#also let's be honest he was kind of sidelined by the game as well

[residueradiation]

just a question... any reason why Wyll isn't included in the poll?

Don't see much love for Wyll tbh, I didn't think too much about it. My bad, I guess 🤷‍♀️

I included him on the next one

[vxsellie]

KINDLY, DARLIN' - 𝐸.𝑊

summary. after seemingly endless days on the road, you find yourself at a random country bar in the middle of nowhere. entering with the sole goal of getting your hands on come kind of alcohol, your attention is soon drawn elsewhere. to a girl and her guitar. notes. ok funny story! this idea came to me from a 5 sec interaction i had with a complete stranger. i went out to a bar, gave ten bucks to the singer, & he said the line that the title is based off of , which the prompted my brain to conjure up an entire love story (he's prob double my age lets be so fr) Also! idk if any of u will like this comparison (if not, just ignore this). but, as i wrote this, i imagined ellie's voice like lucy gray's from the hunger game's. like the slight country drawl, strong vocals, yes yes yes yes Also x2! anyone who follows me should know that im absolute SHITTT at writing smut. but, for some reason, that doesn't seem to stop me from creating works of garbage for my own amusement. anyway, if you reach the smut & realize that it's literal trash, i won't blame u for clicking off of this. just a warning! warnings. brief mention of creepy old men at the bar, depictions of alcohol, public flirting ???, eventual smut, drunk sex in a bathroom LMAO, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r!receiving) wc. 5.1k

𝓕uck your back hurts. Well, if you're being honest, everything hurts. Your neck, back, stomach, legs, hands. Everything that's capable of aching, does.

However, rather unfortunately, you suppose that's to be expected after driving for nigh two days straight in your shitty truck. It's a 90s pickup, the white paint peeling and the tires in desperate need of care. The beige seats are worn and stained, evidence of age having taken its toll on your poor vehicle.

In spite of your truck's needs, you're far more interested in your own ⎯ getting a damn drink.

You're currently coasting through the backroads of some small western town, streets made of dirt and buildings all decrepit. You've never heard of this place before, the name having already slipped your mind due to how utterly foreign it'd been to your mind.

Your headlights cast a yellow glow onto the dirt before you, your tires crunching against fallen leaves and loose rocks. You pass gas stations, wooden homes, dollar stores, an immeasurable amount of churches, and no liquor store. Most shop signs are staked into the dirt, the few billboards all dilapidated in some way ⎯ broken letters, flickering lights, or completely torn from the ground somehow.

Then, by either the grace of God or a wondrous turn of fate, your eyes stutter on a certain sign. A broken wooden one advertising a bar. Your interest is instantly piqued, wheel turning toward the building without hesitation.

You don't give yourself the chance to even think before you're hopping out of your truck and walking into the bar.

The moment you push open the wooden double doors, the sound of boisterous laughter and heavy cowboy boots meet your ears. Perfect.

You stand in place for a moment, craning your neck with narrowed eyes are you examine the atmosphere. To the left, there's a bar with almost every stool occupied by an overweight old man. To the right, there's a pair of barn doors with the word 'restrooms' carved into the wood. In the center of the space, there's bucking machine ⎯ a drunk teenage boy holding on for dear life while his group of friends cackle at him from the sidelines.

Then, on the side of the building opposite you, there's a small stage. It's only elevated a foot or so, wood rotting a bit on the edges. But you hardly care for the conditions of the stage itself. What you find yourself drawn to is the person on it.

In the center is a stool, an auburn haired woman perched atop it with an old guitar situated on her lap. She strums the instrument in an upbeat tempo, leaned forward slightly as she sings into the microphone before her. There's a small crowd in front of the stage, girls admiring and boys whistling.

Considering how run-down this town is, you hadn't expected to stumble across a bar that's so fucking packed. There's barely any open stools at the bar, the bathroom doors are rarely sitting still as people continue to pass through them, the mechanical bull being gifted coins non-stop. But you can't complain.

After so long alone on the road, it's nice to be in such an active atmosphere. It's not calming, of course, but you welcome it lovingly nonetheless.

Watching the auburn for a few moments longer, you then turn on your heel and saunter over to the bar. You're forced to sit beside someone as the lack of stools forbids you from not having a neighbor.

"What can I get'cha, hon'?" The bartender asks you with a tip of his cowboy hat. In his other hand, he wipes the outside of an octagonal glass cup.

"Got any whiskey?" You inquire, leaning your elbows on the sticky countertop.

"Mhm," He hums, turning around to grab a bottle from the shelves behind the bar. He sets the glass onto the counter with a light clink, popping the bottle open. "'N' how would ya like it?"

"Neat."

He nods once more, pouring the liquid into the glass with a flourish before sliding it across the wood toward you. The moment you grab it, he's turning away to tend to another patron. You drink it quickly, downing the glass in one large swig.

As you place the glass back onto the counter, you feel eyes boring into you. Hoping it's someone of interest to you, you turn only to find a duo of old men chuckling at you. Their cheeks are rosy, bellies full ⎯ therefore likely drunk. You roll your eyes as the bartender refills your glass without a word.

Now with an entirely new bit of determination, you down that glass even faster. Another refill. Another singular gulp. Another refill. Another gulp. Another. Another. Another.

You're now swaying a bit atop your stool, feeling pretty good all things considered. The men continue to gossip among themselves, pointing at your ass. You feel disgusted ⎯ not at yourself, but at them for their fucking audacity. Part of you wants to knock their teeth out. But you're not that drunk.

So, instead, you take the mature approach and simply pick up your glass and exit the scene. As you walk away, you hear their chuckles increase and you suddenly regret not punching them.

Your heavy boots thud against the wooden flooring as you walk aimlessly around the bar. You push through an amass of bodies, everyone too drunk to care for your harsh shoving. Then, before you know it, you find yourself situated in the very front of the stage, glass of whiskey in hand.

The woman's voice is laced with a slight country drawl, her boot tapping against the leg of her stool to count the beats of the song. She nods her head as she sings, a small grin lighting her features.

The dim lighting of the bar doesn't do her justice. But you still manage to notice the freckles that dot her face, the cupids bow to her upper lip, the small scar on her right eyebrow. Or maybe you're just drunk and enamored by her. God, what if she finds you creepy? What if she thinks you're some fucking creep? What if she⎯

She looks at you and you swear your heart gives out right then and there. And, if that weren't enough, she winks. You feel your cheeks heat up and you blame it on the alcohol. You down the rest of your whiskey, suddenly feeling very hot. A light chuckle shakes her chest, ringing throughout the space. Nobody else thinks anything of it, of course, all too drunk and preoccupied to give a shit. But you find yourself fantasizing about all the other ways you could make this woman laugh like that again. Oh fuck you are a creep.

In a desperate attempt to salvage the residual bits of dignity you have left, you pull twenty bucks from your back pocket and step forward to drop it into her open guitar case.

She raises a brow, tipping her cowgirl hat in your direction with a smirk. "Thank ya kindly, darlin'."

Somehow, she'd managed to thank you in tune with the song, keeping the beat going without missing a second. It's almost impressive. Okay, it's super impressive. In fact, you feel your heart speeding up again, mind playing on loop the sound of her addressing you. Her country drawl, her smirk, her long fingers grabbing the bridge of her hat. Fuck.

Impulsively, you end up turning on your heel and heading right back to that damn bar. The bartender just grins as he pours you another serving, likely having noticed the flush to your cheeks and the desperation of which you placed the glass down.

"Mind if I give y' some advice?" He asks, leaning forward a bit.

In an act of self pity, you don't have the energy to deny him. "Why the hell not?"

"I ain't gotta clue who you're blushin' over, but my advice is that." He nods toward something behind you. You cast a glance over your shoulder, eyes landing on the bucking machine. You almost laugh, turning back to him with an unimpressed expression. "Listen, y' ain't gotta be good. Y' jus' gotta move your hips right n' I swear he's all yours. Trust me. I've seen it work hundreds of times."

You don't dare to correct him on the gender of your current infatuation, instead deciding to take a few more drinks for a bit of liquid courage. I mean, seriously. How else will you get this woman's attention? Plus, what do you have to lose? You'll never see her again after tonight. The least you could do is try.

After another few drinks, you're staggering over to the mechanical bull with a few coins clutched tight in the palm of your hand. The wait for the stupid thing is way longer than necessary, everyone competing for the longest time lasted on the machine.

You lean your empty hand on the frame of the wooden fence that encircles the rider, watching with reddened eyes as yet another person is flung onto the ground with a heavy thud. He rubs his head with a groan, though his sounds of pain quickly fade into laughter as he brushes off his jeans and stands upright, returning to his boisterous friends with a crooked grin.

Unease begins to lick up your spine, the logical part of your brain wondering why the fuck you're doing this for some country chick you don't even know the name of. You're strong, sure, but your luck would lead you to breaking your neck.

You look over your shoulder casting a glance in the direction of the bar. The bartender gives you two thumbs up, flashing you a grin with missing teeth. As encouraging as that is, what really pushes you to continue is seeing those two old men. They're sitting side-by-side, lustrous smirks on their face as they stare at you, leaning over every few seconds to mutter something in the other's ear. Yeah. Fuck them. You're doing this.

As you make it to the front of the line, you're overcome with naught but confidence. Whether that be due to the sound of the woman's singing growing nearer or the sight of the gross old men, you don't know. Though, honestly, it's likely because of the sheer amount of whiskey you've downed in the past hour.

"Coins." The blonde woman demands, palm of her hand facing you like a bill you've been avoiding. You place the coins into her hand and she opens the gate, hinges squealing as the prior rider stumbles out with a streak of dirt under her eye.

You walk into the ring, feet staggering a bit already from your drunkenness. You hoist yourself onto the bull, situating yourself until you feel a bit less awkward atop the back of the metal animal.

It begins rocking slowly back and forth. You find it easy at first, not really needing to use your hands. You still do, though, not much trusting the machine to not throw you off the moment you let your guard down. It picks up the speed, more. More. More. More. And, before you know it, it's thrashing back and forth. You hold onto the saddle, a dazed smile spreading across your face as you find yourself having fun.

It spins in a circle, your eyes suddenly catching on the woman on stage. She has the perfect view of you from her pedestal, her stool bringing her higher than the crowd just as the bull brings you.

She's still singing into the mic, her voice drowned out by the sound of chatter and cheers ⎯ though you're not sure if they're directed toward you or her at this point.

You've stayed on longer than you anticipated, the ache in your back returning as the bull yanks and dives under you. But you hold on, suddenly remembering the bartender's advice. You don't want to switch up whatever tactic you accidentally built into habit, but the point of this is to get the woman's attention.

So you wait until it spins back around. Then, while her eyes are pinned to yours, you shift a bit, back moving more fluidly as you roll your hips against it. Nobody else would think anything of it, the act so subtle that you simply appear to have altered your position. But she noticed. You know she did. Because her voice caught in her throat, causing her to have to take a sip from her water and apologize into the mic before resuming.

Your confidence spikes at this, suddenly feeling much more egoistical than you did when she was a complete stranger you made eye contact with once. Now you know you have an effect on her.

So you do it again, maintaining eye contact as you roll your hips against the bull suggestively.

Just as before, nobody else pays any mind, far too focused on the fact that you're stayed on for so long to give a fuck about technique. Honestly, if anyone were to notice, it'd be those creepy old men. And, hopefully, they're aware that it's pointed at this woman and now them. Though you doubt they'd care. Creeps like them rarely do.

The singer, with her eyes now pinned to you ⎯ though, everyone's now are ⎯ switches her tone a bit. Her song alters from an upbeat bar tempo with little meaning to having more directed lyrics to a girl with mesmerizing eyes. Again, nobody else picks up on this. She sings about a random girl with stunning eyes, never digressing past that.

But you know; and she knows. And that's all that matters.

She sings a certain line, something more lustful about the way you look at her. Something suggestive about the way she's imagining you. You instantly falter, your grip slipping.

You fall to the ground with a thud, the entire bar making a sound of disappointment and empathy. You don't care, though, not giving a single damn about the bull riding. All you care for is that fucking singer.

You hit the ground, breath knocked from your lungs. You cough, pushing yourself onto your hands and knees. Your head spins, the alcohol finally catching up to you. Another cough is yanked from your heaving chest as you groan.

The blonde coin-collecting woman allows the next person into the ring, not waiting for you to give your say. As the next man enters, he offers you his hand. You, desperate for assistance, take it with a grateful smile. He hauls you to your feet, muttering quick compliments on your performance on the bull. You thank him before brushing past him and exiting the ring with staggering steps.

A few people from the crowd compliment you, offering words of encouragement for the 'next time you go up'. You give them half-hearted smiles, chest still aching slightly from your fall.

You shove through the crowd, nearing the restrooms you'd seen at the entrance. You push the doors open and head into the women's side.

You brace your hands on the edge of the sink, glancing in the mirror for a brief moment ⎯ examining the small cut on your cheekbone and the bruises that are beginning to form on your shoulder and hip. You then lean down, positioning your mouth under the faucet before turning on the water. You drink it, relishing in the taste of cool liquid rather than burning alcohol.

