#Queue ✟ When you cross over; time stops

[ludwig-van-gaythoven]

Cabin Fever - (Regina George x F Reader) Part 4

Fandom;

Mean Girls (2024)

Pairings:

Regina George x Reader

Summary:

The students of Northshore go on a school trip for a week in the forest. You end up getting to know the apex predator in a way you’d never seen her before.

Warnings;

Implied ED, Claustrophobia

Parts:

Part 1// Part 2// Part 3// Part 4// Part 5// Part 6

You can feel Regina’s lips on your skin all morning. The aching pain in your hip is now replaced by a warm longing. It’s a pretty good metaphor for Regina herself. She can bruise you so easily and then make it all better.

She kissed you.

Why did she kiss you?

Was it because she felt so guilty about hurting you and couldn’t find the words to tell you? That had to be it. The other option briefly crosses your mind but you quickly dismiss it. This is Regina George. Less than 2 days ago she didn’t know you existed. She’s the Queen of the school, why would she want to be anything to someone like you? The thought is disheartening but it's much better than falling victim to a disappointing fantasy.

Regina is already gone, as usual. At least it gives you some time in the morning to sort your thoughts into nice neat boxes and get yourself ready without the distraction.

You know that today's activity is caving. Working your way through a man made cave system sounds much better for you, at least your feet are firmly on the ground. You decide on a pair of jeans, another band tee (Is that really all you packed?) and throw a hoodie on top. The caves might be cold and it’ll stop you scraping up your elbows while you navigate tight crawl spaces.

You make your way to the Campfire pit to be shown today's activity. The instructor tells you all to find groups or pairs. You don’t even bother glancing in Regina’s direction, she’ll be with Gretchen and Karen. You don’t mind going through it alone. It’s better than being paired up with a stranger. It would be much more fun with Janis and Damien though.

You feel a slight not in your stomach at the thought of Janis. She’d tried to call again this morning but you didn’t have the heart to answer in case more lies came tumbling out of your mouth, so instead you just sent back a quick text letting her know you’d call this evening and put your phone on silent.

You’re led to a door in the side of what looks like an oddly shaped hill which contains an intricate man-made cave system. Some of the group drop out saying they’re claustrophobic and don’t want to go through. It’s understandable, you wish you’d been given that option on the high ropes.

The instructor lets each group go through every 10 minutes to allow the first group to be a decent way through and avoid traffic. You end up behind the plastics in the queue again. It’s not exactly accidental. Hopefully Regina doesn’t notice this.

They go through first, you try not to make it too obvious where your gaze lands as Regina gets on her knees to crawl through the cave entrance. She’s wearing a pair of tight, black leather trousers and a pink tank top. It frames her body perfectly and you understand why most of the boys at school stare openly when she walks by. How are you only just noticing how hot she is now?

10 minutes later you’re instructed to go through. You crawl, squeeze and climb through the narrow passages of the cave. It’s pitch black, you have to use the head torch on your helmet to navigate.

It’s quite fun, you like the challenge. The further you get into the cave system, the harder some of the tunnels get. Some have passages you have to squeeze through sideways. Some you have to be on your stomach, sliding under. Every so often there are larger chambers you can have a break in and stand up fully. You slip through a narrow tunnel and into a larger chamber and your headlight catches a pair of eyes. You have to physically put your hand over your mouth to stop yourself screaming when you see a human figure cowering in the corner of the cave. You realize it’s Regina and she looks terrified. Her makeup has run slightly as if she’d been crying.

“Hey, are you okay?” You try softly, but Regina is shaking too much to respond. You crouch down to her level and try and meet her gaze.

“Where are Gretchen and Karen?” You ask. From what you can tell, they’re nowhere in sight and you can’t hear their chipper voices up ahead.

“They went on ahead.” She answers, her voice barely a whisper.

She glances over at the next tunnel, you can tell because her head torch illuminates the passage. It’s tight. Possibly the hardest one to get through so far. You move to look through and see another chamber with specks of light. This must be the final challenge.

“I’m pretty sure this is the final tunnel. I can see the light on the other side.” There’s no response from the blonde, she must be really scared.

Why did Karen and Gretchen just leave her like this? You know you wouldn’t have. Did Regina ask them to go ahead so they didn’t see she was this afraid? She doesn’t hide her fear in front of you, she eats with you and she laughs and plays geeky games with you. You guess she only agreed to go through to protect her reputation, it seems more than its worth keeping up her act.

“I can go first, then you follow and I’ll pull you through so you’re out quicker.” you say, standing to walk over to the tunnel and offering her your hand.

“Please don’t! you’re going to leave me here.” She cries, her lip is trembling. You wish you could comfort her better but you’re not sure what she’ll allow and you don’t want to push your luck.

“Regina, I promise I won’t leave you. I’ll crawl through and pull you out the other side. You just have to follow after me, I won’t let anything happen.”

“....You promise?” She whispers.

You take one of her hands

“I promise”

Her hand is so soft, just as you’d expect. Just how you’d expect the rest of her to feel. You squeeze her hand in encouragement before you bend down to crawl through the tunnel. Once you reach the last chamber you see there’s an exit door. You sigh in relief.

“Come through now, I’m at the other end, there’s a door here!” you shout, hoping she can hear you from the other side.

You hear shuffling from the end of the tunnel and bend down, ready to pull her through. As soon as she’s in arms reach you swiftly pull her out and she lets out a shaky breath. She quickly puts her arms around your neck in a gentle hug.

“Thank you”

Her breath tickles your neck and you’re overwhelmed by everything about her. You don’t move to reciprocate the hug, you’re still understandably wary after what happened and you don’t want to do anything that’d make her let go any faster.

And then she’s gone. When you leave the final chamber you see her back with Gretchen and Karen, subtly wiping her eyes to make sure nobody sees her smudged makeup. It’s impressive how quickly she can recover and put her mean girl act back on. You wonder how long she’d had to wear that mask.

You head back to the campfire pit for dinner, but you don’t bother going to eat anything. Regina had said she wanted dinner with you again. You couldn’t shake the thought that it felt like a date, but you couldn’t let yourself think like that. Regina had Boyfriends, and had already bullied Janis for her sexuality. You had to be more careful.

You wait for about 30 minutes after dinner at the campfire pit has ended. Regina doesn't show up. That serves you right for thinking Regina even thought of you as a friend, let alone thinking of your secret dinners as a date. You’re just there for her convenience.

You feel a squeezing sensation in your chest. Why did you let it bother you this much? You decide you need a distraction so go to the river close by the camp and ask one of the instructors if you can borrow a canoe. You’e allowed but you have to sign the boat out and make sure it’s returned within 3 hours. That’s fine, you want as much time away from the cabin as you can. Away from Regina’s stuff, away from her sweet vanilla scent, away from her giggle that still felt like it was trapped between the walls, away from Regina.

You take the Canoe to the edge of the river and lower it in, you hop down into the small boat and pick up the oar ready to set sail.

“Hey, what the fuck?” you hear a familiar voice yell.

All of your resolve to forget about her disappears when you see her at the bank, above your boat with her arms folded and one eyebrow raised. It’s intimidating.

“I saw you walk off earlier. What happened to dinner?” She scoffs “ Nobody stands me up, where are you going?”

“I didn’t think you were coming, I waited for half an hour.” you respond, you wish you could sound as confident as Regina but it just comes out as guilty, like a scorned puppy.

She drops down into the boat and sits facing you. Her eyes are challenging.

“I’m coming with you. I’m not allowed to go back to Karen and Gretchen’s cabins anyway.” That stings a little. So she’s not just spending time with you because she wants to.

“And I guess you’re not bad company.” She adds, rolling her eyes.

That makes your heart flutter and you hand her an oar and push off from the bank. You’re not sure where you’re going and Regina doesn’t really help row much. Luckily the flow of the river helps pull you downstream.

You’re not sure what possesses you but for a moment you forget who you’re in a boat with and dip your oar into the water, you pull it out fast and splash the blonde who is now looking at you with an incredulous expression.

“What the FUCK!” She screams as the cold water hits her.

You can’t help but laugh. It wasn’t a lot of water but you can see some droplets running down her cheeks. She growls in frustration and dips her hand in the river to splash you back.

You shriek at the sensation of sudden cold, but you’re still laughing. You see her lips curl in a smile too. You’re not sure if she’s laughing too or just proud she managed to get you back.

Unfortunately your oar can create a much bigger splash than her hand and this time you hit her with quite a lot of cold water to her chest, narrowly missing her face.

The look she gives you makes your knees weak and you regret the choice immediately.

Shit. You might have taken it too far.

She lunges for you, grappling for the oar. You lean left, trying to stretch the oar right out of her reach. Her body is sliding against yours, you can feel the cold patch where the water soaked into her top. Her face is millimeters from yours and you glance down at her lips. If you just moved forward a tiny bit your lips would meet, she probably tastes like vanilla too. She leans on the edge of the boat, inching forwards. Everything feels like it's moving in slow motion.

The weight of both of you on one side is just slightly too much and the canoe flips, dunking you both underwater. It’s freezing and makes you gasp when you breach the surface in a state of absolute shock. Regina splashes her way to the surface beside you, she’s gasping and her eyes are wide, black mascara dripping down her face.

A giggle erupts from your lips and it's not long before it's a full blown laughing fit. Regina giggles too, its a loose and carefree sound, it might be your favorite.

You swim over to her and flick some water at her, she squeals and throws some back your way. No use going easy now, you’re both soaked.

You manage to flip the canoe back over with some effort and both climb back in. You have no change of clothes and you’re both so cold your lips are turning blue so you decide to turn back.

“I’m so sorry I left you earlier. I didn’t think you were coming.” You chatter between shivers.

“I even stole these sandwiches from dinner for us, but I don't think we can eat them now.” She shudders back, pulling out two dripping wet sandwiches from her pocket. This makes you both burst into another giggling fit.

She shifts over to sit next to you and rests her head on your shoulder. Even though you’re soaked you feel your whole body heat up, especially your cheeks from the interaction. You rest your head on top of hers, surprised when she doesn’t pull away.

You make it back to the bank without going for another unexpected swim and tell Regina to go back to the cabin while you return the boating equipment. There’s no use in both of you staying freezing.

She’s already showered by the time you’re back and sitting on the edge of her bed. She gives you a shy smile and you dip into the bathroom to warm up. The water gives new life to your icy skin, as it washes down your face you can’t help but remember Regina’s soft lips just centimeters from yours. What would have happened if the boat hadn’t tipped? Probably nothing right? You’re just overthinking it.

As you start putting your pajamas on you notice your phone buzzing again. It's Janis. It’s reasonably late enough to pretend you're asleep so you swipe the screen to decline the call and put your phone in your pocket.

When you go back into the bedroom, Regina is under the covers, scrolling her phone but she sits up as soon as you come in.

“Hey, uh I wanted to say thanks for today.. you know, helping me, and I had fun.” She thinks for a moment. “Having fun with you is easy.” she adds with a small, sleepy smile.

“If I check my schedule I’m sure I can fit you in tomorrow evening.” You laugh, pretending to think over exaggeratedly.

She rolls her eyes with a smile.

“Goodnight Loser.” She yawns.

“Night Regina” You reply

Just as you’re about to lay down you hear a muffled voice from your pocket.

“What the fuck, are you talking to Regina?”

Shit.

[velvetreds]

hihihi congrats on 200 that’s so awesome n u deserve it im obsessed with ur work n writing style!! 🫶🏽 could i req 🐙🔥🍕 with suna rintaro :p congrats again!!!!

BAE GUESS WHO GOT IT DONE IN 12-14HRS u really skipped the queue.. i frothed at the mouth the entire time while writing this btw i need him so bad. um yeah. have ur man

shameless — rintarō suna x gn!reader

wc: 1330 (short fic what.) || event

cws: swearing, kissing. that's it methinks. not proofread, may be ooc, suna flirts like a bitch and acts like one too.

you've liked rintarou suna forever. and now, you're lucky — or unlucky — enough to be living with him. damn your brother for being such an angel; suna had needed a place to stay, and of course your brother was the first to offer. now, you often find yourself alone with him, and you can't exactly complain, can you?

"good night," you murmur, getting off the couch. "i'm going to bed now."

you're already in your PJs, ready for bed. your brother isn't home, and suna is still sprawled across most of the couch, eyes glued to the TV. when he hears your words, he instantly loses the resting bitch face, lips curving up into a sly smile.

"'s not a good night unless you're here," he replies. "and you're leaving now, so..."

"have you no shame? flirting with your friend's younger sibling like this?" you cross your arms over your chest, glaring at him — trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

"not really, no," his grin stretches impossibly wider.

"wow." you don't really know what to say, and suna snickers derisively.

what should you be saying? stop flirting with me? carry on flirting with me please i love you? you turn around again, and to your surprise, all the lights are off in the hallway. the light switches are at the other end of the hall, and you are deathly afraid of the dark. you look down helplessly at the book in your hands, then take a deep breath. "suna, can i borrow your phone?"

"what for?"

"um.. the lights are off, and—"

"the switches are right over there," he says, turning to look at you. "you can—"

something must be showing on your face because his eyes widen and he stops talking. "y/n, are you afraid of the dark?"

"no!" you reply too quickly, and he smiles, having gotten his answer. he pats the cushioned spot next to him. "sleep here, i'll get you to your room when i finish this."

you hesitate for a moment. should you?

fuck it. you roll your eyes — just for show — before plopping down beside him again. the force of your fall makes you bounce straight into his side, and your hand shoots out to grab the first thing it can reach — in this case, his shirt. you freeze for a moment, unsure of what to do. when you don't move, suna wraps his arm around your waist and shifts you to his lap, leaning you against his chest like it's the most natural thing in the world. the dark-coloured t-shirt stays bunched up in your hand.

"this okay?" he hums when you don't say anything. you nod against his chest, face aflame as heat spreads across your cheeks. he pulls his knees up to further secure you, right hand wrapped loosely around his left to hold you in place. your breaths are in sync, and as your consciousness slowly slips away and the noise of the TV becomes a comforting hum, you feel suna gently rest his head on top of yours.

"i love you," he whispers into your hair, and he presses his lips to the top of your head. suddenly, you're wide awake, hyper aware of everything around you — the TV, his arms around you, the firmness of his lean yet muscled torso — everything.

as soon as you consciously process his words, your head snaps up — and hits his face.

"ow, fuck," gasps suna, startled. you don't see any blood, but you did notice how loud the sound was, so it must've still been extremely painful. but you also notice how he doesn't even think of himself, turning to you with concern in his eyes. "you okay? bad dream?"

you shake your head, feeling slightly dazed. "you... love me?"

realisation dawns upon his face as he gets up, wincing suddenly. "i'll explain later, i—" he stops speaking, pointing at his mouth, and you nod in understanding.

"i'll help you take care of it," you volunteer. he shakes his head, no. this is ignored as you pull him to the kitchen, heedless of any further refusals. all the time, he is acutely aware of the way his hand feels in yours, and the nervous energy you radiate as you gently press the ice pack against his mouth, lower lip caught between your teeth in concentration. and while you're fixated on his lips, you don't know that he's fixated on yours too.

☆

suna leans back against your headboard, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt distractedly. you clear your throat to get his attention, perched on the other end of your bed. looking up, he raises a brow at you, deadpanning, "what?"

"you love me," you say, uncertainly.

"isn't that what you heard?"

"well, yes, but—"

"then?" he scoffs. "have some faith in yourself, l/n."

you shoot him a half-hearted glare, and he smiles back in a way that's both gentle and extremely attractive, half lidded eyes boring into yours. "if you want to say something, say it."

you open your mouth to speak, but he interrupts you suddenly. "if you're worried about rejecting me or whatever, don't bother. i don't want to force you into anything, okay?"

his voice is flat with no inflections, no way of letting you know how he feels. you shake your head vehemently. "it's not that at all!"

"then?" he cocks a brow, tilting his head to one side quizzically.

"ilikeyoutoo."

"what was that?"

"i like you too," you say again, slower.

"sorry?"

you begin to say it again when you notice the devilish grin on his face; he'd already heard you loud and clear the first time around.

"fuck you," you say, crossing your arms exasperatedly with a huff.

suna snorts. "bet you'd like to, huh?"

the scandalised look on your blushing face is downright hilarious, and suna is laughing too hard notice you advancing on him with a pillow in your hands — or so you think, because as soon as you raise it over your head, he's pulling you down onto him by your waist with a wolfish smile. he cups your face with one large hand, the other splayed across the small of your back. his voice is annoyingly patronising as he speaks, and a complete contrast to the shit-eating grin on his face. "i play volleyball, baby. you can't just sneak up on me like that."

you roll your eyes, annoyed. or you were annoyed, because now you've noticed the lack of proximity between the two of you, and your mind has gone blank. and then he flicks your forehead sharply, bringing you back into reality muttering a string of curses.

"so," you begin.

"so." he repeats acting snide, although the fingers softly tracing patterns onto your back tell another story.

"i don't know," you admit.

"maybe we should kiss," he suggests. he's messing with you, you can tell by the droll twinkle in his eyes, but you decide to bite anyways.

"maybe we should."

his eyebrows lift up a little, almost imperceptibly. "do you want to?"

"if you want to," you confess, "i'm up for it."

for the second time that night, suna shifts you onto his lap again and kisses you again, although this time he likes it much better. he likes the feel of your lips on his, and he likes the way your hands tangle into his hair.

every movement of his oozes devotion; the way he kisses you is slow and fervent. if you were a god, he would be your loyalest worshipper. if you were a garden, he would spend every conscious second tending to its plants. if you loved him, he would give you the most romantic, passionate, flawless love story to ever have existed, happy ending and all.

and because you do love him, actually, you get to experience just that, courtesy of — although unbeknownst to you at that moment, the person you will go on to spend the rest of your life with — rintarou suna.

thanks for reading n following!!

love,

hyena

[ningvory]

NABI I AM. Havin…??!! SO MANY THOUGHTS. about g!p ning mostly but like … i see so many writers talking abt sub ningyi but i lowkey see her as more of a service top?? professional pussy eater ning yizhuo? do u have any thoughts??

p.s. i love all ur work ur amazing mwah mwah mwah 🩷🩷

parings — servicetop!gp!ning x pillowprincess!femreader

warnings — oral (r. receiving), pussy whipped ning, cum eating, tummy bulge, ning cums in her boxers, ning calls you baby and princess, breath play, overstimulation, ignore spelling errors in this drabble, put this on queue btw <3

note — PUSSY EATER NINGYI ENTHUSIASTS STAND UP!! anonie you get me so well omg…enjoy my rambles of pussy whipped ning <33

pretty girl is just so obsessed with you and would literally do anything you ask her cuz you’re her pretty lil girlfriend <33

ning just can’t get enough of you! she’s inbetween your legs, lapping up your cunt. she lets you tug on her hair, trying to bring her impossibly closer to your glistening cunt and practically suffocating her with your plush thighs. but she doesn’t really mind because she loves slurping and eating out your cunt, her eyes are rolled back and she’s mindlessly grinding her clothed cock into the bed, making a mess of herself in her boxers.

she makes a mess on her face with your juices, but she loves it, she maneuvers between tongue fucking you and making out with your cunt, moaning into your cunt because you taste so yummy <33 that just seems to push you to your third orgasm because your moaning so loudly, back arched and holding her head in place until you’re squirting all over her face for the first time that night! her eyes are crossed and she’s cumming into her boxers with a muffled groan from just eating your cunt out alone <33

even after she cleans you up with her tongue, she’s not done tormenting you, because she’s wrapping her arms around your waist and going back to making out with your cunt, her nose bumps into your clit and it has you whining with tears threatening to fall out from the overstimulation! “ning— s’too much!” fall out your mouth desperately trying to push her away from your twitching cunt.

your pleas do nun but make her cock twitch in her boxers, she thinks your moans and whines are the cutest when you beg for her to stop!! but the lack of oxygen forces her to pull away, chest heaving while she’s catching her breath.

“one more princess, know you can do it for me.” she mumbles as she stands up and pulls her cum covered cock outta her sticky boxers.

you’re so overstimulated but you nod your head anyways, mumbling ‘i can take it’ before she’s sliding her cock into your puffy cunt with ease. eyes crossing once more with a moan drowned out by your high pitch whine, feeling her cock engulf in your cunt had her cumming almost instantly.

she’s pounding into you it has you sobbing from how good it feels, desperately scrambling to find anything to hold until she’s grabbing your hand and letting you squeeze it tight as she whispers ‘so pretty f’me, baby.’

definitely uses her other hand to press down on the tummy bulge formed by her cock while she’s pounding into you, making you squeal ‘nd arch your back. bringing you both to release as the two of you moan in unison, you’re squirting all over her pelvis and she’s pumping you full of her seed <33

[delilahsturniolo]

deja vu — c.s

summary: after chris and y/n broke up, chris gets a new girlfriend months later. a wave of jealousy and deja vu washes over y/n, as she just can’t seem to move on from her hurt and pain of the past.

this story contains: angst, crying, arguing, kinda physical fight but veryy brief and not violent (just grabbing wrists) toxic relationship, no happy ending.

do not read if you aren’t comfortable!

written by: @delilahsturniolo

“i made the jokes you tell to her when she's with you.”

“do you get déjà vu when she's with you?”

6 months ago…

rain clattered harshly against the windows as i stood against the kitchen counter, my head was buried into my hands as I rubbed my eyes in exhaustion, frustration and stress flooding me.

i had no idea where chris was, he was getting home later and later every night. it felt like he couldn’t even bother to make time for me anymore.

as if on queue, i heard keys jingling by the front door. i immediately jumped up, seeing chris finally walking into the house. he had bags under his eyes, he looked drained and frustrated.

“where have you been?” i scoffed, crossing my arms. chris groaned and set his bag down, entering the kitchen.

“filming.” he blandly muttered, opening the fridge doors.

