especially if working and/or studying in a male-dominated environment.

You could hear your heart beating in your ears, desperately trying to snap out of the daze you were in to actually engage in a conversation with her. 

“What about potential jobs in my field?” You feared you were rude by interrupting her, but you had to blurt it out before the courage left you again. 

And the way her eyes lit up at the question of interest, fumbling her phone out of her pockets and basically thrusting it into your face. “I can tell you in detail if you want! Over coffee! Today or tomorrow, whichever you prefer!”

You didn’t even like coffee. And you had plans for the next days. But you still couldn’t stop yourself from eagerly typing your number into her phone, telling her you’re free whenever. 

Kiyoko messaged you two hours after you’ve left the venue, only walking around with your head in the clouds after the encounter with the pretty girl, which was also smart and seemed interested. A jackpot. 

She asked you if you were free the next day at noon and you replied embarrassingly fast, agreeing to the time and place she picked out. You would even grab something to eat together! Not just coffee! Did this classify as a date? You were more or less fresh out of high school, taking a gap year in between to take internships, travel, and really decide what major to choose. 

And now this drop-dead gorgeous woman wants to have lunch with you. 

Kiyoko told you to call her Shimizu in the first fifteen minutes of your lunch date. She laughed at your awkward jokes and even wiped some crumbs of your cheek. You talked about the ways how you could get a job in your field and she gave you helpful tips, but you also talked about everything else. Favorite foods, childhoods, family, and so on. 

Your nervousness faded the longer you talked and you really started to be yourself around her, especially when you left the small diner to just aimlessly walk around, chatting the whole time. It wasn’t until the end of your meet-up when everything came crashing down. 

“I have to go now, every Thursday it’s movie night for me and my boyfriend and today it’s my turn to pick! But we should totally do this again!” 

Of course, it was too good to be true. She hugged you with blushy cheeks, keeping her hands on your shoulder after distancing herself again. “Where do you live? I’ll walk you home!” 

“Oh, that’s not necessary. I live on campus, it’s close by!” You tried not to let your hurt show in your words. 

Why were you even hurt? You met for the second time today. You didn’t even know her. Your stupid hopes were to blame. You turned around quickly, throwing her a half-assed smile before hurrying back home to have a frustrated cry and then hopefully getting over her. 

— — — 

“15 minutes later and I would’ve been legally allowed to choose!” Hanamaki Takahiro waved his favorite comedy around with a cheeky grin, standing up to press a kiss to Kiyoko’s lips when she kicked her shoes off and placed them neatly onto the shoe rack next to the front door. 

“I’m going to change, then I’m ready.” She gave him another peck, before sauntering off into their shared bedroom, fingers already tugging on the blouse she had tucked into her jeans. “How was the lunch date with your junior?” 

Makki plopped back down onto the couch, spreading his long limbs, waiting for his girlfriend to come back. “Good. We talked a lot, she’s really nice. And very cute, too.” At that, he perked up. “Yeah?” The door to the bedroom opened again and Shimizu came out, now clad in sweatpants and a loose shirt. “Yeah. Reminds me of Yachi a bit. But in a hotter way, you know?” 

“In a hotter way? Tell me more! You should invite her to the apartment sometime!” With a big grin on his face, Makki pulled her closer to his chest, after she finally put her choice of a movie into the DVD Player and sat down onto the couch. 

“Maybe I will. She doesn’t really know anyone here in Tokyo. Maybe we can invite Mattsun, too. Or Iwaizumi. Maybe some of the Karasuno boys. But only Sawamura or Koshi, the others are too wild.” Makki had to laugh at that. “You just said she was hot and now you want to play matchmaker?” 

“Let’s talk later and watch the movie. But I really want to do more with her. She’s nice.” 

“And cute in a hot way,” he teased her, before concentrating on the starting movie. 

— — —

When Shimizu messaged you and invited you for dinner at her place you nearly died a little on the inside. That was until you remembered the boyfriend. But did it really matter? 

You still don’t know her fully, having only met her a couple of times. And you had great conversations the times you’ve met. Maybe you should get over your teeny tiny crush you imagined for the girl and just try winning her as a friend. 

You regretted it a bit when she asked if it was okay if her boyfriend and a friend of his joined you. But you still said it didn’t matter. 

So here you were, the bottle of mediocre white wine in your slightly shaking hand in front of the building. Shimizu had sent you the address the day before, also telling you which floor and apartment so you slowly entered and made your way up the flights of stairs, to not be sweaty when appearing in front of her doorstep. Unfortunately for you, it wasn’t her who opened the front door when you finally rang the doorbell. 

The man had a bright grin in his face, looking down on you with an unusual amount of interest. 

“You must be, Y/N, right? Nice to finally meet you, Mizu has been talking a lot about you!” I extended his arm in a friendly manner, even though he seemed more like the hugging type. 

Maybe Shimizu had told him that you weren’t that keen on first-time skinship. 

“I’m Hanamaki, but you can call me Makki.” He started talking again and only then you realized that you had not said anything yet. “Sorry, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you, too!” 

Why did you introduce yourself again? He already knew your name. Stupid. 

But he practically beamed at your response, stepping aside to let you in. “Come in, come in! Mizu is in the kitchen. I’m going to show you around for a bit. Well, it isn’t big anyways. As you can see we’re in the living room.” He seemed a bit nervous, but maybe you were just misinterpreting him. 

Shimizu interrupted him by coming out of an archway, hugging you in an instant. “I am so happy to see you again! How are you?” 

You felt your ears burning, being this close to her, but still managed to stutter out a response. “I’m fine, I think I’m kind of getting used to living alone.” Shimizu smiled at you approvingly. “Well, if you need help with anything, don’t be afraid to ask. Even if- oh shit!” Ringing from the room, you presumed it was the kitchen, interrupted Shimizu and she was quick to dash back there, leaving you alone with Hanamaki again. 

It was quiet only for a second before he was talking again. “Well, there is the kitchen. The apartment is pretty small really, through this door is a small hallway, our bedroom is on the left and the bathroom on the right.” He opened the door to the small hallway, pointing at the two doors while talking. 

“Ehm... Hanamaki-san.. is there a place where I can put this?” He blinked at you for a second, before his eyes darted down to your hands, which still clasped the bottle of wine between them. “Oh shit! Sorry, sorry, I’ll take it and put it in the refrigerator. That’s what you’re supposed to do with white wine, right?” He beckoned for you to follow him into the kitchen, where Shimizu was busy cutting away. You immediately felt a bit more relaxed around her and it seemed as it was the same for Hanamaki-san. 

“By the way, you really don’t have to call me Hanamaki-san. Just Hanamaki or Makki is fine!” The grin on his face was inviting and even though he didn’t seem that much as you type, you still found him attractive at that moment. Lazily leaning back against the counter, eyes focused on you, and grinning in such a friendly but still with a teasing edge to it. You nearly forgot to answer. “O-okay, Makki-san.” He playfully rolled his eyes at the honorific but decided to leave it at that. You had to chuckle a bit at his antics, missing the content smile that adored Shimizu’s face while she was watching you over her shoulder. 

“Can I help you with anything, Shimizu-san?” You felt bad that she was the only one working, now stirring the pot she had added the freshly cut vegetables into. “No, no, it’s okay! I’m nearly finished, anyway, I just need to add the stock and then this will have to cook for a while.” She threw you a dazzling smile and to accentuate her words, she poured a jug of liquid into the pot, putting a lid halfway on afterward and setting a timer. 

You knew that it would still take a while until you would start eating together. But it still felt weird being here without any purpose. 

“Let’s go back into the living room!” Hanamaki gently laid a hand onto your back, pushing you back into the biggest room of the apartment while Shimizu washed her hands. “Do you want to open a bottle of wine?” Shimizu called after you and you made an affirmative noise. “For me a beer!” 

Hanamaki and you took a seat on the couch, he was comfortably spread out while your position was still a bit stiff. You didn’t know him after all. 

 “Wait, babe, you should’ve said something!” He shot up again, helping Shimizu, who balanced two wine glasses and a bottle of beer in one hand and a wine bottle already in a cooler in the other. “You could have used your head!” The jab could’ve been snappy, but the playful tone softened in a way that made you understand their relationship for the first time.  

They must’ve known each other for a long time.

“How did you two meet?” The question escaped you before you could hold your curiosity back. “I managed the boys' volleyball team in high school and Hiro was on our opponent's team,” Shimizu explained while giving you a filled wine glass. “I nearly hit the other manager of her team with a stray ball.” Hanamaki giggled at the memory. “Mizu here saved poor Yachi and I went over to apologize and well, as they say, the rest is history!” He blinked exaggeratedly at Shimizu, who just scoffed with a smile. “We didn’t really start talking until we moved to Tokyo. And then I met him on my way to the convenience store and we decided to talk a bit.”

It was so normal and simple. But still very romantic in your eyes. “Like we were meant to be!” Hanamaki dramatically threw himself back onto the couch, his now opened beer bottle securely in his hand. Shimizu took a seat in the armchair slightly across from you and you felt kind of weird, separating the couple like that. But both looked content, you didn’t want to destroy the atmosphere by doing something awkward. 

Knowing you, it would happen sooner or later anyway. 

But at least for the next few minutes, you had peace, engaging in various small talk with the two of them, gradually relaxing and even cracking some jokes on your own, much to the delight of Hanamaki. And as the lightweight you were you could already feel the glass of wine, admittedly, you had downed that very quickly on a near-empty stomach. But you didn’t mind the relaxed atmosphere. Not worrying about everything you did or said was quite soothing for a change. 

“Oikawa was pretty dumb, you know one time…” Hanamaki interrupted himself by laughing and seeing his eyes crinkle in joy made a dreaded warmth bloom in your chest. You were reminiscing on your old high school days, Hanamaki being at it with stories from his team captain for the last twenty minutes. When he wanted to start again, still gasping for air, the doorbell interrupted him, and an excited look shot across his face. “Mattsun!” 

With a huge grin on his face, he darted across the room to the front door, opening it in an abrupt motion, to showcase the tall dark-haired male behind it for a second until he was already engulfed by Hanamaki. Both men hugged for a solid minute until Hanamaki ushered the other one, Mattsun apparently, in. Shimizu had also stood up to hug the newcomer, leaving you kind of awkwardly standing by the side. “That’s Y/N. She’s a friend of Shimizu’s and a freshman!” Thank god for the wine or you would’ve nearly passed out when Hanamaki suddenly threw an arm around your shoulder and pressed you into his side. 

“Hi, nice to meet you! I’m Matsukawa Issei. Hiro and I went to high school together.” The tall stranger extended his hand towards you and you shook it with a friendly smile on your face. “Nice to meet you too, Matsukawa-san.” 

After Matsukawa had finished his first beer, you and Shimizu were nearly down with the bottle of wine, the timer rang from the kitchen, indicating that the sauce was finished and the meat was perfectly tender. 

Eating something felt good, it cleared your head a bit from the alcohol, especially the glass of water you had next to your wine helped. Matsukawa was a bit quieter than Hanamaki but still held an active conversation. Shimizu however was another story. She was much quieter than when you met up with only the two of you, silently observing everything going on at the table and only occasionally adding her thoughts. You liked it. It would be overwhelming to have multiple different opinions voiced at all times. And getting to know something different about Kiyoko Shimizu was always a pleasure.

Matsukawa and Hanamaki were joking the whole time, making you snort into your glass more than once, but you got rewarded by the proud smiles they sent your way. As the second bottle of wine slowly disappeared into your’s and Shimizu’s stomach, the men cracked their third or fourth bottle of beer open when everyone was more than stuffed with the delicious dinner Shimizu and Hanamaki had conjured. 

 “So, I would say we load up the dishwasher, and then we wait a bit before dessert or else Mattsun will blow up.” Hanamaki stood up and started collecting all of the plates, ready to take them into the kitchen. “Damn right, I will,” Mattsun grunted affirmatively but stood up with everyone else to make the cleanup faster. 

Shortly after you were all huddled in the living room again, the couch now more crowded with Shimizu, Hanamaki, and you, while Matsukawa took up the armchair, dangling his legs from the sides. If you would shift just a bit, your thighs would be touching Shimizu’s. But you tried to contain yourself. It would only make everything uncomfortable for everybody around. 

It was weird sitting there with them. You anticipated feeling left out, they all knew each other since high school and you only got to know two of them today. Yet everything fell somehow into place. Shimizu’s occasional giggle or when she added something to the stories the other two were animatedly telling, Hanamaki’s touchy personality, where he hit you continuously every time he laughed too hard, apologizing afterwards, still with a glimmer in his eyes and Matsukawa’s jokes he cracked. 

The evening turned into nighttime and sooner than not you were growing tired, yawning every other minute, head slightly dropping down only for you to catch yourself again. 

“Aw, baby, are you growing tired?” In the past hours, they had teased you about being the youngest, all of them being two years older than you. Shimizu had once even described you as her baby, obviously not knowing what it did to you. She even asked very concernedly if you were alright when your face looked like a blazing tomato. 

You could only nod at Hanamaki’s words, rubbing your eyes and standing up, a bit wobbly on your feet from sitting so long and the amount of alcohol you had consumed. “I’ll call it a night then. Thank you for inviting me.” You shot a smile at Shimizu and Hanamaki, turning to Matsukawa right afterwards. “It was nice meeting you!” 

“Likewise!” You shared a quick hug before you made your way over to the door, to slip into your shoes. “I’ll walk you home, it’s already late.” Hanamaki surprised you a bit when he also slipped into an oversized bomber jacket and worn down sneakers, grabbing a set of keys and patiently waiting next to the door. 

“No, no, you really don’t have to. I’ll be fine,” you tried to convince him, only receiving an unimpressed stare as an answer. “It’s better like this. It’s dark and you drank something. But still text me when you get home, okay?” Shimizu embraced you in a long hug, swaying you around very slightly while you nuzzled your face into her shoulder.

“Makki?” 

“Yeah?” 

The fresh air had done wonders to sober you up and now you had been walking alongside Makki for a while, engaging in a bit of small talk but it had been quiet for the last few minutes. “What do you do for a living? I just realized you never said anything.” He chuckled at your question. “I thought something serious was coming. And I work as a real estate agent. I like working with people and so on, but I don’t think it’s something longterm. I’m honestly considering just dropping everything and getting professionally trained in pastry making. Maybe even going to culinary school, who knows.” 

The smile he shot you was different than the others you had seen from him. It was rawer, more gentle than his usual teasing ones. “Really? I can actually see it, I mean the small raspberry cakes were amazing! I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything that delicious before!”

His smile widened at that and he straightened up a little bit more. “That was nothing! You should taste my creampuffs. They are my favorite, that’s why I make them so often, they’re kind of my specialty,” he admitted and scratched the back of his head. “I’ll make them for you next time. You should come over soon anyways. Shimizu likes you. Usually, she doesn’t talk that much when we have people over.” You looked at him surprised. Shimizu talked even less usually? Does that mean you weren’t wrong when you thought you had a special connection? 

A blush crept across your face at the thought but you quickly tried to dismiss it again. “You know, you’re pretty cute.” 

Remember when you tried not to blush that hard. It’s not working. Not at all. 

“You can’t say something like that!” Wildly flailing your hands around did nothing to help your flustered state and that strawberry idiot had the audacity to laugh at you! 

Apparently, the alcohol hadn’t cleared up as much as you had thought, or else your heart wouldn’t hammer so loudly against your chest. 