"Mm, look who it is."

You smack your head on the faucet with how quickly you straighten. You groan, rubbing your temple as you turn to face the person standing behind you. The singer. Well fuck, that makes the head smack twenty times more embarrassing.

Somehow, she's even more alluring up close. Her pale green eyes bore into you, lashes lidding them slightly. Her skin is lightly tanned, freckles likely produced from a life spent under the sun. Her forearm has a tattoo covering the rippled skin there, lean muscles adorning the rest of said arm.

You play off your staring by narrowing your eyes at her, "Followin' me, are ya?"

"Nah." She shakes her head, stepping forward to wash her hands in the sink beside yours. She tips her head down, looking at her hands as she scrubs, hat coming to block her face from your view. Unfortunate. "Jus' comin' t' wash the filth off my hands. I wouldn't worry, though, darlin', I'm sure that Smilton boy'll check up on ya."

Your brows furrow at this. "Smillin boy?"

"Smilton." She corrects you rather harshly, looking up to meet your eyes through the reflection of the mirror. "Farmer's boy. Rich. Brunette. Helped y' up after the bull."

Realization hits you like a brick. She's jealous. This woman that you've never met, this woman that you stressed over impressing, this woman that you bruised yourself to get the attention of. She's jealous because some farmer's boy helped you stand up. A smirk tugs at your lips, an idea lighting your mind.

"Hmm," You hum lowly, brushing past her to dry your hands on one of the scratchy white towelettes. "He is quite handsome, ain't he?"

"Suppose." She replies shortly.

Your smirk only deepens, drying your hands achingly slow. Because you know she's aware that she has no right to be jealous. And that only serves to make her more pissed off. How interesting.

"What's his first name, if y' don't mind me askin'?" You speak casually, talking with her as though everything that passed between you two prior to this hadn't happened at all. It's driving her insane and you can tell.

"I dunno." She says, turning the faucet off to dry her hands beside you. "Somethin' with a J?"

"Oh, c'mon," you coo, turning to her with those eyes you know she adores. "I know y' know more than jus' his last name."

She looks away, clearing her throat with a set jaw, "you're right. Know his first initial too. It's a J."

You chuckle lightly, releasing the towelette to trace your fingertips along the soft skin of her bicep. "Yeah? And what's your first initial?"

Her entire body seems to tense, breath hitching in reaction to your touch. She looks at you from under the bridge of her hat, green eyes glinting with something informal. Something unfit for a casual conversation between two strangers in the women's rest room. You feel your heart stutter at the sight, having to make an effort not to fall to your knees before her in this very moment.

"E," is all she whispers.

"Last name?" You whisper back, matching her for quietude.

"Williams." She manages.

You hum, eyes following the movements of your hand. Had you not been so drunk, you'd likely never have the balls to be so flirty to her. But, as it turns out, your intoxication is good for something. Well, something aside from staying on some metal bull.

"How pretty," you whisper, leaning forward so your mouth is now right beside her ear. Your breath fans across her skin as you continue. "Now tell me your full name, will ya?"

Her eyes are pinned to your face, pupils tracing your features as your hand traces her arm. She finds herself mesmerized by you, entranced by your every detail ⎯ the slope of your nose, the curve of your cheek, the arc of your brow, the height of your cheekbones, the line of your jaw. She imagines running her tongue along each of these points, imagines committing your to memory using naught but her mouth.

"Ellie." She replies finally, watching closely as your eyes raise to meet hers. Her heart stutters in her chest at that, as it always does when you make eye contact.

Your gaze flicks between her eyes and lips, hand slowly inching up her arm. "Ellie?"

The sound of her name rolling off your tongue is enough to send a spark of heat to her core. That paired with the way your fingers are lightly tracing up, up, up. You move your hand over her shoulder, along her collarbone, up the side of her neck, and finally rests to cup her cheek in your palm. She leans into the touch, eyes fluttering.

"You're such a fuckin' tease," she mutters, voice low as it's weighed down by desire and a deep need to feel your skin on hers.

You ignore her words and move to lean in close enough that your noses brush. Then, with your breath fanning across her skin, you ask, "this okay?"

She doesn't say anything, instead abandoning the towelette completely and grabbing your face in both her hands. With a sudden sense of ferocity, she presses her lips to yours, pulling your body flush against hers.

"I'll take that as a yes," you chuckle between kisses.

"Quiet," she murmurs, too needy for your touch to have time for conversation. As much as she loves hearing you talk, shed much rather talk via action rather than actual words.

You giggle against her lips, your arms coming up to wrap around her neck. She hums, hat falling to the tiled floor with a light brush. With each passing second, her actions become more and more desirous, suddenly pushing your back against the nearest wall. You let out a huff of air from the impact, your lips quirking up to form a small smile, regaled by Ellie's sudden desperation for you.

She tilts her head, peppering kisses down your chin and along your jaw. They're harsh and hungry, nipping your skin in some places purely to see your brow furrow at the feel of her teeth.

As she trails down to your neck, you tip your head back against the wall and open your eyes to blink up at the wooden ceiling. Your hands fist Ellie's hair as she leaves bruises down the column of your throat.

Still well and drunk, the room swirls around you. The lights seem to shift with each blink, making this all so much more intoxicating. Your nerves are already on edge due to the alcohol, so the feel of Ellie kissing them is absolutely maddening.

You feel as she presses kisses along your collarbone, tongue grazing the taut skin there. You shift, legs pressing together as she grows more sensual in her act of quick intimacy. This movement doesn't go unnoticed by her, however, her lips quirking into a small smile against your skin as she feels rather proud of how quick she's turned you to putty under her.

She moves across the bare skin of your chest, plump lips taking time to memorize each detail that adorns you. You move again, the heat between your legs growing harder to ignore.

"Patience, darlin'." She instructs. "I'll get there when I get there."

You frown at this, "well get there faster."

Her kisses suddenly cease, looking up at you through her lashes. She tilts her head at you innocently, blinking as she waits for you to correct yourself. To reword your restive demand. "Don't be rude, now."

You can feel your dignity push at the back of your throat, pride yearning for a moment to speak. Seeing as you're normally the one making orders, this feels quite stranger. But, after the long journey you've taken, you suppose you've earned a bit of time to sit back and let someone else take the lead.

Ellie draws a line of kisses between your breasts and down your stomach, kneeling before you as her head comes to situate itself in front of your waistband. You can't help but admire how she looks from here, hair in your hands as her eyes are pinned to your denim jeans as though it's a buffet and she's a man starved. After a moment, she lifts her head to look at you.

Eye contact. Sparks shoot through your body. Somehow, something as simplistic as meeting Ellie's gaze can make you feel indescribably nervous. Pale green irises bore into you, waiting for you to utter words of consent. You do so, giving her the go-ahead.

As soon as you do, Ellie wastes no time hooking her fingers through your belt loops and pulling your jeans to your knees. She leans forward, eyes lidded.

"Wait." You pant, tugging on her hair to halt her movements. She seems rather annoyed by your sudden interruption, but looks up at you kindly despite her own irritation. You rolls your eyes at her evident pique. "What if someone walks in?"

She sighs heavily at that. "I locked the door."

"Oh, okay." You nod. Though, just as she's about to lean forward again, you stop her once more. "Wait. How did you know to lock it? You were all pissy when you first came in here."

"I didn't know." She explains hastily. "I simply hoped."

You huff out a chuckle, shaking your head fondly at her admittance. Then, finally, you don't stop her when she leans forward.

She traces her tongue along the outside of your underwear, the fabric between you only adding to the pulsing in your pussy. A shiver wracks through you, causing Ellie to grab you by the hips to hold you still. She traces circles into your hips with her thumbs, a gentle motion when compared to the needy movements of her tongue as she draws small circles into your clit.

You tighten your grip on her hair, drawing a grunt from the back of her throat. The vibrations from her mouth against your pussy makes it hard to keep back your own noises.

When she finally shifts your panties to the side, you nearly collapse at the feel of her mouth against you. She licks a long stripe up your vulva, a shaky breath yanking from you. The sound only urges her further, taking one hand and drags her middle finger up your center. You shift, leaning heavily against the wooden walls as standing upright suddenly seems impossible. Then, without warning, two fingers shove right into your hole.

Your hips jolt, moving far more than initially seeing as Ellie is now only holding on with one hand. Whilst thrusting her fingers in and out of your needy pussy, her tongue circles your clit with that same neediness, mirroring you for desperation.

Your head falls back, thudding lightly against then wall. At the sound, Ellie ceases. You almost whine at her sudden stopping.

"My eyes are down here, darlin'." She says lowly. "Let me see you."

Begrudgingly, you oblige, lowering your head to make eye contact with Ellie. She's on her knees, legs folded against tiled flooring as she resumes her lapping. You huff out an airy moan as you have to actively stop yourself from tipping your head back again. She holds your gaze the entire time, adding to the intensity of the feel. Her eyes are lidded, shoulder moving as her fingers recommence.

This all paired with your dizzy head and swimming vision makes for quite the climax, core knotting progressively as Ellie doesn't dare to stop. "Fuck," you pant as you buck your hips against her face, forced to watch as you do so. With another heavy breath and an arching back, you utter, "I'm⎯"

She seems exponentially proud as she hears you say this, regardless of if you finish your sentence or not. She pauses only for a moment to say, "yeah?"

"Mhm," you hum, though it comes out more of a moan than anything.

"Do it, darlin'."

And you do, coming undone right atop her face. She, admittedly, relishes in it, hydrated only by what you're able to provide her with. You see stars and they're swimming too, circling your head in a celestial body of pleasure. And Ellie watches, for once allowing your head to fall back as she deems this a one time exception. Because there will be a next time.

You're panting as you lower your head to face her once more, her gaze never having left your expression. She makes out with your pussy sensually as to bring you down from your high. Then, as gently as she can, she situates your panties back on correctly and pulls your jeans to rest as your hips, remaining knelt in front of you as she zips and buttons them just as she'd found them.

You watch with a twinkle of fondness behind your irises, unable to look away from the expression of adoring concentration she wears. She then uses your hips as a support system to haul herself back to her feet, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. You can nigh taste yourself on her.

"Not bad for a stranger at a sketchy bar." You muse, picking her hat from the floor and situating it atop her auburn tufts of hair. She watches you, analyzing your every move.

"I'm not just a stranger." She reminds you as your eyes find hers, your hands coming to drape around her shoulders. "I'm a stranger who wrote a song about you."

"Mm," you hum, "so you're a stalkers stranger?"

"I prefer the term passionate." She says, shooting you a playful scowl.

You chuckle, "passionate for what? Stalking and preying on drunken women?"

"Pfft-" She scoffs. "You're not drunk."

For a moment, you consider agreeing with her. To save her the pain of realizing you hadn't been sober for this. But you know better than to lie to her. So, through lidded eyes ⎯ ones that should have been a rather telltale sign of your intoxication ⎯ you give her a look, not even needing to voice the truth aloud for her to understand.

"Well fuck." She groans, taking a step backward and causing your arms to fall to your sides.

Frankly, you'd expected her to be much more angered than that. Because you know you would be. After writing a song, chasing down, then tongue-fucking someone in the bathroom, the worst news to receive would be that they'd been wasted the entire time.

"I'm sorry," you're quick to apologize, for some reason feeling the need to earn her forgiveness.

"How're you planning to get home?" She asks.

"I hadn't thought about that." You admit.

"How about this," she suggests, "I give you a place to stay to apologize for fucking you while drunk and you let me take you to dinner tomorrow to apologize for not telling me beforehand. Deal?"

A smirk works its way to your mouth, "deal."

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist @luvsturniolo @kasqnxx @xlovla @ilovewomenfr @zzombiegirl @shawangel

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[serial-serializednovelreader]

Do you think a Dracula MBS AU would work? If so, in what way? Hope you are doing well!!!

Sophie, I love this question!! It’s actually something I have thought of, but wasn’t sure if I wanted to make into a post on its own. And I’m doing well, hope you are too :DDDD

Yes, Dracula MBS AU could be a thing, but I would definitely need to make a few tweaks. Us Dracula book fans aren’t a huge fan of “tweaks” for…certain reasons (*side eyes adaptations*), but this one would still be faithful to the spirit of the book. :)

Note: Heavy spoilers for Dracula, and the Mysterious Benedict Society. Also, I’m basing this AU on the MBS books, not the series (Curtain is not really redeemable in this one, though he is the gremlin man you know and enjoy!). As a disclaimer, all of the MBS characters that are kids are adults in this AU — in their 20s to be precise. Everyone else retains their original ages (except for the one who is playing Dracula, of course).

Jonathan Harker -> Reynie Muldoon

You know I had to start off with my one of my favorite blorbos and honestly, this just works. These two characters are a lot alike, more than you might assume. Both are considered “average” by others, and are constantly underestimated, which they shake off in different ways (Reynie with his abilities, Jonathan through the power of Tumblr’s book club). They have a kind heart and love helping others. They are meticulous and can be bold when needed, sometimes using clever words to talk themselves out of a situation (Jonathan several times in Dracula’s castle, Reynie when Curtain catches him looking at the Executive’s list). Jonathan and Reynie are also leadership material, though you probably wouldn’t think it by looking at them.