“you said you’d come home early though…it’s 1 AM. the storms pretty bad..” i mumbled, my eyes following his every move. chris grunted and slammed the fridge doors harshly.

“gosh y/n, can you get off my dick for one second? i can’t spend every waking moment with you, i have priorities.” chris’s tone was bitter as he turned to look at me.

i bit my lip, flinching slightly as he yelled. the thunder outside erupted louder and louder each time.

“so i’m not one of your priorities?” i locked eyes with him, chris shook his head.

“no..no y/n that’s not what i mea—“

“it seems like it. you don’t even show me love anymore, chris.” i blurted out.

“you’re acting like a brat. of course i love you, i’m just busy!” chris’s voice raised, which had been typical for him lately

“bullshit! i’m just saying i miss you! we’re always arguing 24/7, you never acknowledge my presence and we always go to bed upset with each other!” i practically screamed.

“then maybe this isn’t working, y/n. ever thought about that? you never fucking consider my feelings.” chris ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

i felt my heart sink. “wha…what do you mean?” i spoke barely above a whisper.

“you heard me. maybe this isn’t working out..maybe we shouldn’t be together if things are too complicated between us.” chris croaked out, his voice breaking with hurt and pain.

“chris no—we can make this work—“

“i don’t wanna hear it, y/n. you said it yourself. things aren’t working. we aren’t working.” chris expressed, his voice growing softer.

i felt myself at a loss for words, i couldn’t believe what was happening right now.

it felt like my heart had been stabbed with a knife.

“stop it, no no no..this isn’t necessary.” i tried fighting back, but chris only shook his head in disagreement.

“no, you stop it. we clearly can’t make each other happy. it’s impossible, i’m sorry but it’s the truth.” chris immediately shut me down.

“n—no! no no no no…you just don’t care! you don’t care about me— or about us!” i yelled in frustration, my voice cracked with hurt.

“how can you say that!? all i’ve ever done was care, i’m doing what’s best for us!” chris grabbed my wrist, i grunted as i yanked it away from his grasp harshly.

“fine then. just go.” i said firmly, my voice cracking as tears filled my eyes. chris didn’t budge.

“don’t stand there like an idiot, go!” i yelled, letting out a sob. chris bit his lip with guilt before going upstairs to grab his things.

i couldn’t deny his point. he was right, we weren’t working. our relationship was dragging us both down mentally.

a few moments later, chris came down with a few bags filled with all of this stuff. lighting struck, it’s reflection briefly flashing through the window.

chris came back downstairs, zipping up his bags. he didn’t even bother looking me in the eye.

“i’ll see you around.” chris whispered.

without another word, chris turned around and left. i assumed he would be staying with his brothers.

as the front door shut, i felt a pang of hurt. a relationship that was sacred to me, torn apart and ripped into pieces. I gripped the kitchen counter, beginning to sob. i couldn’t keep my emotions in anymore, i couldn’t pretend like i was okay.

i just felt…pain.

i couldn’t mend this, i couldn’t fix this. it was all over. and there was nothing i could do about that.

end of flashback… (present time.)

i jolted awake as an eruption of laughter startled me. i sighed in relief, feeling at peace knowing that i didn’t relive that moment, i just dreamed of it.

me, matt, nick, and chris were in the living room watching back to the future, chris’s choice of course.

although me and chris weren’t together anymore, matt and nick were still my best friends. me and chris didn’t speak much words to each other anymore.

chris’s phone buzzed loudly, causing nick to jump. i giggled lightly at his reaction.

a warm smile was plastered across chris’s face as he looked at his phone, his fingers typing quickly.

“guys.” chris spoke up suddenly.

“mmm..?” matt mumbled, falling asleep to the movie.

“my girl’s comin’ over. is that okay?” chris asked, nick nodded, yawning.

my heart was heavy as he said that, but i didn’t say anything to it. i agreed, pretending everything was okay on the inside.

i didn’t understand. i couldn’t move on, i was still single, and hurt. it felt pathetic.

i hadn’t met chris’s new girlfriend yet, but he spoke highly of her.

a few moments later the doorbell rang, chris smiled and practically jumped out of his seat on the sofa, rushing to the front door.

i heard the door open, and a girl giggling. i took a deep breath, sitting up as the voice grew closer.

“hi bunny, i missed you.” chris’s muffled voice said from the front entrance.

bunny. he used to call me that.

chris came back momentarily, his arm wrapped around a brunette girl that wore baggy jeans and a tank top. she wore gold jewelry and her makeup was absolutely flawless.

matt and nick had already met her, so they just waved and smiled.

“y/n?” chris called out. i turned my head to look at the couple.

“i want you to meet lily, my girlfriend. lily, this is y/n.” chris introduced us to each other.

lily stuck her hand out for me to take, i smiled and happily shook her hand. “hi! i’m lily, nice to meet you.”

“it’s nice to meet you too, i hope we can be friends.” i spoke. i smiled on the outside, but my heart was sinking on the inside.

lily smiled and nodded, letting go of my hand and walking over to chris again. i sighed, slumping my shoulders in exhaustion.

lily suddenly gasped. “we should watch the notebook, it’s my favorite movie!” she suggested, chris immediately agreed.

“i love that movie baby, c’mon we can watch it.” chris grabbed the remote, switching to the movie.

the notebook. the movie me and chris watched so much together we both could recite every line to each other, the movie that held a special meaning in my heart all because of him.

“i like that movie too.” i expressed, lily nodded. “that’s cool.” she shrugged.

chris’s eyes locked with mine, he saw through my fake smiles and laughs. i knew he did, he knew me better than i knew myself. he knew i was falling apart, and i hated that i cared about him still.

eventually, chris put on the move, he moved next to lily on the couch and cuddled her. nick was fast asleep while matt scrolled on his phone, tuning out the couple.

he caressed her thigh, executing comforting motions i remembered all too well.

i crossed my arms, looking away as tears brimmed my eyes.

maybe he just wasn’t the right person. but i was sick of waiting, and waiting, and waiting for the right person to come along. i just wanted to be loved, to be seen.

and maybe, just maybe i’d move on and find true love soon.

© delilahsturniolo

join the taglist here! 💓

[ktsphere]

I was at the studio record for tonight's taskmaster episode, so full debrief below the readmore! (Spoilers for TM S18E5)

[Some things may be paraphrased as I wrote it all down immediately after the episode record.]

ARRIVAL AND SEATING

We got to the studio at about 10:15am, there were approx 10 people there already

The staff didn't turn up till 10:30 so we made our own queue

Staff moved our queue and told everyone with cars in the visitor carpark to move them, they join the queue in their cars while people on foot queued in the rain

Lots of waiting around, then the queue was moved, then a quick security check, then wristbands and more waiting around. There were not enough toilets. There were snacks and drinks available to buy but no "real" food.

We started moving again at 12:45.

The first 22 people got orange wrist bands and we were put in the gallery! (11 on each side)

The gallery itself is only as deep as the chairs, it's very much only decorated on the sides that the camera can see.

The decoration behind us was plasticy and painted gold, kind of like paper plate material.

The wall was painted with the same pattern as the sides, but super small, gold on red, but looked less neat than the big stuff which is more visible on camera.

Underneath us was bare wood and we were in a metal frame.

My friend went to the loo and said Greg and Alex's seats arrived on the back of a trailer and stopped at the zebra crossing for her.

The studio was much smaller than I expected, 5 or so rows of seats in the front section, literally within arms reach of the seat 1 contestant. This looked like it was all people with a red wristband, who were 2nd after orange.

The back section was bigger, I'd say maybe 8 rows deep? And wider.

There was some reshuffling of seats near the end, some people who were right at the back were put in the front row at the last minute (probably some priority people didn't turn up?)

I don't think anyone's view was obstructed by cameras, but the left gallery couldn't see the contestants' faces, while the right gallery (including me) couldn't see Greg & Alex's faces.

(I did see Alex's shoulders sort of hunch every time he got the giggles though which was incredibly cute)

INTRO

Mark the warm up man got people shouting out & making noise (he comes back at every ad break, and every set change break)(some of the breaks he asked if we had any questions about the filming of TM and answered them to the best of his ability)(one time we played audience tinder, which is like audience guess who but based on 1 single person's romantic requirements (man, single, over 23, under 30. This got everyone out, and mark announced that was why she was still single.)

Mark brought Greg on

Someone shouted happy birthday

Greg: it's not today, it was on the 14th. I'm 55. Today it's ............................... It was.................

Someone in the Audience: it was on Tuesday!

[Note today is thursday]

Greg: At a certain age you stop counting birthdays. I woke up and realised I was closer to 60 than 50, And genuinely the first thing I said when I woke up, alone in my bedroom, was "blink"

Greg brought Alex on

Alex: I have some bad news

Greg: oh no

Alex: you're actually 56

Greg: oh what did I say?

Alex: 55

Greg: oh I was in a good mood and you've put me in a bad mood now

Greg asked the audience for help with Alex's improv

Alex was told to come up with a Pop song about corn

This was misheard by Greg as porn

They decided on corny porn

Greg gives Alex a beat

Alex [singing]: Sometimes a man gets lonely

*Greg and audience piss themselves, Alex breaks*

Greg: I thought I'd give you some time there to come up with a rhyme for lonely

Alex: oh I'm going for an ABCB rhyming scheme

[Slightly paraphrased in places because I'm not perfect]

[Greg beat starts up again]

Alex, Singing:

Sometimes a man gets lonely

And that man is Alex Horne

all his friends are out for the evening

So he opens his corny porn

[verse 2]

*Something about Cracker jokes*

*something about a boy and a girl*

*[I forgot this line]*

And then they have full sex.

(((If anyone was there and remembers these lines I will happily make edits)))

Greg: I thought you were going to shy away from the sex

Alex: oh, no, didn't shy away

Greg: they have legitimate sex

Alex: well they do love each other, so it's legitimate sex

Alex: But it wasn't being filmed

Alex: It was actually behind a closed door

Greg: so it wasn't porn at all

Contestants are introduced to the audience by greg before they all sit down

Andy zaltzman is wearing a snooker outfit, with cue and chalk. He is told (by Greg, who was told by the greenroom) to put the cue over his left shoulder so the cameras can see him. He says the producer told him to wear it over his right just before the show. Greg relays this to the greenroom, and then says [to greenroom] "bit harsh", and [to Andy] "he called you a lying cunt"

Babatunde aleshe

Emma sidi

Jack Dee

Rosie jones

The Makeup team come on, there's some admin stuff (fire safety etc)

Then it starts properly, they play the introduction on the big screen

Greg: A man who told me fire fighters are the ¿Least ?? ? Of all the emergency services.

Alex: I was most scared if this one because if my house burns down...

Greg: Well you should stop telling me these things

BANTER SECTION

Alex: The group chat is popping off

The taskmaster WhatsApp, we've had some questions

Alex: Question from Brian. Actually, a lot of people asked this. Are Greg and Alex twins?

Alex: Someone else asked if I was ok

Greg: yes I always wonder that

Alex: I had an ECG and felt better

Alex: an EGG

Alex: I had an egg.

Greg: *Groans*

Greg: You do it on purpose. I was in a good mood. You've put me in a foul mood. Is that really all you've prepared? Someone thinks we're twins, and you've had an egg.

PRIZE TASK

Thing that's best when you add water

Baba, trying to defend jelly to greg: "You know when your mums just like-"

Greg: "sorry I'm going to stop you there, it sounded like you called my mum a slag

*General confusion*

[They Continue]

Baba: you know when your mums a slag

*Everyone in the audience heard it this time*

Baba confused, everyone else pissing themselves

*Repeat multiple times, everyone getting more and more hysterical*

Baba: you know when Your Mum *Says*...

Greg, holding his ear piece: How likely is it the slag comments are going to be left in? The gallery says 100%.

TASK 1: Alex is a robot, direct to charging port, gibe an instruction every 10 seconds, robot wont follow instructions with o or e

Emma makes sexual moans when she sees the robot

Greg replays VT multiple times, she calls it "Platonic arousal"

Long discussion about mascots and those tall wobbly dancing tubes, and Mr blobby

Emma loves them all but they have to move

Greg brings up a butcher mascot which was a pig cutting parts of itself off, but it doesn't move so Emma isn't interested. If it moved she'd like it

Andy: Coming from a Jewish background, would the pig cutting parts of itself off be kosher?

Emma: no! [Pause for laughter/apology/embarrassment] sorry, no because pork isn't kosher. It's the trotters.

Someone: if the pig cuts its own trotters off then maybe it could be kosher

Greg: snip snip snip, out it goes

[There's a submarine in the garden?!!]

Emma, during task: walk lady

Emma, in studio: I changed it to walk by lady, I realised I could say by

Greg: Bisexual lady?

Emma: I'm not assuming the sexuality of the robot

Lots of "I mean him, not me" from Alex when talking about the robot

Rosie points out she got a lap dance from the robot

Emma: "Oh robot - we've found it!" (Or similar)

Greg takes the piss multiple times throughout the ep

TASK 2: make the strongest smell and put it in this jar. *Jar is sealed for 3-4 months until the studio record*

Rosie's sounds very very ominous, everyone is scared

On the back of the task it says anyone who is unwilling to smell their own jar gets 0 points

They talk about how that's definitely backfired on Rosie

Rosie: I'm actually quite excited, I want to smell it

Greg makes Alex read something out

Alex: oh, strange, this one is handwritten. Alex also has to smell the jars or Greg will kick him in the gooch

Emma pretends hers smells super strong, Greg describes it as mild

Baba: marmite and coffee, makes his eyes bulge

Rosie's is hugely disappointing. She repeats how disappointed she is. Greg doesn't believe her until he smells it and says he is also disappointed.

Andy's makes all the contestants gag (sardines, vinegar, huge mix of random crap, detergent, soap,)

Alex: I was surprised you went with things that remove stubborn smells

*The smells waft up to the balcony and to some of the front row. *

Jack's makes Greg lightheaded and have to pause for a bit (air freshener)

Later, in one of the breaks:

Audience member: why didn't Alex smell the smells?

Audience ooh and mutter

Mark: very good question

[Alex did not then smell the smells :( ]

TASK 3: Present a heartwarming local news story

[Team task!]

Rosie and Jack

Andy, Emma and Baba

The intro to this gets played again because they did some smelly pickups while the table was still out, and then packed it up again, and by that time everyone had forgotten what the task was.

Greg says Andy looks younger as Isabella the old lady than as himself

*Greg talks shit about both their attempts*

Greg says he thinks they both did really well

Alex: *do* you think that? It didn't sound like that

Greg says Emma could genuinely be a newsreader (Emma: middle class), then there was a whole section where Rosie and Greg talk about how alluring/hot Fiona Bruce is

STUDIO TASK: catapult parachute target

During set up we could see Alex on the side of the stage waiting for everything to be ready, we waved at him from the balcony and he waved back with confused but happy smile

The edge of the target was literally 50cm away from the front row. Front section were warned to 'watch out'

Mark: I wasn't sure I was allowed to mention it being a catapult

*Shadow of a catapult clearly visible through the screen*

Baba tried to shoot one really flat and it flew straight into the audience (3rd row!)

He immediately sat on the losers bench before the others had even gone

Emma's doesn't unfurl and goes 2nd row of the audience

Rosie Vs jack at the end: Rosie playing up the cerebral palsy deliberately to put jack off, stuff like "you wouldn't beat a disabled girl", and "I have cerebral palsy", "I didn't breathe for 17 minutes"

Jack really struggled to get his last shot because he was bent over laughing

It looked like a draw, Greg had to adjudicate

When he called a win for jack, Rosie pretended she was really struggling to walk over to the losers bench

After they'd all been:

Alex: I'm really glad they all flew. In the rehearsals we had loads of crap goes

Greg: How do you feel jack?

Jack: Guilty

Greg: And how do you feel Rosie?

Rosie: *Big fake sad face (which kept breaking)* "...*tiny broken voice* sad :( " *Followed by instant giggles*

TIE BREAK: how many days old will Alex be on Christmas day 2024? Have to be looking into his eyes the whole time

Emma Vs jack, Emma got very close, jack just gave up. Rosie actually got the closest (within 70? Days)

END:

And we've learned that my mum's a slag

We were told it was the first time ever all 5 contestants have won the first 5 episodes

*Contestants leave*

Man with crutches in audience [to rosie]: before this I thought you were so sweet (ominous pause) but now I think you're *wonderful* [Rosie hugged him!]

Greg: we all thought you were going to say something horrible. I was getting ready to put Alex between us

PICKUPS

Greg and Alex do lots of repeats for previous fuck ups and make lots more fuck ups.

*Talking to empty chairs*

Greg keeps apologising for how long it's all taking

Greg: we all want to go home

Greg: We're going to do a physical bit and you're going to absolutely love it. You'll know it when you see it.

*At the end of one of the pickups they both turn in their chairs and look at the blank screen. Audience love it*

Greg gets told by the gallery to repeat ¿papas meat?

Greg:shall I do it sexier? How much sex do you want? 8/10 sex?

Alex: you sound like Rachel

*They do a massive exaggerated turn to the screen*

Greg: I overcooked that one

They repeat the shakespeare bit 2 or 3 times. Greg says every time he's asked to do it again he'll ham it up more.

Alex: I'm really hungry, are you really hungry?

They did some extra "taskmaster the live experience" advertisment filming

Greg notices a really big man in the audience and asks him how tall he is (6'5") and then gets very distracted by his "brethren" and repeatedly flubs his lines

Greg: What are you doing?

Greg: Look at me you grubby little ferret

[This was repeated about 5 times because Greg kept fucking up, and then when he got through it Alex immediately fucked up the next line]

Greg said we were the best audience so far (he also said he wasnt lying or exaggerating. If anyone else has been to one, does he say this to evey audience?)

Got let out at 5pm

[Extra things that I can't remember when they happened]

Alex: When we watch telly together

Greg: ... Because we are actually lovers *puts hand on alex*

Greg: Or so some corners of the internet would have you believe

During breaks, makeup people come in and remove the lint from Greg and Alex's jackets, Alex gets a sticky roller, Greg gets a little brush

They dab Greg's head as well

Greg: I like making people on the internet angry

Overall a delightful day out, 10/10 experience, would recommend!

[pookalicious-hq]

kunigami rensuke with a cute hyper fem gf...

now playing: tell me by fifty fifty

she ties bows all over his things; on his water bottle, cleats, even in his hair sometimes (he never takes them off).

Kunigami reached into his bag, pulling out his cleats and tossing them aside without a second thought. Stretching always came first in his routine. His muscles flexed as he bent down, the familiar routine calming his mind as he focused on the upcoming practice. But when he straightened up and glanced at his cleats again, something stood out.

A small, baby pink ribbon had been tied neatly onto his laces. Two perfectly formed bows, delicate and unmistakable, sat right at the top. Kunigami blinked, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he recognized the handiwork immediately.

It was her.

His girlfriend, always leaving her subtle touches—on his things, in his life. She found joy in these small gestures, and somehow, they never failed to brighten his day. The bows weren’t just ribbons; they were little reminders of her affection, woven into his routine in the softest, quietest way.

With a quiet chuckle, he slipped the cleats on, ribbons and all. He could already imagine the teasing he’d get from his teammates, but it didn’t bother him. If anything, the bows felt like a badge of honour.

They were pretty fashionable, if he did say so himself.

she drops him off at practice in her pink beetle convertible that he barely fits in.

In her car, the rule was set in stone: Kunigami was only allowed to queue up music from her driving playlist. Today (his personal favourite), Tell Me by Fifty Fifty played through the speakers, and she was singing along, completely engrossed in her own atmosphere. The bedazzled steering wheel shimmered in the sunlight, its light bouncing off the pink disco ball hanging from her mirror. The reflections danced around the car, lighting up her smile as she belted out the lyrics.

Kunigami watched her, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He was used to this by now—the bright, pink car, the music filling the small space, even the tight squeeze as he tried to get comfortable in the passenger seat. It was all part of their mornings together, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

As they reached the field, she pulled to a stop, still humming the last notes of the song. Kunigami unfolded himself from the car with ease, with a quick kiss to his cheek, she gave a cheerful goodbye and drove off.

He turned, ready for practice, but Otoya’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“Kunigami... were you just in a Barbie car?”

Kunigami paused, raising an eyebrow. “Barbie car?”

“Yeah!” Isagi pointed to where her car had just been. “Which toy store did you steal it from?”

Bachira jogged over, grinning. “It’s got the heart wheel rims and everything! I didn’t know you rolled like that.”

Kunigami blinked, glancing back down the road. It was just her car to him—pink, sure, and decked out with shiny accessories, but it never crossed his mind as anything more than that.

With a shrug, he turned back to his teammates. “Belongs to my girlfriend. It works.”

Isagi shook his head, chuckling. “You’re down bad, man.”

Kunigami just smiled, unfazed. It didn’t matter what they thought—those mornings were his favourite part of the day.

she always gets him to do tiktoks, they go viral for the trend where they tied a bow around his bicep and she squished her face between.

"Babe, hold still, please."

He was about 99% certain he had been completely still this whole time, but if she asked for it, he'd do nothing to deny her. Kunigami glanced down at his girlfriend, who was kneeling beside him on their velvet pink couch, a pink silk ribbon in her hand. Her focus was intense, her brows furrowed in concentration as she tied the ribbon around his bicep.

“Are you sure this is necessary?” he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m not sure a bow suits my vibe.”

She paused, looking up at him with wide, sparkling eyes. “Of course it does! You’ll look adorable.”

“Right, adorable,” he replied, trying to suppress a grin. “Just remember I’m a soccer player, not a model.”

“Mm, you're right, too bulky. Though you do have the tiny waist for it,” she teased, giving the bow a final tug before stepping back to admire her handiwork. “ M'kay perfect.”

A slight blush dusted his cheeks as she found her way into his lap, positioning her head in the crook of his elbow. He couldn’t help but laugh, his heart warming at how effortlessly she could make him smile.