Luckily your building was coming into view, hopefully freeing you from your embarrassment. “But I’m serious, we should do something together again. Soon. If you want, Mattsun is still here tomorrow, we could hang out again. Or well, anytime you want to hang out, I’m sure you just have to give us a call and in like 95% of all cases we’re down.” He scratched the back of his head again. “Oh.”

That kind of surprised you. It was already a wonder that Shimizu, the hot senior girl, talked to you for more than a second. But now her equally hot boyfriend wanted you to join them more often. You weren’t anything special, why would they want to hang out with you? They for sure had other friends. 

“I am free tomorrow if it really isn’t a bother.” You had to take your chances right? Even if hanging out with the attractive couple would probably make your heart go into overdrive the entire time. 

“Of course it’s not a bother!” His step was a lot more feathery, that was until you came to a stop in front of your building, him stopping a couple feet in front of you, turning around with a questioning expression on his face. 

“That’s my building,” you explained, vaguely gesturing towards the entrance. “Okay, alright. Do you need me to walk you up to your room? It really would not be a bother!” 

“It’s okay, there’s security. But thank you for walking me. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” Saying goodbye felt kind of weird.

“Yeah, sure, I think Shimizu will text you the details, if not, I will!” 

After a goodbye hug which lasted way too long to be considered normal, you parted again, with him watching every step you took towards the entrance hall. 

“Y/N! Over here!” Shimizu was waving her arm around for you to spot her easily. As if it wasn’t easy enough already with Hanamaki and Matsukawa towering over her and literally everybody else. “I’m so happy you could make it!” Shimizu clasped your hands in hers, pressing them unnecessarily close to her chest, in your opinion. Had nobody here respect for your poor heart? 

The group had planned to do some shopping before Matsukawa had to grab his train back to Miyagi. It was quite fitting anyways, you needed some new clothes. 

Matsukawa left after a few hours, hugging every one of you for goodbye. You had offered going home too, not wanting intrude on their couple time, but both of them were adamant about taking you with them. So here you were, looking at some clothes while Shimizu was in the aisle behind you and Hanamaki was roaming through the dresses next to you, after you had mentioned you wanted some. “What do you think about this?” Shimizu reappeared in your aisle, holding up a dress for you to look at. “Well, it’s pretty, but I don’t know if it’ll suit me..” Cue to the dress being thrust into your hands. “You never know until you try!” You kept on browsing for a while until you and Shimizu disappeared in two changing cabins with Hanamaki waiting in front of them in the designated seating area. 

“It’s pretty, but a bit short I guess. I mean, if you bend down you would flash literally everyone.” “If it were tighter around the waist it would be a better fit.” “That’s good, but not elevated. A nice dress for your free time, you know?” Hanamaki was a surprisingly good shopping companion, giving insightful comments to everything you and Shimizu tried on. 

“Oh, this one looks so good!” Shimizu was already finished, now sitting outside with her boyfriend, looking at you with wide eyes as you came out with your personal favorite. Hanamaki’s eyes shot to Shimizu for a second, before landing on you again. “You look hot!” Shimizu nodded in agreement. “You have to take that!” You blushed at their comments, fingers toying with the hem of your dress. “Are you sure? Isn’t it too much?” To be fair, you were fishing for compliments a little bit. It looked really good, but it was also kind of expensive. Not that expensive where you have to gasp when seeing the price but it wasn’t classified cheap either. “Yeah, take it. Hiro is right, you look stunning.” The way Shimizu talks is as if she’s always stating facts does something to you. Especially when she was praising you like that. 

After those two days you spent with them, your hangouts became much more frequent. If your schedules aligned you would eat lunch with Shimizu in the cafeteria, Hanamaki would pick you up in his car when the weather was bad, driving you to your dorm or occasionally to their apartment. You had stopped feeling weird about hanging out with them on your own. They were a great couple to be around, not overly touchy, and just respectful of you being there. 

The worst part was by far the fact that your initial attraction to them had blossomed into a full-grown crush. It didn’t help at all that Makki was a touchy person, often throwing arms around your shoulder or your waist, sometimes cuddling up to you on the couch on movie night every Thursday. But you didn’t want to let that have any impact on your friendship. Not only were they really great friends, but it was also pretty helpful as a freshman in a new city to have older friends from college and work life, who could help you with some things where you would usually have called your parents in frustration. So you just kept it to yourself, blushing every time when Shimizu nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck or holds your hand to not lose you in a crowd. 

You still wouldn’t have it any other way. Being with them like this was enough for you, especially since they liked babying you as the youngest. To be honest, you thrived in the attention you were receiving in those moments. 

One time you were cooking together and you had cut your finger, it wasn’t anything deep, really, but you bled a little. And both of them immediately huddled around you, cleaning your finger and putting a plaster on the cut, all while Makki was holding you and Shimizu was cradling your hands, even pressing a small kiss on the cut. 

But at the end of the day, you were still only friends while they were a couple. Even if you wished it was different. 

“Here, little one. Here, babe.” The kiss Makki pressed to the crown of your head startled you. Usually, it was Shimizu who showed her affection like this, and feeling his lips on your head made a heat blossom in your chest, all the way up to your face. He did the same to Shimizu, setting two small plates with sweets in front of you, together with a new jug of lemon water. 

You shot him a thankful smile, even though the redness on your cheeks was probably still prominent. 

It was leading up to finals week and you and Shimizu were studying alongside at their kitchen table, trying to push every last drop of information into your overflowing brains. 

Makki was also pretty busy since he decided to really quit his job and start an apprenticeship at a bakery in the midst of Tokyo. 

“You should take a break, babe.” 

“Yeah, Mizu, you’ve been studying for hours, come join us.” 

Makki and you were trying to coax Shimizu into joining you on the couch to relax a bit before going back into studying. You had finished the course you wanted to revise today and called it a day since it was already late, but Shimizu was still going strong, not even pausing once for anything other than going to the bathroom. 

Makki threw you a look when Shimizu didn’t respond and in a second he hurled her up into his arms, forcefully carrying her over to the couch. You giggled a bit at the picture, skipping behind them to sit on the other side of Shimizu, throwing your arms around her. “What are you doing? I need to study!” She was squirming in your holds but it only made you hug her harder. “No, you need a break. Let’s order pizza and cuddle.” 

Makki chuckled at your words. “That’s a perfect idea. You can still study afterward, okay babe?” Shimizu slowly gave up in your holds and an idea came to your mind. 

Before your courage left you again you moved a bit and pressed a small peck to her jaw, something she had done to you countless times. 

A gasp escaped her and she looked at you with wide eyes, making you blush instantly. “I’m sorry, I thought it was oka-“

And suddenly her lips were on yours. The sensation left before you could even blink. Your eyes were fixed on the dark-haired girl in front of you, who nervously bit on her lip, then they shot to Makki. And he smiled. Why was he smiling? His girlfriend just kissed someone else in front of him? 

Nobody said anything for a while and you felt like you were going into overdrive. You didn’t feel like you could move and the beating of your heart was prominent in your ears. What was that supposed to mean? Was it a friendly kiss? Why were they looking at you like that? 

“I- I mean we, we kind of like you, you know.” It was Shimizu who finally broke the silence, nervousness evident in her tone. What.

They liked you? You? Out of all people? And where were they going with this? 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I thought you were interested, too. I didn’t want to ruin anything!” Tears were appearing in her eyes and your heart broke a little at the thought that you were the reason for that. 

“I- know- I mean I like you. Both of you. But- why?” You finally managed to push some words out of your mouth, still not believing what was happening. “Why we like you? Oh, Y/N, you’re like so nice, and cute, and you’re always there and brightening up our lives! In the beginning, we thought it was just an attraction, but over the past year it became so much more than that.”

One of Makki’s arms left its place around Shimizu and he gently cradled your face in his hands. “We would like to try being in a relationship. With you. Like all three of us, together.” 

This was a dream. It has to be. There was no way they would sacrifice their normal relationship to do something like this with you. 

“Can I kiss you again?” After you didn’t answer for a while, Shimizu shyly spoke up again. “Please.” If it was a dream you could at least live it to its fullest. 

This time you kissed her back, pushing yourself against her until you all fell against Makki, who leaned back and let you make out on top of him. 

Softly, Shimizu’s tongue started prodding at your lips and you opened your mouth a bit too willingly, ready to take whatever she was willing to give to you. 

“Can- eh- me too?” Makki’s eyes were big and hopeful when you parted and surprised you turned your head towards him. They said they both liked you. But it was still unbelievable. 

You leaned down, either way, to connect your still wet lips to his’. 

You don’t think you’ve ever been that content as you were now.

“So, you want to try? The relationship? With us?” It had taken a while until you were finally able to disconnect your lips from theirs, as soon as you finished kissing one, the desire to feel the other one would arise. “Are you sure?” You felt dumb as soon as you asked the question and Shimizu’s small giggle only confirmed your fears. 

“Of course, we’re sure. We’ve talked about it for months since we weren’t sure how to introduce you to the topic without it being like weird or overwhelming.” Makki pressed another kiss to your lips, chuckling at the way your face lit up afterwards. “Is that a yes to the relationship?” 

“Yeah, of course! I mean.. I really like you.” They cooed at your words and immediately you were getting covered in kisses again. 

“Do you want to stay the night?” The question made you tense up. Even though you had moved to the bedroom to continue your kisses in a more comfortable way than with one of you nearly falling off the couch, you still didn’t think you were ready for something sexual. You couldn’t believe everything was real yet anyways. “Not in that way. Like, just sleep,” Hanamaki was quick to correct himself. 

 Despite being friends with them for almost a year you had never stayed the night alone. Once, three other people from their high school days, Daichi, Nishinoya, and Mattsun, stayed over after all of you went partying, but every other time Makki or both of them had walked you home since your apartment was only a 20 minute walk away. 

“I- yeah sure.” Sleeping and cuddling were fine. And you wanted to live out this dream for as long as possible. “I’ll give you a shirt of mine and some shorts from Mizu! Do you want long or short stuff?” Excitedly Hanamaki jumped off the bed, leaving you cuddled up in Shimizu’s arms. “Short, please.” Shimizu and you also stood up, once Makki had everything laid out, leading to a slightly awkward moment, whether you would change here or separately. “I’ll head to the bathroom.” You didn’t quite feel comfortable shedding everything right now so you used the opportunity where none of them offered something else. 

When you came back, both of them were already in their sleeping attire, too. A sting of jealousy hit you right in the heart, at the thought that they had already seen each other naked and once again your brain reminded you of the fact that they were already in a relationship for more than three years, making you just the new awkward add on. But they immediately took you back into their arms and it was like all your worries disappeared. 

“I can’t stop kissing you.” To emphasize his words Makki pressed little pecks all over your face, making you giggle. “I can’t believe you’re ours now.” Shimizu looked at you with big loving eyes, squeezing your hands for a second. 

“Well, let’s continue our earlier plans. Pizza and cuddles, right?” 

In the weeks to come, you didn’t have as much time for them as you would have liked. Hopefully, after your last exam that would start to change, especially since you were getting kind of needy. There were only that so many times how often you could wake up with Hiro’s boner pressing against your ass without him doing anything, other than maybe grinding up into you when you started a small make-out session. You really wished that would change once you all had more time on your hands. 

“Congratulations on finishing all your exams!” Shimizu engulfed you in a hug before you even had time to shout your hello’s. “Thank you, Mizu.” You giggled excitedly, the euphoria of finally completing all your exams overwhelming your emotions. “What do you say we go on a date? We never went on an official one, so we can do that once Hiro’s off work.” You nodded excitedly at her offer, pressing your lips to hers. You were becoming addicted to their kisses, never being able to go long without them when they were in close proximity of yours. 

It didn’t take long until her fingers were tangled in your hair and you were pushed back on the couch, her other hand roaming over your body, but being careful not to touch any of your intimate areas. 

Only when you obviously ground up into her hands she tentatively took one of your boobs into her hand, squeezing it experimentally. It wasn’t much but for your touch starved body, it was enough to enlist a small moan. 

“We should wait for Hiro, baby.” She was a bit breathless when she sat up and withdrew her hand from your boobs. “Don’t pout. Go shower and get ready for our date, I’m going to make reservations and inform Hiro.” She fully crawled off you, leaving an empty feeling behind but you still complied. “Where will we go?” Your voice was a bit hoarse from not talking for the last 20 minutes and you coughed a little to get it back. 

“Something fancy. Do you have fitting clothes here?” Smiling she leaned down again to kiss you another time, much shorter than before and that made you realize that maybe, she was equally addicted to you. 

“I have some dresses but I don’t know if it’s really fancy. Maybe I’ll have to go home for a bit,” you admitted. “That’s okay baby if you do your makeup here, how much time do you think it’ll take?” If you already knew what you were going to wear it shouldn’t take long. But maybe you had to iron it for it to really look good. But probably a max of 20 minutes. “I don’t know, 20 minutes maybe if you help me pick something out.” Shimizu chuckled and the sound alone was enough for a smile to emerge on your face. “We will join.” 

After her promise she sent you to the bathroom with a slight tap to your butt, sending tingles up your spine with the short contact. 

You really hoped that she got the hint that you wanted to do something more. You would probably be to shy to ask them directly. And you even shaved every hair on your body that wasn't necessary in your opinion. You wanted to be at your best for them, cleaning especially thorough down there.

Never in a million years would you look good next to the goddess named Kiyoko Shimizu. She had an enticing lipstick on and you never wanted anything more than to kiss it right off her. Her body was adorned by a black midi dress with a slit at the side and a dangerously low cleavage. 

“Shimizu you look so good!” You couldn’t stop gaping at your girlfriend, hands running over her sides, smelling her sweet perfume. “Thank you, baby!” She pressed a soft kiss to your lips, careful to not destroy your makeup. 

“Shit, I’m so lucky.” Hiro was staring in awe when leaving the bathroom, his eyes trained on Shimizu, whereas your eyes couldn’t believe what they saw. In what world did creampuff loving Hanamaki Takahiro have a body like that?

He was fresh out of the shower, only clad in tight black boxer briefs, ruffling through his hair with a towel. It was like a painting. And when he came over to give Shimizu and you a kiss on the lips you once again realized how gorgeous those two people were. And then there was you. 

“Do you have any idea what you’re wearing yet? Thanks, babe.” He took the grey button-up and the black pants with a slightly checkered pattern Shimizu ironed earlier out of her hands with a huge smile. 

“Noo,” you wailed and dramatically fell back onto the bed, pleased with yourself once you heard them laugh. “I’m sure we’ll find something amazing. You look hot either way. You already do, now. I could eat you!” Shimizu jokingly pulled you closer to the edge where she stood by your legs, hovering over you only to press a feather-light peck onto your lips. 

Hiro chuckled at the way you shuddered and shot you a knowing wink once your eyes met, making you blush a deep rose. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been here.” Hiro and Shimizu looked around interested, even though your small room was not that great at all. “It’s nothing special.” You got a bit shy at the way they were inspecting everything in great detail, leaning down to analyze every picture. 

“What do you think of this?” You tried taking their attention off your family picture you had on your desk, holding up a dark green trouser with a black blouse. “It’s cute, definitely a contender. I would have to see it on you, though.” You nodded in agreement, laying the outfit down carefully on your bed, which has been nearly unused for the last month. “What about this?” Your next choice got a unified shaking of heads and after the third failed attempt you didn’t know if there was anything left in your small closet that was to some extent suitable for today. 