Mina Murray -> Kate Wetherall

Yeah, so those who know I ship these Reynie and Kate may have expected this one. I can’t help it! Still, I think these two work as well. Mina is very much an extrovert and will talk to everyone she meets, just like Kate. Mina may not carry a bucket, but she does carry her journals and writing around with her! Kate and Mina are both silly at times, adding their own personal flair to situations. I would see Kate embodying Mina’s bolder side and being excited about journalism for the chance to meet people. She is fine with studying and typing (especially to help/bond with Reynie), but it’s not her favorite thing, if that makes sense. Or, alternatively, she could have more of Mina’s affinity for typing and thoroughly love it! Up to you. Those who have read Dracula all the way through also know that Mina and Kate are also alike in their need to be *in the action*, not sidelined. And they’re absolutely correct.

Dracula -> Ledroptha Curtain

Yeah, this one is pretty obvious. Both are cackling villains, both like their cat-and-mouse games: it just fits! Plus, if you compare Curtain’s weird lecture/manipulative speeches to Reynie in the first book to Dracula’s speeches to Jonathan…it’s almost uncanny how similar they are!!! Dracula and Curtain honestly use a lot of the same tactics to draw their victims in (making them feel special/isolated, puffing his own ego, etc.).

Renfield -> Crawlings

I’ll be honest, Crawlings is my favorite Ten Man and I can just see him as Renfield. He’s soooooo weird and I love him for it!!! Bro has one eyebrow and was constantly being quirky. Can I see this man eating a fly and being locked in an asylum in 1800s England? Yes, yes I can. Plus, his name is Crawlings and he follows Curtain. ‘Nuff said.

Van Helsing -> Nicholas Benedict

You probably also saw this one coming after I paired Dracula with Curtain. This Dracula AU fits a lot better than one first assumes and here is another example. Van Helsing in the novel is very much a quirky professor, befuddling his former student (Seward) with his metaphors and laughing far too much to be in the horror novel Dracula, let’s be honest. In the same way, Nicholas Benedict is a jovial, unassuming man, who one wouldn’t think to be a genius instrumental to saving the world, yet he’s in the very name of the book series! In the same way, Van Helsing has garnered a name for himself that has far outlived his first appearance in the novel: as much as Dracula lives on in the public sphere, Van Helsing is right beside him. I think this fits Nicholas to a tee. Plus, Nicholas and Van Helsing are capable of great seriousness and emotional depth when the situation calls for it.

Aaaaaaand this is where things get switched around. I’m going to list the characters first, then describe how exactly their arcs would be changed, but I want to make it clear that this Suitor Squad would not be a Suitor Squad anymore in my AU. I do not ship these characters!!!!! Just want to make that clear upfront.

Lucy Westerna -> Constance Contraire

This one is a bit of a stretch personality-wise, but it’s the clearest fit in terms of leading/supporting characters. Lucy is obviously a very sweet person and Constance is…well…the society says it best: “Constance is Constance”. However, in RoA, we do get a glimpse of a sweeter Constance and I do believe this is how Constance will be once she matures: still her feisty self, just able to let her empathetic side show more. And really, that’s who Lucy is. She has a defiant and bold streak within her: this is just held back by the confines of Victorian society (though not in the way adaptations want to portray her — I just mean she could be more sassy if she wanted to). Whether Constance adapts more of Lucy’s bubbly and sweet personality or retains her sassy and grumpy self is up to you. Either way, her and Kate (Mina) would definitely still be best friends and have a similar relationship they have in MBS, perhaps with a dash of maturity (LOL). Lucy/Constance is also the youngest, clocking in at 19, to everyone else’s mid- to late- 20s.

Quincey Morris -> Milligan

You can probably see why I emphasized the importance of not shipping these characters. So yes, Milligan now takes the role of an American cowboy and I think he would adopt this role with gusto! Of course, in this AU he’s never lost his memories so he is his cheerful self. He is a lot like Quincey in being perpetually cheerful, compassionate and a good friend to the rest of the Crew of Light (plus, earnestly cheering them up when needed and kicking Dracula/Curtain’s butt — both of these characters excel at their job). Quincey is known as the oathmaker of Dracula, always keeping the promises he makes. Readers of MBS know that Milligan also takes his promises seriously, so much so that his last promise became his very name (how his name is still Milligan when he didn’t lose his memories doesn’t make sense, but…you know…uh….*magic*). Is he Kate’s father in this AU? Perhaps. 😏 I once commented to @nobodysdaydreams that these two would be father/daughter in every universe, so I think even if they’re not biologically related, they would certainly fit that dynamic and adopt each other as such.

Jack Seward -> George “Sticky” Washington

Seward is definitely on the darker side of what Sticky is capable of, but I don’t think this is out of the realm of possibilities for Sticky. I honestly think he could’ve become something like this, had he not been exposed to Mr. Benedict and his friends at a young age. Not that Sticky is “bad” or “evil” in this AU — Jack isn’t either!!!!!! I would just say he has bad coping mechanisms and needs therapy for depression…so just hand that over to Sticky without the strongest support system and I think these two meld together well.

Arthur Holmwood -> SQ Pedalian

For all my SQ lovers, this one’s for you!!! SQ and Arthur are both sweet guys who really shouldn’t be in traumatic situations, but, unfortunately, are. Fun to be around and a beacon of light to those they meet, SQ and Arthur always try to make the best of a bad situation! I think SQ would fit right into Arthur’s role, though it won’t be easy for him as the book goes along…

Three Vampire Sisters -> Martina, Jillson and Jackson

I believe it makes sense for Curtain’s most trusted executives to also be in his castle as his vampires in this AU. Oh, and Jackson’s here too — for the vibes. :D yes, they do try to “seduce” Reynie. Yes, it is weird (though, as a reminder, minus the vampire thing they’re similar in age — Reynie is in his 20s and the vampire siblings got turned into vampires around the same age). No, I don’t want to dwell on it.

Mr. Hawkins - Miss. Perumal

While it wouldn’t make any sense for Jonathan/Reynie’s boss to be a woman in this time period, I am making Mr. Hawkins Miss Perumal anyway because I do not care. Jonathan basically calls Mr. Hawkins his adopted father and that is what Miss. Perumal is to Reynie. Whether you want to make Miss Perumal a guy or just make Victorian England less sexist in this AU is up to you (I’m rooting for the latter).

Captain of the Demeter -> Captain Noland

I think this one explains itself. Noble captain of The Shortcut becomes the noble (and, unfortunately, doomed) captain of the Demeter. 🫡🫡

First Mate of the Demeter -> McCracken

My choice here might seem strange — and it is — but I honestly think this first mate that gets more and more desperate is better filled by McCracken the Ten Man than anyone else. I truly believe if something supernatural happened to him, he would not believe it and would scoff at anyone who did — until it was too late. Then, he would try to fight the monster (as the First Mate does), and if he had no option left…flee. That’s my interpretation of McCracken’s true character anyways — just give him less weapons and less self-confidence. Plus, I wanted McCracken to be a part of this and had no good place for him (lol). 🤷‍♀️

Second Mate of the Demeter -> Canonball

The bravest “mate” on the crew, I chose Canonball as Second Mate instead of First Mate because he would be exactly the type of man to volunteer to keep watch and let everyone else get some sleep; unfortunately, that kind of selflessness is not rewarded by Dracula. :( RIP Canonball in this AU, you will be missed. 🫡

Mrs. Westerna -> Number Two

I’m envisioning a different kind of relationship than mother/daughter for Lucy/Constance and Mrs. Westerna/Number Two. I’ll explain it more when we get to my “changes”, but suffice it to say, Mrs. Westerna/Number Two is an aunt or mentor figure to Lucy/Constance rather than a biological mother. I picked Number Two for this role because she has Mrs. Westerna’s strict adherence to rules down and an anxious streak, though to a lesser extent of course. These qualities would be dialed up to 11 for the AU.

“Correspondent” -> Rhonda Kazembe

According to a number of posts I’ve seen on here (though I haven’t been able to find anything when I looked it up — doesn’t mean it’s not true, just means my research skills needs work!), Stoker originally envisioned a woman reporter who ended up working with the Crew of Light to take down Dracula. Whether due to time constraints or too many characters to keep track of, he dialed this character back to a “Correspondent” (gender unidentified) who reports on the Demeter’s landing, and what has become of the ship. While we don’t get much from this Correspondent, they show a lot of personality in just two entries: boasting about their running abilities and reporting about villagers wanting to be friends with a dog. I would definitely select Rhonda for this role because, while she may seem quiet and ordinary, she hides a ton of inner personality! I think I would give this Rhonda a little bit of her energy from the show because her actress just did such a good job of embodying her character and giving her an even more distinct personality that I think would go great with the Correspondent. Other than that, I do think she would work with the Crew of Light in this one, as Stoker originally intended, though how much and in what capacity, I’m not sure of.

Mr. Swales -> Risker

I was honestly thinking of picking one of the Ten Men for this one, but I think “kooky old man who you can’t tell what he’s saying half the time” fits Risker perfectly. 😂😂

Now that we have all the chess pieces into place (yes, that was an MBS reference), how do they move around the chessboard? Most Dracula fans by now will probably be shouting at me “But Nova, if there’s no Suitor Squad, how will you fulfill Lucy’s arc?” Well you see, there’s one relationship we need to consider here: that of Van Helsing/Mr. Benedict and Lucy/Constance.

So for those who may not know (on both sides of the fandom), Van Helsing considers Lucy to be his daughter in a sense. In MBS, Mr. Benedict ends up adopting Constance, though this is not an easy process, as her papers are lost to time. I intend to merge these two story arcs.

So to start, Lucy/Constance would be an orphan, not being born from a wealthy family like in the original book. She would meet Jonathan/Reynie and Mina/Kate and they would all be childhood friends, as in the original book, though perhaps Lucy/Constance understands the other two on a deeper level — as they all three know what it’s like to be orphans and to want for friendship and parents.

Somewhere along the way, Van Helsing/Mr. Benedict meets Lucy/Constance (she’s in her teens at this point) and he starts to see her as the daughter he wants to have. Unfortunately in Victorian England, there’s no legal adoption process. So basically, Lucy/Constance can only have the feeling of having a father, no papers to prove it. And just like in the MBS series, this causes her to feel frustrated and insecure (though with a bit more maturely, since she’s older lol). Another issue is that she rarely sees Van Helsing/ Mr. Benedict since he’s working on research in Germany. He doesn’t want to take her with him, since he presumes she should be out living her life and learning how to be a lady (more out of a desire for her to fit in with other girls and make friends than him sticking to the confines of society). Which is why he’s entrusted her with Mrs. Westerna/Number Two, providing her a permanent place to live. We can also work something in there about Milligan/Quincey (a family friend of his) adopting Mina/Kate along the way or them being father/daughter (you could swap Mina and Lucy’s roles here). I personally like the former option, but the latter works as well!

Living with Mrs. Westerna/Number Two is nice, but not what Lucy/Constance wants. She only wants to be with her father :(. At this point, she’s an adult and can make her own choices, so she asks her father if she can go on a trip with him. Surprisingly, he says yes!

Rather than the three iconic proposals here, I envision Lucy/Constance telling her three family friends (because Van Helsing has a LOT of those) about her impending trip instead, which they all take in different ways. Seward/Sticky does not take this well. Van Helsing is kind of a father figure to him as well and having him be away has been difficult for him to handle. Now, hearing that he’s going to “lose” someone he considers to be his sister as well is just too overwhelming for him to hear. He accepts it, but doesn’t like it. Milligan/Quincey is excited for her, but sad to see her go. He feels a “loss” as well, since he considers Lucy/Constance to be his daughter, though he’s never said it. Arthur/SQ is the only one truly excited for her, giving her travel tips, as he’s traveled himself and wants her to have only the best experience. It may not be as dramatic or exciting as proposals, but I do think this works with hitting similar emotions from the three men (grief, bittersweet, and joy).

Then we come to the sad part of our story. Lucy/Constance begins experiencing symptoms of a vampire bite and while Sticky/Seward tries to care for her himself, his last resort is to call in Van Helsing/Mr. Benedict (which he doesn’t want to do, because he doesn’t want him to see her like this and it feels too much like the end…). When Van Helsing/Mr. Benedict arrives, he understands very clearly what is going on, and it pains him to see his daughter in this condition. However, for her sake, he keeps to his jovial self (and he retains his narcolepsy, so you can play a lot with him trying not to give in to this emotional turmoil).

At first, it seems like things are working in their favor: they put up garlic and it seems to keep the evil bat away. Unfortunately, Mrs. Westerna/Number Two doesn’t get the memo and takes the garlic down, leaving poor Lucy/Constance exposed. That’s when the bad turns to the worse.