“Okay, ready?” she asked, her voice muffled as she shifted her phone into place. Right before the audio—some Lana Del Rey song—started playing, Kunigami began to flex his bicep. A surprised yet embarrassed laugh escaped her lips, a rosy blush dusting her cheeks.

If Kunigami was being completely honest, he wished she had suggested this trend sooner. The sight of her bright smile, the way her eyes sparkled with delight, sent his heart racing. It was as if the world faded away, leaving just the two of them in their little bubble of happiness. Not to mention, the way she looked at him filled him with an exhilarating boost of confidence.

“Three, two, one—” she called, her voice brimming with excitement as the music filled the air, wrapping around them like a cozy blanket.

He held his flex, muscles taut and ready, as she leaned in, playfully squishing her face between his arm and the pink bow. The silly intimacy of the moment made him chuckle, a warm glow of affection spreading through him.

From his perspective, he could only see a portion of his hair in the frame, while the rest of the screen was dominated by her blushing face, framed perfectly against his (MASSIVE) bicep. The contrast was hilarious, and for a split second, he wondered how this had turned into a moment worth capturing.

“Wait. Why is this hot?” she blurted out, laughter bubbling from her chest. She looked up at him, her cheeks still rosy, and they both burst into fits of giggles.

a/n: i love this man sm, lmk if you have any other characters you wan me to do this with, send the archetype along with the paring <3

[skzdarlings]

vexatious vixen ; felix x reader ; part 1/2

masterlist.

PART 1/2. READ PART 1 HERE. ( READ ON AO3. )

You always get what you want. When an unassuming security guard named Felix stops your latest venture, you escalate the stakes until he has no choice but to put you in your place.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: romantic comedy. strangers to enemies to lovers. handcuffs. cat-and-mouse. eventual smut will be kinky dom/sub dynamics, dom!felix and sub!reader. (chapter word count: 7400 words.)

-

Seungmin is one of your best friends and also a conniving master of manipulation.  Being a malevolent source of wicked verbal wizardry, he convinced you and Minho that it would be totally super easy to sneak into the Hwang Hyunjin concert.  It’s only the final night of the pop-star’s sold-out world tour and the most anticipated concert of the year.  What could go wrong?  

It sounded like a good idea when Seungmin said it.  Now the three of you are standing in a pushy crowd of overeager fans with some very intimidating looking security guards at the end of the queue. 

“Reconvene,” you say.  You grab the boys by their scruff and drag them out of the line. 

“Ah, hey!” Minho snaps at you like piranha.

You release him to grab Seungmin by his collar.  “You better have an idea for getting us past security,” you say, “because I do not like the look of the Incredible Hulk up there.”

The three of you look at the shortstack beefcake who looks like he could bench all three of you at the same time. 

“Yeaaaah,” Seungmin says.  He flashes you a not-so-innocent smile as his strawberry-pink bangs flop into his eyes.  “I didn’t really think this far ahead.  I thought you’d have a plan.”

“Why would I have a plan?” you ask.  “This whole thing was your idea.  Seungmin.”  You drag him close so your noses touch, going cross-eyed at the proximity.  It does not lessen the severity of your frustration when you state, “I waxed for this.  And you know how I feel about waxing.” 

“You waxed?” Minho asks loudly.  It draws a few glances your way which might be because Minho is so loud, or might be because he’s so good looking, or a combination of the two.  His dark eyes narrow at you like you’re a completely alien creature.   “Why would you wax for a concert?” he asks. 

“Wax,” Seungmin parrots.  Your hands are on his collar like you intend to shake him up but it doesn’t deter him asking, “Like… like wax-wax?  Like your human body waxed?”

“Like your human pussy?” Minho asks.  “For a concert?  What did you think was gonna happen?”  He is on the very visible verge of hysterical laughter when a thought lights his eyes.  “Wait,” he says.  “I know how we can get in—”

“Oh my god,” you say.  You shove Seungmin and grab Minho by the collar instead.  “I’m not fucking our way in.  And I waxed,” you drop your voice, “just in case.”

“Just in case…?” Minho tips his head.  “Just in case you had to fuck your way in…?”

“Oh my god,” you say.  You push him away too.  “Never mind.”

“Did you think Hyunjin was going to summon you out of the crowd for a green room quickie?”  Seungmin asks with a shit-eating grin. 

Minho cackles.  “No way she’d even go,” he says.  “She doesn’t get summoned.  She likes to be chased.” 

“She is walking away now,” you say.    

“Bet she’ll walk away quickly,” Seungmin says.  “She waxed so she’ll be aerodynamic.”

You stomp away from the stadium but only make it a few steps before Seungmin runs in front of you. 

“We can’t just give up here,” Seungmin says.  “We made it this far already.”

“One bus stop?” you ask dryly.  “We literally live like five minutes away—”

“Exactly!” Seungmin says.  “That’s called destiny.”

“We might as well try,” Minho says.  He cups a hand over his eyes to look at the stadium in the fading light of the sun.  “We all got dressed up.  Seungmin skipped a class.  You waxed.” 

“There’s no way we’re getting through those doors,” you say. 

“We’ve done it before,” Seungmin says.  He turns you to face the stadium and massages your shoulders like a boxing coach, all the while regaling you with tales of your past victories.  “Remember all the other concerts we snuck into?  The sports games?  That celebrity wedding—”   

“Well,” Minho interrupts, “we did get arrested at that one.” 

“Yeah and we got arrested together,” Seungmin says, “because that’s what friends do.” 

“I don’t know why,” you say, “but for some reason this is working.”  Maybe it’s Seungmin’s words, or Minho’s cologne, or maybe it’s the soft glow of a perfect summer sunset as it pours over the stadium like a pink-orange waterfall.  Or maybe it’s because this really is the concert of the year, and you love a challenge, and you fucking waxed. 

You throw your head back and sigh, soulfully resigning yourself to your imminent fate.

“Fine,” you say.  “So how are we doing this?”   

“Don’t worry,” Seungmin says thoughtfully.  “I think I have a plan.”

Seungmin proceeds to explain the plan.  It is hardly the pinnacle of heist endeavours but is more feasible than rappelling down the stadium walls into the concert arena.

Basically, the plan is to find a group of people with a solitary ticket holder and leech onto their tail with the hopes security will miscount the party and let you sneak past.  It means you will have to split up because security will definitely notice three extra people.  You will then hopefully reunite inside the arena.

You scamper around the periphery of the stadium, perusing lines for oblivious groups of excited fans with an e-ticket-wielding ringleader.  You also double-check which security guards seem the most lax or checked out. 

“I get that one,” Minho says. 

He points to a trim, athletic guard with floppy brown hair and a giggly smile.  You and Seungmin protest because that guard is an easy mark so you all want him, but Minho takes off running for the queue. 

The thing about Lee Minho is that he never hauls ass.  He coasts through life with a casual slouch, but he is completely capable of annihilating everyone if he deigns to do so. 

He does.  So he did.

You and Seungmin look around.  Your grin widens when you spy the next easiest target.

“Aha!” you say.  “I call dibs on that one!  Good luck, Seungmin!”

“Hey!” Seungmin bellows.

He is far too late.  You are already booking it towards the line with a pretty, chipper, skinny security guard.  He is in jeans and a loose windbreaker that says SECURITY across the back, about the only indication he is a man of any authority.  His hair is a vibrant, neon blue and is delicately styled, long enough to pull back in a pretty half-ponytail.  His features are sharp, cheekbones sloping, but there is a natural tenderness to his whole countenance.  He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. 

Also, he really is lean.  Worst case scenario, you can probably push your way past him and disappear into the crowd before he can do anything about it.  

You find a group of girls to sidle alongside anyway.  You are satisfied you will easily slip into the stadium. 

The group reaches the front of the line, a couple of them giggling at the security guard’s friendly attention.  His name tag reads Felix, a cute name for a cute guy.  Up close, you can see a smattering of dark freckles across his face, as well as a few playful glitter stars for the concert.  He is admittedly pretty but as a professional gate crasher, you refrain from distraction.  You successfully avoid his gaze and stick close to the girl in front of you. 

Felix gives them each a friendly nod, smiling brightly.  He laughs at one of their comments and it’s a charming, low sound. 

“Enjoy the show, ladies,” he says, his voice about a hundred decibels deeper than you expected.  

Maybe that’s what trips you up.  It has to be something, because you were doing everything right.  But just as you go to follow the girls into the arena, a skinny arm shoots out and you smack right into it.   

“Sorry,” Felix says.  He drops his arm and smiles.  “I just need to see your ticket.” 

“My…?”  You look ahead at the group of girls, but they are already gone.  Oops.  “Ha, ha,” you say, looking at Felix. 

He is staring back at you, still smiling a close-lipped smile.  He blinks a couple times then lifts an eyebrow.

“Uh, ticket?” he says.  He holds out his hand.  

“Right,” you say.  You smile at him with all the saccharine sweetness you can.  “I have funny story about that, Felix,” you say. 

“Hm.”  His smile turns into a line, eyes narrowing as he looks at you.  “And what’s that?” 

“Well, you see…”

It’s all you say before you bolt, fast on your feet.  You sprint for the entryway behind the guarded queue.  There’s a crowd inside and you’re an expert at disappearing into a crowd.  You just need to get in there and find your boys then you are home free.  Hwang Hyunjin, here you come. 

There’s just one problem.  

Felix is fast.  

Like, track star fast.  Like, road runner fast.  Like, you’re that dumb coyote getting an anvil dropped on your head, except this anvil is a skinny blue-haired Australian with a voice like a god and the apparent hidden strength of one too. 

You make it a few desperate steps before Felix literally sweeps you off your feet.  You shriek when he hauls you under his arm, dragging you away from the stadium door.  He deposits you a few feet from the queue then swiftly resumes his position. 

“Hello,” he says to the next person in line.  “Sorry about that.  Ticket?”   

Your mouth is agape.  

No one has ever got the jump on you like that.

“Hey!” you say, but Felix has moved on.  He is smiling at the next guest as he checks their ticket, not paying you any mind.  “Excuse me,” you say, despite the people between you and him.  “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.  I do have a ticket.”

“Uh-huh,” Felix says.  He doesn’t look at you, scanning someone’s e-ticket with a little device.  It lights up green and he smiles at them.  “Enjoy the show,” he says. 

You jump into the queue, cutting off the next person.  Felix’s smile vanishes and is replaced with an astoundingly sassy expression.

“Uh, this line is for ticket-holders,” he says. 

“I have a ticket,” you say.  You unzip your purse and spend a minute rifling around, ignoring him when he sighs.  He apologizes to the people behind you.  You turn and offer a tight-lipped apology of your own.  “I was in line,” you say, as if they didn’t just witness this ten-pound bully haul you around like a sack of potatoes.  “There was just a misunderstanding.”

Felix rolls his eyes. 

You pull out your cell phone and flip through a folder of fake screenshotted tickets, hoping at least one of them marginally resembles the tickets for tonight.  You pick one and flash it at Felix. 

“Happy?” you say with a lot of false indignation.  You turn off the screen when Felix goes to grab your phone.  You give him a snooty, squinty-eyed look, then saunter right past him. 

This time when he comes after you, you are better prepared for his speed.   You zig-zag and he stumbles, cussing very unprofessionally.  You make it all the way to the door before he grabs you.  You have no idea where he is getting all that muscle because he feels like a sturdy stick when you grab at him, but he puts you over his shoulder like it’s easy. 

“Um, excuse me!” you shout.  “Hello!  Someone film this!  I’m being assailed!”

Felix intentionally jostles you on his shoulder.  He is even less gentle when he drops you this time, though you do manage to keep your footing. 

“Try that again,” Felix says, “and it will be trouble.  Got it?” 

Felix is very good looking.  He’s an incredible combination of pretty and handsome, not to mention that voice, guh.  But what gets you going is how much you are clearly pissing him off.  It’s hot.  Out of nowhere, the freckled sunshine sweetheart is just oozing confidence, standing square and pointing at you with a very stern expression.  And if you get a little hiccup in your blood, a little skip in your heartbeat, a little stampede southward that makes your pussy hum like the interested kitten it is, well.  That’s not your fault.  It’s his.  Asshole.

You flip him off.  He ignores you, shaking his head as he returns to his position.

“Sorry,” he says to the queue.  “Some people are so inconsiderate, aren’t they?”

Ugh. What a sexy bitch. 

You text to check in with the boys.  Minho made it inside, no surprise, but apparently Seungmin is also struggling for an in. 

what is with these security guards, Seungmin writes, are they military trained? fuck 

maybe you’re both just losing your touch, Minho replies.

never, you say.  we still have lots of time.  we'll get in there.  seungmin, meet me by the benches.  we need another plan.  

Usually, the best way to crash an event is with minimal attention and no theatrics.  It’s all about pretending you are exactly where you are supposed to be.  If you act like you belong, then you will.  

A spectacle is a desperate measure, but you are desperate people.  After a few hushed whispers on a bench, you and Seungmin spring into action. 

“Help!”  Seungmin shouts.  “My wife needs help!  Please!” 

“Your wife?” you whisper through gritted teeth, opening one eye to look at him.  You are currently laying on the pavement in a dramatic swoon, Seungmin hunched over you. 

“My companion of ambiguous relationship is hurt!” he says.  “Ouch,” he adds, because you swat his arm.

Fortunately, he does draw attention.  A few people run over, the beefy security guard one of them.  His nametag reads Changbin and he is in a black t-shirt at least two sizes too small.  You do not begrudge him this, as you would do the same if you had biceps like that.  

“What happened?” he asks, crouching down beside Seungmin. 

“My friend just passed out,” Seungmin says.  He hoists you into his arms as your tongue lolls out of your mouth.  “Is there somewhere inside I can take her to sit down?  I think all the chaos out here overstimulated her.” 

“One second,” Changbin says.  He pulls a walkie-talkie out of a holster.  It buzzes with static as he turns it on.  “Hey, we have a collapsed woman in front of Entry Door B.  Can I have back-up clear a path, and someone with First Aid training?”  The walkie-talkie buzzes again and Changbin puts it away.  He stands up, waving away the small crowd that has gathered.   “Yah, everyone back up!  This is an emergency!” 

“It’s really not,” Seungmin says.  He scoops you into a bridal hold then struggles to lift you off the ground. “I just need – whew – somewhere I can – agh – put her down.  I can just – AH! – carry her myself.”

Naturally, it is at that moment a familiar voice descends from above. 

A familiar, deep, Australian-accented voice.

“Move aside, please.”  

“Oh no,” you say, eyes closed.   You open them just in time for a glitter-faced, freckled, blue-haired pretty boy in a SECURITY windbreaker to cut through the crowd.   

Unfortunately, Felix is just as good looking at this angle.  He waves away the gathered onlookers as he approaches, but looks at Changbin first. 

“I have First Aid,” he says.  “What happened?”

“I just found her collapsed,” Changbin says.  “Her friend thinks it’s the crowd.  Should we bring her inside?” 

Felix looks at you.  The concerned furrow in his brow immediately gives way. 

You smile innocently. 

“No,” Felix says, frowning.  “We shouldn’t.” 

“Oh come on,” you say.  You smack the ground.  “I collapsed!  I need help!”

“No, you need a ticket,” Felix says.  He crosses his arms and stomps a foot.  “Seriously, what is wrong with you?  Some of us have a job to do, you know?”

“Naaaur ya need a ticket, mate,” you say in a mockingly deep chest voice. “Some of us have jobs ya knaaaaur!”

“Do you guys know each other?” Changbin asks, looking between you and Felix – who is growing increasingly red in the face and breathing much harder. 

“I have no idea who this guy is,” Seungmin says. 

“Ah!”  Felix yells, spinning to Changbin.  “She doesn’t have a ticket!  She’s just trying to sneak in!”

“She doesn’t have a ticket?”  Seungmin asks, gasping.  He drops you onto the concrete, ignoring your yelp of pain.   “But I thought she – she told me we – I – I –“

You watch in betrayed horror as Seungmin pretends to faint, flopping down beside you on the concrete.  You sit up, very tempted to slap him across the face but not wanting to give Felix more reasons to accost you. 

“Seungmin,” you say.  You grab him by the shirt and rattle him around like a ragdoll.  “Seungmin, you bastard, don’t even think about it!”

“You.”  Felix stomps up behind you.  “Get off the ground and come with me.” 

“No,” you say.  “I don’t want to and you can’t make me.” 

You shriek – again – when Felix grabs you under the arms and hoists you to your feet.  He manhandles you with only a modicum of effort, dragging you away from your stupid traitorous best friend. 

You step on Felix’s foot deliberately and he swears.  For such a pretty thing, he sure has a filthy mouth.  You grab a fistful of his hair and tug, to which he cusses up a storm and pries your hand off his head.   

You hear the distinct buzz of Changbin’s walkie-talkie.    

“We have a collapsed man in front of Entry Door B.  Can someone who isn’t going to start fighting the patrons come help me move him?”

“He’s faking it!” you cry in protest, watching Changbin scoop Seungmin off the ground. 

Changbin disregards your outburst.  Seungmin gives you a thumbs up behind his back.  Felix, of course, doesn’t see it because he’s too busy dragging you away.  You are left to sputter in bewildered protest at the injustice of it all. 

Felix marches you to the sidewalk, far away from the stadium queues.  You are both out of breath by the time you get there.  Even so, you attempt to manoeuvre under his arm to run away.   In a few quick moves, he knocks you onto your ass. 

 “Holy fuck!”  You are panting now.  A line of sweat dots your hairline.  You wipe at it and stare morosely at this stupidly competent minimum wage security guard.  “What are you, like some kind of karate master or something?”

“Taekwondo, actually,” he says, brushing off his jacket.  Then he tips his head and stares down at you.

You would be lying if you said the intensity of his stare didn’t have your heart racing for an entirely new reason.  Danger and desire have always danced a close dance for your tastes.  Felix is not helping matters, tucking back loose strands of vibrant hair as he looms over you, wetting his bottom lip and staring. 

You cross your arms and feign nonchalance, but you can’t look away from him.  When he crouches down slowly to meet you at eye level, everything below the belt goes pitter-patter. 

“No ticket,” Felix says slowly.  “No concert.  Do you understand me?” 

You stick out your tongue.

“Wow, mature,” he says.  His departing farewell is another snarky eyeroll.  He shakes his head as he stands, muttering to himself in obvious frustration. 

So much for not a mean bone in his body.  That bully is all business.   

So hot. 

You huff and puff for a bit.  Your phone is going berserk in your purse, probably the boys trying to reach you.  Eventually you succumb to the necessary confession of your twice thwarted efforts.  Minho teases that you are losing your touch for real.  It makes angry little fireworks pop out of your ears.  

Plenty of occasions you have assessed a situation and deemed it unreasonably complicated, but quitting while you’re ahead is not the same thing as admitting defeat.  You do not lose.  This isn’t even about the concert anymore.  Fuck Hwang Hyunjin, he was never worth the pain of a wax in the first place.  No.  This is about your pride.   This is about your dignity.  This is about your honour. 

You are getting into that concert, one way or another.   

First, you gather intel.  This comes in the form of snooping, running between queues to figure out the easiest mark.  You don’t judge the guards by their appearances this time, because apparently this security team has secret taekwondo masters hidden in their midst. 

You watch their every move, calculating and determining your odds therein.  Based on visual research and Minho’s confirmation, it seems your best bet is the smiling guard who let Minho through.  His nametag reads Jisung and he is a veritable flirt. 

Flash him your tits, Minho texts.

Uh, no, I’m not that desperate yet.       

Second, with your intel now acquired, you get into the dwindling line.  The sun is almost set and a breezy summer chill dances across your cheeks.  The concert will be starting soon.  You shuffle behind the other stragglers, adjusting your outfit.  The jean shorts hug your hips and flash a nice chunk of thigh, and your shirt is already low cut but you figure another tug won’t hurt.  You also pull your flannel down your arms to look as flirtatious as possible. 

Jisung is barely looking at the tickets as he scans them, chatting merrily to the guests as he lets them through.  You pull up a random ticket on your phone, something to hold out while you distract him. 

“Hi,” you say. 

His eyes flick down to your chest, then back up.  He smiles brightly.

“Hi!” he says.  “You look nice.  Excited for the concert?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you say.  “You have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for this.  It wasn’t easy to get in.”

“I know what you mean,” he says.  “Tickets are hard to come by, and so expensive!”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” you say, leaning in while he scans your phone.   This was a bad idea because he looks down at your chest again, just in time for his little device to flash red.

“Oh, oops!” he says.  He smiles at you as he shakes his device.  “Sorry!” he says.  “I think you showed me the wrong ticket.  Could you pull up the right one?”

“Ohhh!” you say, looking down at your phone with fake surprise.  Life is so unfair.  “I’m so sorry… Jisung.  Hehe, that’s such a nice name.”

“Haha, thanks,” Jisung says.  “My parents picked it, but, yeah, it’s cool.  Anyway.”  He wiggles his device.  “Ticket please!” 

You keep smiling and giggling, even as you turn around under the guise of searching through your phone.  You glare down at the stupid device, keeping your back to Jisung while you do so.  How the fuck are you getting out of this?  You flip through screenshots then open your text messenger.  Minho’s last words of wisdom blink up at you. 

Apparently, you are that desperate. 

With a sigh, you put your phone in your purse and zip it shut.  You shrug your shoulders and plaster that fake smile on your face again.  With a swift of flick of your thumbs, you lift your shirt and bra up over your tits and spin around to look at Jisung. 

“How’s this for a ticket—”

Jisung looks surprised and delighted.  Jisung, however, is standing a few feet back.  Probably because he was told to step back.  Probably by Felix who is standing in front of you with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face.  

“Wow,” Felix says.  “Just committing crimes now, are we?”  

You shove your tits back into your bra indignity, not even embarrassed, just annoyed. 