That was until you pulled the last dress out. Personally, you probably wouldn’t have gone for it out of fear to be overdressed, but Shimizu and Hiro were delighted. “That’s it. You have to wear that! We’re going to be the hottest group in Tokyo!” Hiro was especially enthusiastic but he got quiet real quick when you shyly pulled your sweatshirt over your head to change into the dress. It wasn’t as if you had other choices. You didn’t want to change in the bathroom down the hall and your room didn’t really have any other options. 

 “Fuck, baby, give a man a warning next time, will you?” Both of them moved closer to you, hands starting to roam your body, pressing the occasional kiss to your shoulders. “You’re so beautiful, baby.” Shimizu’s fingers played with the hem of your sweatpants, helping you out of them. “We have to go to the reservation, don’t we?” Hiro’s voice sounded pained and he pulled back his hands from your body. Shimizu followed his example, giving you room to continue changing. Now overly aware of their eyes on your body you slipped into the dress, turning around in a silent request for someone to pull your zipper up. 

“God, you’re hot.” To hear something like that from Shimizu, the equation of a goddess was unreal and in an instant you blushed again, hand moving up to fix your hair, which didn’t need any fixing at all. 

“But there are some panty lines visible.” Hiro’s comment made all eyes fixate on your private region and the lines on the side of your hips. “Do you have any other underwear here?” You shook your head at Shimizu’s question. “I already chose the one with like the least seams. “I don’t think we have time to go back to the apartment or else I could’ve lent you some.” Shimizu seemed deep in thought and even though the thought of wearing Shimizu’s underwear made you feel some kind of way, you only had one possible option in mind. “I could take them off.”

“Do you need anything else? A coffee maybe? Or another drink?” The waiter in the restaurant was reappearing, after taking your empty dessert platters back. “No, thank you. Just the check please.” Hiro’s hand felt hot on your thigh. It hasn’t moved since the main course was finished, occasionally giving it a squeeze. 

When the check arrived and you wanted to fish your wallet out of your bag the hand squeezed you again, harder than before. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got it. This is a celebration for you, after all!” You didn’t order anything of the most expensive stuff, but you still felt bad at him spending money on you. “You don’t have to, you know? I can pay for myself!” He silenced you with a smile and just gave the waiter his card, not letting you see the amount under the line. 

“Thank you, really. You didn’t have to pay for me.” You took both of their hands in yours, squeezing them to really show your thankfulness. “Baby, we wanted to. On top of that, splitting the check would’ve taken too long. I’m quite impatient, to be honest.” Shimizu smiled at you knowingly, only making you blink dumbly. “Impatient?” 

They both laughed at that, Hiro opening the car door for you and Shimizu as you reached the vehicle. “Knowing that you don’t have any underwear on is killing me on the inside.” He murmured into your ear and immediately you felt heat engulfing your entire body. Flushed with embarrassment and excitement you took your seat on the backseat. 

Only then you realized that both of them seemed pretty tense, hurrying already in the restaurant to go home as soon as possible. You had thought that maybe they had another thing planned and apparently you weren’t that far off with your assumption. 

Nervousness was laced in every step you took up to their apartment. “Hey.” You jumped a bit when Shimizu laid a hand on the middle of your back in front of their front door and turned around to face their concerned expressions. “We don’t have to do anything, you know that, right? We can stop at kissing, we can go all the way or something in between.” You nodded. “I want to.” Your voice was quiet but certain. And as soon as you said that she kissed you in a way she hadn’t kissed you before. The prior make out session probably came the closest but with this kiss, you could feel every intention was to get you naked and writhing underneath her. 

Hiro gently pushed you through the now opened door, feeling you up at the same time. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous. And so filthy. Going out without your underwear. How did it feel knowing you were sitting in that room full of people?” His hand sneaked over your backside, squeezing and pinching every bit of flesh available. 

“Did you ever think what you were doing to us? If it was me without any panties I would’ve for sure creamed on the chair with how wet I got at the thought of you.” You whimpered at their dirty talk, unable to form an answer, only trying to make them feel what you felt, hands carefully groping at Shimizu’s breasts, hips rutting into Hiro’s crotch. 

“Come on, baby, go to the bedroom. Today’s about you.” They followed you closely, closing the door behind themselves. 

Immediately the feeling in the room was different. You turned around to face them and came to face with Hiro unbuttoning his shirt and helping Shimizu out of her dress right afterwards. It made the fire of anticipation burn even hotter in your chest. Their hands soon were back on your body again, this time even slightly dipping under your skirt, caressing your bare thighs. “Turn around.” You nearly missed the murmur of Shimizu against your collarbone if it weren’t for her turning you around herself. She pulled the zipper down excruciatingly slow and you felt goosebumps appear all over your body at the way the dress slowly slipped from your figure, different pairs of lips covering every newly exposed skin in light kisses. 

They led you towards the bed, making you lay on your back. It felt weird, having your lower half uncovered but still having a bra on. Apparently, Hiro thought the same thing, releasing you from the garment. “You’re dripping,” Shimizu noted, dipping a finger between your lips and coating it in your essence. “Give me a taste.” You didn’t know you could get even hornier just by watching Hiro lick your arousal from your girlfriend's finger. “Please.” 

Both of them looked at you with a smile on their faces and Shimizu brought her finger back down, softly rubbing at your clit, enjoying the way your body twitched at the small shots of pleasure. “Adorable,” Hiro commented, perching himself next to you on the bed to dedicate himself to your boobs, nipping and licking away at your nipples. 

Your hands twitched towards Hiro, wanting to touch him, too, to do something other than just laying there, but they were immediately swatted away. “Next time, baby.”

You wanted to protest, but Shimizu’s finger slipped into your cunt, wiggling around and making you gasp in surprise. “Hiro, babe, you should continue, you have bigger fingers and we really want to spoil our princess, don’t we?” He pressed one last kiss to your breast, leaving your abused nipples to let his hand wander towards your pussy, not giving you any time to adjust but just pushing his pointer finger inside and relishing in the way you moaned. “Shimizu. Please. I want to do something!” Your breathing became more uneven by the second but you still weren’t content with just laying there doing nothing. “If you’re a good baby and come soon you can eat me out while Hiro fucks you,” she offered you, making your hips twitch towards Hiro’s hands, to speed up the process. Him fucking you with his finger felt good, but you would need more than one to come. “More fingers, please!” He complied with a chuckle and added a second one. 

“Greedy little baby.”

He fastened his pace too, varying between just thrusting his fingers and scissoring and curling them, making all kinds of noises escape your mouth. Shimizu straddled you backwards, facing Hiro and hovering her cunt in your field of vision but just out of reach. You could just grab her and pull her back towards her face but as soon as your hands even twitched by your side Hiro let out a warning growl. “Don’t even think about it or I will tie you up while I fuck her on top of you for hours.”

You whimpered at that, crying out in surprise when suddenly Shimizu began rubbing your clit again. The combined stimulation was already making the knot in your stomach form. You would’ve never thought that just looking at Shimizu’s pussy would do that much to you. You could see her folds glistening and it looked downright delicious. If you breathed in deeply you could even smell her. 

She intensified her rubbing on your clit, leaning down more to take her tongue into the action, lapping at your bundle of nerves without hindering Hiro in his moves. Your moans got louder and you became more and more breathless by gasping for air the whole time. And when Hiro added a third finger, thrusting into you even harder you were done for. 

Spasming under Shimizu’s weight they didn’t halter their movements, holding your legs open to continue. 

Hiro hadn’t even pulled out his fingers completely when Shimizu was already moving back, thrusting her pussy into your face, making you lap up her juices like a starved man. You couldn’t hold back your moans at the way she tasted, relishing in the deliciousness. 

“Here babe.” Hiro thrust his fingers into Shimizu’s mouth, making her gag and as a result her pussy clenched around nothing. How bad you wanted to just finger her, maybe fuck her with a dildo, make er feel good. But you were scared they were going to stop completely when you disobeyed.

All your thoughts vanished when Hiro suddenly pushed his whole length inside you, making you moan loudly against Shimizu’s cunt. “Fuck, you’re doing so good, baby, please keep going, I’m going to cum soon.” She started rutting against your face, trying to rub her clit against your chin, while your whole body shook with every thrust Hiro delivered. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re tight. You’re practically milking me!”

The overstimulation was going to your head, you were already feeling another orgasm approaching. The attempt to rut your hips against Hiro’s was quickly diminished by his large hands holding you down onto the mattress. 

“You look hot, babe.” You could practically hear his grin out of his voice, feeling Shimizu chuckle. Then there were two new sensations. Two fingers slipped between your chin and Shimizu’s clit, rubbing figure eights, as well as on your clit. The pleasure was building up more and more, you couldn’t even try to decipher whose hand was whose, you just wanted to chase your high and apparently they shared your sentiments, since this time nobody intervened when you met every thrust of Hiro with your hips. 

You were the first to come with a loud cry against Shimizu’s cunt, still trying to stick out your tongue to maybe provide her with more pleasure. Shimizu followed with a guttural moan, a new gush of wetness releasing all over your face, getting greedily lapped up by you.

She climbed off of you not long after, chuckling at your whine when Hiro pulled out. “On the floor, on your knees.” Both of you complied instantly, waiting next to each other as he started jacking himself over your faces. 

It didn’t take long until spurts of hot semen shot across your faces, partly landing in you awaiting mouths. “Fuck you look good like that. My girls. I’m so lucky, shit.” He lovingly caressed your chins with his thumbs, pushing some of the excess cum into your mouths. 

You already wanted to swallow, when Shimizu turned your head towards her, connecting your lips together and mixing your spit and cum, probably tasting herself in the process.

When you parted again Hiro looked incredibly proud, helping you back to your feet. “You both did so well. Lay down, I’ll get a towel.”

You had often cuddled with Shimizu, but feeling her naked skin against yours was a whole other feeling. But you weren’t complaining. And when Hiro joined you, too, after having cleaned up your faces and lower parts, it was as if everything was perfect.

You didn’t know why it hurt so much, seeing them walk up the stairs arm in arm. Of course, they were having dates on their own. You sometimes hung out with one of them at a time, too. But something about them being all dressed up and in love without you made pain shoot through your chest. 

You had a really bad day, the weather was shit and you had woken up late, nearly missing one of your most important lectures, only forgetting your umbrella and coming to university wet from the rain, in sweatpants without having brushed your hair and without any makeup on. 

 And now seeing your boyfriend and girlfriend happily coming back from a date after not answering your calls if one of them could pick you up because of the weather, it hurt. 

You couldn’t help the tears that shot into your eyes and in an instant you tried to escape the oncoming situation, dashing towards the elevator, pressing the button to hopefully disappear before they saw you. “Y/N?” Shit. That worked out perfectly. You rushed into the elevator, not being able to repress your sob, immediately pushing onto the buttons that closed the door and the ground floor. “Y/N!” 

Your eyes met for a second and you could see them taking hurried steps towards you when the doors closed. As soon as you were out of their sights the tears didn’t stop falling, the painful twinge in your chest getting stronger by the second. Gasping for air you tried to not cry before being back in your room, which you wouldn’t have for long, anyways. You had been in a relationship for nearly a year and it was in the planning that you would move in with them soon, but you weren’t so sure if you wanted that anymore. You always felt like the add on, especially with them living together and you spend at least two nights a week at your own place before morning classes, since your way to university was shorter that way. 

What you didn’t expect as soon as the doors opened again at the ground floor was Hiro, nearly taking four steps at once, flying down the stairs to pull you into his arms as soon as you even stepped out of the elevator. 

“Please don’t leave.” His voice was strained as he mumbled the words into your ear and at that moment every resistance you had broken down, tears falling freely, soaking his black button-up as you shook in his arms. 

You couldn’t even try to form any words to explain yourself, to bring yourself to turn away, everything that escaped you were loud sobs as he slowly maneuvered you back into the elevator and pressed the floor of their apartment. He was stroking your back constantly, pressing kisses into your head in-between mumbled shhh’s. 

When you were back in front of the apartment the door was already open, Shimizu waiting with a worried expression, rushing towards you as soon as she laid her eyes on you, making you cry even harder.

They settled you onto the couch, caged in their arms without any of you saying a word. 

“Baby..” You were shocked to see tears streaming down Shimizu’s face when you looked up to meet her eyes. How could this affect her?

“I’m sorry,” you finally brought out. “I don’t want you to feel sad!”

“Baby, you have nothing to be sorry for. What happened? Did we do something wrong? We didn’t have any connection in the restaurant and when we tried to call you back you didn’t answer.” They had called you? Did your phone die? It must have. You didn’t hear any ringing. “I’m sorry,” you repeated. 

The way they were clinging onto you made you feel incredibly loved. You already didn’t understand how you could ever think they didn’t love you. They had shown you multiple times how much they cherished you but your doubts always got the better of you as soon as you were alone. 

“I’m sorry! I- I had a bad day and then you didn’t pick up and I thought you were tired of me.” Finally, you could give them an explanation. And show them that you really had to apologize for jumping into conclusions and making them worry. You didn’t deserve them.

“Of course we love you, Y/N. We love you so much, I can’t even comprehend sometimes how I can love somebody as much as I love you and Shimizu.” Even Hiro was crying, his face still buried in your hair. 

“But you’re so perfect! And I’m me. I always doubt myself and need constant verification for everything.” 

“That’s the point, though. You’re you. And we love showering you in affection. At least for me, it makes me feel like a goddess, being able to put a smile on your face just by kissing you and giving you handmade lunch for uni.” 

“But you are a goddess,” you pouted, making her laugh slightly. 

“Let us show you again.” Hiro lifted his face, hands cupping your face to wipe your tears away, softly kissing you. “Please let us show you.” 

“Look at yourself, Y/N. You’re beautiful. You’re everything we could ever want in a girlfriend.” They had stripped you bare and sat you on the bed, facing the big mirror on the closet doors. Shimizu was kneeling on the floor between your spread legs, softly kissing the inside of your thighs, smiling at you through the mirror. “Caring for you, making you come, seeing how you’re desperate to please us, and follow our command, it makes us happy. There’s nothing I would want to do more.” To confirm his words Hiro took your hand to rub it over his hard length without allowing you to grab it. “And seeing you cry was horrifying, to be honest.” Immediately you felt bad at Shimizu’s words. Your puffy red eyes were still a constant reminder of that, practically mocking you in the mirror. “So let’s make you cry because of a different reason.” You couldn’t even try to think about what she meant when she dove right in, lapping at your pussy with long strokes of her tongue, nibbling on your lips every now and then. 

You moaned in pleasure, closing your eyes and leaning back against Hiro to really relish in the feelings. “Keep your eyes open, baby. Look at us pleasuring you. Look at us enjoying it.” 

You opened your eyes again and they immediately fell on Shimizu’s face. She was looking up at you from your cunt and you could see so much adoration in her eyes you already felt tears of shame prickling in yours at the memory that you had ever doubted them. 

“Babe.” Shimizu got alerted through Hiro’s call and you also looked in the mirror to see what he was doing behind you, moaning when you caught sight of the double-ended dildo you had often used with your girlfriend, sometimes with Hiro joining in, sometimes with him only watching, sometimes with him only being able to enjoy the aftermaths when he was coming home to you two being completely wrecked, the dildo lying forgotten on the floor. 

“You want us both today?” Shimizu licking her lips after departing from your pussy made you moan again and you nodded wildly only for her to dive right back in, this time lowering herself quite a bit. Hiro adjusted your position, spreading your legs further and making you slide farther towards the edge of the bed so Shimizu could continue prodding at your asshole with her tongue. “I can’t wait, please, finger and lube.” Hiro laughed. “Help her, then.” 