If you want maximum angst here, you can go with the canon ending…which is that Lucy/Constance dies. And if you thought Van Helsing’s reaction to Lucy’s death was bad (which is a full on mental breakdown, by the way), this is oh-so much worse. Van Helsing/Mr. Benedict is inconsolable. He won’t talk to anyone. He keeps waking up and passing out for a full day, he is SO full of emotion. He mourns that he was never able to take her on a trip or able to legally adopt her. Not to mention, Dracula/Curtain took Mrs. Westerna/Number Two from him too, so he’s mourning THAT death as well. So yeah, needless to say, he’s not in a good place. And he’s determined to avenge the people he’s lost at any price. Also, he would have to be the one to stake Lucy/Constance when she eventually turns into the Bloofer Lady (which he would be in denial about at first, though he would see all the signs). Because I need this to be more heartbreaking, apparently. By the end of this AU, him and Jonathan/Reynie are very much silently sharpening a knife, waiting for their moment to strike at Dracula/Curtain (who looks eerily similar to Van Helsing/Mr. Benedict, that’s strange…).

Since MBS is included in this, though, I don’t know if this would be what happens. I kind of believe Lucy/Constance would make it through in this AU. So either Mrs. Westerna/Number Two actually listens to Van Helsing/Mr. Benedict (which is likely, let’s be honest) or they’re able to save her in some other way. Bottom line: Lucy/Constance makes it, and she’s infinitely grateful! Van Helsing/Mr. Benedict vows to take her on a trip very soon and makes her a little adoption certificate thing. It’s not real, but to them it is! On the inside, however, Van Helsing/Mr. Benedict is very angry at Dracula/Curtain for almost killing his daughter and that’s not something he takes lightly…

So yeah, those are my ideas for a Dracula MBS AU. Hope you like it! :D

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Me Rating the Super Mario Bros movie characters performances (now that the Euphoria of the movie has calmed down)

Spoilers below

Mario:

Everyone wants to bag on Chris for being Mario. But I will say, He pulled it off well. There was an accent and if you weren’t listening for it, you probably wouldn’t know it was Chris Pratt voicing him. Say what you will, but Chris knows how to voice act the Everyman hero type. That’s Mario. His love for his brother and Captain America levels of determination make him admirable and not stale. The decision to go more for a Brooklyn accent was a nod to the 1980’s show and I appreciate it. It’s nothing spectacular but it’s what was needed for Mario. 7.5/10

Luigi:

Charlie day was near perfect casting for Luigi. I will be honest, I thought this would just be Charlie day voicing luigi and while funny he usually would teeter on annoying. But for his performance, Luigi had great comedic timing, relatable, supportive and cowardly. It’s honestly captures luigi perfectly. He does get some great lines, I will say the only flaw is how he was sidelined. It felt less like a Mario bros. Movie and more like a Mario and Donkey Kong movie. But in the third act he does bring in some good chops. I do like how they maximized his performance. 8.5/10

Peach:

Anya Taylor-joy as Peach. So I’m conflicted here. It’s not a bad performance, but I wouldn’t say the voice felt like peach. When Peach has the softer moments and is acting like a ruler, I think she is great. But the first half of the movie, she felt surprisingly cold to Mario. And I get that he is a stranger, but peach’s whole bit is her compassion and care. Peach can kick ass, that’s not the issue (plenty of source material shows she can hold her own) my problem is that she felt like she was missing her sweetness. Near the end we see her soften and it could be argued that Peach wasn’t really feeling sweet because of the situation… but anyone whose played a Mario game knows that’s not an issue. She didn’t need to be a damsel in distress, I just like when my peaches are sweeter. Also I wanted some Mareach. But I’m not gonna reflect that in the rating 5/10.

Donkey Kong

It’s just Seth Rogen’s voice. Now it’s not an awful performance. But everytime he spoke, I heard Seth. That being said, the character was fine. I liked Mario and DK’s Frenemy dynamic. They clearly butt heads and compete. It’s amusing. That being said, I wish Luigi got more scenes, instead of Seth Kong. He is never irritating, I do enjoy the cockiness and overall flare, but I wish they did something more with it 5/10

Toad:

Keegan Micheal-key’s Take on Toad is inspired. I found myself enjoying whenever Toad is on screen. I had no worries regarding his performance. But similar to Luigi, he isn’t given much to do. His main thing is a couple of gags and moving the plot along. I love him and wish he had more time given. 8/10

Kamek:

Kevin Micheal Richardson didn’t just do good in this roll, HE ABSOLUTELY SLAYED as Kamek. The loyal servant/father figure/ hype man of Bowser nails that slimy ness and fear he has for bowser. His dialogue is great, he is also just so much fun on screen. He did not need to go this hard for Kamek, but he did. 9/10

Cranky kong:

Fred Armisen phoned it in. This didn’t feel at all like Cranky to me. He didn’t even sound old. I’m glad he isn’t in the movie long but it bothered me. It’s just the kind of performance where you aren’t mad, just disappointed

2/10

King Penguin

Khary Payton, For a character basically made for the movie, he was perfect. My bias on both the Voice actor and Penguins. He had great lines, coming off as epic and comedic. His reaction to the Luma was also glorious. He wasn’t there for too long but he was there the right amount. 8/10

Bowser

Let’s talk about Jack Black as bowser. It’s perfect casting. Jack black PERFECTLY blended all of the bowser’s together to create in my opinion, the best version of bowser. In a vain similar to how Heath Ledger combined different Joker’s to make his performance. This bowser is intimidating, arrogant, funny, a simp, cruel, and overall everything you want in a kids movie villain. I could write a whole analysis on how this bowser is basically a perfect kids movie villain. But that is for another day. The power ballad alone makes him worthy of 10/10. Easiest 10/10 ranking I’ve made

[funnywormz]

Well OK what kind of a person would I be if I didn't say 002 rimster for that ask game

LET'S FUCKING GOOOOO THANK U ANON

002 | Send me a ship and I will tell you...

when i started shipping them:

honestly very very recently lol. i can't remember exactly but i think abt 2-3 months ago? ik their dynamic was definitely entertaining to me from the start and there were moments that made me go like "👀" sometimes (bc im a gayass hopeless romantic so im always kinda subconsciously on the lookout for fun characters to ship ig lol), but i started getting genuinely rlly invested in the ship roughly when i watched dimension jump for the first time. something abt seeing rimmer get so jealous and catty abt lister and ace i suppose.......... hehe

my thoughts

i mean obviously i think they're great lol. i am nuts abt them. they're both such fun characters and their dynamic together is just wonderful and iconic and hilarious. even platonically they're just like...... a duo to me. ik all of the dwarfers are a set (Do Not Separate Them) but lister and rimmer especially just go together. it doesn't feel right to talk abt one without mentioning the other. they're just lister and rimmer yknow......... regardless of whether they're friends or lovers i just love them together and love it when they interact

what makes me happy about them

SO MANY THINGS....... the ship does bring a lot of comfort to me bc despite their arguments and the insults that get thrown around they do really care abt each other and it becomes pretty obvious in later seasons. the opposites attract/sun and moon thing they have going on is so endearing to me as well.......... i get so much serotonin from the little moments of honest affection they have for each other in the show.

i think they can be a source of comfort for each other as well, not always in an obvious way but they just keep each other grounded, they're each a reassuring constant in the other's life yknow? also they're both very relatable to me in their own different ways so i would be lying if i said there wasn't an aspect of projection in it as well lol

what makes me sad about them:

the answer to this one is also Many Things......... sometimes they are genuinely just Mean to each other and it makes me a bit sad. and just. lister's childhood and his loneliness and depression and likewise rimmer's childhood and self hatred...... idk they're just both very saddening guys at times, im not even gonna lie. i wish that they'd both allow themselves to be more vulnerable with each other and more open abt their feelings sometimes but ik there are plenty of reasons why that's hard for them. ig it's more their characters separately that make me sad mostly rather than their relationship with each other though, if that makes sense

things done in fanfic that annoy me:

this is a rlly specific personal pet peeve but i kinda dislike it when ppl rlly exaggerate lister's accent in fic. like when they write his speech out as "rimmah" instead of "rimmer" and that sort of thing lol. it's fine in small amounts or if it's a purely comedic fic but if im reading a more emotionally poignant (or sexy) fic and the author has changed the spelling of every second word lister says i just have to exit outta there sorry. for me i feel like since we all know what he sounds like then trying to write out his pronunciation that way just seems awkward and silly. this is by no means an objective thing just personal preference.

it's also a pet peeve of mine when lister gets kinda sidelined or his characterisation gets messed around with in favour of the author basically using him as a self insert bc they're horny for rimmer. it doesn't come up often but when it does it annoys me......... ik rimmer is everyone's special little boy but i love lister too and i don't like to see him get ignored or undervalued like that

things i look for in fanfic:

honestly just an interesting premise really! basically the stuff i look for in any literature, like strong characterisation, a fun plot etc...........

my wishlist:

idk exactly what this one entails? if it means stuff i wish i could see in the show, ig i'd just like to see more sweet genuine moments between them (like the moonlight scene). idk if i would actually want there to be a canon romantic relationship between them, like yeah i ship them so much but ig i just wouldn't want it to be forced or executed weirdly. basically i just want to see more of them exactly as they are now, except maybe they should be nicer to each other sometimes. OH ALSO i need to see deb and arlene again so fucking bad

who i'd be comfortable with them ending up with, if not each other:

this one is tough bc there honestly aren't many romantic prospects for either of them lol. i def wouldn't be comfortable with a romantic relationship between either of them and any of the other dwarfers, just personal taste. i personally view rimmer as a closeted confused gay man so i wouldn't be that comfy seeing him with a female character either so that rules out pretty much everyone for him haha.........

for lister, although i love kochanski and his friendship with her, i don't like the idea of them being "endgame" bc it would feel forced at this point and just...... uncomfortable. honestly i can't imagine feeling comfortable with any other relationships for rimmer/lister being canon lol. i just prefer the idea of them both being single in canon i suppose, sorry lads. it's funny bc in most fandoms im a chronic multishipper but with red dwarf im kinda like rimster or die basically lmao 🤷‍♂️

my happily ever after for them:

basically just the same as they are now but married and in love LOL.

also they need to finally get a proper bed to sleep in together and get out of those goddamn bunks, 1) because i want them to cuddle and 2) lister is in his 50s now and those bunks can't be very comfortable or ergonomic, i am worried abt the state of his back lol. it's not much, ig in the end i just want them to stay together and be happy together. since there seems to be technology that exists to sustain multiple holograms that they've found on other ships, maybe once lister finally dies they could be holograms together and travel the stars together forever....... or maybe the opposite would happen and rimmer would shut himself off so they can just be at peace together. ough sorry this got sad im getting emotional

anyways tldr i just want them to stay exactly the same but openly in gay love and also sharing a proper actual bed. that's it

[aggold15hi01]

⚠️ Disclaimer: The original post isn't mine.

📝 Credits to Fxmuladaydreams via Tumblr and Tumblr for the original post.

⚠️ Trigger warning for mentions of micromanagement; favoritism: anti-Alex Albon and actions of narcissism from both the stupid not to be named team additionally the way J**** V***** had treated poor; sweet; innocent and kind-hearted Logan Sargeant. Plus this also applies to how I did mentioned about how toxic the fans are by how they think they are so untouchable and yet they think they truly know everything about either the drivers, the sports or even everything else in general. (Ugh.)

⚠️ 🛑 ✋ Do not interact if you are feeling truthfully offended/ triggered by this post alone on my personal Tumblr blog.

ℹ️ For AGGold15Hi01's personal notes; it is below the line ⬇️

Agreed, I felt as if Logan does needed to either step up for his home race in the Miami Grand Prix or sorry to say; unfortunately that stupid team would do anything to drop him and replace him just as what I have truthfully feared to be honest.

Plus he does need loads of help and let *them (*The stupid not to be named team) know he isn't their boxing bag and a puppet to simply be played around and he surely needs to get heated up about this whole nonsense about how the way they had played mental games with him; mentally messing his mental health and his F1 Career in addition to making him to look even more like the laughing stock of the team plus they too needed to stop putting the full-on weight of favoritism on Alex Albon by having to praise Alex and yet having to sideline Logan by using him not only as a "scrape goat" but to also making him looking the biggest fool of the not to be named team??? Shame on W******* R***** T*** and J**** V***** for treating Logan very badly and having to use him as nothing but as a scrape goat; a punching bag and even more so as a puppet that they wanted to truthfully take an advantage of him.

Plus Logan had to definitely step up and stop letting them walk over him just as when they think he is their very own doormat, scrape goat in addition to a puppet they think they can just simply micromanage him and his F1 Career plus to make him looking a bigger fool.

Screw them and the ppl who thinks they are so 'Untouchable' just as when they did say such nasty things about Logan, Lance and any particular drivers in general (including Alex Albon as well to be honest) on any of the social media platforms plus to add the insult into the wound, they think they are like the 'Mr./ Mrs./ Miss Know it all' type' of fan just as when they only get to know only one side of the story and not the other side of the story.