“Tits aren’t a crime,” you say. 

“Public indecency is,” he replies.  

“You’re… publicly indecent…”  Not your best comeback.  You glare at him while fixing your shirt.  “There’s no way they pay you enough to be riding my ass this hard.” 

“They don’t,” Felix says, grabbing your arm.  “Believe me when I say riding your ass has been my pleasure.”

“Twisted fuck,” you reply. 

You wave at Jisung as Felix tugs you away.  He waves back but does nothing to rescue you, because all men are traitors. 

You groan loudly as Felix leads you away from the stadium yet again.  “Just let me innnnn,” you whine.  “Why do you hate meee.”

“I don’t even know you!” Felix says.  He deposits you on a bench and takes out his phone.

“What are you doing?” you ask, eying the device.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks.  “You tried to break into a ticketed event three times.  You faked an injury.  You flashed yourself in a public place—”

“I wouldn’t have done any of that if you just let me through in the first place!”

“You cannot be serious.”  Felix looks ready to rip his hair out.  “You don’t have a ticket!  Why would I let you in, why would I – AH!  Why am I arguing with you!  Be quiet, I’m phoning the police.”

“The po— the police?!  How dare you!” You try to stand but he pushes you onto the bench one-handed.  He holds you there, palm on your shoulder, still way stronger than someone this scrawny should be. 

“Fine!” you exclaim.  “Fine!  You win!  I’m sorry, Felix, I was wrong.  I was wrong and you were right.”

Felix pauses.  “Really,” he says, sounding unconvinced. 

“Yes!”  You look up at him with the saddest, most watery eyes you can muster.  “I just wanted to see the concert but it was stupid to think I could break in.” 

He turns off his screen.  Success.   You watch him slip his phone in his pocket. 

“It’s not about being smart or stupid,” he says, the ire gone from his voice.  It takes a lot of willpower not to bite his fingers when he pats your shoulder.  “It’s about the fact we can’t always get what we want,” he says kindly as he crouches in front of you.  His hand goes from your shoulder to your knee, still patting it in a friendly manner. 

You bite your tongue because you want to tell him you liked him better when he was being a mean bitch, but that would be counterproductive to your escape attempt. 

It turns out, you don’t need to say anything, because he decides to be a bitch again anyway.  Felix looks at you with a too-sweet smile and says, “It’s about time someone taught you that lesson.”

“Um, excuse me?” you say, aghast.  You clasp your hand over your heart.  “Just who do you think you are?  First of all, you taught me nothing, I’m still a horrible bitch and I lied when I said you were right.  Second, you absolutely can get everything you want, you just have to want it enough to get it.  But you wouldn’t know anything about that.  You know why, Felix?” 

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head like he expected this, which he probably did, but you’re too far gone to retreat. 

You reach out and cup his face in both hands, turning it to you.  Those sharp eyes are unflinching, even with your fingers on his face.  You try really hard not to gulp. 

“It’s because you are a good boy,” you say.  “You always do what you’re told.  You always follow the rules.  I bet everyone thinks you’re the nicest guy on the team, don’t they?  I bet they call you cute little nicknames and all the nice little girls think you’re a sweet, innocent baby.  And you are, aren’t you, Felix?  You’re just such a good, good boy.  But me?  I’m not good.  I’m not bad.  I just like to win.  When I want something, I get it, because I chase it, and I don’t stop until I get it.  Until it’s all mine.”  You lean in close.  “Get it?” 

His gaze darkens, brows pinching.  You take his fleeting moment of vulnerability to shove him onto his back.  He sprawls on the ground with a surprised yelp.  You sprint away at top speed and flip him off over your shoulder. 

It’s a haphazard ploy at best but you are fresh out of plans.  What you need is distance between you and Security Guard of the Year, a breather long enough to come up with a final plan.  Maybe you can physically break in somewhere: an office window, a janitorial stairwell, something.  

You keep an eye out for potential openings as you run. 

And run.

And run. 

Hmm.  You’ve been running a long time.   Even with the head-start, Felix should have caught you by now.  You doubt he would have truly given up.  Felix had a deranged look in his eye, similar to the one you get when someone is trying to beat you at your own game.  He doesn’t want you to win anymore than you want to lose.  You suspect it isn’t about the concert for him either; this is a personal battle. 

You come to a gradual stop, hands on your hips as you catch your breath.  It’s quiet on this side of the stadium as the queues were on the opposite end. 

Quiet, yes.  Too quiet.   

There’s a stairwell that leads to second level just above your head.  Felix is good.  You have to give credit where credit is due.  If you weren’t a scheming nightmare with a penchant for con-artistry, he probably would have caught you.  But without turning around, you know he booked it up the stairs and is two seconds from springing an attack. 

You take off running, just in time for him to thump into the grass beside you.  You laugh at his strangled cry of frustration as he scrambles to his feet. 

Around the next corner is the parking lot.  You stop a split second to look over your shoulder and see him hot on your heels.   He discarded his jacket and is in a loose sleeveless shirt, revealing he does have some light toning to his lean body.  But you don’t stop to measure how proportionate it is to his strength, because he is focussed on you like a laser. 

Then he smiles.  A slow, slinky smile like a cocky predator about to swipe at its prey.  That cat has claws, nasty ones, and you almost want to get tangled in them.  Almost.  You want to win even more.   

And he just set you up for success.  There’s a SECURITY jacket on the ground somewhere nearby.  That’s your ticket in.  You just have to lose Felix in the parking lot and loop back around to find where he tossed it. 

You spare no time setting that plan into action, giving Felix a smile of your own before you run.  He thunders after you.

The pair of you weave in and out of parked cars.  He disappears for a second behind a row of trucks.  You whip your head around to figure out where he went, only for him to summersault around the corner and cut you off.  You yell instinctively but narrowly dodge his reaching hand.   He curses, running after you with his arm outstretched.   You duck behind a trailer and lose him, scurrying between some SUVs.  You peek at him through the windows, watching him turn in a circle to find where you went.  Smiling to yourself, you quietly but quickly back away.  

You leave the lot and run back the way you first came.  You find Felix’s jacket draped on a random bush. 

Your heart is practically singing with adrenaline.  Victory is in sight.  You push yourself to run faster and reach out with both hands –

— only to find yourself rolling in the grass, Felix’s arms tight around your middle as he tackles you to the ground. 

You push and pull at each other, cursing and scrambling very ungracefully.  You get out of his arms but he climbs on top of you, then you knee him in the gut so he rolls over, but when you start crawling he grabs your ankles and drags you back. 

Ultimately, he Taekwondo Masters you onto your front, hands clasped behind your back.  You kick your feet and wail despondently into the grass as he kneels over you, breathing raggedly and swearing again. 

“You’re a monster!” you shout.  “You’re a tyrant and a bully and you have no right to – HEY!”

He handcuffs you.

“Ha.”  He leans in close, speaking right into your ear.  “I win.” 

“That’s not fair,” you say.  “You can’t just—ahh!”  You wail in petulance as he lifts you onto your feet.  His grip on your bicep is unyielding so you are forced to stomp alongside him as he escorts you…

…back to the sidewalk.

“You’re not busting me?” you ask in confusion.  You thought for sure he was going to drag you into some shady office and plop you in a chair until the police arrived.   He would probably be super boring and professional about it, staring at you with his dumb horny eyes but not doing anything about it.  Nothing sucks more than being all trussed up by a pretty boy with manners. 

“I just want you to go and never come back,” Felix says. 

“Fine.”  You turn around and hold your arms straight behind you.  “But I’m like a wolf, Felix.  I have your scent for life.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says.  “Not how wolves work by the way.  But fine.”

“Oh wow, sorry.  Didn’t realize you majored in Wolfology.  You got any other fun facts?”  

“You are so—”

You smirk at his grumbling.  You are just biding your time until he uncuffs one wrist, then you whip around faster than he can compute the action.  With one cuff still attached, you grab the second and clamp it down on his wrist.  He sputters in bewilderment, at which point you snatch the keys.

“What are you doing—”  He tries to grab them but your joined hands make the angle too awkward.  You spin around together in a few circles, bonk heads twice, until finally you reel back and chuck the keys as far into the distance as possible. 

He stands there, mouth agape.  You tap your foot impatiently. 

When he realizes what has happened – that you have handcuffed yourself to him and thrown away the keys – he looks at you with fiery eyes, fierce enough you stumble.  He yanks your joined hands, the chain ungiving.  You watch as he goes through several stages of grief in a matter of moments.  Then he closes his eyes and breathes in and out.    

“Why,” he says slowly, “did you just do that?” 

“I dunno, Felix,” you say.  You plop down on the ground and sit cross-legged.  It forces him to bend over, your cuffed wrist dragging him down.  “Guess we’ll have to go inside and get some back-up keys.  And when I’m in the stadium and you uncuff yourself from me, I promise not to run away.”   

“That’s your plan?” he snaps.  “That’s your plan?” 

“What, is there an echo out here?”

“That’s your plan?” he asks again, his deep voice pitching up an octave.  He crouches down and shoves his free hand into his hair, shaking his head.  “This can’t be happening,” Felix says, more out loud to himself than you.  “Why is this happening.  Oh my god.” 

You squeak when he tugs on the chain, yanking you close, nose to nose.

“What if I just called for back-up?” he asks. “Or skipped that and went right to the police?  How would you get out of that?”

“Wait,” you say.  “Why aren’t you doing that?” 

“Because.”

He leans back as far as he can, sitting on his heels.  You duck your head, trying to meet his eye to no avail.  He clenches his jaw.

“Felix,” you say.  “Why aren’t you just calling for back-up?”

“Because,” he says through gritted teeth.  “The handcuffs.  Are.  Not.  Regulation.” 

You look at each other.  There is a long moment of silence. 

Then, “What!”  You cackle with complete and utter abandon. 

A very unamused Felix glares at you while you throw your head back and laugh. 

“You?” you cry, poking your finger against his chest.  “You?  You?  You are just walking around with a pair of handcuffs that you aren’t supposed to have?  What the fuuuuuck—”  You think you might die laughing. 

“Jisung gave them to me before our shift!” he exclaims.  “It was a joke because— Never mind! I don’t have to explain myself to you!  Hello.  Hello.”  He grabs your chin with his free hand and turns your face roughly to his.   He jingles your joined hands.  “Not regulation,” he says.  “There are no other keys in this building.” 

Silence falls again. 

Then, “Oh.”  You stare at him.  “Shit.” 

A minute later, you and Felix are scuttling around trying to find the key.  You must have a very good arm because it landed near the stadium and disappeared in some bushes.   

You and Felix keep forgetting your wrists are connected, reaching in opposite directions only to snap back together.  You are certain you are going to end the night with a few bumps and bruises. 

The entire time you are searching for the key, Felix is grumbling irritably.  He tears his way through a bush, his deep voice pitching up with a miserable whine when he can’t find it. 

“This is so stupid,” he says.  He throws a stick at the wall.  “I am a good worker.  I never break the rules.  I am not getting in trouble for this. You did this.  You did this to me.” 

On he goes, grumble, grumble, grumble, bitch, bitch, bitch. 

“It’s not like the key disappeared,” you say, pushing some pebbles around.  “It has to be here somewhere.” 

It is starting to get dark, the sky a deep purple.  The stadium lights blare down on you.  Felix uses his phone flashlight to beam extra light at the ground.  The only time he stops grumbling is when the noise in the stadium changes, the concert clearly beginning.  He takes time out of his busy searching schedule to give you a mean smile. 

“When we find those keys,” you say, “I’m handcuffing you to that railing over there and leaving you to freeze to death in your stupid tank top.”

“It’s not a tank top,” he says.  “It’s a t-shirt.  I cut the sleeves off.  And when we find those keys, I’m handcuffing you to that railing over there and phoning the police.”

“Well then,” you say, “may the best key finder in a slutty tank top win.” 

“It’s not a tank top.”   

You continue to search.  It is utterly illogical that the keys would just vanish but the longer it takes, the more concerned you get.   It just doesn’t make sense!  Things don’t just disappear!  The keys landed somewhere over here, so they have to be…

You see it first.  You sit there in a stunned stupor.  You swat at Felix with your cuffed hand.

“What?” he says without looking at you.  You continue to slap him until he forces your hand down, tangling your fingers with his.  “What!” 

You point.  He crowds in behind you to look over your shoulder.  You feel him exhale. 

“Please don’t tell me…”   

You both lean to look down the sewer drain.  He flashes his phone light over it.  Something silver glints back in the darkness. 

“Fuck!” Felix says.  He doesn’t stop there.  What follows is a string of cusses so unbelievably foul and complex that you honestly believe it should quality him for Pulitzer in poetry.  When he has exhausted every expletive in several different languages, he plops down on his ass and stares up at the sky with mute despondency.   

“So what happens now?” you ask.  “Do we fuck?”

“What?”  He looks at you with utter bewilderment.  “What the fuck?  Why would you suggest that?  What would that solve?”

“Nothing,” you say.  “But it would kill the time and couldn’t make things worse.” 

“You are insane,” he says.  “I am handcuffed to an insane person.” 

“Hey, ‘mate’, you were the one with the non-regulation handcuffs in the first place.  I could solve this problem real quick by phoning the authorities myself and saying some crazy guy put me in cuffs.” 

“I dare you,” he says.  “Try.”

“No,” you say.  And not just because you have a record with the police and they would never take your side.  But Felix doesn’t need to know that.  Well, you suspect Felix is smart enough to guess it, but he doesn’t need the confirmation.  “I’d rather make you suffer,” you say instead.  You sit back in an insouciant slouch like the whole circumstance is beneath your attention.  “Figure it out, pretty boy.” 

“Well,” he says, “apparently if you break your wrists then you can force them through the cuffs.”

“Ew!” You push him in the middle of his chest.  He doesn’t fall, but he does glare at you.  “We’re not doing that!  What a stupid plan!  You’ve been guzzling the hair dye fumes, buddy.  Think of a plan that doesn’t involve injury, thank you.” 

“I didn’t want to do this,” Felix says with another put-upon sigh, “but fine.  I have another pair at home so the keys—”

“Wait,” you interrupt.  “I thought someone gave you the cuffs today?  Why do you have another key at home?”

“I have another pair,” he repeats, “of the same handcuffs.”

“You—”

“Already own a pair, yes, move on.”  He aggressively pushes hair out of his eyes.  “He clearly bought it from the same place so my key should work for this one too.”

“So despite your uppity school boy routine, you do own non-regulation handcuffs and not just as a joke.  Wow, Felix.”  You giggle helplessly.  “Be careful or I might start to like you.” 

He is glaring at you, no surprise, but the tips of his ears blush pink. 

“Let’s just go,” Felix says.  “The sooner I get you off, the sooner I can forget about your existence.”

“You can get me off as fast or slow as you like—ahh!” 

Once more, the secret superman is manhandling you onto your feet.  Without pausing for breath, he turns and marches away.  You are forced to stumble behind his swift strides, your hands swinging close enough that your fingertips brush every so often.   

“How do I know you’re not gonna murder me?” you ask.

“You don’t,” he replies.

“How do you know I’m not gonna murder you?” 

“I don’t.”  He sounds more annoyed than afraid.  “But it sounds better than being cuffed to you forever.  I’ll take my chances.  Come on.” 

“Not like I have a choice,” you grumble. 

He comes to an abrupt halt and you crash into him with a sharp exhale.  He grabs your hand and tugs you close. You blink at him with surprise while he tips his head in that studious way.

“You’re right,” he says. “You don’t.  In fact, it’s almost nice, you forced to finally do what I’m asking.  If you’re not careful, it might even make me like you.” 

It is so cold and sarcastic. 

It gets you so hot. 

Seriously, what is with your stupid brain?  How does it cross the wires of fear and desire like that?  Felix is speaking at you with that deep, dark, nasty voice of his and your heart should be skipping beats in concern, not because you think he’s sexy when he’s being a bitch.  

You hide it from him well enough, glaring at him like he glared at you.  He just snorts and shakes his head. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Interesting,” he replies.  “Very interesting.”   

“What?”

“Nothing.”  He smiles politely, for a moment looking like the unassuming pretty boy you thought he was.  He bats his long eyelashes at you, smiles a coy smile, and squeezes your hand.   “Come on,” he says.  “We tried this your way and it got us in trouble.  Time to be a good girl and do it my way.  No, stop, don’t say anything.  Be quiet.  Just walk.  Let’s go.” 

You stumble when he tugs you after him.  Your mouth is hanging open yet again.   

You are proud to say that in your many years of bad girl shenanigans, you have never truly met your match.  You’ve played pretend a few times, let a couple losers think they won, if only because you liked the game of it.  But no one has ever really taken control.  No one has ever really beat you.  No one has ever come close. 

No one.  Until today. 

You glare at the back of Felix’s head, brain stampeding as fast as your heart.   Because finally, you’ve found him, your perfect match.  Lashed to you through the metal manifestation of fate’s red string. 

You didn’t know what game you were playing before, but now you do.

And you’re going to win.  

[nebulaafterdark]

Exile (Part 4)

Summary: Y/N Undersee thought the games were over after becoming a victor. Unfortunately, life outside the arena has become just as dangerous. Prequel to Moves & Countermoves

Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol/drug use and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

Part 3

The reaping for the 64th hunger games, brings forth their tributes, Denali and Maximus. The girl, is sixteen and her little brother, only fourteen. Orphans, surviving solely off of tesserae and profits made from pedaling contraband at the hob.

When Y/N comes to greet them on the train, Denali has her brother tucked behind her protectively, near the table of food. “Hello.”

Denali watches her with wary eyes.

“You should eat.” Y/N tells her. “Both of you. Get your strength up for the arena.”

Maximus reaches out for a dinner roll, but his sister slaps it from his hand.

“You first.” Denali demands. She needs to be sure it’s not poisoned.

Y/N closes the space between them, taking the abandoned bread and tearing off a piece. Placing it into her mouth, she chews and swallows.

Maximus presses his lips together, gulping hard. He can almost taste it.

“My name is Y/N. I’ll be your mentor-”

“Where’s the other one? The man?”

“Haymitch is down in the bar car.” Y/N tells them.

“He’s been doing it longer, we want him.” Denali says.

“Fine.” Y/N crosses both arms over her chest, toying with the bracelet on her left wrist. “But the two of you stay here, and eat. Please eat.”

The girl narrows her gray, seam, eyes, watching the woman leave. She’s seen her before, sneaking around where she didn’t belong. The man, Haymitch, was from the seam, before he won the games. He still comes down to the hob, Denali’s sold to him a couple times. Most recently, a bracelet, woven from stitching scraps. For his wife, he’d told her…and the woman, Y/N, is wearing it.

The victors return after a long moment, their hands intertwined. Y/N appears to be leading Haymitch toward them, against his will.

Maximus and his sister stare at him, expectantly.

Haymitch smiles, “I heard you wanted to see me.”

“Y-yes. You’re our mentor and we need strategy and-”

“Woah,” Haymitch stops the girl’s train of thought, “you’re barking up the wrong tree, sweetheart.”

“What?”

“That’s her department,” Haymitch jerks his chin toward his wife.

“Then what do you do?” Denali asks.

“Enjoy the refreshments,” Haymitch lifts his glass.

————————————————————————

Upon arriving in the Capitol, Y/N and Haymitch are collected to film interviews. Caesar always finds a way to make the most of their time here. But over the years, it has proven useful in gaining sponsors for their tributes.

“We’re happy.” Haymitch reminds Y/N. “We’re in love and so glad to be here.”

Y/N nods, blinking up at him through obscenely long lashes. Vanity has done a number on her this time. Y/N is her muse, the one who inspired her to leave her position as stylist for the games and design pieces for her victor full time.

The people of the Capitol cannot get enough. Anything Y/N wears, they want to wear. Tonight is a cotton candy pink dress.

“For the first time, on this very stage, we will be joined by Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy.” Caesar announces, riling the crowd into a frenzy.

Last time they were here was their wedding day and Snow obviously had better things for them to do afterwards than gossip with Caesar Flickerman.

“Please give our newly weds a warm welcome, Y/N and Haymitch.” Caesar motions toward them from the stage, their queue to join him.

Haymitch reaches back for her hand, waving out at the crowd as they cross the floor.

Y/N greets Caesar first. He likes her better than Haymitch anyway, most people do.

————————————————————————

“Where’ve you been?” Maximus asks his mentors, after the tribute parade.

“Clearly they have more important things to do than help us.” Denali turns up her nose in their direction.

The tributes are dressed as coal miners…again.

“Do you have any idea how much a bottle of water goes for in the arena? A loaf of bread? Medicine?” Haymitch cuts in. “Those things don’t come cheap, sweetheart.”

“So what?” Denali doesn’t understand how their absence would change that.

“There’s people here with a lot of money.” Y/N explains. “The more time we spend with them, the more money they’re willing to provide our tributes. I’m sorry that we had to step away, but that’s why I supplied you with the tablets. Did you have a chance to look over the strategy files?”

Denali shakes her head of dark curls.

“That’s ok, we still have time.” Y/N assures her, “let’s go up to our floor. We can discuss it over dinner.”

————————————————————————-

The district twelve escort, a woman named Cordelia Walters, who desperately hopes to be reassigned to another district; holds the elevator for them. “Chop, chop.” She claps her hands together. Like herding animals in a zoo.

“Always a delight.” Haymitch snarks, as they step into the confined space.

Y/N huffs a laugh, pressing her lips together. Their escorts seem to have a high turnover rate. She hopes that holds true.

Dinner is tense, Cordelia can’t be bothered with listening to defense strategy details. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Oh, sure!” Y/N pipes up, “let’s discuss the up in coming fashion for the spring. I have all of Vanity’s sketches.”

“Really?” The woman squeals, “you don’t think she’ll mind?”

“Not at all.” Y/N lies, “here, take it. You can bring it back in the morning.”

“Thank you.” The Capitol woman races away, closing the door to her suite behind her.