Shimizu detached herself again, moving to the side a bit so you could have the full vision of yourself in the mirror, your own fingers toying with the tight muscle, slightly pushing in even without lube. “Don’t be greedy, baby.” Hiro took it upon himself to take the clear gel and let it drizzle over your fingers, generously coating them. Taking the finger was much easier now and in a matter of minutes, you had two of them in, your arousal only heightening when having eye contact with your partners through the mirror. 

It was unusual for them to be this quiet, normally endless praises would be falling out of their mouths. “I’m ready! Please!” You hadn’t prepared yourself as thorough as usual and by a cock of his eyebrows you realized that Hiro knew that, but he didn’t say anything when he heaved you onto his arms, hovering you over his erect dick. 

“Fuck, I love your ass.” He was nearly halfway in and you felt more stretched than you ever had all the other times you had taken him like this. Your thighs twitched and you slipped even further down, when Shimizu pushed one of her slender fingers into your dripping cunt, wiggling it around slightly. “Don’t be impatient, Mizu. We have time. Look at our princess. She’s dripping.” You moaned at his praise and thanked every god that Shimizu didn’t interpret Hiro’s words as a command to pull her finger back out. “She’s gorgeous. Looking so pretty with her ass filled.” She pressed more kisses on your thighs, only stopping when red bites and bruises were littered across them. 

Hiro slowly pushed the last inches in, letting out a guttural moan when he was finally fully buried within you. Shimizu took that as her cue to start moving her finger, adding a second and third one after a couple of seconds before finally taking the dildo into her hand, holding it up to your mouth. “Don’t just lick. Take it in.” You complied, taking as much of the double-sided dildo into your mouth as possible. “Hold.” She let go from the other side, moving out of the way for you to have a full view of yourself in the mirror again. 

“Look at you. Maybe I should just fuck myself on your mouth, leaving your little cunt empty. Would you like that?” You tried shaking your head without letting the dildo falling out of your mouth. Your pussy was aching to be filled. Tears were already forming in your eyes from the constant strain on your throat, but the proud smile on Hiro’s face only showed you that this was exactly what they wanted to do. Make you cry out of pleasure. 

With one hard tug, Shimizu pulled the dildo out of your mouth, not caring about the trail of spit that fell down your face and chest. The power with which she shoved it into your cunt made the first tears escape your eyes as you yelped in pleasure. “Fuck, yes, please, Mizu, more!” She looked happy with her accomplishment and then she sank down onto your cock, taking the other side of the dildo deep into her mouth until her nose touched your clit, nuzzling it a bit just to toy with you, shaking the dildo doing so and making you shake out of pleasure at the same time. 

She didn’t repeat that maneuver often, the small drops on the floor already evidence enough that she was equally as impatient as you were. 

“Look at yourself. Look how two people are fucking you at the same time.” It was hard to see anything clearly as soon as Shimizu sank down onto the other side of the dildo and both of them began to move, Hiro gripping the middle of the dildo to make it thrust in and out of both of you in an equal pace. “Still think you’re not loved?” 

“No, no! I am loved, I love you, both of you, so much. I’m so sorry I thought otherwise. I love you, I love you!” You couldn’t chant anything else, the pleasure being overwhelming, tears streaming down your face even though you were not sure if that was out of happiness or pleasure. “I- I love you too, baby.” Shimizu’s movements got even faster and she kissed you with all of her heart, shoving every ounce of love in there. 

“Fuck, baby, I’m going to come. Your sweet ass is making me come. I love you so much, baby, shit.” Hiro’s thrusts became harsher, making you snap up into Shimizu, all three of you groaning and moaning while desperately trying to hold on to each other. 

As announced, Hiro came first, filling your ass with his cum, stilling afterwards but still slightly thrusting the dildo between you and Shimizu. 

You didn’t know who of you came first, just that both your movements suddenly stilled, clasped in absolute pleasure, connected at your most intimate parts. 

“Look at you. Does that look like someone who isn’t loved?” You tiredly raised your head, drinking in the picture before you on the foggy mirror. 

It didn’t. Hickey’s were littered across your thighs, Hiro’s come was slightly dribbling out of your asshole and onto his only half-hard dick, Shimizu was covering your top half with her’s, the dildo lying on the floor forgotten, both of your holes still twitching, wetness coating your cunts and thighs. It didn’t look like anyone of you was not loved at all. 

“Thank you.” Your throat was dry from moaning too much and you swallowed a couple of times before continuing. “I’m sorry again for doubting you. I know you love me a lot. I always know.” You kissed both of them and shot them a smile, hoping that they were going to forgive you. 

“Stop apologizing. Everybody has those days from time to time. The most important thing is that you know now again.” Shimizu was nearly sleeping but you couldn’t blame her, the post crying and post-sex exhaustion catching up to you. 

Not much later you were all cuddled up on fresh sheets after taking a short bath to clean yourself from all the sweat, cum, and lube. 

“I love you, Hiro. I love you, Shimizu,” you mumbled contently smiling at their similar answers. Maybe this really was paradise. You may not deserve it, but you certainly weren’t complaining. 

[stellaestra]

how would stray kids interact with mc in high school if they ever met? // high school au headcanons [stray kids/reader]

pairing: skz hyung line + mc [reader]

description: who would mc interact with in high school if they ever met? what kind of interactions would they have? // bulletpoints headcanons + small snippets

genre: platonic, high school au, friendship, humour, hurt/comfort

author’s note: this could be a stand alone or not, the mc is the same bodyguard/intern au!mc...it's just a "what ifs" kinda thing, fellas

p.s. some of the scenarios are based off real life events that happened to me in high school but i overly exaggerated some of them for the shit and giggles,, tell me which event actually happened to me in the askbox lmao I'm curious

pls I'm funny i swear

cw: minor swearing, just teenagers being teenagers, idiots, mention of blood (?) uhh mentions of violence (??)

unedited

// no beta read, we’ll die like men

---

bang chan

mc is a '00 liner,

she doesn't interact with her seniors pt.1

to interact with them; it would have to be a school event or a collab project between the seniors and the juniors

possibly would be approached first by chan during sports day or a school festival for something

he thought that she's a pretty decent track runner when he saw sprint during the sports day track event

after that incident, chan would greet her in the hallways or wherever if he ever comes across her

mc would always awkwardly greet him back

“hey! you’re that really fast track runner, you did great that day!” chan complimented her in the hallways. out loud.

mc prays to whoever above there that chan would stop talking so loud as she could feel her face burn when she felt eyes on her.

cue to her awkwardly smiling at him and nodding, “yep, that’s me, yes, alright, senior chan.”

chan finds her adorable ever since that first few encounters

he also found out that she hangs out with felix just as much as he does

(love rivals (for felix) arc when)

he doesn’t know who to be envious of

that mc gets to spend so much time with lix or

felix being able to spend so much time with her

the never-ending saga

(love rivals (for felix) arc turned into possible rivals to friends arc)

(okay, im joking)

their respective friends group made a running joke

about how chan and mc are love rivals for felix

(it eventually became theirs as well)

(it's funny)

once he made her go off-tangent about felix

she was really passionate about his freckles and smile

for a moment

he really did think that she has a crush on him

no surprises there tho

felix IS absolutely cute

(friends arc?? omg, all for felix, HA)

he really really finds her adorable

he could go on for days

esp her little habit of covering her mouth when she speaks

sweater paws bc he almost always sees her with a jacket on even if it was a hot day

it's like a second skin on her

he once asked her if she ever removes her jacket

“only when im on school ground or during school events like assembly, i’ll take it off, senior chan.”

“eh? don’t you feel warm underneath that during a hot day?”

“...i do remove it sometimes, i guess...but i like wearing it bc it’s comforting.”

one time chan saw her without her jacket and wears short-sleeves uniform, he really wanted to shower her in his affections n also it’s such a rare sight that he almost couldnt recognized her

“haha hey, you didn’t wore your jacket today!”

“they’re in the laundry and...today’s a hot day...unfortunately, haah.”

he once tried to ruffle her hair but found her dodging his hand so fast at breakneck speed

that he was kinda concerned

she told him that her hair hasn't been washed yet so it's dirty

but the thing is: she told him every time he tried to ruffle her hair

“you’re not letting me pat your head on purpose.”

“senior chan, i wouldn’t do such a thing.” he noticed the little teasing smile before it disappeared.

he wondered briefly if she has always been this playful and cheeky with others her age

chan is aware that she speaks formally towards him out of habit though so he lets it slide and let her take her time growing comfortable with him.

he knew she was lying but let's her be anyway

bc she's his cute little junior

---

lee minho

another case of mc's "no seniors juniors interaction"

minho’s very attractive so mc will definitely avoid him at all cost

plus, he looks intimidating to her so bye bye

to not step on any of her classmates' landmines that has the hots for him

drama isn't her thing, she already witness a handful and even got thrown into the fire as fuel before

no thank you she liked having her life in high school as peaceful as possible

mc would make her conversations with him very short n blunt

she's not gonna catch anyone's hands today, my dudes

really, she doesn’t

minho thinks of her like a small kitten that needs to be taken care of

bc of how she always scutters away from chan whenever he’s with him

if they ever interact

it would be when the juniors have the collab with their seniors

like a science fair, where the students have to come up with things to showcase

his class coincidentally collabs with her class for that particular event

he told chan about it and he have never seen chan pout and deflate like that

the only person he does that to is felix...if not, it’s jeongin.

chan sure adores this little junior other than felix huh…

then again, felix and mc does hangout a lot and so does jisung and her

so he took this chance as to know more abt her

coughs because jisung seems to be talking a lot about her coughs

(minho + mc love rivals (for jisung) arc pt. 2 when)

(mc really about to fight 2 seniors because she's stealing their respective juniors huh)

(the never-ending saga of love rivals)

he approached her inside that shared classroom for the collab event

she looked constipated when he approached her group of friends

even more so when he directly asked for name and whatnot

it kinda made him want to tease her even more now

he found out her name and what they were planning to do

heard her cursing under her breath

he decided to join their group on the whim

found out that mc is just a little shy whenever he approached her

her friends are somewhat protective of her

he got glared at by one of them once when he wanted to greet mc in the hallways

and mc kind of hid half of herself behind them

so whenever she’s on her own, he would try to approach her as slowly as possible

like. dealing with a cat and you’re a stranger trying to gain their trust

what he never will forget nor stop teasing her was about

her spinning on her heels to walk into the direction she was previously coming from

just to avoid him

he couldn't help but find it hilarious

he won her over when he brings the topic of cats wandering around their school campus

saw how her eyes lit up brightly

“the stray cats here are fun to play with, right?”

“yeah, me and friends decided to name a few of them too!”

he mentioned it to her because he saw her playing with the cats when she was waiting for someone or when she has time to play with them during recess

and the ramblings of a high schooler about cats commences

he wasn’t bothered about how much she talked

would nod along with what she says

because wow, shes really passionate about cats

that's a huge bonus for minho

and that was how minho adopted another kitten

whenever they weren’t busy with their own things, they would play with the cats together

playdate with cats <3

she would tell him that one particular grey cat was called

“this cat’s name is miss universe! they’re so cute, right?” she picked the cat up and cuddle with it, eyes sparkling with joy

“why did you guys name them that?”

“because why not?”

“fair enough point.”

and she laughs

he was glad that she stopped being so cautious around him if he was being honest

since the way chan was talking about her so affectionately made him really curious about her

casually mentions that jisung talks about her a lot

expected her to be bashful about it

but all she does was

“oh, cool, what did he say? I’m a weeb? Hah, he’s the same as I am” + "he should've said to it my face, senior minho, hmph"

so making her flustered backfired on him

poor minho

here’s your “you tried” star

mwah

so yeah, minho adopted a new cat (his little junior)

---

seo changbin

same case as the two above, unfortunately

if they do ever interact, it's short and pleasantries

mc does kinda find him intimidating to certain extent

she's not good with dealing with intimidating looking people

but when he smiles, her shoulders feel less tense when she interacts with him

thinks of him as a pretty cool senior

he made her listen to his rap once n she told him that he's so cool n that stuck with him for days

imagine a junior telling you that you're so cool with that starry-eyed expression

your ego would go off the rooftop

after that, changbin would make it out of his way to greet her in the hallways

RAP MUSIC BUDDIES???? POTENTIAL

pat her on the head occasionally

if she doesn't dodge like hell away from his hands

“why do you keep avoiding them”

“no, don’t pat me, you’re treating me like a cat”

“I’m not?” lies, ever since minho told him that she reminds him of a cat, he really thought about it more

“you have that same look minho gives me when he tries to pat me…hyung…”

“we’re really going to make you call us oppa one day, watch us”

“um, yeah, no.”

“let your cute senior pat your head!!”

“im gonna run away!”

he knows that the younger ones in their friend group do interact with her

esp felix and jisung

for innie’s circumstances, that’s different

she does comes to him every once in awhile to abuse her title of his cute little junior to get a chance to listen to a teaser of his raps or songs he composes

found out that she does like rap songs! a lot more than he thought

they became those friends who shares new songs they found out and share it with each other

even at ungodly hours like 2am in the morning

that would not stop them

“this song reminds me of you”

“hey hey hey listen to this, psst”

“This shit SLAPS, go listen or else im gonna fight you in the school hallway, coward”

he became smug about it and boast about his knowledge to 3racha

jisung complained that he thought she only listened to anime songs or soft indie songs because he saw her playlists before

changbin told them that she has other playlists that’s for more “intense and aggressive” songs

they were floored and the conversation starts like this,

“what do you mean she likes listening to yours and ours music and raps?”

“im not kidding, she does! she even showed me her playlists that were filled with rap, rock and metal songs!!”

“my little mc? likes those songs? are you sure you’re not dreaming?”

“it’s a public playlist, i even followed her playlists”

“If you’re wrong, hyung, im really gonna fight you on this! bc I KNOW her first”

“doesn’t mean that you know her BETTER”

lots of petty bickerings

chan and jisung has a big revelation about mc that day at school

(there goes mc’s little rep within their group of friends)

he did warned them to not tell her that he told them about it and

that they actually are aware of her music taste

or else

she tried to rap really fast one time, trying to rap like how he does

he had to witness her biting her tongue live

changbin would never think someone like her would have

such a vulgar language

every profanity he knows came out of her mouth

he quickly got her something to soothe her wounded tongue

after fretting over her though, he started teasing her

relentlessly

she threatened to sue him

"I'll sue you"

"with what money?"

"my 2 fucking dollars lunch money!"

"that's not enough to pay anything, not even your attorney!"

"fight me!"

he’s that older brother figure that mc would come to whenever she has no one to tell her woes to

their relationship turned out to have lots of playful banters and teasings

he gives very comforting hugs and pats

mc doesn’t want to admit it tho

well, until, changbin caught her snuggling into his hugs one fine day

“admit it, you like them, you like my hugs”

“okay, fine, i DO like them, they’re great hugs, don’t let it go to your head.”

“I KNEW IT”

“You’re so loud, shut up, hyung!”

“OH MY GOD, YOU FINALLY ADMIT TO IT, IM GONNA TELL THE WORLD-KSDFNKSDNF-”

"FUCK- I SAID, SHUSH"

rip in peace, changbin

he didn’t expect someone like her would have so much strength to smother his mouth with her hand and shut it

the more you know

curiousity killed the cat????