Anyway, sending loads of prayers to Logan to let god unconditionally and truthfully protect his energy at all costs; resist any of the evil energy and the evil spirits from both the demon and the people who are the demon's army of minion and yet they are willing to do the dirty work of both the demon and by the demon itself in addition to having to truly heal Logan and his very own spirit at all costs by gid himself in addition to how he needs to step up by becoming more selfish and learn how to understand that it is okay for him tor him to truthfully and equally be truthfully both feeling angry and get heated up by letting them know he isn't either their boxing bag nor he is their little puppet to be played with; an experiment to be micromanaged by them and also he needed to ask god to also give him the well-deserved rest he does needed just as he flew back to Florida in addition to protecting him at all costs and letting him resist any of the demonic and evil spirits and energy he had to truthfully experienced it in this season alone by having to truly to take the side of god himself and say "Not today, s****; not today; not tonight, not tomorrow; not the next couple of hours on today alone; not the day after, not two days after; three days after; four days, five days; six days; and even all seven days to even a week as well as two weeks; three weeks; four weeks, five weeks; next month, next 2-12 months; next year or even anytime in general to let the stupid demon to destroy, sabotage; bully; demolish and knock him out of nowhere." Towards the demon itself and having to resist the energy from both the demon and the people who are willing to do the dirty work from both the demon itself and doing the task by the demon itself in addition to letting it sabotaging him.

May god truthfully and unconditionally giving him (Logan) both the well-deserved help and support him by giving him the chance to get heated up and drive aggressively to definitely perform well for the Miami Grand Prix plus to also protect him from both the demon and the people who are the demon's minion as they are willing to do both the work of the demon and by the demon itself plus to let him resist all of the evil spirits unconditionally from everybody especially the people who are willing to work with the demon by doing the demon's dirty work in general.

This is a very long post I do have to truly say but it is what it is to be honest. 🤷🏽‍♀️

i need f1 to stop using logan sargeant as their punching bag

[grandinventor]

i really like the loyalists- i find them really interesting. havelock, pendleton, martin. talk about them and your opinions and what went down, i like hearing what you have to say

Oh you are right on time because I am just replaying the first Dishonored and even though I am halfway through I know the rest and I got my memory refreshed on their personalities. I really love the Loyalists honestly, they are in a way both terrible and absolutely compelling characters. I can only talk about Low Chaos because I've never played High Chaos to analyze them there. Thank you though, for giving me the chance to ramble about them now, don't mind if I do~

Havelock - I just realized he has a name now because I was googling to make sure it's spelled with an E. Anyway, not many people do, but I like Havelock. He is a bastard but he is very much convinced what he is doing is for the greater good. They did well in portraying him being a bit older and more traditional than Corvo and the other Loyalists, which is both good and bad. He has this almost tunnel vision loyalty and dedication to his cause, he likes being in charge and since we are stationed in the Hound's Pits Pub, we are on his territory and it feels like it. No matter how much he praises you, you know he is not gonna let you or any of the others challenge his position. And I like that we do see some of his temperament, like him tossing the Audiograph in the sea might seem like a comical moment until you look back on it and realize he grew frustrated with it one too many times and did something rash. You can also see through his journal how he is slowly growing more frustrated when he realizes you won't let him control Emily and you (I say you as in Corvo) are far too dangerous to be controlled. In the end I think he confused his need for power with his loyalty to the Empire because in his mind him getting this power was the best for the Empire. And in Low Chaos he realizes that he doesn't have the hands on the wheel and he can't go against these waves and kind of surrenders, albeit after he has done a lot of damage. Havelock greets you like a serious, controlled and even warm and welcoming older man, but you learn that beneath that there is a very frustrated and paranoid person who is loyal only in words but is willing to betray everyone to achieve what he thinks is right. There isn't a lot of Havelock meta because he isn't as interesting, but he still played his role quite nicely in the story and you don't always expect characters like him to betray you, especially next to characters like Martin and Pendleton. But, then again a salt and pepper haired war veteran switching sides in the third act is a pretty common trope so eeeh I should've seen that coming. Martin - Martin was my fav when I was 16 and also one of the first times a character I liked died in anything, it was really heartbreaking. I kind of forget he dies these days because I follow like 10 Martin fans, so he is alive and well. I like that he isn't doing the whole "I'll be High Overseer because I have to, it's for the best" (cause they could've gone that route), he straight up reads Campbells gossip book and is like "Hell yeah, I am going to blackmail so many people." Also I like his intro scene because as you approach behind Jasper (the other Overseer), he sees Corvo and becomes somehow 10 times more cocky (I think the line that's something like "It isn't so bad, except I miss your wife" is so raw I've been quoting it all week). But if you play Low Chaos he feels more sidelined, he comments here and there about things here and there that show a bit of his laid back attitude and it's that High Chaos ending that really brings forward most of his personality than just his arc ending in being poisoned at a table (I do not like the Low Chaos ending, like even if they died it's a bit anticlimactic). But there is a lot of good Martin meta out there, from my 10+ Martin lover mutuals, however in general I really like the concept of a priest with a dark past because in the context of him betraying you, it feels like he never truly escaped that dark past, he never really changed, he just got better in convincing people he is a better person, including himself. And the fact that he seems so chill and laid back, yet hides something terrible makes me wonder how much of what he said was honest, and how much was him having a silver tongue and bringing your guard down. Also I don't take criticism but criminal turned priest is extremely sexy and I love that trope.

Treavor Pendleton - (gets a full name from me here), I gotta admit I didn't like him when I was 16 because I expected him to turn out evil, he looked like the "I will backstab you" trope, but now that I am older I kinda like him a lot more and even feel bad for him. I feel like Havelock was crazy and Martin was a shady dude, but Treavor just went along with them because he is both very cowardly and very envious. I know it's not disclosed but I do feel like he wasn't the mastermind behind it? Maybe High Chaos says otherwise, but I haven't played it to know. For someone who was so brutally abused by his older brothers his entire life and yet still found it in him to love and mourn them, he would absolutely go with whatever Havelock and Martin would say, either out of wanting to be part of something or out of some kind of deep seated fear of not playing along. This doesn't absolve him of what happened at all, but it is An Explanation, and paired with his excessive drinking, it does make me feel bad about him. He is also an asshole in funny ways like the whole situation with his Audiographs and also Lord Shaw and he is sort of an unintentionally (or maybe intentionally) funny character. I found that he is relieving the more tense feeling you get from Havelock and Martin with his presence which I enjoy more than I did when I was younger. Also he has a lot of typical aristocrat asshole things going on, which is funny mostly, sometimes a little infuriating.

I would like to talk about the rest of the Loyalists too (because Callista, Lydia, Cecelia, Piero and Wallace are also Loyalists even if not the main ones), but you asked for these three and it's getting late. Perhaps I will because I actually love the ladies and they don't get nearly as much love as the male characters in this game.

[bonny-kookoo]

Pretty Girl (J.JK x Reader)🎀💜☁️🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: (oh boy here we go on this one) good old sprinkle of angst, non-penetrative sex, foreplay, steamy make out session, mild DDLG themes, Dom/Sub dynamics, Dom!Jungkook, Sub!Reader, Subspace, Teasing, Suggestive gestures, dirty talk, really, like JK can’t shut up smh, Koo is getting kinda rough with GG, sex in the kitchen twice (again), shower sex (pls stay safe), protected sex (again, we wrap it up in this economy and you should too), edging, cumplay, aftercare (a warning bc he’s so soft you might melt fam) yeah I think that’s it

Summary: an accident such as yours mainly affects you, that’s a fact. But people around you, especially Jungkook, may have been more unsettled by the events than he lets on.

Good Girl || Sweet Girl || Smart Girl || Brave Girl || Pretty Girl || Charming Girl

During your recovery, Jungkook had changed a bit. It was a slow process, yet you noticed the fine details in the way he would treat you a little differently. It wasn't a bad change in any way- you guessed it was just because of the shock he'd gotten after the accident, which was totally understandable. Your dynamic had always been quite cliche in a way, with his bad-boy persona and your gentle nature. He seemed like the big bad wolf while you were the red riding hood, innocent and emotional. But you wouldn't have it any other way.

So how exactly did things change? Well, he wouldn't leave you alone for starters. It wasn't like he didn't give you space or anything, but he was more.. needy in terms of skinship. Whenever he played video games for example, he'd sit you on his lap, have you sit in between his legs with your back against his chest, or simply your head on his thighs when you were taking a nap or reading on your phone. When you both slept he'd be more clingy towards you than before, always reaching out to either hold your hand or have an arm around your middle. He started to become almost dependent on your affection and attention, and it was cute, you admitted that; yet it also made you worry a bit. It has been a week since you had gotten your stitches removed, yet he still seemed on edge. You hoped it would dissolve over time, yet you told yourself to talk to him about it if it continued. Something was going on in his head, that much you knew, but what exactly it was you didn't.

Getting back from grocery shopping, you immediately went to take one of the bags out of Jungkooks' carrying hand, one which held the ingredients for todays dinner in it. Yet he raised it up, making you pout. "Ah-ah Babygirl, 'lemme unpack the other bag and then we'll cook." He said, and you nodded, a bit suspicious. His culinary skills weren't.. too impressive if you were being completely honest. He knew how to cook ramen in his sleep at this point, but that was pretty much it. He'd also never shown much interest in cooking before, happily watching you cook- and that was fine with you too. You always found cooking and baking almost therapeutic, making something giving you a feeling of success you would crave on days were you felt low.

Yet once he'd unpacked everything, putting all the items into their proper place, it got obvious that this time around, you wouldn't cook anything. Because just as you had started to get out a cutting board, strong arms suddenly wrapped around your middle, his nose brushing over the crook of your neck playfully. He slowly walked you away from where you were trying to work, and backed you up against the counter next to where you'd put the cutting board. "Jungkookie I gotta cook-" You whined, but he wasn't having it.

"Nop, come on. Up." He said, but his eyes didn't hold the usual impish spark they usually had whenever he had something different in mind. You complied, simply because it was an instinct at this point, and he grabbed your hips to help you sit on the counter. "Tell me what I need to do, and I'll cook." He said, already searching for a knife. You furrowed your brows at him.

"Jungkook you never cook." You questioned, leaning your head to the side to show your confusion. He chuckled at that, mumbling something about maybe needing to change that, when you were suddenly grabbing his wrist which held the knife, making his head snap to it in horror. He was about to say something when you moved the hand to cup his cheek. Now it was his turn to be confused. "What's really going on 'Koo?" You asked, and his tongue started to move against the inner lining of his cheek, pulling his lower lip between his teeth- a sign that he was clearly nervous. "Is it still because of what happened? I'm fine Kookie, really." You said, and he sighed, placing his larger hand on your thigh, thumb slowly running in circles over your skin. He did kind of looked like a kid getting lectured, yet it also showed you that you were hitting a nerve. "Don't get me wrong, I love how close you keep me these days, and I adore how gentle you are with me, but 'Koo.." you said, making him look at you. "You're not being yourself." You said, and he ran the hand that wasn't occupied through his hair.

"I actually don't know either." He grumbled, yet you knew he wasn't being too honest. Your gaze was still demanding, needing a proper answer, and he suddenly sat down at the kitchen table, head in his hands. You carefully jumped down the counter- well, not really jumping but sliding off with one foot reaching for the floor to balance you. The doctors told you getting the entire functionality of your legs back would take a while, and you still needed physiotherapy every week, but that didn't mean that you always took their advice. You usually got your ass smacked by karma personally though, as you would get punished with agonizing muscle cramps if you overdid it during the day. Jungkook would gently massage your legs if it happened, a worried and almost apologetic glint in his eyes whenever he did it, always the hero who wants to take the pain away- though he couldn't, and that made him feel helpless, useless even. He's still feeling guilty, yet he's also not talking about it, dancing around the topic as if he had to try and explain to his parents that he'd gotten someone pregnant on accident. It felt uncomfortable since he never truly had to stand up for his mistakes, and even now he technically didn't have to since it wasn't even his fault- but he felt like he did. "I'm having nightmares." He mumbled lowly, face still in his hands. You sat down next to him, unsure what to do.

You decided you would give him the same treatment whenever you had a nightmare back when you were younger; your mother a firm believer that these unpleasant dreams could only be resolved if you talked about them. "Tell me about them." You said, not asking like you usually would. He shook his head, taking a deep breath as if he would prepare himself to bury the pictures again until he'd eventually had to face them tonight again. He didn't tell you, but he never really slept an entire night ever since you'd gotten back from the hospital. He would wake up in a cold night's sweat, craving to turn the lights on like a frightened child in fear of not being awake yet, yet he only settled with shining his phone screen on your form, calming himself down by counting every breath you took, each one proof that you were okay, that you were just fine, that you were still beside him. "Koo please. I wanna help you.." You pleaded, a soft whine to your voice, slowly making cracks in his walls. You sat down on the floor next to his slightly turned chair, making him snap his gaze at you, wondering what you were doing. You simply placed your hands on his thigh, your chin resting on them to look up at him with puppy eyes. Maybe this would make him talk. He chuckled, patting his lap after scooting back a bit. You gladly sat down on his thigh, legs dangling between his, his arm resting around your middle, fingers playing nervously with the hem of your skirt.