“That’s one way to do it.” Haymitch lifts a shoulder, poking at the peas on his plate.

“Now we can talk?” Maximus asks, shoveling another spoonful into his mouth.

“Yeah,” Y/N smiles. “You can start by telling me what you’re good at.”

“I’m a fast runner.” The boy tells her.

“Had to be, we’ve been running all our lives.” Denali adds, still unsure if Y/N can be trusted.

“And what about you,” Y/N asks, “what are you good at?”

“I’m strong and good with a knife.” The girl tells her. “We just need you to give us a chance.”

Y/N leans in, across the table, “we can train you, separate from the other tributes. We can supply you with anything you might need from a sponsor. We can prepare you for your interviews. No one is rooting for you more than we are.”

The four of them talk late into the night, answering questions. Exchanging stories and discussing useful weapon tactics.

Haymitch’s number one rule is not to get attached. However his wife, either cannot or will not follow it.

When they finally retire to their room, Y/N makes a mad dash for the white pills, on the bedside table. The contents rattle in her shaking hand.

“Here, angel.” Haymitch takes it from her, “that won’t help.”

“But you said-” White is for pain.

He reaches for another bottle. “Take this.” He deposits a yellow pill into her hand. Then a blue. For her nerves and to help her sleep.

Y/N swallows them down, attempting to catch her breath.

“Come here.” Haymitch wraps her up in his arms. Placing a hand over her heart and rubbing gently, “that’s where it hurts, huh?”

She nods, praying that the pills take effect soon.

“The white ones can’t help with that.” He continues, attempting to soothe the ache.

“How do you do this?” Y/N leans into him. “It’s only been four years and I feel like-”

“Before you, those ten years after I won….I drank until I blacked out and I can still see their faces. I remember their names. I see their families, back home and it never gets easier. It never gets better. But you find ways to live with it.”

Y/N lets out a sob, “I can’t. I can’t.”

“I’ll help you.” I’ll do whatever it takes.

“I want to go home.”

“I know,” Haymitch breathes. “But the pills are gonna kick in soon. Then you’ll feel better.”

“I don’t want to feel better. I want to save those kids!”

“We can try.” Haymitch says, somberly.

“If I overdose, what happens to my family?” Y/N wonders, eyelids growing heavy as Haymitch shuffles her toward the bed.

“Snow wanted to have them executed after your games. As punishment for you not killing Tyson. He was only willing to negotiate a deal, in exchange for my…work. If you kill yourself, I have nothing else to offer him. No leverage. He’ll kill them and sell me; again.” Haymitch explains, pulling off her shoes. “But I wouldn’t blame you.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. She has something to live for. Her sister, her parents and him. She has Haymitch to live for. Therefore she cannot die. “It was only a hypothetical question, I wasn’t- I wouldn’t-” leave you.

Haymitch pats her cheek, the drugs have kicked in and her tears have subsided. “Goodnight, angel.”

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @ancientbeing10 @1-800-styles @l3xi3luv @lam-ila @druby2011-blog @liballer @readinginthe-am @rae-11 @champomiel @mariechristine00

[samkerrworshipper]

acl’s | sam kerr x reader

this is me trying to work through my devastation but it’s 3am, i’m crying and writing this on my phone. :( it’s a blurb btw

you have to admit the timing of the call should be a little bit of a shock.

it doesn’t cross your mind when your girlfriends contact pops up on your phone, but in hindsight it probably should.

it’s not odd for sam to call you multiple times a day when she’s away on camp, if she has a spare minute here or there, so you are delighted when you see her face pop up on your screen.

you press the green button almost immediately, pulling your phone up to rest at your ear.

“Hiya chook, how’s the weather treating you?”

When you don’t get an immediate response you become a little bit worried, but nothing abnormal.

“Y/n? It’s Emma here.”

It’s when the voice of your fiancés coach hits your ears that you are immediately worried.

“Emma, what can I do for you?”

You’ve talked to Emma hundreds of times, but you can tell from her voice that this is different.

“Look, Sam’s just come off the pitch after a little incident, it’s looking like she’s done her ACL.”

Your gut wrenches, and it takes all of your power to stop your lunch from pouring out across the dining table your sat at.

“What?”

Your head immediately begins to reel, 9 months. That’s the Olympics, Emma’s last season at Chelsea, so many things that Sam has over this year that are now done.

Your mind goes back to Sam’s previous ACL injury, how she’d talked about how it had been the hardest thing mentally and physically for her, that it was almost the end of her career.

“It’s not looking good, we’ll have to wait until she’s had scans to confirm the severity but both her and our doctors are fairly certain it’s her cruciate ligament.”

You take a deep breath, fuck.

“Okay, okay. Is she okay?”

It’s a stupid question, of course she isn’t okay, she’s done her fucking acl, but your concern goes further than her obvious injury.

“She’s in a lot of pain, and she’s pretty torn up. Millie has been keeping her company but all she wants to do is talk to you.”

You nod your head, you know you shouldn’t have to prepare yourself to talk to her but you take your time to take a deep breath, keep yourself strong for her.

“Can you put her on for me please, Emma?”

You hear some bustling around.

“Of course, she wanted me to call you to get the facts straight, but i’ll put her on now.”

You hear a little bit more bustling before complete silence, and that seems to be your queue.

“Sammy, honey?”

You hear a deep, laboured breath crackling from the other side of the phone.

“I’m here.”

Her words are strung out, you know that Sam will be trying her hardest to keep it together, she simply isn’t one to be publicly over emotional, no matter the situation.

“Hi honey.”

You know the best thing right now is to leave her to talk about her injury, you leave ghe ball in her court.

“My whole year is over.”

You hear her voice break, and you know that she’s crying even though you can’t hear any sobs or evidence of tears.

“I’m right here chook, so are all the girls, whatever you need.”

When you hear a sob, it takes everything you have to not start crying with her.

“Need to see you, need you here.”

Sam’s not a needy person, so to hear her asking for something like this is concerning to you.

“How about I turn on facetime chook, will that make you feel a bit better?”

When you hear a little murmur of a ‘yes’ you click the button, waiting for it to connect once she accepts the request.

It’s a matter of seconds before you are met with the visual of Sam, her head resting on Millie's shoulder on a physio bed, tears cascading freely down her olive skin.

“Oh Sammy honey.”

She only begins to cry more, and you are fairly certain once this call ends you’ll be rushing straight to the bathroom to expel all of the bile that’s built up in your throat.

“I’m supposed to be captain, I need to be okay, I need to play the olympics, I couldn’t play the fucking world cup. This could be my last major tournament.”

You want to tell her that she’s being ridiculous, but it would achieve nothing, Sam needs to feel validated in her feelings right now, not like you and the whole world are against her.

“Sam this isn’t your fault, you couldn’t have avoided it, it was just a stupid freak accident, unfortunately it happens in the sport you play.”

Sam looks so broken, Millie’s matching her energy, the normally energetic blonde looking very sullen.

“What if this is it for me?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, it’s a stupid statement but a very real feeling that Sam has.

“Sam, how about I come to Morocco? I’ll catch the next flight out, and i’ll come and be there for you, is that something you want?”

You don’t want to step over her boundaries, but just the look on her face tells you that she needs to be comforted, she needs to cry and whilst her teammates are great, Sam is never going to be that vulnerable in front of them.

“You don’t have to.”

Her own statement contradicts every single feeling you can see inside her.

“I want to.”

Sam’s tears only begin to fall heavier.

“Please, I need you.”

[lordprettyflackotara]

dollhouse || jeff the killer || part four

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: breeding kink, size kink, possession kink if you squint, squirting, overstimulation, the tiniest wee bit of blood (you scratch jeff’s back a lil too hard), non con for five seconds if you squint VERY hard. use of y/n bc i can’t avoid it for forever guys im sorry :(🚨🚨🚨PLOT PLOT PLOT. WE HAVE A PLOT. SMUT WITH PLOT🚨🚨🚨

Jeff hated what he had done.

It had been two weeks since the last time he saw you. Properly at least. You now avoided him like the plague and when he did see you, Ben or Masky accompanied you. Jeff never truly got a chance to be alone with you. Not to fuck necessarily but to say anything to you at all. Nina was also becoming quite the pest, the fan girl practically sewed to his hip. You had the same expression on your face everytime Jeff saw you. An odd one consisting of concentration and betrayal.

Jeff didn’t understand. Why did you look that way? You two weren’t together. You didn’t even like each other. He didn’t like your smile, laugh, or killing style. Or the way you twirled your hair when you were reading. He didn’t like the way you dressed or the way you smelled like vanilla. He began to see less and less of you and one day, you didn’t seem to be there at all.

The pale killer didn’t want to ask. Why would he show anyone he cared? But your absence at breakfast was noted. As was your absence during training, dinner, even Sally’s weekly tea parties. You wouldn’t seriously miss Sally’s tea parties over him, right? Your absence led the pale killer to your bedroom door, rising his fist to softly knock. He stood there nervously, knocking on the door as gentle as he could.

“Y/n?”

He heard nothing on the other side, not even a shuffle. Jeff sighed, gripping the doorknob. He was surprised to find it unlocked, his eyebrows raising. He pushed open the door, to find your room abandoned. All of your posters, trinkets, furniture. Everything that made the room yours was gone. Jeff had only had the privilege of seeing it when he used to walk by, the two of you commonly giving each other the middle finger. But now the room was empty besides one small twin bed. There was no sign you had ever been there to begin with.

Jeff ran down the hall, his feet carrying him down the stairs and into the living room. He jumped over the railing, thudding into the main room. “Where is she?” Jeff panted to Ben. The blonde seemed unamused, his fingers fiddling with his xbox controller. “Who?” He asked. Jeff narrowed his eyes. “You know who. Y/n. Where the fuck is she?” He questioned. Ben shrugged, letting his play of the game play on screen. He reached for his bong, Jeff quick to slap it out of his hands. The murky water spilled on the carpet, an offended scoff leaving Ben’s lips. He grabbed handfuls of Ben’s army green sweatshirt. “Tell me where the fuck she is or I swear to fuck I will smash your beloved bong,” Jeff threatened.

Ben crossed his arms, used to Jeff’s dramatic antics. “Thats a collectors piece,” He argued. Jeff rolled his eyes, grabbing the glass and holding it up mockingly. “I’m aware. Now spit it out,” Jeff said plainly. Ben sighed, shoving Jeff off of him.

“She moved out, alright?”

Jeff’s heart stopped, releasing Ben’s collar and setting his bong down.

“Where did she go?” Jeff questioned. Ben readjusted his shirt, leaving the queue for his game. “Your guess is as good as mine,” Ben answered honestly. Jeff sat on the couch, feeling defeat. He raked his fingers through his hair, his head feeling like it was spinning. “You know maybe if you cared about her this much when she was actually here she wouldn’t have left,” Ben murmured. Jeff gritted his teeth, storming out of the room without another word. He didn’t need you. He didn’t want you. He knew he liked your cunt and that was that. He didn’t need you to get laid, he had Nina.

Yet, you were like a plague. One that had it embedded itself in the cracks and crevices of his mind. You had woven your web of infatuation, one that Jeff couldn’t shake. It’s what led him to casually try to find you. EJ was clueless, as he expected. He knew better than to bother Slender with such trivial things. Toby was so focused on catching a fly, Jeff didn’t even think he actually heard the question. Asking Jane anything at all was always a risk, her eyebrows quick to raise. She slammed the door in his face, the pale killer left alone in the hallway. Jeff was out of options, his attention turning to the proxies.

They were in the training hall, being in tip top shape a core part of being a proxy. There was always a bit of a strain between Jeff and the proxies, due to Jeff being too insane to be converted into one of them. He knew what the thought process was. The duo were slightly bitter that it hadn’t gone the way Slender had originally wanted. If it had, he would’ve had no purpose for them. They would’ve had the privilege of pursuing normal lives and not even having the slightest idea any supernatural entities existed.

Hoodie lifted an axe, throwing it at the target’s Clockwork had made ages ago. The paint was beginning to fade, the wood chipped and shredded from hours of practice. “Masky. Hoodie,” Jeff greeted blandly. The axe landed on the bulls eye, the dirty blonde stepping behind Masky to allow him to throw. “What do you want?” Masky huffed. Jeff stood there awkwardly, his hands in his pockets. Asking human proxies for help was as painful as walking on hot coals to him.

“Where did Y/n go?” Jeff asked point blank. Masky’s aim was lethal, the axe landing dead center on top of Hoodie’s. Masky huffed as he shrugged off his mask, wiping his forehead. “Ask Google, you’ll have better luck there,” He replied. The two watched Hoodie collect the axes from the wooden board. “Very funny. I don’t believe for a second no one in this mansion knows where she went. She’s lived here for years,” Jeff argued. He crossed his arms sassily, Masky’s face was stone cold and hardening with each passing second. “Maybe you should consider that everyone knows, but no one is going to tell you,” Masky retorted. Jeff raised his eyebrows.

“Why wouldn’t anyone tell me?” He questioned.

Masky took his axe from Hoodie, giving him a quick nod. “Because you’re a pale slimeball who would stick his dick in a cactus if it came down to it,” Masky spat. Jeff went to launch himself at the brunette, his partner quick to stand in front of him. Hoodie towered over both Masky and Jeff, his height and leanness his main attributes in combat. Jeff gritted his teeth, clenching his teeth. “Yeah? Fuck you! Human piece of shit,” Jeff exclaimed, stomping out of the training room. He found himself wondering around the mansion, out of people to ask.

Forcing himself into the backyard to tend to Smile, he ran into Sally. She sat on the back porch, her attention centered on her dollhouse. Jeff slumped into one of the rocking chairs on the back porch, watching Smile tauntingly play with a rabbit. His obsidian eyes wondered over to Sally’s dollhouse, the dolls in her hands resembling the mansions residents. He leaned over, an obvious Ben doll and Jane doll in her hands. “Whatcha got going on Sal?” Jeff asked curiously. Sally shrugged, playing with the Ben doll and guiding it up the toy staircase. “Playing with my dolls,” She responded. Her tattered teddy bear sat beside her, but Jeff knew better than to look in his direction.

“Are those supposed to be us?” Jeff asked her. He never really knew how to talk to kids. Minus the fact you couldn’t yell or insult them. “Yeah,” Sally hummed, setting Bens doll aside and picking up Toby’s. They were all freakishly life like, Jeff’s eyes narrowing. “Where’s my doll?” He asked. Sally pointed to the top room of the dollhouse. A replica of Jeff was lying on the floor, his painted eyes staring at the ceiling. “Why am I up there?” Jeff questioned. He had never thought twice about Sally playing with toys. After all, she was just a kid. But there seemed to be a double meaning going on here.

“You’re sad about Y/n leaving, aren’t you?” She asked. Her big green eyes met his, the killer uncomfortably shifting in his seat. “I uh, well, I guess so,” Jeff stumbled out, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He looked around the dollhouse for your doll, noticing its absence. “Hey Sal where did you get these dolls from?” Jeff asked. Sally pointed at Mr.Bear, her long time psychotic supernatural teddy bear companion. Jeff’s eyes narrowed, realizing his thought process was a long shot from being true. “Where’s Y/n’s doll?” Jeff questioned. Sally pointed at the woods, leafs rustling and falling from the trees.

Jeff quickly rose from his seat, patting Sally’s hair. “Thanks kiddo,” He said sincerely, dashing into the woods. Slenderman’s forest was always risky to travel through, The Rake an uncontrollable force that was to be reckoned with. During the day it was typically asleep, the sunlight beaming on Jeff’s pale skin. Even with that being said, it was never a good idea to go into the forest alone. It was apart of the reason EJ moved back inside of the mansion after an unfortunate run in outside of his remote cabin. It suddenly made sense to Jeff. You were staying in the same cabin Jack once did. It was the only one out here. It was the only place nearby you’d be able to stay.

The pale killer couldn’t get to you fast enough, his lungs desperately inhaling gulps of air as he got to the cabins front porch. He noted the porch being freshly swept, as well as patio furniture decorating it. Jack was never one for decoration. This alone was a sign you were here. Jeff knocked on the door, straightening out his spine and clearing his throat. He stood there anxiously as you opened the door, your eyes widening in surprise. You went to shut the door, Jeff’s foot blocking it from closing. “Wait!” He exclaimed. You slowly pulled open the door, raising your eyebrows.

“I only opened this door because I thought you were Masky bringing me food. What do you want Jeff?” You questioned harshly. Jeff didn’t know how to explain it. The weird sensation that sparked in his chest when he was around you. Or thought about you. The way he couldn’t escape wondering what you were doing or how you were. “I-I think I love you, or something,” Jeff stuttered. You looked at your tall enemy, folding your arms. “You think? Were you thinking that when you stuck your dick into Nina?” You hissed. Jeff rubbed his temple, as if his head was hurting. “It’s not like that okay? That was a complete accident,” Jeff answered.

“Oh okay, so she tripped and fell and landed on your dick?”

You went to close the door again, this time Jeff’s hand stopping it. His slender fingers attempted to grip the wood like his life depended on it.

“You are the first person I think of when I wake up. You are the last person I think about before I go to sleep. I can’t stop thinking about you and I don’t fucking understand it. I miss bickering with you. I miss fighting with you. I miss your witty comebacks and smart ass remarks. Fucking hell, do you have any idea what you do to me?” Jeff rambled. He ran his fingers through his hair, shoving it out of his face. “I hate, no, I despise the idea of you being with anyone else. I can’t fucking stand it. I can’t stand the idea of someone else touching what’s mine,” Jeff continued. He cleared his throat, his obsidian eyes finally meeting yours. “I hate the way you make me feel, I hate you,” He said softly. He couldn’t bring himself to say he loved you again.

He couldn’t and he wouldn’t.

He awaited your response, your folded arms falling.

“I hate you too Jeffrey,” You replied gently. You tugged on the collar of his hoodie, pulling his lips to yours. His kisses were rough and uncontrolled, the pale killer having a hard time keeping his lips off of yours. He didn’t want to take a breath, nor did he want to let you breathe. Jeff grabbed the door, awkwardly shutting it behind him. You guided him towards the couch, your knees buckling as you hit the side. His large hands wondered down to your waist, gripping the flesh. You groaned hungrily into his mouth, his hands slithering downwards and massaging your ass.

He pushed you downwards, your back hitting the cushions of the couch. Jeff was on you in an instant, his lips straying from yours. “Gotta let everyone know you’re mine,” Jeff grumbled. He nibbled at your neck, before sucking harshly at your sweet spot. Your hips bucked upwards, your teeth biting your bottom lip. “Go on, be as loud as you want doll. No one can hear ya,” Jeff snickered, dragging his tongue up the side of your neck. He shoved your dress towards your torso, your bare cunt on display. “No panties? Fuck, you’re a dirty whore,” Jeff observed. He took his index and middle finger, teasingly dragging them up your slick.

“And you’re this wet for me? I’ve hardly even touched you,” Jeff mused. He smirked as he lowered himself between your thighs, shoving those same two fingers into your cunt. Your gummy walls squeezed his digits tightly, his name falling off of your lips like a mantra. “There she is. There’s my filthy slut,” Jeff chuckled darkly. He curled his fingers inside of you, relishing in the sound of you moaning his name. “I bet Ben couldn’t make you feel like this. Could he doll?” Jeff purred. You whined as he slowed his fingers down. Aggravated he removed his fingers, delivering a sharp slap to your folds before shoving them back inside of you.

“You’ll answer my questions when I ask them bitch.”

“Only you- fuck- you make me feel so-” You slurred, stumbling over every other word. Jeff attached his lips to your needy clit, satisfied as you grinded your cunt against his face pathetically. You were so desperate to get off. To have him get you off. It only made his cock harder. He lapped at your juices like a starving man, his fingers never slowing for a second. He adored being like this, head buried between your thighs and fingers buried inside of you. You felt your stomach begin to tighten, your core throbbing. “F-f-fuck right fucking there! Fuck, Jeff!” You moaned, grinding your hips against his face as you came.

Jeff emerged from your thighs with a cocky grin, crawling upwards towards you. You gripped his hoodie, flipping the two of you. Jeff’s back hit the couch, his obsidian eyes watching you curiously. He put his hands behind his head, his pupils blown with lust as he watched you fiddle with his belt. “There’s not a better view in the world than this,” Jeff muttered. You found his words sweet and endearing, heat dashing across your cheeks as you shoved his jeans down his legs. “Shut up,” You mumbled. You hovered yourself over Jeff’s thick cock, giving it a few pumps. The man underneath you nearly whimpered, your lips curling up into a smile.

You felt so awkward, despite having been in this position with Jeff countless times before. But this time was different. He didn’t look at you with hatred, but with something else. His large hands guided your hips, guiding you down on his cock. You threw your head back, whimpering. “So tight f’me,” Jeff grumbled. He could feel your walls spasming around him, struggling to accommodate to his size. He lifted up your dress, pride washing over him as he saw the outline of his cock through your stomach. “Look at that doll, look at how deep I am,” Jeff told you. He helped you lift your dress over your head, your fingertips tracing over the shape of his cock. Jeff guided your hips to roll against his, pleasantly surprised with your submission.

“Next time i’ll make sure we can see it through your throat too. But for now I need to fuck you stupid,” Jeff purred. You gripped his shoulders as you began to move, bouncing up and down on his cock. The sight of you falling apart on top of him was sending the pale killer into a frenzy. Your eyes were screwed shut, your bottom tip tucked in between your teeth. Jeff glanced down at his shaft, noticing your arousal coating his cock. “My my, such a filthy whore. Making a mess on my cock like this,” Jeff panted. In a flash he flipped the two of you over, shoving your legs over his shoulders.

With your ankles dangling beside his head he smirked, leaning forward. “Look at me as I fuck you doll. You’re mine. Understand?” Jeff huffed. You forced your eyes to open, his cock ramming into you mercilessly. His fingers gripped your thighs so tightly you swore you’d have bruises in the shape of his fingers in the morning. You slid your hands under his hoodie, digging your nails into his back. “And you’re mine,” You babbled, dragging them down his back.