---

hwang hyunjin

avoidance at all cost (pt.2) despite being in the same year

why? exhibit a: he's considered very attractive in her year and that her classmates n batch mates have crushes on him

coughs one of the school princes coughs

their batch year prince

she's really gonna swerve away from him

interactions will be kept at a bare minimum

one time hyunjin n some others wanted to borrow a textbook from their class because they have forgotten theirs n he chose hers

she could feel cold sweat forming as she feels the death stare of some of her classmates

that gta [wasted] sfx whenever ur character dies

yeah that's mc

that was probably the last time she would even think about it

when he returned it back to her, he smiled at her, the really cute eye smile and she felt like she made the target on her back bigger lol

goodbye mc you've lived a good life

your friends will definitely will play never gonna give you up during your funeral (it's a promise)

jokes aside

hyunjin would probably noticed the panicked look in her eyes and wondered why

since his friends like felix and...jisung...and seungmin are like on good terms with her

he probably wondered about it a lot

borderlines on overthinking since both felix and jisung are particularly close to her

so she should know that he’s friends with them

ever since that encounter, it would come across his head whenever he saw her hanging out freely with felix or jisung or both of them

or when he come across her in the hallways

sometimes he wants to greet her but it feels like it would scare her away

esp when she looks ready to run into the opposite direction

if he ever made eye contact with her

so his plan to befriend mc has started

tried to join into the trio hangout; jisung, felix and mc

mc never did protest his presence like at all

but does occasionally look stiff when he's near her

eventually shes comfortable enough with him

but not enough to actually hang out with him alone though

that thought kind of made him feel envious towards the other boys

and a little left out

as a teenager, he has too many emotions to handle so

jisung and felilx caught the idea and told him to let her

take her time because she kinda. shy. (???)

that didn't stop him from mulling over it tho sometimes

one day he found her waiting at the bus stop

it was in the evening, she was still in her school uniform

he was kinda on an errand run too

kinda didn’t want to sit on the same bench as her

afraid that she might run away

she noticed him standing there eventually albeit very anxiously and kinda awkward

a casual greeting slipped past her lips which shocked hyunjin to his very core

he splutters back a reply

“on an errand run, errand boy?"

"huh?"

“uh, um, pretend that i didn’t say anything.”

“right, sure, but may i sit next to you, the bus seemed to be late and my legs are kinda tired.”

“oh, uh, yeah, sure, but you didn’t have to ask, y’know?”

“well, didn’t wanna scare you off…"

“it’s nothing personal, if that’s what you’re worried about,” + “it’s just. didn’t wanna step on a landmine and the girls in our batch seemed to adore you a lot and me being close to you might set off the wrong signal…?”

“that’s absurd, you’re...being unreasonable..i mean, its none of their business-!”

“i know, im sorry, my bad, it’s not your fault either, it’s not anyone’s fault, to be honest.”

for a moment, he found her reasoning to be petty and unreasonable until it finally clicks inside her head, from her point of view when he really thought it through.

“...no wait, im sorry, i think, i kinda get why when i really thought about it.”

“yeah, it’s no biggie, don’t worry, im sorry too, we’ll both get over it”

“...um, we’re friends, right?”

“...i suppose so, if you dont mind, dummy.”

a giddy smile crossed his face while mc struggles to not stare at him looking so cute like that as she coughs into her hand, avoiding eye-contact

pretty boys have too much power in their hands

and she’s one of their fallen victims towards their charms

this isn’t fair for her heart

so when the bus arrived

they sat beside each other on the bus

hyunjin did most of the chattering while mc listens

he was so glad he cleared smth up with her

if she allows it, he would definitely tried to hug her

until he remembers that one time changbin told him he almost got punch in the face by her

when he tried doing it the first time and startled her

yeah no not now

maybe sometime in the near future, a long-awaited hug would be great

(if he was honest tho, he really wanted to cry when she told him the truth)

(it felt like a heartache)

but it’s okay now though

they’re friends now (somewhat) and that’s all that matters

---

[masterlist]

[notdonesimpin]

Wants And Needs ~d.a.~

daiki aomine x reader

warnings: kinda angsty, kinda fluffy. it does have a happy ending

synopsis: two people with a love for sports, finding themselves on opposite sides of the spectrum. One never puts in the effort and the other wishes they could touch the court once more.

a/n: its long haha :) self indulgence got the better of me. hope you enjoy :)

Being the second manager of Touou Academy’s basketball was a fairly easy task until Momoi decided to put you on babysitting duty because Aomine seemed to be too hard to reach or find nowadays.

You’d argued her down on why it had to be you since they had been close since they were kids, but you knew it was because she couldn’t do proper stats or research if she had to worry about him.

Despite your better judgement, you agreed, putting the team’s needs before your own feelings. 

The only thing you couldn’t shake is how she said that you’re the only person he’ll actually listen to. What does that even mean? 

You’ve only had a few conversations with him and most of them seemed pretty tame. You’d never asked him to do anything. It was only ever minor suggestions to better his game or to help him heal afterwards but that was the extent of your friendship.

He’d just known you since you went to the same middle school as him but you both lived in different worlds then. He was the ace of the basketball team and you were the ace of the volleyball team. Your paths almost never crossed with how busy and committed you both were to your clubs, but you both respected each other and watched the other play whenever you had the chance.

“Why are you following me like a lost puppy? Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Aomine asks, snapping you out of your thoughts as he begins to ascend the ladder to the roof.

“Well, Momoi has gotten too busy to keep an eye on you, so you can call me your babysitter. It feels more like I’m supposed to be your secretary, though.”

“You can quit early. You’re not making me go to practice. There’s no point if I’m better than everyone.”

You huff, following him up. “You’re so arrogant.You know, that there’s going to come a day where someone will knock you off of your high horse or you might just do it yourself.”

He shrugs, laying down and letting his eyelids close.

“Daiki. Get up.”

He ignored you, faking a few snores in hopes that you’d give up and leave him alone. 

You let out a huff, contemplating on how to get him to go to practice. “What will it take for you to start going to practice?”

“I already don’t go, and my performance is fine.”

“But your teamwork is shit,” you blurt, quickly clamping your hands over your mouth as soon as you could.

He opened one of his eyes, glancing at you. “I don’t need a team. I’m strong enough on my own.”

“Then prove it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s go to practice. You’ll play by yourself versus three guys on the team. If you win, I’ll stop pestering you about practicing or being on time. If you don’t, you’ll practice on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays and do strength training with me on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

Aomine scoffs, “You must be expecting me to win with your outrageous request.”

You shake your head, “I know you’re going to lose, so I need enough punishment to get you off of your high horse. Plus, we’ll have a 3 on 1 game every week until you beat them or you admit that you can’t do it by yourself. Do we have a deal?”

He sits up, looking at you in amusement, “We have a deal if you agree to let me take you on a date after I win.”

“Then, we have a deal, Mr. Optimistic.”

He jumps up, heading for the ladder. “Let’s go. I don’t want to eat too late.”

Your eyes widened at his sudden determination to go to practice, even if it was under an agreement. You quickly followed him, having trouble since his legs were decently longer than yours.

He pushed the gym doors open and all eyes went to the two of you. They all fell silent when Aomine began to speak. 

“Imayoshi, Sosa, and Harasawa. Play me. 3-on-1,” he challenged.

“Daiki-kun! What are you doing?” Momoi asks, looking in between you, him, and the three players he’d just called out.

“I’m just here to win a bet that Y/N made with me. That’s all.”

He jogs onto the court, getting ready to play and disregarding everything Momoi, you, and the coach were saying to him.

“How about we go to 21? My baskets will count for 1 or 2 points and yours will count for 2 or 3,” he smirked, passing the ball to Imayoshi as he got in a defensive stance.

“You cocky little asshole.” The match began moments later.

In only about 15 minutes, Aomine had won in a landslide. 21-5.

Your jaw dropped, “Daiki…”

He grabbed his bag off of the ground with a triumphant smirk, grabbing your hand to pull you along with him as he left. “How do burgers sound? I’m starving.”

You fell silent after you caught up with Aomine, walking beside at a leisurely pace. He let go of your hand and let out a sigh.

“You’re quiet,” he notes after a few minutes of silence, “Do you really have nothing to say to me if it isn’t about practice?”

“I’m just trying to get my thoughts together. I don’t want to say anything that I don’t really mean,” you mutter.

He nods, letting the two of you fall into silence once again as he opens the door for you to walk into the fast food restaurant.

About five minutes later, Daiki sat down across from you with a large pile of food. He hands you two burgers and some fries, knowing that you usually didn’t eat much.

“Alright, I can tell you’re mad at me,” he leans against his chair, looking at you.

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Yes, you are. You have the same look on your face when I do something extremely reckless during the game or when I almost get hurt because I didn’t take your advice.”

You huff, “Why do you spend so little time practicing basketball if you love playing so much?”

“It’s no fun when no one is a challenge anymore. I’m the only person that can beat me.”

“Can you shut up with your superiority complex bullshit!” you snap.

His eyes widened. You’ve never lost your cool before. Why did you care so much about him skipping practice?

You took a deep breath and spoke in a calmer tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just- you claim to love the sport so much, yet, you subconsciously have given up. You’ve stopped having fun, but you don’t want to admit it.”

“Shut up,” he muttered.

“You hate the sport because you have no one to play against. Yet, winning isn’t the only reason to play. You play for your team or are you just too self-centered to realize it.”

“You don’t get to talk to me about the decisions I have made. You have no right to say that I need to play for the team when you were the best volleyball player at Teiko. You were the only person talked about as much as we were, but you quit. You gave up on your team. Don’t give me shit when you walked on the thing that made you who you are,” he sneered, getting up to leave.

“I didn’t give up. I’d committed to Rakuzan, but I got injured. They didn’t want me anymore. No strong team wanted me. Since Touou’s volleyball team is rather small since it just started last year, they still wanted me. That’s why I’m here. So don’t tell me about giving up because my love for volleyball is too strong. Everything I’ve ever done is to better myself and my team. That’s why I can have fun even if I’m beating the other team by a landslide. I can imagine how upset I have made you, and I apologize. I just- I would kill to step on the court right now. My doctor says that if I have surgery, I’ll be out for another six to nine months but my volleyball career will be guaranteed. I’ve thought about throwing away the rest of my career to play another season right now. Excuse me if seeing you flake off when you have so much potential makes me upset. I’m sorry for ruining our supposed date. Have a good night, Aomine.”

He couldn’t deny the way his heart ached after hearing your story or the way he swore that his heart broke when you called him by his last name. You haven’t done that since middle school.

His chest felt heavy, but there was nothing he could do now except to walk away. His pride being too large for an apology to fall across his lips.

It had been two weeks later and neither of you have tried to talk to the other. The team could practically feel the tension between the two of you as you sat on the opposite end of the bench to avoid being beside Aomine.

You were always the one to keep Aomine’s head afloat during games, so they weren’t sure what to expect without you quietly coaching him. They needed his complete focus during the game against Seirin and they were afraid he wouldn’t be able to keep his mind from drifting to whatever caused a rift between the two of you.

You stood up giving each of the players a pat on the back as they stepped onto the court. You placed your hand on Aomine’s shoulder as you stopped, causing him to stop and glance at you. He was going to open his mouth to say something, but you just gave him a tight lipped smile and continued to the bench and sitting by Momoi.

She gave you both sympathetic looks, knowing of the situation due to you both coming to her on separate occasions. Only Momoi knew how much of his play depended on your reassuring words and guided coaching. It wasn’t that he was terrible without you, but you gave him a purpose that neither of you realized.

The game has favored Touou for the most part, but Seirin was staying somewhat in the game. Everyone could tell that Aomine wasn’t giving his all, but no one knew how to approach him about it. They knew only you could bring him back to reality.

“Y/N, you do know that he’s started to come to practice, right?” Momoi says without taking her eyes off of the game. “He told me that he’d be there on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays only because he has strength training on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked, trying to hide the shock you felt that he actually listened to you even though he won the bet.

“He said that you put some things into perspective, and he shouldn’t take his time playing basketball for granted when there are people dying to even be able to do a percentage of what he does.”

You quietly nodded, not noticing the smile that crept on your face.

Halftime came and the team quietly went to the locker room. Everyone could tell how close to breaking Aomine was.

You refilled the water bottles and grabbed some colder towels as you walked into the locker room. You gave all the players that came off of the court a towel and a bottle, receiving a small thanks as the coach talked to them. 

You noticed Aomine staring at the ground, trying to keep his focus on the game. You unfolded the cool towel, placing it over his head and bent down to set the bottle in front of him. 

As soon as you tried to  walk away, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards him until his head rested on your torso and his arms were wrapped around you. You paused, unsure of how to respond. You could have sworn you heard a soft sniffle come from him.

“Uh, Daiki-kun-” Momoi started, realizing how uncomfortable you looked.

You cut her off with a reassuring smile, “It’s okay, Momoi. Let him be.”

You look down at him, moving the towel onto his neck so you could run your hands through his hair.

The buzzer sounded to signal that there were two minutes left until the game began. Everyone piled out, but Aomine didn’t budge.

You fell silent as he looked up at you with a few tears rolling down his face. “I’ve never felt so lost on the court, Y/N. Please, tell me what to do out there! Tell me how many mistakes I’ve made. Yell at me. Hit me for being such a dumbass! I just need you to- just please- please, talk to me. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Kagami goes based on instinct, like you, so any movement that could give a hint about what you’re going to do is guaranteeing your loss in a one-on-one battle. Beating him is easy if you let yourself have some fun. This may be the only time I tell you this, but don’t hold back.”

His eyes widened, “Really?”

“Yeah. Don’t hold back and win this game for the team.”

“I’m still struggling with the team thing, but I can win this game for you, if that’s okay,” he confessed as he gets up, keeping his arms loosely wrapped around your waist.

You lightly laughed, “I guess it’s okay. I just want you to have some fun.”

“Can I kiss you?” he leans down, ghosting his lips over yours.

Knowing your words would fail you, you pulled him down, crashing his lips onto yours. His arms tightened around you as he tried to pull you impossibly close to deepen the kiss.

You pull away with a small smile on your face, patting his chest. “Let’s go before they think we’ve murdered each other.”

Aomine instantly picked you up, and rushed out of the locker room despite your protests.

“Daiki! Put me down!” you yell as the tunnel begins to end.

The team looks over at the sound of your voice to see Aomine carrying you out. They all let out a deep sigh of relief to see that the two of you were getting along again.

He sits you down and you hit him in the shoulder. “If you weren’t playing right now, I swear I would murder you!”

He laughs, giving you a quick kiss as the buzzer went off for the game to start again. “I want to cheer as loud as you can for me, yeah?”

You grin, “I’ll do my best.”

~~

A few months later, you were at the hospital, waiting to be wheeled back for surgery when Aomine bursted into your room with wide eyes and his uniform on.

“Daiki? What are you doing here? You have a game like right now!” you exclaim.

“I couldn’t play. I tried, Y/N. I really tried to stay focused during warm ups, but I can’t when you’re here, getting the surgery that brings you onto the court you love. I can’t just show up after it’s done and ask if you’re okay.”

“The team needs you.”

“The team is the reason I’m here. They’re worried about you, too. You may not play on the court, but you’ve been there for every single one of us when we needed it the most. It’s only fair that I do that same for you as your teammate, but more importantly, as your boyfriend.”

“Daiki…” your eyes soften, noticing the tears threatening to leave his eyes. 

He wasn’t typically a vulnerable person. This was the first time you’d seen him so upset since that fight.

“You’re here alone when you shouldn’t have to be. Your parents are out of town. Who’s going to take care of you, baby? I know you put up this big front that you’re strong, but I don’t think you actually want to go into surgery without a comforting and familiar face.” Daiki’s voice cracks as he walks over to you. His laces your fingers together. “Let me take care of you.”