"They're about you." He started, swallowing, eyes not meeting yours. You decided to just lay your head on his shoulder, hugging his chest and making it easier for him to talk by not looking at him. "It's either- like.. sometimes it's the moment I ran to you when.. when you were uh.. laying on the sidelines you know? But I can't.." He took a breath, now tightening his grip on the small part of fabric. "I can't get to you I just- you're-.. I can't get closer, all I see is that young dude trying to like, do something, this like- Urgh I don't remember the word for it like- this shit where you push onto your chest to keep your heart beating, you know, that stuff.." His voice is wavering a bit you start to notice. You simply nod into his neck, giving him a sign that you're listening. "It always ends with the ambulance arriving, and they- fuck.. they just put this trashbag shit over you and I- god. I.." His voice gets a bit higher, a sign that he's close to tears. Yet you let him go on. "The uhm.. the other one is, like.." He inhales deeply again, and you tighten your grip on him, making him let go of your skirt, but instead put both his arms around you. "I'm like, at a churche and, oh god, you're like, in a casket, I know it's you, but every time I want to look inside the fucking thing closes, like, slams onto my hands, and I wake up. Like when you dream of these weird staircases where you stumble you know and you like wake up instantly." He said, hand moving to gently run through your hair.

"Do you still feel guilty about it?" You asked softly, quietly, because you didn't need to be louder due to the amount of distance you both only had. He simply nodded his head, still looking down. You knew it wouldn't help him if you went on and on about how it wasn't his fault at all, how he had no say in things like that whatsoever, that no one had, because that was exactly what hurt him. Jungkook was a bit cliche when it came to things like these; he wanted and craved control, he needed it to ground himself, which may was the reason he felt so comfortable and good around you. You both fit together perfectly because of this, since you came from a family where independence was taught from a very early age, having a father who'd demanded you to move out as soon as you had turned 18, and a mother who showed you how to run a household when you were just a little girl. While he loved being in control, you craved to let go and be lead without having to fear to be used like you'd been before. Yet right now exactly this character trait of his was making him feel miserable. "That's fine." You finally said, making him hum, urging you to explain that statement. "It's okay that you feel bad, it's understandable." You mumbled, nuzzling the crook of his neck. "Wake me up next time please. You wake me up when you have nightmares, and I'll let you carry me around as much as you want-"

"Deal." He said with a smirk, happy that the tension was finally snapping and letting go, clearing the air around you both. He indeed felt a bit lighter now, as typical as it sounded. Yet you always knew what to say, and it felt good to talk about it, that was something he had to admit. "I love you." He blurted out, and he could practically feel your cheeks heat up against his skin. He chuckled, hand slowly creeping under your soft sweater, caressing your bare skin underneath until he could feel the edge of your bra. You knew what he was hinting at, by now familiar with his need to be close to you after moments like these. It was times like this when he felt most vulnerable yet also the most sensitive to things- like a nerve stripped bare of its fleshy armor. It may seemed odd, but it was his way of grounding himself again, giving his pride and overall confidence a restart after having him expose his feelings like this. You happily agreed, nosing at his neck before kissing, making him smile. His hand opened your bra with well practiced movements, before he slipped his hand underneath the cup, caressing your breast in a gentle gesture.

You moved around a bit, spreading your legs over his lap to dangle off his thighs, palms stopping your hands from moving your sweater over your head. "uh-uh baby, you're gonna get cold." He mumbled before leaning in to kiss your lips, immediately feeling a sense of euphoria he would've never thought he could feel from a gesture like this alone. You whined a bit, but he simply deepened the kiss, tongue demanding entrance you happily gave him. Your hips moved on their own, yet it was in vain with how far he'd your legs spread, not giving you any chance of friction. He loved how your hands moved to only grip the hem of his jeans, yet not going further- it wasn't that you didn't want to, oh hell you did- but recently, he'd started to give you certain rules. Just for fun of course, mostly his, but you had agreed to them, so it was your fault of you wanted to complain- which you certainly didn't. He loved how it just added to his ego, yet it also filled him with a sense of even more will to protect you. If that made sense. "Hm? What is it?" He mumbled between his kisses, eyes still closed, as well as yours. They only opened a fraction once you whined, mumbling something he didn't hear clearly enough. "Louder princess. I can't hear you." He said, a teasing tone to it.

"I said uh.." You started, looking at him, eyes almost hazy. He loved this look on you, as if you slipped into a different mindset around him. He knew by now that you actually did, he'd read about it online, and he felt powerful yet also filled with pride on how much trust you had in him to let yourself go like that. "I said can I please have it?" You mumbled out, cheeks read and oh so endearing to him. He smiled at that, moving his hand over your cheek, having you lean into it like a touch starved animal.

"Good girl. Can you say it clearer though? What do you want?" He asked, and you slowly lowered your gaze, mumbling something incoherent again, and he chuckled. "Alright alright, small steps. We're getting there." Jungkook had started to make it a regular thing to try and get you to communicate with him more clearly, even in a state like this. After all the mishaps you both had in the past due to bad communication between you, he decided that things needed to change. He slowly placed your hands on his shoulders so you couldn't slip off of him, and carefully unbuckled his belt. "Hm.. but I can't put it in baby, you know that right?" He said gently, and you nodded, even if you pouted a bit. It wasn't that he didn't want to go bare, but you didn't take birth control because you hated any form of pills, and he understood that, never pressuring you. He however didn't believe in 'pulling-out' being a good idea since he knew he would never be able to control himself to this extend- so you both agreed on using condoms, just to be safe. Both of you were definitely not ready to parents yet, that was for sure. "Alright." He said, grabbing your skirt and moving the fabric out of the way so your underwear was exposed to him. The darkened fabric was already glistening as he playfully ran two fingers over the spot, making you whine and shift around impatiently. Laughing again he pulled himself out of his underwear, before grabbing your behind and showing you closer to him until his length pushed against your folds, finally giving you a form of release. you wrapped your arms around his neck, moving your hips while he made sure to push himself against you in a similar rhythm. breathing heavily, the tension began to rise around you, air feeling stuffy and thick as he squeezed your behind with both hands, grumbling sounds of pleasure against your neck, mouthing against your skin. He was quick to get both of you to the edge, shamelessly letting himself cum over your underwear as he sighed contently. You seemed to get sleepy, arms pulling him closer, whining when he moved you to get down from his lap. "We only had a small breakfast to eat, and I won't let my princess starve in this household." He mumbled, speaking to you in a deep and low voice you could drown yourself in. His gaze fell on your inner thigh, still glistening from his and your releases, and he stood up, playfully slapping a Hand against your butt. "Now go you messy baby, first to get clean gets to eat the leftover shortcake!" He said in excitement, and you wordlessly ran (still a bit wobbly, but way better than weeks prior) to your bedroom, Jungkook gladly letting you win.

"Are you sure I'm not supposed to lift the lid- OW!" Jungkooks intense need to look and check on everything was funny, but also nervwrecking to say the least. He wouldn't even let the pasta cook in peace, constantly trying to lift the lid- even though you told him several times before that no, they won't burn, and yes, the lid is indeed very hot. You had the lid a little tilted so the steam could escape a bit better, and you had told him seemingly a hundred times prior to just leave it like that, but this was Jungkook we were talking about. The lid clattered a bit as it closed on top of the pot, he himself sheepishly turned around to you who stood behind him, looking at him with a gaze that clearly said 'I told you so'. Yet he would never truly listen to you, as funny as that would be. "You gotta kiss it better now!" He exclaimed, and you laughed at his wide eyed look as he held his pointer and middle finger in your direction, the tips of his digits slightly red. You kind of wanted to tell him not to be a crybaby about it, but two could play his games of teasing- and you felt proud at the way his eyes widened even further with the next bold move you made. Typically you never did things like this, but over time you had slowly become more and more comfortable around him, giving you more and more confidence and ease in your actions around him. Proof of that had been the fact that you had started to grow more self-assured whenever you gave him oral- something you had never thought you'd do before being with him. Gabbing his hand with both of yours, you kissed the tips of his fingers before boldly placing them insider your mouth, soft lips closing around them. His pupils dilated dangerously, and this was one of those moment's you could've sworn his entire eyeshape changed- his typical doe eyes becoming slender and sharp, as he pushed his fingers down on your tongue, making you open your mouth. His own lips parted a bit at the sight, the way you showed him such an amount of pure submissiveness making him feel almost high of some sort- yet the moment was broken at the sizzling sound of the water dripping down the sides of the pot, the closed lid making the water foam angrily down onto the stove.

You both had split apart from one another like it was your hands touching the hot plate and not the water, and the way you scrambled to turn around and pretend like setting the table was the most interesting thing to do. Jungkook had swallowed hard, grabbing the red and blue oven mitts to take the pot from the heat source, shutting the oven down and draining the pasta. You meanwhile had to calm yourself down, now in a weird state of- well, what was is? Embarrassment maybe? Possible. Yet you didn't have time to think about it much when you heard the fabric of the gloves Jungkook had used to not get burned, hitting the stone counter with a little more force than they should. The man in question had stormed out of the kitchen, leaving you worried that maybe something had happened- automatically assuming that it was your wrongdoing that had set him off. Studying the wooden surface of the dining table, still bare of any porcelain you should've put out by now, you didn't notice how he'd crept into the room again, hard gaze and frustrated features. You only did too late when his hands had already turned you around by your shoulders, hooking underneath your arms to place you ontop of the table with ease. With almost comically wide eyes you stared at his- a look of determination sparkling behind their dark color. "Oh you thought you could get away with that pretty girl?" He almost growled, a rough edge to the low tone of his voice. "Thought you could just tease me like that, hm?" He said, suddenly not too concerned about you getting cold as he swept the soft sweater over your head, making quick work of your bra underneath with frustrated noises when your arm couldn't escape one of the straps fast enough. His hands instantly kneaded at the flesh, relishing in the soft feel of them before he dipped his head down, leaving open mouthed kisses along your neck, hands wandering lower until they moved to caress the backs of your thighs. "Hm pretty girl is getting playful isn't she?" He mumbled, chuckling darkly before moving his head away to stand to his full height, pulling on your knees to have your behind almost slip over the edge. You made a surprised sound at this, scared you'll fall off when he hushed you, tipping his head to the side a bit impishly, almost a teasing ghost of a smile on his lips. "Oh? Not so bold now aren't you baby?" He said, looming over you again, his hard on present against your core, making you move your hips, testing if it would be enough friction. He raised an eyebrow at this, hand coming down on your hip to still you. "If you wanna stop just say 'red', okay princess?" His voice was sincere, a bit higher even as he spoke to you, face serious. You whined, not in the mood to talk, but he moved a hand to still your face, grabbing around your chin softly. "No baby, I need an answer. Loud and clear this time." He said, and you pouted at him, yet complied, telling him that you understood. It was a little heartwarming to see his concern even in a situation like that if you weren't so turned on at this point. He smiled, before he removed your skirt, impatiently shoving your damp panties down your legs, not bothering for you to kick them off at this point. Grabbing the fabric of the back of his shirt he pulled it over his head in a swift move, hair a mess over his eyes, barely giving you enough view of his gaze. Your eyes trailed over his tattoos, mesmerized every time you saw them. His muscles flexed underneath his skin as he pulled his jeans down together with his underwear, deep V-line standing out against the rest of his bodily structure. He grabbed something next to your head before opening the foil package, rolling the latex protection over his length quickly before moving your legs to fold over your body to rest against your stomach, eyes locked with yours for any signs of discomfort. When he found none, he moved his attention lower, pupils dilating at the view of your very center so ready for him. Not even needing to get himself any harder than he already was since your small situation just minutes prior, he entered you in a slow motion, bathing in the view of his manhood disappearing inside you inch by inch, your whines serving as the music accompanying the scene for him. Oh he knew he'd never get tired of that view, he could happily die with this picture as his last in front of his eyes. Your hands reached for his, interlacing your fingers with his, himself using this to his advantage to keep you as close to him as possible as he picked up his pace. He didn't care about the legs of the table complaining a bit as they scraped over the kitchen tiles with the force he started to put into his motion, mind too deep into the moment to think about that right now. His thoughts were absolutely occupied by you, everything about you- the fact your skin always seemed to glow, looking and feeling so soft underneath his fingers, a perfect match for your equally delicate personality hidden underneath all that physique. "Ah-" He sighed, never letting neither of you have a break. "You're all mine, all mine.." He breathed out, until you squeezed his hands a bit, making him look up at you. You didn't say anything yet he could spot a bit of discomfort behind your eyes, slowing down a bit to let you breathe better. "Hng.. legs-" You started, and Jungkook looked at you, waiting for you to continue. "..they'gettin tingly.." You said, and he could see how hard it was for you to really form any coherent thought, let alone form a sentence. Yet he only smiled, moving you both around a bit, stretching your legs out before he entered you again, this time a bit more comfortably for you. "Good job Baby, thank you- ah- thanks for telling me.." He mumbled, kissing your lips desperately before his hand grabbed your chin again, opening your mouth for him to explore. His hands held you securely by the back of your knees, his hair starting to cling to his forehead with the help of his sweat which was slowly building up at this point. He breathed heavily, eyes never leaving your form, drinking you in like he was a parched man roaming the desert. Surely, your whines started to stretch longer and longer, an indication that you were getting close, making Jungkook pick up his pace, huffing a bit as his own release drew closer as well. The way your legs pulled out of his grasp, your core clenching around him had him spill his load inside the condom, groaning as he did so, gulping down breaths alongside you who laid flat on the table in front of him, his body only held up by his forearms above you, forehead resting on your collarbone. He chuckled after a bit, before finally standing up again. "We should really stop fucking in the kitchen." He said between a laugh, and you looked at him scandalously as if you wanted to deny having any part in this. "Oh don't look at me like that, you enjoyed it too!" He said, helping you stand up for a short moment before he placed his arm underneath your knees, the other supporting your back behind your shoulders. Carrying had seemingly never been an issue for him, no matter how exhausted he might seemed sometimes.