He groaned at the painful sensation, his cock abusing your g spot. You could feel your legs burn as he slammed into you, both of you moaning messes. His shaggy jet black hair stuck to his forehead with each thrust, muttering strings of curses under his breath. You could feel your final orgasm coming, your legs trembling. Jeff relished in the sight of them trembling by his head, a cocky smirk dancing across his lips. “Go on doll, make a mess on my cock,” He chuckled. He leaned forward, his breath hot against your ear. His hips were unstoppable, whimpers escaping your lips.

“Just know if you cum on my cock i’m going to fill you to the fucking brim,” Jeff grunted. He nibbled on your earlobe, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “F-f-fuck Jeff,” You whimpered. Jeff could feel your walls squeezing him, your thighs squeezing his waist. “Go on doll, I know you want it,” He whispered. It was then the cord inside of you came undone, your mouth running dry as you came around his cock. Your legs shook violently, your juices coating his lower half. “I just made you squirt for the first time huh? Let’s see if I can make you do it again,” Jeff chuckled darkly. You whined as he slithered his hand to your clit, drawing fast circles around the swollen bud.

“O-oh! Fuck! It’s too much,” You cried. Jeff could feel the beads of blood you were extracting from his back as you held on for dear life. His thrust had never stopped, his hips never failing to snap into yours. “You’re doing so good for me doll, just one more,” Jeff huffed. You felt your vision growing hazy, your sinful noises babbles of curses and Jeff’s name. You then came again, squirting around his cock. Jeff’s thrust came to a sudden halt, his cock twitching keep inside of you. You could feel his warm cum flooding your cunt, your thighs trembling as he took them off of his shoulders.

He removed his cock from you, watching his seed spill out of your abused hole. With two fingers he pushed his cum back inside of you, your whimpers music to his ears. “Can’t have that going anywhere now can we?” Jeff purred. In a swift motion he picked you up bridal style, carrying you further into the cabin. “What are you doing?” You asked softly. You laid your head against his chest, the killer carrying you as if you were as light as a feather.

“To get you cleaned up doll face. You’re mine now, and I’m going to treat you like it.”

[inchidentally]

Okay so I was thinking about why Oscar didn’t go and congratulate Lando right after his win but I think the answer is quite simple. It’s because he felt a little at odds with himself.

He lost out in that race because of the safety car the same one that secured Lando’s chance. (you can hear him audibly swear over the radio when it came out, which he NEVER does) He was pissed at the timing and then to top it all off gets his race ruined by Carlos of all people (again) and THEN when he’s desperately trying to force his way back thought he field he’s told to stop fighting because Lando is in the lead.

So whilst I’m sure he was happy for Lando, he was, at the same time, mourning his own loss. As he should! He’s a racing driver. he should be pissed at losing especially at no fault of his own.

So he gave Lando the space, let him take in his well deserved victory and once he’d calmed he congratulated Lando earnestly, without his feeling for his own race getting in the way!

And I think it’s says a lot about how understanding and kind Oscar is. He knew if he congratulated Lando as soon as they crossed the line he wouldn’t have meant it enough so he waited until he did mean it.

What do you think?

KES BABE you're gonna make me long post !!!

I've actually got to weigh in (pun intended) with a very real technicality that my cousin pointed out when I was looking for Oscar once we finally got to watch!

all of the drivers who congratulated Lando not only were father figures/big brother figures to him, they also finished in the top 10 and quite literally had finished their weigh in nice and quick - the exception being Daniel who did not have to go and see the stewards. quite literally Oscar had to wait toward the back of the queue to finish his parc ferme shit (did we ever even get eyes on him?) from there he had to go see the stewards. depending on who they spoke to first out of him, Carlos and KMag and how long they kept him in the meeting, from there he'd have had to find out where Lando was (celebrating? interviews? cool down room?) and then run around to wherever he was. and ofc if he was in cool down he wouldn't have been allowed in.

so technically maybe Lando would've still been easy to find in Oscar's gap between finishing in parc ferme and going to the stewards, he might also have been stood waiting for his interview or even doing it or he might have already headed to the cool down room etc etc etc.

but I am NOT going to expect Oscar to try and navigate all of that when he not only had his top 3 position ruined but now he also had to go and find out if he was going to be penalized as well !!

especially when he knows he's got ample time to congratulate Lando anyway and Oscar is not remotely the type to care if cameras are around to broadcast it or not. the other non-podium drivers were going to entirely different garages and who knows when they'd cross paths with Lando again.

so honestly I personally think this all came down to technicalities more than anything else and if Oscar had finished in the top 10 at least then he would've absolutely been right there to congratulate Lando both for the ease of it but also bc it wouldn't have been as awful a result even if did receive a penalty.

and equally if he had the time to think of it, he would've assumed Carlos was already headed up there to congratulate Lando (and possibly could have seen him) and it was not !! the time for Oscar and Carlos to cross paths at that moment !!

BUT AS YOU SAID !! I think if there was time for him to get past the frustration and anger at what had happened to his own race and those mitigating factors weren't as much of an issue as I'm guessing they were, we know damn well that he'd be thinking what you said <3<3 bc even when things are going horrendously for him, Oscar never loses his head. and if he at all thought he'd bring his own negativity to the biggest moment in Lando's career so far then no WAY would he have risked it.

and bottom line is that one hug has ended up paling in comparison with how much Oscar was there for Lando in Oscar accepting 50% of the upgrades, obeying team orders for Lando rather than trying to get back in the points, showing up for Lando's celebrations twice in a major way, then going out to celebrate him all night long and posting about his win on social media for days afterward <3 like sure it would've had wider publicity if there'd been a hug right after - but Lando's beaming smile and thanking Oscar shows that he doesn't rate publicity as being more significant than everything else Oscar did for him that weekend ;__;

and what's actually really killed me is that surely surely there had to be an element of it for Lando where he remembered last year telling the press how it stung and hurt that Oscar had achieved any kind of win before him. that Oscar was never a showboat about it and always specified that it was a sprint win and not a real race win. that Lando was always the one to bring it up and give Oscar his dues but that Oscar never brought it up again afterward himself. and the mounting anxiety for Lando of what if Oscar got that race win before him? and how much that anxiety must have been at it's peak watching Oscar leading in Miami?? literally I think it would've been too much to humanly expect Lando to cope at all well. I think the absolute least amount of grace we would have given him would be to not go and immediately celebrate it with Oscar but honestly? if he'd decided to just do his post race interviews and slip away quietly until the video with Andrea then none of us would have judged him for it AT ALL. it would have been an unavoidably bittersweet day and knowing what the press and haters would have done to him would have paled in comparison to Lando having to live with knowing that Oscar got there first and so much quicker. and genuinely I think it would have taken a certain amount of shine off of it for Oscar as well and he would not have even slightly expected Lando to put himself through any more of it than strictly necessary for appearances.

(seriously I think we all breathed a sigh of relief over this win as much as we were elated about it !! we will never have to exist in a timeline where Oscar got his race win before Lando)

so not only will Lando have not remotely expected Oscar to show up in parc ferme for a hug, he has clearly counted every moment of Oscar celebrating his win as golden and beyond the call of teammate duty. and that not only did he make sure that posterity recorded Oscar's achievements earlier in that race, he made sure that he thanked him by setting the example of what could be done on just half the upgrades.

we all expected each of the hugs Lando got right after that race. each of those men has helped to raise Lando and has watched him since he was small and awkward and painfully shy and suffering heart-wrenching race results. they needed to hold their boy in his moment of purest happiness.

but none of us could have reasonably assumed how Oscar - only just out of his rookie season and Lando's teammate of just one season and a bit - would react to such a devastating race for himself while also on the biggest day of his teammate's career to date.

one hug would honestly have been a perfectly fine bare minimum and plenty of other drivers would have called that good and begged off.

equally tho one measly hug shouldn't make anyone underestimate how extraordinarily above and beyond and then some Oscar has been for Lando for the past week. that not only has he celebrated it and celebrated Lando, he's done so in proportion to people older than him who have known Lando much longer than him and who are not direct rivals to Lando.

like genuinely, the general F1 fans keep saying what a gentlemen and exemplary one-of-a-kind teammate Oscar has been through all of this and they're absolutely right. we not only got to rejoice in Lando's win, we also get to rejoice that he has a teammate who has proven his worth and made the McLaren driver partnership secure for the years they have to come <3<3

[suuuupernovaaa]

lawnol

lawnol [ˈlaw.nol] n. great joy

Anonymous Request: can we get some neteyam being an absolute simp and the girl just being completely oblivious so he thinks she doesn’t like him so he starts ranting about how he was dumb for thinking she would like him back and she just shuts him up with a kiss and he just gets super shy but happy :)

Neteyam is absolutely infatuated with you, and hates that you don't feel the same way - especially when he hears another has asked for your hand.

634 words.

Lo'ak rolls his eyes at his older brother. "Dude, relax," he said, probably for the 100th time. "I'm instituting a ban on talking about Y/N."

Neteyam glares at him. "Shut up, Lo'ak."

The brothers are returning home a long day of hunting, during which Neteyam had brought Y/N up no less than 20 times.

"Y/N uses her bow like this, Y/N was smiling at Marek yesterday, do you think she likes him? Y/N will like a meal prepared with this," Lo'ak says, taunting his brother. "Just tell her how you feel! We all know she's great. You don't have to tell us every day."

Neteyam growels, but doesn't reply. How is it his fault that everything reminded him of her? She is all he can ever think about.

Just outside their home, Lo'ak stops, grabbing Neteyam by the shoulder. "I've been trying to tell you this all day, bro, but... you really do need to tell her how you feel. Marek asked her father for permission. I think she's considering it."

Neteyam's eyes widen in shock and he straightens his stance, as if to intimidate Marek, who is nowhere nearby.

Thrusting his bow into his brother's hands, he turns and runs.

--

I kneel before the Tree of Souls, asking the Great Mother for guidance, for protection over my family, and thanking her for all she had provided us.

"Help me, Great Mother," I say. "Look into my memories. Tell me what to do."

"Got a big decision to make?"

I turn to see Neteyam approaching, out of breath as if he had just ran for many hours. I remove my queue from the Tree, and stand up.

"Just, asking for help," I reply with a shrug. "Are you okay, Neteyam?" He was sweaty, and breathless, and looked just a little bit panicked.

"Yes," he says, with a small half smile, which quickly disappears. "No, actually. Are you to be mated with Marek?"

"Marek?"

"I feel so stupid, Y/N. I waited too long to tell you how I feel. Do you know you are all I talk about? My family has to tell me to stop talking about you, but I can't. Every single thing I see or experience makes me think of you, because every time we aren't together, even if I just saw you moments ago, I miss you and wish you were with me.

"When I open my eyes in the morning, I think of you, and I dream of you at night. I am hopelessly in love with you, and I am so stupid for thinking you could feel the same, or... or that I could wait around, and someone else would not make you theirs. I've missed my chance, and-"

Thinking of no other way to possibly get him to stop talking, I step forward and press a kiss to his lips, having to stand on my tip toes to do so. It's quick, but firm, and when I pull away, he is most certainly stunned speechless.

"I am not to be mated with Marek. He has no interest in me. I believe he has eyes on Smon."

A blush crosses Neteyam's cheek, and I am unable to hide my giddy laughter.

"You are stupid, Neteyam, for not seeing how I have felt about you all this time. And for falling for a lie that I am guessing Lo'ak told you. But you are not stupid for loving me. That is... my greatest joy."

Neteyam reaches up, rubbing his thumb across my cheek. "My Lawnol," he whispers, and we share a smile. "May I kiss you again?"

"Any time you want to," I tell him, and the smile that spreads across his face is beautiful enough to make my heart nearly stop.

My Lawnol.

[helloalycia]

𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑

two / three / four / masterlist / wattpad

summary: the usual story of a girl falling for a girl who eventually becomes her brother's girlfriend. What could go wrong?

warning/s: none.

author's note: here’s another jackie one i wrote a while ago as i’m trying to post some stuff i’ve already written whilst working on a bunch of other stuff lol, this one was super fun to write so i hope you enjoy it!

also i googled what grades and ages are in america but it well confused me so sorry if it's wrong lol

y/b/n = your band’s name and y/bf/n = your best friend's name

5 years old.

"You're gonna love it, Y/N, I just know it," my brother, Jeff, was encouraging me as he walked by my side, holding my hand.

I smiled nervously, looking up at him and immediately being put at ease. It was my first day of kindergarten and I'd been super nervous the last few weeks, wondering what it would be like. Jeff was a year older than me, so it was his first day of first grade but he never seemed scared about these things. I wanted to be just like that.

"Okay, my darlings, this is where I leave you," our mum said, stopping by the front gates. She kneeled down to hug us both, adding, "I love you so much. Have the best first day. Okay? And Y/N, if you're worried, your brother is here for you, alright?"

I nodded, squeezing her tightly, before letting go. Jeff gave me a smile before leading me through the gates.

"You're gonna go that way, over there," he told me, pointing to the line forming by the front of the school. "Just look out for me over here, okay?"

"Thanks, Jeff," I said, hugging his side briefly before making my way to the queue that was forming. Other kids like me, nervously awaiting their first day.

After the teacher greeted me and led me to the queue, I waited patiently for the rest of the class to settle down and glanced over to the other queue across the playground, where Jeff was. He was surrounded by his friends, all grinning as they reunited, and I recognised a few of them from play dates at home. My eyes scanned the line he was in, glancing between the other students. And that's when I saw her.

At the time, I didn't know her name. I soon discovered it was Jackie Taylor. But I didn't care at that moment because all I was focused on was how pretty she looked, laughing with some other girls. Her blonde hair was pulled back into two ponytails, her bright eyes shimmering with excitement, even all the way across the playground. I didn't know what liking somebody was that young, I just knew that the butterflies in my stomach and my inability to look anywhere but at her wasn't normal.

I suppose that was where my crush on Jackie Taylor began.

—

14 years old.

"Y/N, I need your advice."

I looked up from the book I was reading to see Jeff hanging by the doorway of my room. He was unusually sheepish, making me lower my book and raise an eyebrow.

"What's up?" I asked, making space for him on my bed.

He let himself in my room, jumping on top of the bed and crossing his legs. "So... you're a girl, right?"

I tried not to laugh. "Last time I checked."

He was nervous. "Sorry, I know, I just meant– you know how girls think. And I... I think I like a girl. At school. And I wanted your opinion."

Intrigued, I said, "Which girl? What's she like?"

"I think you might know her," he said. "Or at least have seen her around. Y'know Jackie Taylor in my grade? Blonde hair, about your height, really hot?"

At the mention of Jackie, a girl I'd been crushing on since I first set eyes on her, my smile faded slightly. I'd seen her around a lot at school, since she was only in the grade above, and though I'd never spoken to her, it was easy for me to get stuck in admiration from afar. Of course I knew I had zero chances with her, but now knowing Jeff liked her too was like the world's way of confirming that my fantasy of being with Jackie Taylor was just that, a fantasy.

"Oh, yeah, Jackie Taylor," I said after a moment, hiding my surprise. "She's pretty."

"She is," he agreed with a smile that was reminiscent of my own whenever I saw her. "I think she might be interested in me too. Randy said her friend Shauna was asking about me."

"Well, that's gotta be a good sign," I said with a slight smile, trying to ignore the pit of despair and focus on being happy for my brother. "What's the problem then?"

He sighed. "Well, I wasn't sure whether I should ask her out or play the long game a little. What d'you think?"

I scratched my head to buy some time as I thought. "Erm... well, from a girl's perspective, I wouldn't want someone to mess around for too long if they liked me. And Jackie seems like quite the catch. If you don't make your move, somebody else might."

He nodded, actually paying attention to me surprisingly. "You're right, you're right... I should ask her out before someone else does."

"Exactly," I agreed.

He thought about it for a moment before beginning to smile. "You're so right, Y/N. Thank you!"

Before I could react, he hugged me quickly, and that was when I knew that no matter what feelings I thought I had for Jackie Taylor, it didn't matter anymore. She was off limits.

Of course, when I wished it would just end there, it didn't. Turns out Jeff was terrible at making the first move, or at least finding the opportunity to. So much that when he begged me to try out for the soccer team a few days later, claiming he needed a reason to talk to her, I had no choice but to oblige. I loved my brother and I knew he'd do the same for me, so I pushed my own feelings aside and did what I could to help. No matter how humiliating it would be.

Soccer was not my forte. Music was my thing. I played the guitar and piano, putting my time into that as an extracurricular, not sports. So, when I showed up for soccer tryouts after school, Jeff by my side for 'support', I was a nervous wreck.

"Jeff Sadecki," Jackie said when we approached her, a flirty smile on her lips. And then her eyes fell to me. "And you must be Y/N, his sister. Nice to meet you."

I smiled awkwardly, realising just how badly I was crushing when I heard her speak. She knew who I was?

"Take it easy on my sister, yeah?" Jeff said playfully, wrapping an arm around me, to which I shoved him off instantly.

"Oh, I'm sure she can handle whatever I throw her way," she retorted, before glancing at me kindly. "Right, Y/N?"

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," I mumbled, already dreading tryouts.

She must have thought I was kidding as she laughed. "You head over there to stretch. I'll be right over."

I obeyed, relieved to be away from the flirty glances her and my brother were exchanging that were making me nauseous.

After stretching and hoping I wouldn't do something extremely embarrassing, I glanced over at Jackie and Jeff, seeing her twirling her hair as she spoke to him. He was ecstatic, and I wanted to die. Finally, he went to sit in the bleachers to watch, and Jackie joined us soon enough.

"Okay, ladies, soccer tryouts start now!" she exclaimed with a bright smile, clapping her hands together. "Hope you're all ready to show the Yellowjackets your worth!"

I groaned inwardly at her enthusiasm.

Tryouts was the worst thing I'd ever endured. Between drills, shooting and scrimmage, I was breathless after an hour. How the hell did people play soccer for fun? It was exhausting! The only thing that made this a little worth the hassle was having a front row view of Jackie, who was admittedly drool-worthy in her soccer uniform. Even when she was yelling orders, I still found myself distracted and unable to focus on an already boring sport.

It was especially embarrassing when I was attempting to practice taking goals and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't seem to land a shot. Some of the other girls who were trying out were laughing at me, I could hear them, and even some of the Yellowjackets team were mumbling between each other, no doubt about how terrible I was. Everything we'd done until now, I'd failed. But this was just the cherry on top.

Whether it was because I was Jeff's little sister, or because she genuinely pitied me – possibly both – Jackie tried to help out.

"Kick with the side of your foot," she said, as I lined up another shot. "Don't overthink it. Just aim and kick!"

Wanting this to just be over already, I tried to do as she said and took the shot. Naturally, the ball went completely past the net, and the goalkeeper, Van, didn't have to move a muscle as she watched it roll away. Face flaming with embarrassment, I shook my head.

"It's okay, maybe shooting isn't your strength!" Jackie tried to reassure.

We both knew none of this was my strength, but I said nothing as I rejoined the line and let the next girl go.

If that wasn't awful enough, the last part of tryouts approached and I soon found myself playing in a scrimmage as a midfielder, trying my best to keep up with the game and not make a further fool of myself. Luck didn't seem to be with me, as when someone shouted my name and I prepared myself to catch the ball at my feet, I didn't step back quickly enough and it hit me right in the face, sending a burst of pain up my nose and me on my arse.

Horrified as people began to rush up to me to check if I was okay, I tried to assure them I was fine, but it was looking more and more unbelievable as blood ran from my nose. 

"Guys, give her some space!" Jackie said, before making her way through the crowd to check on me. Worriedly, she grabbed my face and inspected my nose. "Fuck... C'mon. I should get you to the nurse's office."

"Oh my god, Y/N...," Jeff appeared, slowing down when he saw the state of me. He clearly found it amusing as he stifled a smile. "Are you okay?"

I glared at him as Jackie helped me stand up.

Both her and Jeff led me to the nurse's office, though their attention was more on each other than it was on me. I tried not to sulk about it as I went to get seen to and watched them flirt outside the door, clearly getting what they wanted. I'd made a fool of myself in front of Jackie for sure, but it didn't matter because Jeff seemed happy enough, and I guess that was all that mattered.

After that awful day, it was safe to say I didn't make the team, not that that was the aim. But Jeff did finally ask Jackie out, and after a few more dates, they became official. Their relationship was sweet, and Jackie was exceptionally polite to me, but that was because she saw me as her boyfriend's little sister and nothing more.

I knew it was for the best and hoped it would help me get over my crush on her, but it really didn't.

Shortly after they started dating, it was clear that I had my responsibilities as the boyfriend's little sister. Jackie approached me one day at school, where I was chatting with some of my friends by my locker. Because of how smart and pretty and kind Jackie was, she was pretty well known in my grade also, and it was always seen as cool to know someone in the grade above. So, when she found me, my friends immediately fell silent, amazed at the fact I was talking to a tenth grader.

"Hey Jackie, what's up?" I asked, wondering what she needed.

She flashed a picture perfect smile to my friends, who were either drooling over her or stunned into silence, then looked back to me. "I wanted to ask if you were coming to the game later?"

"Game?" I asked with confusion.

"My soccer match," she clarified.

"Oh, er...," I started, but wasn't really sure what to say because I didn't know I needed to, or that she'd want me there. "I think Jeff is?"

"I know that, silly," she laughed, making my heart skip a beat annoyingly enough, "but I wanted you to come too! Thought it could be fun and I could use the support."

Feeling like I had no choice, I nodded. "Yeah, sure, I'll come."

She grinned. "Awesome!" Then she glanced at my friends saying, "You guys should come too. The more, the merrier."