“Okay.” Your voice was small. You felt all of the emotions you’d been holding in start pouring out as tears began to fall down your face. 

He wipes a few tears off of your face, pulling the chair closer to the edge of the bed to sit down. “How long until it’s time?”

“Ten minutes.”

He nods, letting the both of you fall into a comfortable silence.

“Daiki?” you asked after a few minutes of silence.

He hums in response as he looks over at you.

“What if I’m a part of the unlucky 25 percent that can’t play again?”

“Y/N, you’re overthinking. Everything will go perfect. You’ll be playing volleyball next season, and I’ll get to cheer my girl on from the sidelines. If anything other than that happens, we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it. Either way, you have me.” He bends down to rummage in his bag, pulling out a teddy bear and handing it to you. “I got you this to hold onto during the surgery.”

“Thank you, Daiki.” You grabbed it from him, wrapping your arms around it tightly as you noticed that it smelled of his cologne. Your heart swelled as he successfully calmed you. 

Five minutes later, the nurse came in to wheel you to the back. He gave you a soft kiss on the forehead and watched them wheel you out.

The next three hours were excruciating for Aomine. He sat there in silence for the most part, checking his phone for updates on the game from Momoi.

After she informed him that they won, he made a plan with them to drop by your place later to check on you and celebrate later that night after they released you.

The nurse rolled you back in and you were still asleep. 

“How did it go?” he nervously asked.

“It was a success! As long as she does everything right, she should get back to volleyball in no time. She should wake up in the next thirty minutes or so. After that, we’ll see how she feels and go through everything that you guys need to do for the next two to three weeks until her check up.You guys should be out of here in another hour.

He nods, “Thank you.”

Just like the nurse said, you woke up thirty minutes later and felt a little groggy. He softly smiled at you, rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

“Hey, baby. How do you feel?”

Your eyes flutter open and you make immediate eye contact with him. “I want to go home, Dai,” you pout.

“I know. We’ll be going home soon. You’ll be back on the court before you know it, too.”

“Really?” you beamed.

He couldn’t help but match his smile to yours. “Yeah, they said it went perfect.”

Later that night, you and Aomine were quietly watching a movie when there was a knock on your door. 

You look at him confused as he gets up and walks over to it. “Aomine, who’s here?”

He smiles without answering your question as he opens the door to reveal the team standing there. They all piled into your home, asking if you were okay. Some of them handed you flowers and sweets while others brought movies and games for you to do in your free time.

“What are you guys doing here?” you ask in shock.

“We wanted to make sure that everything went well. Aomine thought it’d be a good idea,” Imayoshi informed you.

Aomine cheeks heated up as he scratched the back of his head. “I figured since you brought us closer as a team, you wouldn’t mind.”

“Not at all. These are moments with you guys that I won’t get often after I start playing volleyball again.”

“Nonsense, the volleyball team and basketball team schedules almost never clash because we only have one gym. The only time it’d be troublesome is during tournament season. Even if you can’t be at most of our games, you can still come to a lot of the practices,” Aomine interjected.

Everyone looked at him with wide eyes. “Why do you know this information?” Momoi asked.

“I wanted to see how much time I was going to get to spend with Y/N once she was released to play.”

“Oh you are so whipped.”

[clarythericebot]

potential internal conflicts/character arcs for nhie s2

(based on the table read, news, and things that i personally just want to see :P)

- Devi learning to see others as ends of themselves instead of means to an end. No-brainer that this is going to be a theme next season (especially with that pros and cons list of her love interest), but I’m so excited to see how the show’s going to handle it. As I rambled about on this post, one of Devi’s biggest developments as a character was to stop treating Ben as an extension of herself (either as boxing him into the role of Antagonist/Nemesis in her own narrative or as a hateful mirror that points out personal traits she dislikes) and as an actual person and friend, and it’s that which sparks the small epiphany of her feelings towards him. From the table read and the stills, though, it sounds like she might be putting him in a new, albeit prettier box: Love Interest. The same box that she puts in Paxton, who at this point also does have genuine feelings for Devi. She’s looking at them as experiences, not people, and it’s all going to inevitably blow up in her face.

- The Devi/Fabiola/Eleanor friendship changing somehow. I had this impression that all season 1, the three of them have been hanging on to a dynamic that just doesn’t work anymore, in light of Devi’s grief, Eleanor’s abandonment, and Fabiola’s identity conflict. While Devi is definitely in the wrong of blatantly choosing a guy’s inconvenience over her best friend’s weightier problems, I think the larger problem here is that they don’t seem to know how to be there for each other for difficulties larger than to do with school, although the care and concern is there. It actually takes a third party to push them towards solving the overarching issues in their friendship, and even then only briefly. I’d really like to see this explored as a conflict shared between the three of them, instead of it being sidelined completely as Devi being selfish.

- The narrative that Devi will tell Princeton + the parts of herself she’s willing to take to college. (These are technically two conflicts, but I feel like it would make sense to intertwine them, especially since they’ve already been intertwined in the Ganesh Puja episode.) Devi has expressed her intention about leaving her Indian-ness completely and utterly behind her, as well as all the other embarrassing and painful parts of her identity (her grief and her insecurities). She’s come to terms with her father’s death to an extent, but she doesn’t seem to have yet accepted how his death has shaped and marked her. I think this is going to extend with how she deals with her Indian identity, and perhaps how she deals with her relationships.

- The double-standard between Kamala and Devi. On one level I understand Nalini probably treats them different because of her differing relationships with them—one’s her niece that only came to live with them and the other is her only child, her whole family. On the other hand, from the narration Devi has never really experienced her mother expressing such a blatant double standard in favor of Kamala before (about her secret boyfriend); she fully believed her cousin would get into trouble. It never did get addressed.

- In the first season, we experienced how Kamala’s western ideals influenced the part of her life still infused with tradition (her relations to other Indian people and her arranged marriage). The still of Kamala in a labcoat makes me hopeful for the inverse this season: how Kamala’s arranged marriage and traditional ideals affect her career as a scientist.

- Paxton engaging in the fact that he likes someone who is smarter than him (at least in a bookish sense). I’ve never seen this conflict delved into before—most writers just ignore it, focusing on what the love interests have in common (and don’t get me wrong, I’m looking forward to Paxton engaging Devi in this way, either by trying new things or revealing some hobbies or interests we haven’t made privy to). This insecurity is so close to his chest, though, and as much as Devi seems to make a point not to make him feel bad about it, it would be fascinating friction since Devi is very rightfully proud of her intellectual prowess. I imagine this will only be accentuated with knowing that his competition for Devi’s affections is someone razor-edge smart.

- Ben’s anger, and it being dealt with in constructive and destructive ways. I think one of the (numerous) things that I love about Ben and Devi is that they have different approaches to their internal and external conflicts. Devi runs away internally, refusing to face grief and sadness, while she delves head-first into external situations (e.g. asking Paxton to have sex with her, going to a Model UN trip with absolutely no prep and being willing to steal alcohol, talking to her friend’s estranged mom in other to get back into said friend’s good graces). Ben, on the other hand, has remarkable emotional intelligence underneath his high school immaturity (he can read Devi beyond her words actions, he doesn’t deny the isolation and loneliness that he feels, he is prepared to be vulnerable in certain situations) but he doesn’t do anything about it (he stops himself from telling his parents how abandoned he feels, he gives in to his girlfriend essentially using him as a prop, he is ushered into dining in his nemesis’ house by her concerned mother). Then Devi kisses him, and suddenly he’s willing to put his eggs in one basket. He stands up to his parents and demands that they spend family dinner together—because of her, he claims. He breaks up with his girlfriend, finally admitting that what they had wasn’t real, and earnestly informing Devi that he thinks what they have is. “I’m all in,” he tells her, thus crushing my heart. Because what’s strongly being implied, at least by the first part of the first episode, is that Devi’s either going to choose Paxton or neither of them. I imagine that Ben, used to being abandoned time and time again, will not react well to that. (This is expanded in this really awesome meta by @catty-words). There’s potential for the show to frame this as sexist entitlement, but I’d like to hope that the creators will be more compassionate to Ben’s conflict, as they have been in the past. It would genuinely be hurtful for someone you’ve displayed a lot of vulnerability to suddenly turn tail and say it didn’t mean as much to her. My guess is that he’ll lock into their nemesis status quo from before and lean into it hard, and it will likely hurt him badly. What I’d also like to see, though, (if only to assuage my own heartbreak) is him taking steps to deal with this a little more constructively, in addition to the inevitable self-destruction. I’d love to see him get back in touch with his ride-or-die middle school friends or even make new ones. In fact, I suspect that’s who the character of Aneesa is going to be, regardless of whether she becomes a contender for his love interest.

Aneesa is described as someone whose confidence and radiance will pose an immediate threat to Devi. I doubt that means she’ll be another academic rival, at least not completely; Devi already has Ben for that. As for romantic rivalry, it is likely not going to be Paxton Aneesa will be paired with, since it’ll only be a rehash of Devi’s insecurities of Paxton liking ‘hotter’ girls like Zoe and vying for his attention. (There’s a possibility she and Paxton will have history together and that threatens Devi even if she’s already in a relationship with him, but for me, that’s a less interesting choice than letting Devi focus on the challenges that will be inherent with Paxton being her boyfriend.) I think Aneesa will be another mirror for Devi—who she could have been if she pursued friendship and openness and maybe even a relationship with Ben, and that’s likely going to make Devi bitterly jealous. If this results in friendship and openness and maybe even a relationship for Ben (a deeper, more genuine one than his previous), I’m completely here for it, even if I am still hoping for a Bevi endgame.

(Low-key theorizing that Ben's smiling at Aneesa here, btw)

[apparitionism]

Why 3

Nearer and nearer this story creeps to its conclusion, and thus to that not-so-distant future day when @mysensitiveside will have received a complete present! Previously, in part 1 of this AU, a Myka Bering adopted a dog. That dog, unfortunately or fortunately, in fact already belonged to a Helena Wells. Myka and Helena, initially strangers to each other, have been walking the dog together, growing intermittently closer in the process, and they are at last, following the events of part 2, about to take a step toward something beyond the pedestrian. Let’s see how that goes.

Why 3

Later, in the parking lot, “You’re sure this is okay?” Myka asked as they began exchanging tangible, traceable information: numbers, addresses. They lived closer to each other than Myka had imagined, which made what Sam had done seem even more brazen... even more terrible. “I don’t want to make you feel like you—”

Helena looked up from her phone. “What exactly will convince you?”

“Convince me of what?” A stupid question; she knew it the minute she said the words.

But Helena again took pity on her. She put her phone in her pocket, and she moved close to Myka, then closer. “I’m not confused,” she said. Their coats were touching. “Are you?”

“Honestly? Yes.”

In response to that, Helena just looked. Did she blink? She leaned up still closer, a delicate, careful movement of body, accompanied by a turn of her head not quite against the collar of Myka’s coat.

Not a kiss, but the potential shiver of one... a “lean down and you’ll find out” feeling...

Myka was still high on the first kiss, not quite ready to dilute it with a second. “Tuesday?” she asked, and “Tuesday,” Helena affirmed, remaining near.

“I like this,” Myka said, and it might have been a warning—to herself and to Helena.

“I’m glad,” Helena said, a comfort against the caution.

I will see them three days from now, Myka told herself as Helena drove away, her dog buckled safely into his harness in the back seat. Myka had a similar harness, limp and empty, in the back seat of her own car.

I know what it’s like to see him without a week having passed. I have no idea what it’s like to see her.

How long could three days feel?

Long enough to make her tell herself, on Sunday, “You should cancel.” Because she hadn’t slept. Instead she spent open-eyed hours retreading her limited romantic past: college boyfriend, who lasted all of one semester; grad school girlfriend, who lasted longer, but only because they rarely saw each other, and when they did, they were too exhausted from long, long lab days and nights to do much of anything but share a cheap meal and go to bed. Nevertheless their breakup blindsided Myka, who expected reasons but received nothing more from her suddenly ex-girlfriend than “I was into it; now I’m not.”

Since then, the occasional night with another lonely chemist at a conference had been the extent of it. That was what Myka figured she would always be most comfortable with: no entanglements, no consequences. No nerve-wracking anticipations.

Tuesday was consequential, with accompanying nerve-wracking anticipation. Hence, “You should cancel.”

Entanglements. Leuko had been one, but he at least had been very clear. Food, walks, baths. Obviously Myka’s emotions had been involved, but it wasn’t as if Leuko was going to do anything to blindside her.

Except bark at someone.

In his defense, she conceded, he had a pretty compelling reason.

So what about cancelling? Myka knew why she wanted to. Why didn’t she want to?

I like walking with her in the park.

Everything she says about herself makes me want to know more.

She is physically more attractive than anyone I’ve ever seen in my life.

Kissing her one time made me wish I had keys to a castle, so I could give them to her.

On a parallel track, there was Leuko. Monty. The idea of interacting with him in his real home felt wrong—but the kind of wrong that could one day become right. Like seeing his leash in Helena’s hand.

Would I have been willing to keep walking in the park if she hadn’t been the one walking him?

Impossible to know. Traitorous to consider an answer of no.

And would I have felt that I could walk in a park with her in the absence of him?

Also impossible to know. Not traitorous to consider an answer of no, but surely cowardly.

So in the interest of at least a facsimile of courage, Myka spent some time pondering yet another question: What do you wear to watch a dog show with your ex-dog and his person, who might be your... well, who could say? Certainly not Myka. She landed on “clothes.” Just wear clothes. Because her ex-dog wouldn’t care, and if his person did—well, that would tell her something, wouldn’t it?

Knocking on a door on Tuesday night, clothed in clothes, she was a mixture of trepidation and, yes, hope.

“Come in!” Helena called, so Myka did. To her surprise, she was received into the house by Montgomery Clift. She’d found, over her days of thinking, that it was easier to call him that in her head; its length and formality kept her from slipping and thinking “Leuko.” Mr. Clift then escorted her down a hallway and into a large living space. “Are you a butler now?” she asked him.

He blinked. It meant either “Of course not” or “I am the most perfect butler who ever buttled,” and Myka said, “You’re right,” in answer to both.

Helena appeared a second later, and Myka held out the gifts she’d brought: wine in one hand, a paper bag in the other. They had cost her far less pondering-time than the clothes had, though she hadn’t realized that at the time, and that probably meant something, though Myka could not think it through now, not with Helena standing right there in front of her. Myka could barely think at all. Instead, she tried to explain: “I thought at first I should bring you something related to writing—a pretty pen?—but then I figured a writer wouldn’t be any less picky about equipment than a chemist, and I’d hate it if some well-meaning person gave me for example a pipettor I’d never use. Nobody would do that, because they’re insanely expensive, but that’s why you’re getting a boring bottle of wine. I brought this”—she extended the bag—“for Monty.”

Helena had gazed at her throughout that recitation, and Myka had in turn felt herself prolonging it, to keep those attentive eyes on her. Now Helena said, “You’ve gifted him...” She took the bag, looked in it. “Several corn tortillas?”

“Fresh ones. He likes them.”

“I didn’t know it.”

Which, Myka had to acknowledge, made her happy. But it was a selfish happiness, so she said, “I didn’t intend to know something you don’t. It was an accident: he was hungry, and that was what I had. And then when I bought fresh, they turned out to be his favorite.”

Helena said, to Montgomery Clift, “More favorite than cheese?”

He failed to respond, most likely due to his laser focus on the now-open tortilla bag. Myka offered, “Probably depends on the cheese.”

“It’s true he is discerning.” Helena paused. “So am I.”