Walking into the bathroom, you went to do your business, (Jungkook insisting you did, even though you had told him you didn't have to pee) and the young man started the shower, water not as hot as he would like it to be, since he knew that you didn't like too hot showers- you were more for hot baths, something he was wary off after you had overdone it one time and went dizzy afterwards. After that situation, he would always sneakily check the water temperature before you would enter, sometimes adding cold water to it so you wouldn't overheat like last time. When you didn't join him after a bit, he peeked his head out of the patterned glass doors, spotting you sitting on the closed toilet seat, seemingly waiting. He chuckled, waving his hand to catch your attention. "Come on doll, we gotta save water, be all environment friendly 'n shit." He said laughing, and you walked over to him inside the shower to let the water fall onto both of you. He immediately grabbed a bottle of yours and his favorite body wash, rubbing his hands together with the lotion between it to warm it up as to not startle you, before he grabbed the purple loofah from the side, lathering it in the soap before he ran it across your backside, careful and completely immersed into the task at hand. He made sure not to scrub as relentless and speedy as he would on his own body, making sure to rinse the foam off of you as well. Something that always got to him was just how petite you looked compared to himself; his hands had started to get a bit rough from working so much these days, a stark contrast to your soft skin. He was fascinated by the very slight and faded scars you had on your skin, all hidden like these 'spot the cat between the owl' pictures. There was one on your arm near the side of your wrist; a burn you had told him before when you had started to work at a bakery. He could spot another one behind your ear, a mark that had wandered overtime, the only real evidence of when you fell off a tree when you were six. Then there were the most recent ones, still bright and present, a stitched line above your right hipbone, as well as some healed scratches all over that side of your body- but these small cracks in your porcelain form would heal completely, they would fade just like the pain he'd felt that day. When he turned you around to wash your front, even though you told him you could do it, he spotted different marks. Like the small birthmarks littered like stars forming a constellation, or the stretch marks most present on the inside of your upper thighs- something you hated, yet he saw them as proof that your body has grown, that you could even catch your own skin by surprise at this point. Whenever his hand ran over that part he could faintly feel the dents, yet it didn't gross him out at all. It made him feel fascinated, because all of this was proof that you were indeed a human being, and not the angle he always found himself mistaking you as. Gently, you took the loofah from him, using his own bodywash, before you repeated the same task on him. He smiled softly down on you, humored by the fact that you had to look up to actually reach his shoulders. Just as you were about to tell him to turn around, his eyes suddenly sharpened impishly, as he reached out to pull on the shower controls, switching to the detachable showerhead instead of the overhead one. For the first time he himself had no intention of satisfying himself in a sense of traditional release, but in another way. As he tapped his shoulders for you to grab onto so you wouldn't fall, he slowly pushed the showerhead against your center, your squeaks and the way your fingers gripped onto his flesh feeding his inner predatory soul. He increased the amount of water flowing through the silver-striped waterhose, the pressure on your delicate nerves leveling up simultaneously. You tried to close your legs but to no avail, the metal not giving away against your soft muscles. Your entrance clenched around nothing as your bundles suddenly snapped like a rubber band pulled too hard, leaving you yelping as you almost jumped at Jungkook, trying to escape his weapon of pleasure and the oversensitivity- but he had reacted fast enough, lowering the pressure so that you could ride it out pleasently, whining a bit while taking deep, shuddering breaths, your arms now locked around his neck, head against his chest. He smiled, the view and action giving him enough satisfaction that he didn't even think about you returning the favor.

After Dinner, you both had made yourself at home on your shared bed, watching a random drama on his scratched up laptop, him sometimes groaning at the fact that the charging cable disconnected randomly sometimes, darkening the screen for a second until he rearranged the already taped cable. You had offered to get your laptop from the other room, but he didn't want you to get up, telling you that it worked just fine. At some point you had yawned, eyes closing for the fraction of seconds it seemed, but in reality it was for more than three, sometimes more. Jungkook noticed how increasingly tired you got, kissing your head before he closed the laptop after pausing the video. He set it down onto the floor next to the bed, shutting off the light and pulling the covers over your bodies, arms immediately reaching around your body, pulling you close. "Hey, 'Koo?" You said after a bit, now awake again after remembering something. He hummed, giving you an indication that he was listening. "..nevermind. Goodnight." He hummed again, before he moved, snapping on the light next to the bed, pushing himself up on his elbow.

"Come on." He said, and you turned around, looking at him with squinted eyes because of the light.

You stared at his neck as you talked. "I dunno.. didn't you want something too, like, when we were in the shower.?" You asked, and he shook his head no. "But like, now I feel bad cause only I got something and you didn't.." You said, and he simply smiled.

"Nah. Its okay really." He said, but your pouting face said otherwise. "Hm.. I mean, I guess there's something I always kind of wanted.." He said, and your eyes widened at that, sparkling with the challenge he just declared to you. He loved how much you trusted him, not even knowing what he was implying, yet already willing to go all in just for his happiness and approval for you. He moved, looming over you. "I'm gonna be pretty mean though.." He said, voice low as he tipped his head to the side a bit, feigning innocence. "..you think pretty girl can take it?" he sing-songed, chuckling at your nodding after his question, and he soon made his hands roam under your shirt running over your chest, feeling your soft buds beginning to peak at his sensual touch, your body already responding to him. He really didn't need anything from you at all, the way you were giving yourself to him had been payment enough, yet he also couldn't hide his own need of being a little selfish once in a while. There certainly were things roaming around in his head that he wanted to turn into reality, yet the perfect timing to talk about it had never been quite right. Now could be the time though. You nodded cutely at him, and he grinned like the wolf in the red riding hood story, ready to feast on his prey like the canine predator pictured in the books. Yet the way he would be devouring you would proof to be way more sinful than what those stories could've ever told about. As he began to push his knee in between your legs, letting you grind against his bare skin through the cloth of your underwear like the desperate being you were, even if you were on the verge of falling asleep just seconds ago, he sighed at the way your face relaxed in pleasure, head pushing a little into the soft pillows underneath, hands reaching for his skin to get any form of physical contact you could get. He grabbed you by your wrists, pushing them into the soft sheets on the mattress you both laid on, ripping his knee and your only source of friction and pleasure away from you as soon as he noticed that you were close. You whined at this, pouting at him as you slowly connected the dots in your head, finally coming to the conclusion of what his intentions would be for the night; and he cooed at you teasingly. "Oh, what is it pretty girl?" He said, brushing your hair back to reveal the entirety of your face to him. "You said you'd take it didn't you? Or did my good girl lie to me, hm?" He hummed, eyes slimming down to slits, his dominating demeanor finally coming to the surface; a fact that you could not yet place as good or bad. "I don't think you did, princess. Good girls never lie.." He chimed, slowly ridding yourself of your underwear, pulling them down your legs until he deemed enough time had passed to continue for the second attempt. This time his hand found its way downtown, reaching between your already shimmering legs to push two of his fingers insider your core, gentle movements way too slow to actually push you anywhere near over the edge. It was like standing on a bridge; you could see the deep waters below, but the railings would always keep you from falling. He was relentless, ever the tease, feeding off of your desperate soft please under your breath, wanting, no needing to hear them more clearly. So once he felt you get close for another time, he sped up his movements for a second, making you wheep out before he pulled away as if burned, pushing his knees between your legs so you were forced to stay open and bare like that, breaths coming out short and cut to pieces. He hushed you again, gently running his warm hand over your lower abdomen, thumb running in circles just below your navel, as he loomed over you again, his hair falling onto your forehead, curled strands tickling your skin. Your eyes were closed shut, frustrated huffs of air escaping you as you peeked one eye open at him, making him chuckle. "Hm.. not quite there yet I think." He mumbled, his thumb pulling your lower lip from between your teeth, opening your mouth for him to kiss you deeply for a moment, helping your body and mind to calm down for a bit. It did nothing to soothe your lower regions, but it did help you to ground yourself at least a little bit, before he moved his body again, this time hooking your legs over his broad shoulders by the back of your knees, grinning sheepishly at you from his spot on his stomach facing your core, licking his lips before he placed his mouth against you, tongue making its way over your most sensitive bundle of nerves in a slow and agonizing motion. He took his time, playing around for a while just how he thought was fitting, eating away like a starved man who was trying to savor every little bite, before he pulled away with a wet noise, just before you could slip from his grasp. You sobbed drily without tears, pleading loudly this time, before he changed his position yet again, pushing his length inside as slow as he could, staying inside of you for a moment, before pulling out again, grabbing a condom from the bedside table and putting it on, chuckling as his own hips bucked a bit at the sheer sensitivity he'd gained at this point. He pushed inside after a bit again, careful not to touch your pulsing pearl as to not accidentally let you cum, bringing himself to a short release before he reached for your hands which clenched the sheets so tightly he was scared you'd hurt yourself. As soon as the still sensitive tip of his length had gently popped out of you, he could see the way your legs quivered, trying to desperately close up, get any sort of friction, tight hole clenching around nothing; it was an almost magical sight to him, really. He moved his hand over your center, gathering the slick of your body and moving his hand all the way to your chest, softly running his digits over the smooth flesh of one of your breast, humming gentle tunes to you. „Hm, you’re doing so well, you’re so good for me, that’s the last one okay?“ he hummed to you, eyes softening at your glistening ones, tears of frustration gathering over your eyes, clouding and blurring his image for you until you blinked them away, letting them run down your cheeks. The back of his other hand gathered them before they could travel far, wiping them away and kissing your cheeks in return, smile on his lips never wavering. „You’re so, so so good, gonna stop being mean now, okay doll?“ he said and you shook your head yes frantically, making him chuckle. „Then lemme see you fly little dove..” he mumbled, catching you by surprise as he shoved himself back inside you were he felt like he belonged, his pace relentless, inked hand reaching between your bodies to glide over your already pulsating pearl below. Your neck pushed your head into the pillows beneath, mouth opening in a silent scream, as your back arched into his chest, his eyes never leaving your form as you came with the feeling of pure euphoria. And even though it had only lasted seconds, the view alone had made him release as well, mouth frantically attaching to your neck, mouthing at the skin, biting, groaning, his entire body reacting to the way your hands scrambled to hold onto him, thighs shaking, legs pulling him closer. He truly had been a pure moron to miss out on a feeling like this before; yet he was sure that he could only fly that high with you as his wings. It has never happened before to him, but he actually came again as well, surprising himself which made him moan in a pitch higher than usual. He gasped, falling down next to you after he discarded the condom into the bin next to the bed, pulling you close immediately, needing to have you against his skin.

Jungkook was a man who only knew how to convey his feelings sexually. He never was someone to enjoy physical affection like cuddling or kissing, he was clumsy with his words, and he always found typical dates cliche and cringey. Yet he caught himself like this again, with your body in his arms, the window letting in the sun from outside, warm light creating glowing patterns on your exposed skin mimicking the stripes of the blinds. He couldn't help but feel like this was the most aesthetic thing he'd ever seen, wanting to take a picture of it but also not wanting to move and wake you in the process. This was your doing, the way he slowly changed over time, growing more and more into a person he actually started to like whenever he looked into the mirror. He no longer was the guy that stared back at him with eyes full of judgement, but a young man who's gaze was full of determination and confidence. And slowly this confidence wasn't just a mask, but genuine. And it made him sigh with a smile, closing his eyes to catch some more sleep with you and maybe even meet you in his dreams.

"Why are my shirts pink?!"

"You put my red skirt into the wash with the white laundry I guess?"

"Wait ...you're not supposed to do that?"

Taglist: @sweetenedcooky @ggukkieland @btsismybias22 @darkgvk @daddypkj @flowerprincess24 @crazylittlemay @zeharilisharaban

[drivingsideways]

Hey talk to me about your top three favourite kdrama women. What makes them special? What's a fic you would like to write about any one of them?

Mystery anon! :D What a lovely ask. 