They nodded awkwardly, and she smiled at me once more before leaving. And that was how I got roped into attending the Yellowjackets' soccer games, as someone who had zero interest in soccer.

—

Maybe it was because she was dating my brother that she felt she needed to spend time with me, I wasn't sure. But for whatever reason, Jackie tried her best to chat with me whenever she was around, or hang out with me a little.

The first time she tried was after school, when she was hanging out with Jeff at our house. I was in my room doing some homework when there was a knock at my door, and after letting whoever it was in, Jackie appeared.

"Oh," I said, surprised. "Hey, Jackie."

"Hey," she said with a smile, before letting herself in and looking around. "Cool room."

I glanced around, as if to see what she was seeing. It was nothing special, just some posters blu-tacked on the walls, mismatched bedsheets on my bed and a pile of dirty laundry in the corner. Still, I smiled a little, acknowledging her comment.

"So, what're you doing?" she asked, sitting at the edge of my bed, before her eyes fell to the keyboard and guitar on the side. "Oh, that's cool! You play?"

I watched as she got up to take a closer look, though clearly not familiar with the instruments as she was reluctant to touch anything. "Yeah, I took lessons as a kid and it kinda became my favourite thing."

"Leave it to Jeff to not tell me how cool his little sister is," she mumbled with amusement, and it stung just a little, the reminder of how she saw me. Glancing at me hopefully, she asked, "Can you play something for me?"

"I actually have homework to do," I said apologetically, but also glad for the out, because she didn't need to know that most of the stuff I'd composed was inspired by her.

"Oh, right, yeah, duh," she said with a laugh, before approaching my desk and hovering above me, making me forgot how to breathe. "What you working on? English?"

All I could do was nod.

"Need a hand?" she asked helpfully. "I already did this and I'm pretty good if I do say so myself."

"Oh, I think I've got it–" I tried to stop her, but she was already grabbing the seat to my keyboard and pulling it next to me.

"I don't mind, honest," she said sweetly, before grabbing my book and taking a look.

With no choice but to accept her help, I let her. And that was when I realised she was just trying to be nice to me, and I kind of had to accept.

She'd do that occasionally, or greet me in school when she didn't need to, and I thought that getting to know her like this might help eradicate my crush on her, since it was based on a fantasy of what I thought I knew about her. Unfortunately, it only made me like her more because I got to know her as more than the fantasy in my head, and it turned out that the real Jackie Taylor was still worth crushing on.

—

It was about a month into hers and Jeff's relationship when they broke up. I wasn't sure how or why, just that one day Jeff came back from a date looking annoyed and told me in a firm statement that he and Jackie were over. I wasn't sure what to think, nor how it really affected me other than I'd lost out on a somewhat decent relationship with Jackie. It was even more awkward when I realised Jackie had promised to tutor me for an upcoming English test and I wasn't sure if she'd even talk to me, or if I was supposed to talk to her.

The following Monday after their break up, I saw Jackie around at school but didn't know whether I could speak to her or not. But then she came to me at my locker, as if nothing was wrong.

"Hey, you still free after school for that tutoring?" she asked with her usual friendly smile.

"I... yes?" I answered, though it was more of a question because of how confused I was.

"Okay," she laughed, "why do you seem so puzzled?" When I didn't answer, she continued, "Oh, did you think I was gonna bail because Jeff and I broke up?"

I pursed my lips uncomfortably. "Yes?"

She rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm not. What happened between Jeff and I is separate to us, Y/N. I mean, he's definitely a jerk, but that doesn't make you one."

I smiled awkwardly, unsure what exactly he'd done to be deemed a 'jerk' but also not caring enough to ask.

"Meet you in the library after school?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Surprised but also appreciative that she was still willing to tutor me, I nodded in agreement. "Sounds good, Jackie. Thanks."

She flashed me a smile before leaving.

Tutoring happened as planned and I aced my test the day after. But then the day after that, Jackie and Jeff were suddenly back together like nothing had happened, and once she told me it was a mistake upon seeing my confusion, I soon realised they had one of those relationships. They'd break up over stupid stuff but ultimately get back together, and as exhausting as it was to witness, I knew it wasn't my business.

—

15 years old.

I sat and ate my dinner as my parents chatted Jackie's ear off about soccer and her studies. She was over for the evening as Jeff's date, courtesy of my parents, a somewhat regular occurrence lately. And I didn't mind, but it was getting a little tiring listening to the same thing all the time. Though, I regretted thinking that as soon as the conversation turned to me.

"...yes, she's started a band with her friends," my mum was telling Jackie. "They're playing the school dance next week."

Jackie immediately looked to me with amazement. "Wait, you're Y/B/N? You and your friends?"

I grew embarrassed as everyone looked at me. It was true that some of my friends and I had started a band, mainly because we were bored and needed an outlet from school, but also because it was something fun to do on the side. It wasn't a secret, but it was the last thing I wanted to discuss at dinner.

"Yeah, it's just something new," I said dismissively.

"Don't sell yourself short, Y/N, you guys are great," Jeff said encouragingly, and I smiled gratefully at him. As far as older brothers went, he was pretty good.

"I cannot wait to see you perform," Jackie said with an excited smile. "It's gonna be so cool."

"Let's hope so," I said lightheartedly.

"She's a little nervous, since it's their first live performance," my mum decided to embarrass me further, making me avoid everyone's eyes. "It'll be lovely to have support already in the crowd."

"Oh, of course!" Jackie continued brightly. "The team and I are gonna be there for you, Y/N. And if you want, I can help you get ready for the dance beforehand, I don't mind."

"Oh, no, you don't need to–"

"That's very generous of you, Jackie!" my mum exclaimed, cutting me off. "Thank you!"

Jackie grinned, eyes flickering to mine as I wished to be swallowed up by the ground there and then. Jackie Taylor helping me get ready for a school dance? No, thanks.

But due to my mum's insistence, that was how I found myself sat on my bed a week later, with Jackie doing my makeup.

"Your shirt is what colour again?" she asked as she scanned the eyeshadow palette in her hand.

"Black, but the skirt is blue," I said as nonchalantly as I could, hoping she couldn't hear my heart racing in my chest.

I wasn't handling the whole having my crush inches away from my face thing very well, and I was certainly having a hard time hiding it.

"Okay, great, I have the perfect idea," she said with a grin, before coating her brush in a colour and leaning forward again. "Close your eyes for me?"

Relieved I wouldn't have to look at her, I closed my eyes and let her apply my eye makeup, trying not to focus on the warmth emanating from her or the way the pad of her finger would gently rub at my skin or the caress of her breath as she exhaled. Nope, not focusing on any of it.

"So, any boys caught your eye that you're gonna dance with tonight?" she asked as she worked.

"Erm, not really, no," I mumbled.

She paused, and I almost opened my eyes to see why, but then she said, "Any girls? Because that's okay, too."

My cheeks were hot and I was relieved my eyes were closed otherwise she would've seen, truly, how flustered I was.

"No," I finally answered, clearing my throat. "I mean, it's okay, but no."

Did I just come out? Probably. But it wasn't a secret, and Jackie didn't seem to care.

"That's okay, just wait until they all see you perform," she said supportively. "Girls are suckers for musicians."

Yeah, but not the girl I wanted.

"Speaking of performing, is it gonna be originals or covers?"

"Covers for now," I answered, glad we were discussing something I was comfortable with. "The originals aren't ready for performing just yet."

"Ooh, so there are originals," she said in a playful tone. "Did you write any?"

"Some, yeah."

"Okay, eye makeup is done," she said quickly, and I opened my eyes to see her searching for a lipstick, but she continued talking, "And do I get to hear any of these originals?"

"Not yet," I quipped with a nervous smile, and I secretly hoped she'd never ask again because they were all about her.

She pouted playfully and I was forced to look away, a tornado twisting in my stomach because of how cute she looked.

After a moment, she lifted a dark red colour in the air with enthusiasm. "This is the one."

I assumed she'd give it me to put on, but she instantly uncapped the lipstick before leaning close again, grabbing my chin softly and painting my lips red. I was paralysed at the contact, my eyes flickering between hers. They looked greener than usual because of her green shirt, and then I started focusing on the space behind her head, realising I was staring.

"I think this is my best work yet," she said with pride, letting go and looking at me way more than I preferred. "You're really nervous, aren't you? Don't worry, you're gonna be great, Y/N."

Yeah, not nervous for what she thought... but I'd take it.

"Okay, get ready so I can see the final look," she feigned impatience, smacking me with her hands.

"Okay, okay, geez, Jackie." I got up as she laughed, and grabbed my clothes from the hangar.

I changed behind my wardrobe door, physically incapable of changing in front of her. When I stepped out, hair and makeup fully done, I glanced in the mirror and was pleased with what I saw, not really doubting Jackie's abilities. I turned to show Jackie, who stood up from the bed and looked me up and down, leaving me nervous all over again.

"You. Look. Beautiful," she said with a kind smile, approaching me and fixing my hair from the front.

"Thanks, Jackie," I said, both flustered and with appreciation.

Her eyes continued to take in my whole appearance, making me avoid meeting her gaze as I distracted myself with pulling on my shoes.

"So, are you not getting ready?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Yes, Jeff said he'd drop me back off to mine so I can get ready with Shauna," she said. "Just wanted to make sure you were good to go first."

"Well, thanks, I appreciate it."

Once my shoes were on, I grabbed my jacket and opened my bedroom door, holding it open for her. Walking her downstairs, we stopped by the front door and Jeff and her left for her place whilst my mum dropped me off to the school early so the band and I could get ready.

The school gym was already decorated for the dance, the stage set up with our instruments. I found my friends backstage and smiled at how coordinated we all looked with our outfits.

The band was made up of myself on the guitar and keyboard, Y/BF/N on the drums, Tommy on vocals and guitar and Aaron on bass. We'd all been friends since kindergarten and grew closer in Music class, and they were a tight knit group that I couldn't imagine being without.

We'd practiced a lot since officially forming about a month ago, so I wasn't doubting our ability to sound good, but the dance was our first proper live performance and it was still a little nerve wracking.

"Okay, guys, this is it," Tommy said as we all got ready for the curtains to open. "Not a big deal, but also could be the difference between high school suicide and surviving the next three years."

"No pressure, in other words," Y/BF/N said sarcastically, making Aaron and I laugh.

"We've got this," I assured them all. "Good luck, gang."

They all returned it before we got into our positions and waited for the principal to announce us. I clutched my guitar pick and took a deep breath once I heard our name, then the curtains opened revealing the sports hall full of students, including Jeff, Jackie and all of her teammates.

They all smiled supportively, and I admittedly let my gaze linger on Jackie for a second longer than I should have. I couldn't help it – she looked so pretty in her purple satin dress, enough that I almost missed my cue to play because of how distracted I was.

We performed a few covers smoothly, making no mistakes and eventually falling into our usual rhythm, and everybody seemed to be enjoying themselves. After a set, the DJ took over and we all left our instruments onstage before leaving to have a break.

"I can't believe we just did that," Y/BF/N said with amazement.

"Neither can I," Tommy agreed with a laugh before pulling us all into a group hug.

After having the ultimate debrief of our performance, still in disbelief and on a high from it all, we went our separate ways to catch up with others, and Jeff and Jackie found me immediately.

"Y/N, that was awesome!" Jeff exclaimed when he saw me, before pulling me in for a hug. "You were amazing up there!"'

I chuckled, blushing. "Thanks, Jeff. You think everyone liked it? Like actually?"

"Of course they did!" he said like I was stupid. "Y'know how cool you are now?"

"Hey, she was always cool," Jackie said, smacking him playfully before shooting me a smile that made me weak in the knees; she was even prettier up close. "Y/N, you were amazing up there. Real badass. The team thought so too."

"Thanks, Jackie," I said with a nod, heart racing just a little more than usual.

"You're not on a for a while now, right?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, and all it took was for me to shake my head before she grabbed my hand and led me to the dancefloor with Jeff. "Good, you can dance with us!"

"Oh, I don't know–"

"Let loose, Y/N," she insisted with a grin, before dragging me to where her teammates were.

And as soon as they saw me, they showered me in compliments and I was flustered the whole time, not used to the attention. It was kind of Jackie to have them cheer me on, but it was also just another reminder that they all saw me as Jeff's little sister. Still, I tried to focus on how great the night had been and let myself enjoy it.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Privacy || PG10

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x fem!reader, Kika x fem!reader Warnings: angst, cheating, wlw WC: ~700 F1 Masterlist

You were his. He had promised it over and over, time and time again. You were only his. He didn’t want to share you, not with anyone. Privacy - that was the foundation of your relationship. Everything was kept private, so he could keep you safe.

Or so he said...

You could still see the notification when you closed your eyes. The WhatsApp message that mysteriously disappeared before you could read it, just like all the rest. You could feel the ice spreading down your spine at the lie.

It was just a group message, just one of the guys on the grid. He said it as if you didn’t know the name of every driver.

“I’ll be back before you wake, you won’t even notice I’m gone,” he promised as he stepped out of the bedroom in a white linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You had taken time off work to spend the summer break with him but he couldn’t seem to go one night without attending a party at some club you couldn’t even pronounce.

You placed your phone on the coffee table and nodded your head like a good girlfriend should, just as he expected. “Be safe. Have fun.”

“Yeah, course.” He could barely hide his smile as he replied to a message on his phone, completely distracted as you did the same. “Love you.”

“You too.”

The club was full by the time you made it inside, unable to skip the long queue because you were just another pretty face, not one of the influencers or sports stars that frequented the place. There were hundreds of people but it was impossible to miss Mr Personality in the crowd, his smile wide as his arm curled around the model’s narrow waist.

The anonymity that came with the ‘private’ relationship worked in your favour as you made your way through the people. A few men took notice of your hips swaying with each step, but that was nothing new. Pierre had called you his ‘petal’, beautiful and in need of protecting.

“Hi,” you greeted your boyfriend when you reached the ring of strangers surrounding him. He dropped his arm from the model’s body and tore his lips away from her neck with wide-eyes. “Oh, don’t stop on my account, Kika is very beautiful.”

“It’s not what it looks like-”

“Of course not, it was totally innocent,” you interrupted, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“No need to be a bitch.” You could smell the alcohol on his breath and see his eyes dilated with the thoughts he had of finishing what he started with the younger woman. He had been talking to her for weeks, waiting for their trip to align so he could do more than just slide into her DMs.

You watched his hand disappear behind her back and she bit her lip as he palmed her ass. “It’s time to make a decision,” you said as you crossed your arms. “Are you going to come home with me?”

Pierre looked between you and Kika, his eyes dropped from her face to her tits before flicking back to you. “I’m good here.”

“Let’s go, love,” you said as you held your hand out, making Pierre laugh.

His laughter died when Kika stepped away from him, taking your hand and curling her body into your side. The devilish look in her siren eyes had you combing your fingers into her dark hair as she gripped the tight dress you wore and pulled you closer. Her lips tasted of strawberry from her daiquiri and the essence of the rum was stronger on her tongue when she deepened the kiss.

“What the fuck?” Pierre growled as he pulled you apart to see her lipstick smeared on your smirking lips.

“You’re not the only one in my DMs,” Kika teased as cleaned her lipstick from your face with a promising look. “Isn’t that right, my petal?”

“Petal?” His face was falling with each passing second, devastation at his actions being realised the longer he looked at you. He knew he was losing you. “Baby, wait, we can talk about this.”

“You made your bed, Pierre,” you said as you shook your head and curled your arm around Kika like he had earlier. “Now sleep alone in it.”

[blushweddinggowns]

They made quick work of getting everything ready to go, even if Robin whined the entire time. 

She didn’t fully accept her fate until they were in the parking lot, Steve’s sun glasses over her eyes as she gave Eddie a one armed hug, “Successful trip. Showstopper status confirmed.”

“Thanks,” Eddie laughed as she stumbled into the car, groaning all the while. He stepped around to the drivers side, leaning in the window as he smiled at Steve, “Guess I’ll see you later?”

“See you later,” Steve confirmed as he started the engine. Eddie couldn’t help but feel a bit sad at the noise, disappointed that they wouldn’t be driving together. Plus, a little worried on where he was going to end up considering Eddie was going to be a few hours behind. 

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah?”

“You can um, go straight to my place,” Eddie said, sounding just as lame as he fucking felt. He was pretty sure he was blushing again, for no damn reason, “If you want! But you know where the spare key is, right?”

Despite the stupid embarrassment, Eddie couldn’t help but feel like he’d said that right thing. The bright smile suddenly stretching over Steve’s face was all the confirmation he needed, “I do. Want me to stay up for you?”

Eddie ignored the sharp scoff he heard from Robin at the question, chalking up to annoyance at having to be alive while hungover, “If you can?”

Steve grinned, “I can.”

“Ok, that’s enough,” Robin piped up next to him, an edge to her voice that Eddie didn’t quite understand, “We can leave now, yes? Then you two can continue the blueba-”

“That’s out queue to leave!” Steve said loudly, sending Robin a sharp glare. He glanced back at Eddie, still smiling but it was off. Not as nearly as happy as before, “See you in a few hours.”

Eddie nodded, stepping away as he watched them go. He could see Steve elbow Robin before they even made it on the street, sniping something at her that he couldn’t quite hear. He sighed, turning to make his way to his own van. 

Successful trip his ass.

He felt like shit. He was definitely a worse person than he was two days ago, that was for sure. But that didn’t mean he was going to skip out on saying good-bye to his friends.

Even if the goodbye consisted of twenty minutes of Gareth and Matt judging his life choices.

“Are you banging Robin?,” Gareth asked, the four of them circled together in Jeff’s living room, “Is that why you left? That's it isn't? Does Steve know?”

“For the last time, no”, Eddie groaned, “Stop asking me that!”

“Does…” Matt hesitated before leaning closer to him, lowering his voice, “Does it not work after the accident? Cause if it doesn’t we can shut the fuck up. Seriously-”

Eddie stared at him, “Dude.”

“I’m sorry, you don’t got to tell us-”

“My dick works you ass!” Eddie said, smacking him in the arm, “Excuse me for not wanting you two fumble a sure thing for once!”

“We did not fumble-” Gareth tried, right as Matt chimed in, “We kinda fumbled.”

“Okay, okay!” Jeff laughed, getting in the middle of it, “That’s enough. Let the guy leave already.”

“It was fun,” Eddie added, shoving his frustration to the side. He gave them both a hug, even if it was painfully tight. A slight revenge, “I’ll call y’all when I’m home.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Jeff said, leading Eddie by the arm.

“Sorry about that,” Jeff said the second they were out of earshot, “But you know how they can get.”

“I sure do,” Eddie sighed, bringing Jeff into a hug, “But it was still great seeing all of you.”

“You too man,” Jeff said, stopping him when Eddie went for the door. He put a hand on his shoulder, oddly serious when he said, “And Eddie? I just want you to know… you can tell me anything. Okay?”

Eddie blinked at him, “... okay?”

“Okay,” Jeff said, letting go. But Eddie could still feel his eyes on him as he crossed the threshold, “Hey, Eddie?”

Eddie turned, brow raised, “Yeah?”

“I think Steve’s a great guy,” Jeff said carefully, looking Eddie right in the eye, “He makes you happy. I like that.”

Eddie stared back at him, his throat suddenly dry. He didn’t like the way he as looking at him, he didn’t like what any of that implied. He swallowed, forcing out an awkward laugh, “I’ll be sure to tell him that.”

Jeff nodded before slipping back inside, leaving Eddie somehow even worse than before.

Just how obvious was he? If Jeff could see right through him, how much longer did he have before Steve could?

from the next chapter of this fic

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 4) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 4

You think about Tenko more now, but you’re allowed to – he’s your patient, and if he was your patient at the clinic, you’d expect to see him for a follow-up on the four gunshot wounds you cleaned and dressed. You’re allowed to think about him, so you think about him. You think about him a lot.

The thoughts take two directions. One is just wondering about him – how he’s feeling, how he spends his days, what he’s thinking about, what he thinks of you, whether he’s thought about you at all. The other is thinking about the situation he’s in. His parents and grandparents and his sister are dead. He’s been missing for fifteen years. He’s got a quirk and he’s a villain, ambitious and strategic enough to target UA High and escape alive, albeit badly injured. His guardian is a cloud of mist in a suit with some kind of split personality. And there’s someone else in his world – two someone elses. The doctor he referenced, who wouldn’t help him, and the one he calls Sensei, who gave him his new name and a hand to wear over his face and set him up to fail.

You think about Tenko a lot, but you can’t think about him all the time, because now that you’re a nurse, you’re twice as busy as you were before. The doctors expect more of you, and so do the other nurses – and so do the MAs and CNAs and high school students who are starting their apprenticeships, since you now have three years’ experience to go with your reputation for smoothing things over with difficult patients. Your friends keep you busy, too. They might call Kazuo to find out if something’s wrong with them, but they call you to find out what to do about it.

“You need to get a scan,” you say to Yoshimi for probably the fifth time. “I know you don’t want to –”

“It’s weird!”

“Not any weirder than whatever Yoji does when the two of you are at second base,” you say, and in the background of the call, someone snickers. If you had to guess, you’d say it’s Mitsuko – she has the guts to bully Yoshimi into making the call, combined with the brass balls to feel comfortable eavesdropping. “It’s called a mammogram. You’d have to start getting them at some point anyway, just like we all do. It’s just to make sure there’s nothing weird going on.”

“Stop it. You’re freaking her out for no reason.” Yoji’s there, too. “It’s probably just an STD.”

You’re stunned into silence for a second by the sheer classlessness of saying that about one’s own girlfriend, but you bounce back fast. “First of all, they’re called STIs, genius. Secondly, there’s not an STI on the planet that gives you nipple discharge. Yoshimi, get the scan. I’ll go with you if you want. Just get it done.”

“Can I do it at your clinic?”