Myka’s nerves, which had ebbed, returned—not fully, but as a vague itch of discomfort. “You don’t need to...” she started.

“What don’t I need to?”

“Try? Like that. Like any way at all.” For it was when Helena tried—as she had in the park, with her “so are you” about prettiness—that Myka lost her bearings.

“I don’t know where you are,” Helena said. Such a reasonable justification: of course she would try, if she wanted to move Myka to some particular place, some place she felt Myka was not.

“Here,” Myka said, but it was a yearn—to get closer to where Helena might have imagined she, and they, could be—rather than the truth. She needed to tell the truth, though: “Or at least I’m trying to be.”

“You don’t need to try either,” Helena said, her tone a balm. “Let’s start by getting to know each other better. I hope that’s what this evening is for.”

“I hope too.” Myka had never said anything more true. “I don’t like that I know your dog better than I know you. I regret it.” But, “Sorry,” she said to the soft butler-or-not who looked up at her, blinking wounded eyes. Or more likely, he was blinking tortilla-wanting eyes.

“We need to remedy that. Or rather, I want to remedy that, and I think you do as well. As I said, I’m not confused.”

“As I said, I am.” Important to be clear about that.

“Tell me why.”

Oh, the invitation. How could she respond? Weighing ideas of entanglements, consequences, anticipations...

Helena, blessedly, went on, “Because I feel that if I hadn’t told you I wasn’t, you wouldn’t be.”

That was indeed the entirety of it, so... “I like that you’re smart,” Myka said. “I like it so much.”

“I like that you are as well, chemist. Sit down. I have food to cook. On that topic, I regret I didn’t ask about allergies, so tell me now. I don’t want to inadvertently attempt to murder you.”

“You can’t. I’m basically insensitive.”

“Ridiculous. Monty knows better, and so do I.”

She delivered that perfectly, not trying, but rather as if she had a doctorate in quashing self-deprecation, and it made Myka smile. “If I were allergic to anything, leukotrienes would be involved,” she said.

“Do you want to explain them to me now?” Helena asked.

It was even more perfect, as an invitation, but Myka turned it down: “You’re busy. Food to cook. Can I help?”

“Sit. You look tired. Is that an awful thing to say? I don’t mean that you look in any way bad. You’ve most likely had a long day.” She stopped, her expression devolving into a sheepish wince. “I’m digging a hole.”

“It’s okay,” Myka said to banish that wince, charming as it was. “You’re right about the day.”

She hadn’t improved much on her Saturday sleep in the subsequent nights, but at least last night had been anticipatory rather than self-castigating. During the day, her concentration at work had been... not ideal. She broke some glass—dropped from nervous fingers—and Abigail asked her if she was intending to go on a rampage. She’d had to redo more than one assay. It really was a miracle she’d been able to get here on time.

So she sat, as instructed, and she found herself pondering various miracles: Helena was cooking food, and Myka, on the sofa, had Leuko—no, Montgomery Clift—beside her, as he used to be, and she wished she were a poet, so as to put into words what suffused her heart. “Does he sit like this with you?” she felt compelled to ask.

“He does,” Helena said. Weeks ago, Myka would have felt that as a knife.  Now it was confirmation of all-encompassing comfort. “With me,” Helena went on, “and now with you. I’ve never seen him do so with anyone else.”

“Have you, though?” Myka asked him.

Of course he blinked those dark, beautiful, secret eyes. “Did she teach you to do that?” Myka asked him, and she dared a glance at Helena.

“I can’t imagine what you’re talking about,” Helena said. “All I personally taught him was that he should shake hands. And clearly that is not what is occurring.”

“Shake?” Myka suggested to him.

Montgomery Clift sat up immediately and held out his right front paw.

“Impressive,” Myka told him—told Helena—after a convivial shake had occurred. In all her time with him, she hadn’t thought to see whether he would do that. She hadn’t thought about training at all. He was so quiet and sweet. What else would she have wanted him to do? How often would they really have needed to shake hands? “How often?” she asked, softly, and she took his blink to mean “Not very.”

Helena said from the kitchen, “It’s starting in not very long, and I’d like to let Monty out. Will you watch him in the yard?”

“You’re going to watch me watch him, aren’t you?

Helena smiled. “Honestly, yes. But not for the reason you fear.”

“I’m not sure you have a true handle on the extent of my fears.”

“Educate me.”

“What do you write about? Or I guess I mean, what did you write about?” Myka asked. The question had come to her that instant, fully formed—not a fear, not as such, but rather a gray gap in her knowledge.

“Hm,” Helena said. “Let’s talk about that when you come back indoors.”

Montgomery Clift enjoyed his time in the yard. “Sorry we can’t walk,” she told him, but he was cavorting, sniffing, investigating, and didn’t seem to care. It made her sad that she’d had no space for him to do that, untethered.

They came back indoors, so: “So, writing,” Myka said. “I didn’t Google you. So I don’t know.”

“That is both slightly insulting and exceedingly considerate.”

Myka, flustered, said, “Point being I don’t know.”

“It begins with my having been a rather unusual sort of child.”

“That isn’t hard to believe,” Myka said, then cringed. “That’s probably also slightly insulting.”

“On the contrary, I think it’s exceedingly complimentary. Don’t we all want to be unusual? I do now, and did then... I would fix my attention on a thing that struck me as interesting, and I would not rest until I became expert in it. The smaller and stranger the better. An arcane slice of history, some esoteric gadgetry, a figure of obscure influence. As it happened, I could write about such things in a readable way.”

“Showing off what an expert you’d become?” Myka asked. She hoped that wasn’t insulting at all.

Helena smiled in affirmation. “It began like that, yes. One tried to become less insufferable when it was for wider publication. In any case, I sought such topics out for years—the rarities, the curiosities. I made a reasonable amount of money doing so, which is better than many can say.”

“So why stop?”

“I had it in my head to write a novel. Something with that same depth, but also breadth.”

“Do you still have it in your head?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Mainly in my head. Not on paper.”

“Should I not ask why?”

“Monty’s disappearance... derailed me.”

“Are you un-derailed now?”

“Not precisely.”

“Should I not ask why?”

“I’ve found myself distracted.”

“Should I not ask why?”

“You should know why.”

Was that trying again? It felt softer, not quite as discomfiting. “When does this dog show start, anyway?” Myka said.

“Very soon,” Helena said, and the way she spoke those very simple words reminded Myka, viscerally, of why she wanted to be here—Helena’s eyes were bright, her voice low but engaged. An edge of something like hunger crept around the periphery of Myka’s awareness.

The show itself was astounding. Myka had known she had very little knowledge of dogs as animals, certainly prior to her brief ownership experience. But she had not known that she had not known how vast the world of dogs, as rankable, judgeable animals, really was. An entire additional universe was folded into the one Myka thought she knew. The idea of breeds, okay, she got that. But groups? Handlers? Stacking?

“Can he do that?” Myka asked, about the stacking, that stance seemingly required for the judging of... dogness?

“Oh, watch. Monty, sit,” Helena said to the dog who was curled between them. She raised her hand as she said it, and just like that, up he sat. She pulled her hand forward then and said, “Stand.” He stood, his entire self on display, just like the dogs on the television. After a second, Helena said, “I should have cheese in my hand. Or one of your tortillas. He hates when there’s no reward. You see how the handlers hold the treats in their mouths, when they’re in the ring. Often they use liver.”

“In their mouths...” Myka shuddered.

Helena offered a sympathetic echo of the movement. “It’s apparently quite compelling as an incentive, and they can’t hold the brush or the lead that way. But it’s certainly among the many reasons I myself wouldn’t have been able to show him.”

“I don’t understand why being pretty doesn’t count,” Myka said.

“Shapes and sizes matter more than anything, and he’s slightly too small for a male.” Montgomery Clift turned away from her, seemingly intentionally. Helena laughed and told him, “You’re exquisite and you know it.”

“Why did you even want a Mittelspitz anyway?” Myka asked. “No offense, Montgomery Clift.” After trying it out loud, she realized it didn’t work nearly as well that way as it did in her head. “Monty,” she amended, and now he reoriented himself toward Myka, as if he were pleased. She was probably attributing far too much intentionality to him.

Helena said, “I didn’t want one.” Did Montgomery Clift turn even further toward Myka? “As I told you, there was a novel in my head, but I was too busy investigating those curiosities. Then I began to imagine that I might find time for it if I settled into a more routine everyday life.”

“So you got a dog?” Myka asked, recalling her own Leuko-routines.

“Accidentally. While looking into teaching positions, I was finishing up one of my last pieces, on the insular, sectarian cultures around rare breeds of dog. I met Monty’s breeder, and she happened to note that having a dog would certainly create routines... I scoffed, but then I met Monty himself, as a wee puppy, and there was no longer any question.”

“I can’t even imagine.”

Helena showed Myka several photos of that wee puppy.

“Oh my god,” Myka said. It was the only logical response.

“He didn’t seem real,” Helena affirmed.

And yet there the real Montgomery Clift was, clearly the grown-up version of those photos, blinking back and forth at both of them. A curiosity.

“You’re coming back tomorrow night?” Helena asked later, as Myka prepared to leave.

What a confounding question. “I... am I?” Myka staggered out.

“The show. It’s two nights. I thought you knew.”

That had probably been conveyed at some point, but Myka hadn’t paid sufficient attention. She had lost her purchase on the unfamiliar new dog-parade production-number world unfurling itself for her perusal on the television, as she was far more interested in the equally new world composed of one disconcerting woman and one unreal dog. What did it say that the latter outranked the former?

Right... as if that were a mystery. “I think if this evening has demonstrated anything, it’s that I know absolutely nothing,” she lied.

“Not nothing,” Helena said, mindreading. Then she read some more: “Surely you know that I want to kiss you goodnight.”

“I want to know it,” Myka told her.

“Then do.” She moved close to Myka, a sidle not dissimilar to her move in the parking lot, and this time Myka did lean down, did find out. It was not confusing at all, but rather like good clear water, bracing and inundating, roaring, silent, everything. If this was the first night, what would the second entail?

The next day in the lab, Myka allowed to Abigail, “Maybe she’s my girlfriend.” Tempting fate, probably, but fate was certainly doing some tempting of its own...

Abigail crossed her arms. Never a good sign. “Why do you always have to lie first?”

“Why... what?”

“You lie about having a dog,” Abigail said. “You lie about having a girlfriend. What’s next? Your side job for the CIA?”

“Very funny.”

“If you deny it, I’ll know it’s true.”

“Fine. My side job is CIA. What do you know about dog shows?”

“Are you going undercover at one?” Abigail countered.

“My maybe girlfriend knows a lot about them.”

“Then ask her, not me. People like to talk about what they know a lot about. Except you, but you’re weird like that.”

Valid advice, and an accurate description. Myka thanked Abigail for them both.

“And you’d lie anyway,” Abigail continued.

Myka didn’t thank her for that.

As she prepared to leave for Helena’s that evening, she found herself thinking on clarity. That she might at last have some.

Her phone buzzed—a text. She never got texts.

The text was from Helena.

It said: Don’t come.

TBC

P.S. Only a bit left to go, I swear. Poor Myka’s heart can’t take much more, anyway, and my goal in life, or rather in narrative, really isn’t to make her suffer.

[writingandmore]

Hi!!! May I get a HP, Star Wars, Voltron, and Disney matchup?

𝗕𝗔𝗦𝗜𝗖𝗦 + 𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘

19, Libra, Neutral Good, enneagram is 4w5, muggleborn Ravenclaw (with Gryffindor tendencies), and my patronus spirit is Hummingbird. Biromantic Pansexual Genderfluid woman using pronouns of She/Her or He/Him. Cherubic-like face, with short height (5'1") plus sized Southeast Asian woman with Spanish descent that has chic messy/wavy brunette medium hair that reaches to my shoulder, oriental skin, slightly upturned eyes, small lashes, chocolate brown irises, cute flat nose, heart shaped face, full cheeks, cupid's bow lips, a small beauty mark on the forehead, and naturally straight teeth with tiny gap in front (just imagine that it's a mixture of Marinette from 𝗠𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘂𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗟𝗮𝗱𝘆𝗯𝘂𝗴, Musa from 𝗪𝗶𝗻𝘅 𝗖𝗹𝘂𝗯, and Alexandra Trese from 𝗧𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲---cause' my friend told me that I kinda look like them). My sense of fashion is in between emo and boyish plus korean glam, I sometimes let my hair down or styled like Lara Croft reboot.

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬

Distant, quiet, and timid at first making people thought I'm a demure, modest, and self-effacing that looks "immaculate" or "one of a kind" (due to my protective mom, a reason why I've never been in a relationship) but the truth is, dunno how to initiate a conversation, but a total opposite if I open up---friendly, ambivert, witty, laughing loudly on a daily basis---like my happiness is too shallow, super talkative, eats a lot (yeah I can finish a huge slice of cake or a meal in one sitting), awkward, daydreamer (I got embarrassed from knocking at the door even I'm inside the classroom 😂), EXTREMELY CLUMSY (mostly gets bruises from hitting, bumping my head somewhere, walking into something on my way, and being careless to my belongings), secretly likes affection, easily overwhelmed, prone to melt over wholesomeness, flusters on compliments, lightly blushes on cheesy banters, eager to share what I know (especially about Catholic Church---my past teacher joked that I'll become a saint because of it 🤣), oftenly speaks full of sarcasm with a lowkey crackhead energy citing meme references, and talented girl who can be your no.1 supporter and unashamed to be true to myself but can be awkward to strangers. In terms of leadership, I only educate and guide than being a prefect (I might take the role seriously), will lift my group when there's lacking/incompleteness. About doing projects in school, I become too extra and prepared for efforts, but I'll forget the process in the end.

The extent, I'm expressive, warm-hearted, willig to help, kind, intelligent, supportive, nice, creative, enthusiastic, laid-back, determined, tough, competitive, and feisty outside, but a real softie that can be childish and dramatic that cries so easily (but will enlightened real quick by smallest things that makes me smile) filled with doubts, frustrations, and insecurities with fear of failure that pushes off the limits to to please everyone because they might get dissappointed from expectations---I simply can't stop proving myself too much because I'm a survivor of bullying. But I still managed to be stronger than ever after I stumbled, even it's a slow burn process. I can be blunt, intimidating, harsh, and a douchebag if I receive ends or I got interrupted while doing something. Immature, headstrong, perfectionist, demanding, hesitant, jumpy, forgetful, overthinker, quick-tempered, sensitive, and anxious (no joke, my nervousness makes me think worse scenario will arrive). Though can be procrastinator and arrogant, I raised as a religious 𝖺𝗇𝖽 diplomatic youth, willing to fight what I believe (including my dreams and what's important to me) and what is right. In addition, I have a habit of staying up late and doing sign of the cross to ease nervousness.

Rowdy and feeling-brokenhearted and bitter friend in the group who fangirl a lot, swears like sailor, will call out on people that we loathe, will make fun of your stupidity (in a good way) before helping, and bring gossips, but a hopeless romantic and cheeky (makes banter with sarcasms or pick up lines as an endearment, but gets annoyed if I received sappy or offensive one), Still generous and concerned person in a subtle and different way.

𝗛𝗢𝗕𝗕𝗜𝗘𝗦

My hobbies are singing, drawing, roleplaying, listening to music, chatting/browsing on social media, conceptualizing, writing, and reading some stuffs. I'll include making corniest jokes/puns, sleeping, and dancing when nobody's around or walking like a model if I feel so bold (even I'm terrible at both xD). I also used to learn Italian language a bit.

𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗦

Loves kittens, milk tea, singing at the karaoke, cartoons, iced coffee, memes, cute things, watching YouTube videos (mostly pageants, ASMR, edit audios, and mukbangs), also enjoys playing games on my sister's PSP. Sucker for arts, choir, poetry, night sky, makeup, fun/deep/dumb conversations, Christianity, documentaries (about saints, real crime stories, and inspirational people), reading interesting stuffs, talking about social issues, and creative writing, chilling both indoors and outdoors. Beside that, my music taste are like late 90s-2000s songs (mostly rock, pop, and country) sometimes Catholic songs, kpop and ppop, chocoholic, and a sweetooth as well.

𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗦

Things that I hate are stereotyping, HUGE creepy crawlies (spiders, toads, snakes, and cockroaches), firecracker sounds, thunder and lightning, being left out, loneliness, heart break, blackout, and judgemental people. If I found out that someone hates or backstabbing or being rude to me, I won't hesitate to throw offensive criticisms, leaving them with a "I don't give a f" attitude. One random fact about me is, I 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 vent out EVERYTHING I despise in my entire existence---from bad soap operas to toxicity, worse scenarios in real life, and how terrible is my love life from unrequited feelings that I got, because it's a big deal for me, and I consider forcing me to do what I'm not into and manipulating me as my major pet peeves.

𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗚𝗘𝗥𝗦

In terms of triggers...I only have two which are ta𝖨king about divorce/annullment/separation because I came from a generational broken family (it sucks that some people I knew assumed that the reason why I'm overly unaware that someone is interested in me in secret, is I have "high standards" looking for a partner, but the truth is I'm strict and I have a personal preferences...I know my worth and I don't want settle for less!) and religion/beliefs discrimination, cause' there are reasonings that doesn't makes sense because some, sounds too hypocritical, like as if you're a morally good person.

𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘 + 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗨𝗔𝗚𝗘𝗦

My love languages are quality time and gift giving, but I actually swoon over physical touch (especially cuddles and cute kisses) and words of affirmation when it comes to having a partner, though I get attracted so easily, matured but can be a goofy person who's nice, friendly, kind-hearted, loving, faithful, and excels in academics is my cup of tea. Whenever I have a real life crush (which is rare), I act the same but deep inside, my heart is about to explode and will eventually share to my trustful friends how I highly admire that person, however if they spilled the beans out, I'll obviously deny it and will cry if they like someone else, it will take some time for me to move on, now I don't care for them anymore.

Best Friends to Lovers is my ideal trope because I find it very cute since you already knew each other before dating (which happened to my 2nd cousin, she married her best friend!)---perfect balance for romance, laughters, comfort, and tears when it comes to sharing your vibes, being there through thick and thin, safe with embraces, and helping each other to grow.

𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗩𝗜𝗔𝗦

My best assets are smile, eyes, personality, singing voice, artistic skills, writings, intelligence, oratorical skills and I have potential in hosting...so I can consider myself as a singer, artist, orator, speaker, and a top student who's a former active campus ministry member with three roles (choir leader, psalm singer, and reader).

May sounds different but I'm passionate for helping people through my talents and sharing my story to inspire everyone. I may look selfish, but I have a different way on how I show that I actually care also I have a biased sentimental value

Currently a college freshman, learning how to cook. I have so many interests, to the point I don't know what I'm into because of my dreams to become a popular Filipino YouTuber, a novelist, and being part of a successful chorale competing internationally...I also consider joining pageants at school too once the pandemic ends, but maybe.

HP: Remus!

- Remus is also quiet and a bit reserved when he's not in a familiar situation, so your own first impression on him would be a good one, as you'd seem similar to his own personality. He's sweet and is able to start up a conversation if he notices the other person is having a hard time doing so, so hopefully he'd be able to bring out your more extroverted and friendly self after a while so he can be around the more open you. He wouldn't mind you being a bit awkward-he's very much the same way-honestly, the comradery that would come from that would be more positive than anything else. He loves sharing knowledge and learning about new things, so your eagerness to talk about what you know would work really well also! He does a lot better when he knows someone has his back too, so your extra supportive nature would endear him to you as well.

SW: Han!

- Your nicer and more helpful personality would balance out Han's more standoffish vibes when first meeting. You might get on his nerves a bit first, but you'd quickly grown on him and, in turn, make him a bit of a better person. Your ability to be blunt and a bit harsh would serve you well if you ever needed to stand your ground on an issue that two of you have, as he can be quite stubborn.

VLD: Lance!

- Lance can be a bit immature from time to time as well, especially when it comes to trying to be funny or cheering up those around him-he's also headstrong and typically firm in what he wants to do, so your own determined personality would attract him to you a lot as well. He often puts off things he needs to do if they make him anxious too, but if you both recognize that you share that problem, helping each other might be a good solution!

Disney: Flynn!

- Flynn is quite a sarcastic and teasing person, so your own humor would match well with his. He's also quite a hopeless romantic as well, even though he's certainly not one to admit that right off the bat. He enjoys singing, and as he gets closer to someone he feels more comfortable doing so in front of them, so a partner he's been with for a long time would get to see him be more and more open with it. That also applies to activities like dancing.

[okayshin]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴs

✉ how they choose their darling 

⤹ yandere!au

⤹ pretty boy setter edition 

⤹ ft. akaashi, kageyama, kenma, oikawa, sugawara

⤹ tw. manipulation, fwb mention, typical yan things

═══ ᴀᴋᴀᴀsʜɪ ᴋᴇɪᴊɪ 

▹    akaashi notices everything you do

▹    no matter how small, he sees it. takes notes. studies it and you

▹    you would’ve became friends with him in high school, introduced by the elated bokuto who “wants all of his friends to be friends” 

▹    you’re dedicated and he likes that about you 

▹    always attending every game, even if you mention previously that you might not be able to make it because a, b, or c. 

▹    and bokuto lives for you being there. if akaashi didn’t know any better, he’d think bokuto had a crush on you 

▹    akaashi is self-aware, to an extent. 

▹    yes, he knows he shouldn’t be getting a bubble of anger in his chest when he sees you hug sweaty bokuto first after a game

▹    but he brushes it off as jealousy. nothing more, nothing less

    ══

They got the last touch. They were the victors of yet another game, and they would be the ones going to the finals. 

They are the stars of the world. 

So why does he feel a pang in his chest when you come down from the bleachers and go straight for Bokuto? 

All excitement burns down to something less, the remains of a match brought to nothing more than charcoal and smoke while he watches his best friend swing you around in a hug. 

“Did you see us?” he asks excitedly after setting you down, grin ever present on his features. You can only nod, just as happy as the man in front of you. You pull him into another, less frantic, hug, then turn when Bokuto addresses Akaashi as he approaches. 

“We did it, Akaashi!” 

“We did.” 

As upset as Akaashi wants to be, Bokuto’s exhilaration is infectious. A smile makes its way on Akaashi’s face without him realizing, only to grow when you open your arms to him and give an excited squeal. 

Whatever jealousy his mind made stems down to nothing more than ash, blown away the moment your arms wrap around his neck. 

And suddenly, everything is okay again. 

═══ ᴋᴀɢᴇʏᴀᴍᴀ ᴛᴏʙɪᴏ 

▹    kags isn’t the type to get into a relationship ok

▹    however, i do see him as the type to become fwb with someone

▹    it’s not something that happens instantly ofc. it takes a lot of time and talking about boundaries and rules, but you get there eventually

▹    and you’d absolutely adore kags 

▹    he knows it, too 

▹    kageyama lives off of whatever attention you present him with

▹    but he sees no point in reciprocating anything 

▹    give him an inch and he takes a mile 

▹    he won’t acknowledge if you do anything that’s more romantic than fwb 

▹    bring him a bento box for lunch “just ‘cause you felt like it?”? don’t make a habit of it, or he’ll start to expect them, without giving back anything in return 

    ══

The blank look on his face should’ve told it all, honestly. 

But, you’re no quitter! And in your defense, he was the one who told you yesterday how good your lunch looked. 

Kageyama only stared as you presented him with a neatly wrapped bento box, processing what this could imply further down the line. Regardless, he takes the food and unwraps the cloth. It’s the exact thing you brought the day before, and despite your friends’ protests of ‘not getting too attached to someone like him’, you’ve taken it upon yourself to do something nice for him. 

It is one lunch, after all. Maybe a second if he doesn’t cancel your ‘study session’ planned later on in the week. 

“Thank you for yesterday,” you say nonchalantly, as if he didn’t blow out your back in the bathroom stalls with the only reasoning being ‘because Hinata pissed him off’ and he needed to do something with his pent up aggression, “I had a good time.” 

He doesn’t reply, but you don’t expect him to; instead relishing in the fact that the tips of his ears burn. That doesn’t stop a smirk from forming on his face, though.

═══ ᴋᴇɴᴍᴀ ᴋᴏᴢᴜᴍᴇ 

▹    kenma is one of the most analytical out of the five

▹    he can easily pick up on the things you do

▹    your pet peeves, your tics, your habits, all of it

▹    and he can just as easily use them against you 

▹    is the best at making it seem unintentional

▹    what do you mean you don’t want to watch his game? you promised you would, even though he sort of pressured you to in the middle of a gaming sesh but it’s not fair to just,,, tell him you have other plans!

▹    it’s kinda rude to just get his hopes up and then let him down, isn’t it? 

▹    probably the most self-aware out of everyone, but he really doesn’t care. people usually look over him because of how unassuming he is, so why would him taking interest in you be noticed either? 

    ══

Your agitation was tangible. He could make out your form under a blanket from the video call you were on, pitiful and tired, but that doesn’t stop the slight frown from crossing his features. 

“You promised you’d come watch me and Kuroo play tomorrow, though.” A pinky promise, at that, but he wouldn’t bring up the facts. 

You pout, shoulders dropping with a sniffle, “That was before my parents told me about their anniversary dinner, Kenma.” 

“I really wanted you to meet my friend from Karasuno. I think you’d really like him.” He toys with the string of his hoodie, looking away from the screen for just a moment. He hears you huff out a sigh, screen going black for a moment. 

Video Paused. 

“I’ll talk to them about it, see if I can make it up to them somehow.” Another sigh, followed by some tapping on the screen that Kenma can only assume is you typing. 

“If you can’t, it’s okay. No need to worry about it.” Kenma says dismissively, despite knowing you and your tells; the tone of your voice breaking way into confirmation that you’ve given in to his less-than-pushy demand. 

“Too late,” your screen comes back on, some shuffling and replacing your phone propped against a pillow, “already texted them. What kind of snacks should I bring?” 

“Whatever can get you through the match.” He smiles, a genuine, sweet smile only reserved for those he cares about. 

═══ ᴏɪᴋᴀᴡᴀ ᴛᴏᴏʀᴜ

▹    oikawa is manipulative for starters 

▹    to his peers, his friends, his teachers, his fangirls, to everyone

▹    he’s good at adapting to less-than favorable situations and will do whatever it takes to get his way

▹    the definition of a brat

▹    he’s not above using people for how own advantage, either 

▹    you don’t want to go out with him? that’s perfectly fine! just don’t come crying to him when you get hundreds of hate mail from his fangirls that he oh so dramatically confided in

▹    is not afraid to make you out to be the bad guy at all 

▹    honestly doesn’t care if you really like him or not. even if you say you don’t, he just believes you’re lying. he’s the great king, after all. who wouldn’t like him

    ══

This was the fifth letter you’d found in your locker since school started. No, scratch that- the first two were slipped into your backpack, along with some of your items being stolen by whatever crazed fangirl deemed it necessary to make your day worse than what it already was. 

It doesn’t take an idiot to know what you did wrong to be in this situation. You’d denied Oikawa Tooru, your school's golden boy, telling him you’d rather study than watch him practice volleyball and get dinner after. If you’d known this would be the backlash, you would’ve thought twice about turning him down. 

Someone clicks their tongue behind you, causing you to jump and whirl around. The man at fault stands looking over your shoulder, hands on his hips with a pout on his face. 

“That doesn’t look like a confession letter- unless the broken heart means you’ve already denied them before they had a chance?” 

The suggestion makes you more than agitated- he knows what the letter is. Hell, he probably gave them pointers on what to write! You slam your locker closed with one hand and crumble the letter with the other.

“Is there something I can help you with, Oikawa?”

His name tastes like venom on your tongue, yet it doesn’t make him falter, pout turning to a grin, “There is actually. I’m sure you’ve heard we’re up against The Iron Wall- and I was just double checking that my potential number one supporter would be there?” 

You open your mouth to snap out a reply, but you can feel the glares from your peers; girls and boys alike whispering to each other- stirring a pot they know nothing about. 

So, you bite your tongue. Grit your teeth and deal. It’s just one game, after all- what’s the harm in missing a few hours of a study session? 

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” 

“Great!” His smile grows tenfold, reaching up and pinching your cheek endearingly, “I’ll be sure to let everyone know just how sweet you really are.” 

You don’t miss the mischievous glint in his eyes; the way he moves away from you so confidently telling you more than enough. He knows the game and he’s playing it well. 

═══ sᴜɢᴀᴡᴀʀᴀ ᴋᴏᴜsʜɪ

▹    the sweetest boy on god

▹    just cannot place his feelings! 

▹    does he like you? like like you? want to be friends? more than friends? take you away from anything and everything that could ever hurt you? 

▹    falls back more into the last category, and can only assume it means he likes you

▹    he’s probably the least dangerous to have after you 

▹    suga doesn’t want to do anything that would ruin your relationship, or the potential for any future relationships

▹    this makes him the best friend you could ever ask for, honestly 

▹    will walk you home if you ask (as long as you can stand to wait until after practice) 

▹    takes you out for lunch or dinner or study sessions at the local cafe on the weekend and refuses to let you pay for anything

▹    snacks, drinks, and meals are all on him and he doesn’t complain at all

▹    generally doesn’t ask for anything but your friendship in return

▹    but if you give him a hug or hold onto his arm and let him imagine you’re more than something you aren’t then that’s the best payment

    ══

“You’ve gotta let me pay for something, Suga,” you whine, trying to push some cash into the center of the table only for the man to push it back towards you and pass his card directly to the waiter instead. 

“Nope, I invited you out so therefore I pay.” 

“By that logic, if I invite you out next weekend then I’ll pay?” You grumble, stuffing the money back into your wallet. “Sounds fair to me.” 

“No,” he disagrees again, looking up when the waiter brings back his card and a paper to sign, “I’ll just say no to hanging out- therefore you have no reason to pay.” 

“That’s just mean, Suga.” You whine again, “What if I say no to your hangout session, then?” 

“You can’t say no to me.” He smiles an award winning smile, thanking the waiter, then standing and waiting for you to pull on your jacket before you step outside. “It’s not allowed.” 

“‘Not allowed’?” You repeat with a scoff, scrunching your nose at how chilly the temperature outside is compared to the warmth inside the building, “So you can say no to me, but I can’t you? Isn’t that a double-standard and make you a hypocrite?” 

“Maybe,” he shrugs, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, “but it doesn’t change the fact that I simply will not be letting you pay for anything.” 

You puff out your cheeks in protest, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared and is replaced with a grin. Patting Sugawara on the arm a couple of times before your arm wraps itself around his own while you pull him closer to your favorite spot. The dog park. 

Sugawara always plans for this; taking you past the park so you can see all the pets running around. Your reaction is always the same- hitting him a few times to get his attention, then, wrapping your arm around his so he doesn’t stray far, and won’t leave his until he drops you off at him. It’s routine, at this point. Your warmth seeps through his jacket, and it’s all the payment he needs.