“Uh –” You glance at the Imaging queue. Things look quiet, but you can’t count on that to last – but if you report Yoshimi’s symptoms, which include soreness, nipple discharge, and what she describes as a weird rash, you’re pretty sure the doctor on call will bump her to the head of the line. “Yeah, come in now. I can’t stick around after my shift, though. I have stuff to do tonight.”

“Ooh, stuff. Let me see –” There’s some rustling, which you can only assume is Mitsuko grabbing the phone. “Is stuff tall, dark, handsome, way too serious, and currently working as a sidekick?”

“That would be stuff,” you admit. “It’s not a big deal. We’re just grabbing a drink after our shifts.”

For the first time since you and Kazuo broke up, you have a date, and it’s Kazuo’s fault. Or maybe it’s you and your friends’ fault, because you decided to throw Kazuo a twentieth birthday party and invited a few of his friends from UA. One of those friends is Sugimura Hiroki, who fits perfectly with your type of dark-haired boys who want to be heroes and who’s so painfully shy that it took him six beers and the entire party to talk to you. You were sort of weirded out by that. You’re not very intimidating, and you spent the first half of the conversation trying to figure out if he knew you were quirkless, since you learned the hard way that it’s something you need to disclose up front. But the two of you eventually worked your way around to the point, which was that Sugimura wants to get to know you better, and he tripped over his tongue so badly that you finally just asked him out to end the suspense.

It’s taken you a while to actually schedule the date, but tonight’s the night, and you’re sort of anxious about it. Luckily, work is busy enough to keep you distracted. Your lunch break ends while Mitsuko is still going into increasingly nasty speculations about Sugimura’s physical attributes, and you hang up the phone without saying goodbye.

There’s a message waiting for you on your computer, from the front desk. FOF. Can you take him?

It’s not Tenko. You know Tenko wouldn’t come here again. You send the same message you did when it was him. How F are we talking?

Jumpy, talking to himself, chainsmoking. He’s in costume.

“In costume” could literally mean that the patient’s wearing a costume, but it’s also code for when the front desk thinks the patient’s a villain. You’re used to dealing with villains by now. Send him back.

When the knock on the door comes, you’re ready and waiting, and the CNA ushers in a tall man in a black-and-grey bodysuit – so “in costume” was literal this time around – and a paper bag over his head. You’re momentarily transfixed by the paper bag, and more so when you realize that he’s bringing a lighted cigarette to his mouth while wearing something highly flammable on his face. The CNA shuts the door and bolts. You face your patient and introduce yourself. “Have a seat if you feel comfortable doing so. What brings you in today?”

“I’m not – whole.”

That’s concerning. “Are you injured?” Your concern grows when he gestures at his face. “It would really help if I could see the injury. Can you take the bag off?”

He shakes his head. Instead he reaches into his pocket and produces a torn full-face mask. You look at him, then at him, putting the pieces together. “How do you feel right now?”

He doesn’t answer – maybe can’t answer – so you default to the face chart you use when little kids aren’t able to express how they feel in words. Your patient points to scared, stressed, anxious, angry. Then he throws in happy, possibly to mess with you, or to distract you from the fact that the first four emotions indicate that he’s ready to snap at any second. “How about this?” you ask, after thinking it over. “I can ask the doctor to give you something that will help you calm down –”

“Please!” The patient bursts out. Drug-seeking? “No, I don’t need it, sister! I’m so calm it’s hard to believe.”

“Okay, then we’ll just have it here in case you decide you want it. As an option,” you say, keeping your voice smooth and calm. “Either way, this is a quiet place to wait. You’re safe in here with me. And if you want, I can sew up your mask for you. Would that help?”

“You can do that?”

“Easily,” you say. “Can I see it for a second? I need to make sure I grab the right thread.”

The patient hands the mask over, which is a good sign. You’ve established at least a little bit of trust. You examine the mask and decide that you’ll need the thinnest-gauge needle and thread you have. “I can definitely fix this,” you tell the patient. “It might look a little rough, but it’ll cover you up like it did before. And it should last until you get where you’re going.”

The patient nods. You stand up. “I’m going to get some supplies, and a little anxiety medication if you decide you want it. I’ll be right back, okay? Just wait here.”

The patient nods again. Given how labile his mood is, you need to be fast about this, and get back before he gets upset or decides to leave. You step out the door and shut it behind you, heading for the supply closet, but you’re waylaid on the way there by one of the doctors. “We need you up front. Now.”

“I can’t. I have a patient, and he’s –”

“I don’t care. We’ve got a hero coming to visit, and we need somebody to keep things calm,” the doctor says. Shit. “Figure out what they want, get them as little of it as you can get away with, and get them out of here.”

“Which hero?”

The doctor shakes his head. Great. “Just hurry.”

You can’t go just yet. “My patient’s got a lot of anxiety and he’s in costume. I need him to stay calm. Can you –”

“2mg diazepam. I’ll put it in the chart.” The doctor unlocks one of the medicine cabinets, extracts a prefilled dosage cup, and hands it to you. “Go.”

Diazepam is long-acting. Hopefully long-acting enough to keep your patient quiet while you get rid of the hero. You skitter back down the hall with the dosage cup and hand it over to the patient, along with a tiny bottle of water to wash it down. “I’ll be right back. Just finding the right thread.”

The patient downs the pill dry, which is both good and bad for you. You shut the door again and head for the lobby. You don’t make it there. A cloud of black mist boils up around you, swallowing you whole.

By the time your feet hit the familiar wooden floor of the bar, you’re already out of patience. “No. Send me back right now.”

“Shigaraki Tomura has need of you. You will assist him.”

“Not right now I won’t. You snatched me from work,” you say. You’re facing the wall and the All Might poster again, and you don’t want to turn around. If you see Tenko, it’ll make it harder to say no. “If I go missing, people will notice. Is he dying?”

“No,” Kurogiri says.

“Is he in imminent danger of dying?”

“No.”

“Then send me back,” you say. If Tenko’s asked Kurogiri to get you, it means he needs medical assistance – or follow-up. You’ve needed to follow up anyway. “I can come back later.”

“No, I need you right now!”

“How much later?” Kurogiri asks, ignoring Tenko’s protest.

You think it over. You can dispense with the hero situation quickly, stitch your patient’s mask, and sneak out of work early. They’ll have to give you the emergency time off. You’ve never asked before in three years of working there. “Ninety minutes.”

“That’s too long. Kurogiri, don’t let her leave!”

“Ninety minutes. I’ll be in the alley behind the clinic.” You ignore Tenko, too, in favor of focusing on Kurogiri. He’s the one who decides if you leave or not. “All right?”

The mist wells up around you again, which counts as a yes. You land on your feet in the hallway, reorient yourself, and head for the lobby again. Tenko wants you again – needs you, your stupid brain corrects – but he’s going to have to wait for you to sort this out.

The hero in the lobby is Uwabami, the Snake Hero, and she’s got two sidekicks with her. No, students. You recognize one of them from your limited viewing of the UA Sports Festival and feel a spike of guilt run through you. She’s from Class 1-A. The same class Tenko tried to kill.

You don’t need to think about that, and you don’t need to feel guilty, because you didn’t do anything to her. You force yourself to focus. Uwabami wouldn’t have brought high school students here if she was doing any kind of investigating, which means your patient and any others who might be nervous around law enforcement are probably safe. The question of why she’s here still remains. You step forward. “Welcome to Yokohama Free Clinic South. What can we help you with today?”

“We’re on patrol,” Uwabami says. “My interns gave some feedback that our patrol involved a little too much publicity –”

The students look unrepentant. Good for them. “So we’re engaging in some down-to-earth patrolling,” Uwabami continues. “Tell us about how heroes support your clinic.”

Heroes don’t support your clinic. Most heroes strongly dislike the free clinic network, and the feeling is mutual, for a bunch of reasons you’re more than willing to articulate. Then you think better of it. Picking a fight with a hero in front of hero students is a bad move if you want to get out of here any time soon, and if you’re going to keep helping Tenko, you need to stay completely off the heroic radar. You focus on the students instead. “You’re on internships, right? They’re supposed to show you what life will be like as a hero.”

“Yes,” the girl who’s not from 1-A says. “They’re supposed to.”

“We have a program like that here, too,” you say. You gesture for them to come forward, and they desert their supervising hero at high speed. “A lot of our nurses and techs started working here in high school. Let me introduce you.”

You’re on much more solid ground talking about this. This clinic and this program saved your ass – without their sponsorship, you’d never have been able to get around your quirklessness as a barrier to nursing school, and you started getting on-the-job clinical training while most other nursing students were stuck in the classroom. You catch yourself evangelizing a little bit, but you don’t think it’s the worst thing in the world to do. You’re proud of the work you do as part of the clinic. It’s nice to get to talk about it.

You clear the hero students out in half an hour, hoping you’ve impressed them even a little bit, then hurry back to your patient. The diazepam’s kicked in nicely, and he chatters away to you while you stitch the tear in his mask. You learn that his name is Jin, or Bubaigawara, or Twice, which you’d guess are his first name, his family name, and his villain name, in that order. He doesn’t say how his mask got torn and you don’t ask, but you send him on his way in a better mood than before. “Thanks, sister,” he says on his way out the door. “You could be worse. You’re a saint!”

Different tone, different pitch, completely different meaning between the first sentence and the second. It reminds you of Kurogiri. You know enough villains now that you can compare them to one another. You shake your head, bemused, then head back inside. Time to guilt-trip your boss into letting you leave two hours early.

Your guilt-trip is successful, mostly because of how you handled the hero situation, but as you’re trying to sneak out, Yoshimi arrives for her scan. After you cajoled her into the office, you can’t abandon her to some random tech. You do abandon Mitsuko in the waiting room, though – she says the words “nipple discharge” as loudly as possible, then starts picking on the scant amount of makeup you did for your date. You don’t feel bad at all for leaving her behind.

Yoshimi’s scan goes quickly, and just like you feared, it nets her a follow-up appointment at the main branch of the free clinic tomorrow. Tomorrow’s your day off. You promise her you’ll go with her – you, and not Mitsuko or Yoji – then talk the doctor into sending her home with a dose of a different anti-anxiety medication than the one you got for Twice. Then you check your phone for the time. Almost ninety minutes exactly. You race out to the alley.

The mist engulfs you almost the instant you set foot in the alley, and you’re in the bar a moment later, facing Kurogiri. Tenko’s nowhere to be found, and before you can ask the question, Kurogiri turns and sets off through a doorway, deeper into the recesses of the building. You follow him, wondering if this counts as being taken to a secondary location. Or maybe the bar counts as the secondary location, even though you’ve been here before. Either way, you’ve listened to way too many of Mitsuru’s true-crime podcasts.

Kurogiri leads you into an absolutely filthy room. The floor is covered – empty wrappers, empty cans, old newspapers and magazines, plastic cases for game disks and chips. You have a bad feeling about who lives here, and when Kurogiri clears his throat and speaks up, you’re proven right. “Shigaraki Tomura. I have brought the girl.”

The only semi-organized spot in the room is a desk with two monitors on it, a keyboard in front of it, and Tenko slumped down with his head pillowed on one arm. He looks up, and for a split second, you can see that he’s happy even behind the hand. Then his face turns bright red and his expression twists into a snarl. “I told you not to bring her in here! Get out!”

You don’t need to be told twice. You duck out the door and retreat about twenty feet down the hallway, listening as Kurogiri tries to placate Tenko. “You asked for her to be brought to you immediately, not for me to summon you when she arrived. I followed your orders to the letter.”

“I didn’t want –” Tenko breaks off, swears. Then he mumbles something, and Kurogiri chuckles. “Don’t laugh at me!”

You check your phone. You aren’t supposed to meet Sugimura until eight, but you’ve got no idea how long this particular encounter is going to run. You might need to tell him you’re running late. You’ve just sent the text and tucked your phone away when Kurogiri reappears. “We will return to the bar,” he says. “Shigaraki Tomura awaits you there.”

So Kurogiri warped him to the bar. You wonder what that was all about. Was Tenko embarrassed that you saw how filthy his room was, or just embarrassed that you saw his room at all? Or did he change his mind about wanting you here? The last thought upsets you. You follow Kurogiri back into the bar and find Tenko sitting at the counter. It’s an improvement from the last time you saw him, when he was sprawled out and bleeding from four gunshot wounds, but this time he’s got his arms crossed, clearly pissed about something. His face is still red behind the hand. There’s a bloodstained bandage taped to his right shoulder.

A pile of supplies appears on the bar as you come closer. “What happened this time?”

“It wouldn’t stop bleeding.” Tenko uncrosses his left arm to gesture at the wound. “This is the fourth one I’ve used.”

If he’s gone through four bandages, it must be pretty deep. “How long ago did it happen?”

“Two hours,” Kurogiri says. “Shigaraki Tomura sent me to retrieve you immediately.”

“Can you fix it or not?” Tenko snaps.

“I need to see it first,” you say. You come a few steps closer, sit down facing Tenko on the barstool next to his, and reach for the bandage. He doesn’t stop you from unwrapping it, and you detour to glove up before you start peeling the fabric of his shirt back from the wound. It’s oozing blood rapidly. It’s jagged at the edges, and deep – if you suctioned the blood away, you’d be looking at exposed muscle, and you’re so horrified by the fact that Tenko’s been badly hurt again that you ask a question you shouldn’t. “How did this happen?”

“Hero Killer,” Tenko says, and your stomach lurches. “I thought he might be useful, but he’s just like the rest of them. Obsessed with the precious Symbol of Peace.”

You don’t know very much about the Hero Killer, except that he kills or cripples heroes and he’s not in Yokohama any longer. Tenko’s still ranting. “Why can’t anybody shut up about All Might? Don’t they know –”

“That he’s not gonna fuck them?” you interrupt, and Tenko nearly chokes. “I guess they can dream.”

Tenko’s expression is contorting behind the hand. You’re pretty sure it’s not the result of your explorations of the wound, because you’re not touching it. You watch, concerned, as his shoulders shake and his mouth twitches, until awkward, rusty laughter finally issues from his mouth.

You always try to make people laugh. You’ve been in the habit since you were little. It’s an effective strategy for defusing tension, whether the joke is funny or not, and your jokes are usually at least kind of funny. But you always liked making Tenko laugh when you were kids. You were always just a little prouder of that than you were with other people. Tenko made people smile all the time. He deserved for somebody to make him laugh, too.

Tenko’s laughter is brief and uneven, because he’s trying to get it under control. “Stop it,” he finally snaps at you. His mouth is still twitching. “It’s serious.”

“Right,” you agree. But you can’t resist another joke. “It would be a novel strategy. If you can’t beat the Symbol of Peace, make him unfuckable instead.”

“I can beat him,” Tenko says, but his voice is strained to the point of snapping, and his shoulders are shaking again. “Can you fix my arm or not?”

“I can fix it,” you say, “but I’ll need a suture kit. And I’ll either need to cut your sleeve or you’ll need to take your shirt off.”

“I’m not taking my shirt off.” Tenko’s face is red again. “It’s ruined anyway. Just cut it.”

You cut his sleeve open from the neckline and peel it back, then go looking through the medical supplies. Kurogiri took your advice about additions to their supplies, and nothing turned up missing at work, which means they honored your request to steal from someone else. You’ve got local anesthetic this time, which is good, because you need it. You start numbing the edges of the wound, asking every so often if Tenko can feel what you’re doing. When he stops saying yes, you open the suture kit.

It’s a bit weird, but putting stitches in is one of your favorite parts of the job. You can get in the zone with it, even when the patient wants to talk. Tenko wants to talk. “People talk about the League of Villains out there. Don’t they?” he asks. You nod. “What do they say?”

“Um –” You’re not sure this is an answer Tenko wants to hear. “They’re wondering why the attack on UA happened.”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Like, if there was a message behind it,” you elaborate. You need to be careful, with the stitches and with this line of thought. “More than just killing All Might, because lots of villains want to do that. If there was a message, it didn’t get out. The police and UA haven’t shared much information – not even how the breach happened in the first place.”

Tenko scoffs. “They don’t have a clue. They won’t see it coming the next time we hit them, either.”

He’s planning something else. Your blood runs cold, and for a moment you’re torn about whether or not to ask. Tenko makes the decision for you. “What else do they say about the League?”

“Not very much, otherwise,” you say, and Tenko swears. “There are a lot of villains, just like there are a lot of heroes. People talk about the ones they see the most of.”

“Which heroes do you talk about?”

“I don’t really talk about heroes.” You tie off a stitch, trim the thread to the appropriate length, and take another. “One of my friends has this nasty crush on Endeavor, so we talk about him sometimes, but otherwise – no.”

“Your friend has a crush on Endeavor,” Tenko repeats.

“Like I said. Nasty.”

You’re conscious of Tenko staring at you, and you will your face not to heat up under his gaze. You don’t even know why he’s staring, and you’ve got stitches to do, so it doesn’t matter. Your phone buzzes in your pocket – probably Sugimura, probably confirming your date. A date you’re not sure you want to go on anymore. Did you ever really want to go on it? Or did you just say yes because –

“You look weird.”

You look up from the stitches, startled. “Huh?”

“You look weird,” Tenko repeats. “Your clothes are different and you’ve got stuff on your face.”

Tenko and Mitsuko feel the same about your makeup skills, apparently. “Sorry.”

“Why do you look like that?” Tenko presses. You tie off his next stitch. “Are you going on a date or something?”

You answer without thinking about whether it’s the smart thing to do. “Yes.”

It’s quiet for a long stretch of seconds. “Go on your date, then,” Tenko says. His voice is flat. “I don’t need you.”

It stings. You don’t want it to, but it does, and you look down at the cut on his shoulder so he won’t see it on your face. “You still need a few more stitches. At least let me finish them.”

“No. Get out.” Tenko jerks out of your grip. You barely have enough time to cut the hanging thread on your last stitch. “I don’t want you here. Kurogiri –”

“Shigaraki Tomura, I’m not sure that’s wise.”

“I didn’t ask you!” Tenko swats at you open-handed and you leap backwards. “Get out! I don’t –”

You don’t hear the end of that sentence. Kurogiri warps you away too fast, and possibly saves your life. He drops you back in the alley behind the clinic, holding half a suture kit and still wearing bloodstained gloves. You peel them off and dump them into the garbage, furious with yourself. You shouldn’t have said that. You shouldn’t have talked about your life at all, and above all else, you should have remembered that you were talking to a villain, not your best friend – that whatever’s left of your best friend isn’t enough. He’s angry with you, and he’s been having you followed. Just how angry is he? Angry enough to hurt you? Or angry enough to never talk to you again?

You’re sickened and more than a little scared to realize that you’re more frightened of the latter possibility than the former. It’s entirely possible that you’ve never been in less of a mood to go on a date.

But you do go on the date, because you said you would, and it’s – fine. There’s nothing to complain about, but there’s nothing to be excited about, either. You and Sugimura hug to say goodbye, and you promise to text each other about setting up another one, and then you walk home. Mitsuko texts you, wanting details, or DETAILS, but you’ve got nothing to share. It was just a date, and no matter how many times you try to tell yourself otherwise, you’re angry about it.

Not because of Sugimura asking you out, not because you agreed, not because you went. Because you told Tenko and gave him a reason to get rid of you. Why does this keep happening? Why do you keep finding him and losing him, over and over again? What is it going to take for you to hold on?

“So how was the date?”

The voice emanates from the alleyway on your right and you nearly jump out of your skin. Tenko’s there, hand down from over his face, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He hasn’t changed his shirt. “I didn’t think heroes were your type.”

“They aren’t.”

“Then why were you on a date with one?”

“He asked.”

“And you just go with whoever asks?” Tenko looks half-incredulous, half-disgusted. You shake your head. “Forget it. Come with me.”

You shake your head again and take a step back – away from the alley, closer to the street. Tenko looks frustrated. “Come with me,” he repeats.

“What, so you can kill me?” You take another step back, well into the glow of a streetlight. You see shock flicker across Tenko’s face. “I don’t have a death wish.”

“Well, I don’t want to kill you,” Tenko fires back. He looks surprised at himself for saying it, but only for a moment – then he repeats himself, with more conviction. “I don’t want to kill you. You’re supposed to be my sidekick.”

Your jaw drops. “You remember?”

“I don’t remember everything.” Tenko takes the hand called Father out of the back pocket of his pants and studies it for a moment. Then he puts it away. “I remember that.”

Some kids played a different game every day. You and Tenko always played the same one, with a rotating cast of classmates at your side. All the heroes in the world were working together to fight one big villain, the worst villain the world had ever seen, and Tenko could never decide which hero he liked best, so he played a different one every day. But no matter which hero he played, no matter who else was playing with the two of you, you were always his sidekick. You reminded him every day that you didn’t have a quirk, and he always said the same thing in response, no matter which hero he was pretending to be that day, even though he didn’t have a quirk, either: You don’t need a quirk to be on my side. My quirk’s enough for both of us.

“Come on,” Tenko says again. He holds out his hand, three fingers and his thumb folded down, his pinky finger extended towards you. “Are you coming or what?”

You’ve never seen the world in black and white, but some things are unmistakable: There’s a line here, not visible to others but clear as day to you. On one side of it is Tenko and the darkness that’s swallowed him, the evil that surrounds him, the terrible things he’s done and is planning to do. On the other side is everything else – your dreams, your friends, your family that’s always loved you but used you anyway, a world that’s punished you time and time again for being born without a quirk, the knowledge that the world is so much crueler to so many others. You don’t think Tenko’s planning to kidnap you, to never let you leave. You’ll come back here, physically. You’ll go home and go to sleep and wake up early on your day off to take Yoshimi to her appointment at the main clinic, but you know instinctively that if you cross this line within yourself, there’s no coming back. Tenko was your best friend when you were five years old. Is he worth it?

You hate yourself for asking the question. You leave the light behind and link your finger with Tenko’s. “Where are we going?”

The black mist rises and wells up around you both. “You’ll see,” Tenko says, and for the first time since you found him again, he smiles.