I’m going to cheat a bit and divide my answer into characters I loved a lot, but do not want to write fic about, because I think the canon gives me what I need; and characters that I loved a lot but NEED TO BE RESCUED ZOMG.  (My fic writing impulses are 50% spite and 50% fix-it )

Caveat being that I’ve still watched only maybe a dozen kdramas, so I’m pretty limited in my knowledge!

Characters that I love a lot, but have very zero fic impulses toward:

Han Yeo-jin from Stranger/Secret Forest: What a delight! What an iconique character! Is there anyone like her? NO. LSY-nim gives us a delightfully complex character, and Bae Doona knocks it out of the park in every single scene, so I’m just happy to be along for the ride. I think what makes Yeo-jin special for me is the intrinsic place of empathy that she operates from.  I think “righteous” is a word that often comes with negative connotations (self-righteous, for eg), but I do think she’s one of the most righteous-in-the-good-way characters I’ve watched in kdrama or any drama. I’m tired of stories that portray goodness as “boring” , as unworthy of narrative breadth or depth, and I love that Han Yeo-jin comes to us like a breath of fresh air in our particular dystopian narratives hellscape. She’s good, but never naive. She’s righteous but never cruel in her moral certainties.  I think that LSY nim, in the second season especially, gave Yeo-jin the kind of arc that character deserved when she’s forced to really dig deep into herself to figure out how she’s going to live in the world in the face of a deeply cutting, deeply personal disillusionment, and I’m really hoping for an S3 to see how that plays out further. 

Goo Hae-ryung from Rookie Historian: Ok, I will admit this may be rose tinted glasses view due to this show being my gateway drug into kdrama, but c’mon! She’s a reader! and a Thinker! And loves her wine! She’s plucky! She’s cute! She’s got a wry sense of humour! She’s got principles! She’s got a solid common sense to her that somehow doesn’t get in the way of her dreaming BIG! Oh dear, doesn’t she sound like the Mary-est of Mary Sues? Good for her.gif,  I say! Anyways, Shin Se-kyung is unutterably charming in this (AS IN EVERY SHOW OMG GIRL) and I just have a huge fondness for free-spirited heroines who get to tramp through the narrative changing the world as they do! 

Lee Ji-an from My Ahjussi: I’ve never had my heart broken more OR restored by any single character. IU is *phenomenal * in this, I think she really stepped up to what the script demanded from her. Ji-an’s weariness, her fear and vulnerability, her prickliness, her anger and her bitterness, and how, despite everything, she fights : GOD. Just. Again, what I love about the writing in this show is that it’s deeply empathetic without being cloyingly sentimental. I think a less, hmm, imaginative writer/PD might have focused on the Lee Ji-an the victim, and while the show definitely tells you in no uncertain terms that she is one,  of both circumstances and a cruel society, I think it refuses to take away her agency over her own life.(Lee Ji-an when we meet her is too busy hanging onto life by tooth and claw to indulge in self-pity, but we also see the toll it takes on her not to be able to say “this is too heavy a burden for me to carry myself and it isn’t my fault”; the show I think approaches Dong-hoon from the opposite side- his emotional isolation is partly a result of his own choices, but he doesn’t see it yet, and so his journey is also about letting people in and sharing the burden, but also recovering his own agency over his life. It’s an interestingly gender-bent arc, which is one of the things I love about this show. )

Ok, can I please add one more?

Hwang Han-joo from Melo is my Nature: She just felt SO real to me. She’s someone who doesn’t have the spectacular brilliance of either Jin-joo or Eun-jung, and struggles with accepting her limitations but not allowing herself to be defeated by them? I love her struggles as a mother, as a working woman in a sexist industry, a woman who’s perhaps having to rethink and reimagine what she wants from romance. I love that she’s a little silly, a lot kind, and an optimist, and just. I just think she’s the bravest of the three, tbh, and I LOVE HER AND I WOULD WATCH A SPIN OFF ABOUT JUST HER (i shouldn’t have faves among the three i know, BUT I DO, IT’S HER, IT’S HER.)

Ok! On to the next section! And I’m going to cheat again because I can’t stop at three. SORRY. NOT SORRY. 

Characters I love and SHOULD write fic for if I weren’t such a tired and lazy bunny:  

Song Sa-hui from Rookie Historian: Oh, girl, girl, GIRL. I love how she fights to snatch her freedom from the jaws of the patriarchy. I love that she unapologetically centers herself while doing that, because she knows that nobody else will.  I love that she’s prickly and calculating. I love that she’s smart and knowledgeable. I am SO HAPPY that she got to carve out a little bit of freedom for herself, even if it also is exile to some degree. She *should * be Emperor Jin’s Prime Minister and steering the ship of state, while also carrying on a tumultous affair with Queen Min Woo-hee, while ALSO commiserating with Emperor Jin about his boyfriend Historian Min Woo-won’s regrettable tendency towards Principles (TM) and masochism-but-not-in-the-fun-way. (This takes up much of his time which is why Song Sa-hui is running the country, of course. It works out well for all concerned, well, except her dad, of course.)

Song Ga-gyeong from Search:WWW: What’s NOT to love about our brilliant, beautiful, emotionally tortured gay icon? Nothing, absolutely nothing. I loved how the show allowed her to be flawed and make bad decisions, and then allowed her to make better decisions and regain control of her life. What I do need to do, of course, is see the CANON LOVE STORY between her and Cha Hyeon through to the end. It must, of course, include at least one baseball game, a lot of tequila and messy beach kisses. 

Oh Ji-hwa from Beyond Evil: Oh boy, this year’s runaway hit cleared the extremely low bar for standard crime/ thriller shows by leaving more than one of its female characters breathing and with all limbs intact, and got called feminist for it BUT it didn’t do justice to any of them in any meaningful way and that never hurt more than in the way they sidelined Kim Shin-rok’s talent by not giving Oh Ji-hwa anything much to do. She’s a tough as nails cop, a loving sister, a devoted but unsentimental friend-and by rights SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE HEROINE OF THIS SHOW. My secret fic fantasy is to rewrite the show entirely by making her , and the two other female characters in non-antagonist roles- Yoo Jae-yi and Im Sun-nyeo- as the central characters, as they investigate a serial killer who targets women.  It’s the only acceptable version of this done-to-death (ha!) genre, I have no idea what the Baeksang jury and tumblr fandom is smoking when they hype the show so much, I want none of it. 

Jung Sun-ah from The Devil Judge: I love her rage, her spite, her passionate defense of women, her style, her sexiness, her rage, her rage, her brilliance, her tenaciousness, her smartness, her clothes, her refusal to hate herself for everything she is and chooses to be, her ambition, her comfort wielding power, her EVERYTHING. Dead, her? NOT IF I HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY ABOUT IT. Here’s what *really * happened at the end of canon- she gets out of the building by planting that lady-like but still deadly gun against Kang Yo-han’s temple and making him lead her through his own “secret escape route” or whatever the fuck it was the show wanted us to believe. From there on out, it’s all sunshine and beaches, and scheming and waiting for the right moment to strike again-though of course, this time around, she also has to reckon with vigilant, tenacious cop Soo-hyun -another character who REALLY didn’t die for manpain reasons and had the good sense to leave her gay best friend to follow his psychopath boyfriend to Switzerland or wherever it is that star crossed lovers in kdrama land meet up on the regs these days- anyways, Soo-hyun and her are in this catch-me-if-you-can epic transnational honest and cute cop-and-beautiful sexy villain chase and yes, they WILL kiss (and more) AND IT WILL BE GLORIOUS. 

*whew *

Thanks for coming to my TEDTalk.

[rizumary]

In the Garden Full of Stars

✦ Summary: In a few months since they had started dating, Iwaizumi had found something as endearing as it was a complete torture for him: his girlfriend was too clueless and innocent for her own good. Of course it wasn’t something that would hinder his affection for her. On the contrary, Iwaizumi sometimes wondered how he could possibly hold himself back if Hana kept looking at him like he was the absolute wonder of this universe. ✦ AO3 ver — nutteu ✦ Word count: 9.7k  

In all his life, Hajime had always been a morning person, an early riser. Tooru had been particularly bitchy about this, but he ignored the jab and the whine at his, apparently, “gross habit”. Tooru and his sensitive ass could wake up late right into the doom’s day, for all he cared. These days, though, he found that he was tolerating someone’s habit of waking up late, and even taking the extra miles to encourage the change in habit. Besides, he got to meet his girlfriend’s groggy face early in the morning, and her sleepy smile in the process. It was honestly a win-win situation for everyone involved.

At this point, Hajime was familiar enough with her mother to be able to sit in their living room and waited for her comfortably, instead of awkwardly standing outside of her gate in the morning. The neighbors once or twice peeked from behind their fences and frowned at him. They probably thought he was a weirdo who stalked the daughter of Akeno’s family, or something. Remembering that just made heaved a deep sigh. The things he did for his clumsy girlfriend.

He didn’t mind, though. Not even a bit. Because Hana greeted him in the morning like she was the happiest person on earth, like she just woke up right into her sweetest dream. The light blush on her cheeks, the fresh scent emanating from her, the way she just stared up at him for a moment before smiling brightly again. Like she couldn’t believe he was real, like she couldn’t believe he was there to walk with her to the bus stop, hold her hand throughout the way, sit next to her in the bus, and listen to her chatters in the morning.

To be fair, Hajime couldn’t believe he was willing to do all of those as well. If someone told him a year ago that he was going to be this smitten with a clumsy, honest, heartwarming cotton candy, he’d politely say thank you, and tell them to do a double laps, regardless if they were in the team or not.

Now, though, he thought fondly, watching as Hana took the box of bento from her mom and kissed her cheek—now, there was nothing he could think of but how lucky he was, to find someone who accepted and wanted him as much as this person.

He bowed to the middle-aged lady, and was pulled out of the living room by an excited Hana. It was quite a windy morning, the scent of sweet flowers and fresh air in the early morning wafted to his nose, coupled with faint smell of food from the houses nearby. It felt like something familiar, it felt like a morning he enjoyed the most these days.

“Did you have your breakfast yet, Hajime-san?” the girl asked, peering at him with pale eyes and a small smile.

He smiled back at her and nodded. “Yeah, made some hamburgers this morning. I brought some for you too.”

She squealed, in that tiny squeak that was laced with happiness. It was so characteristically her that Hajime had to laugh for a moment. In mornings like this, Hajime usually made something to share with her at lunch. He didn’t always pick her up, only at times, as their house was essentially in a different area. When he did, he would come to her house by the earliest bus, sometimes his mom would drop him off there if she got some errands to do in the morning as well. They would walk to the bus stop together, hand in hand, and sat next to each other in the bus.

“This is my favorite thing about waking up early, you know?” Hana once said, the curve of her smile reflected from the bus’ window.

“Taking a bus?” he teased, and let out a small laugh when she whipped around and pouted, hitting lightly at his arm.

“No, Hajime-san, spending time with you,” she corrected. “I mean, every moment with you is my favorite. But sitting together with you in the bus is really comfortable you know? We can talk and be close to each other. You make me feel warm and safe, Hajime-san.”

He wasn’t prepared for the way she said those intimate words, so easily, so honest, so earnest. He was reminded of the girl who got embarrassed because she tripped, or said something way too loud. And then he was reminded of how shamelessly, unforgivingly honest and blunt Hana could be. She didn’t look like she realized that the things she said weren’t something people could usually say so easily, either. People had their own different egos, Hajime knew that. Even someone like Hana; but she was different in the sense that she perceived things differently than other people, and it resulted in her tendencies of spewing the most embarrassing, bravest thing someone could say with such a straight face.

He got used to it, later on. But it still made his heart race, nonetheless. Sometimes, he thought about the way Hana looked at him in the morning; like he was a wonder, a dream—and wondered if she saw the same thing reflected in his eyes as well.

In the instances when he didn’t pick her up, she went to school by herself like usual, and Hajime would wait for her at the bus stop near their school. They’d walk to the school together then. In the way, Hana usually chattered about her latest progress in her art, her side projects, her lessons and whined about her homework as well (she was a diligent girl, Hajime noticed. But she needed a lot of push and encouragements), some games she had started to pick up in the arcade (and the ever-strong obsession with the cranes), or showing him some new clothes that had piqued her interest up on her phone. Hajime would nod along the way, but mostly let her talk, listening to her with a small smile present on his lips, and watching out just in case she tripped or slipped because she didn’t pay attention to the sidewalk.

At times, Hana was worried that she might be bothering him with all her chatters and rants. But in all honesty, Hajime liked listening to her. He wasn’t exactly the most talkative person out there, unlike Tooru. And Hana always had the most interesting thing to talk about, anyways. It was just the way she talked, the cadence she used, the expression, the gesticulation of her hand as she told her stories. He enjoyed those, instead of getting irritated. Maybe he was biased, but Hajime was pretty sure he could just lay there and listen to her talk for hours on end.

He would drop her off at the front of her class, before going to his; waving at her and trying to ignore the curious stare from the kouhais. At times Tooru would pop his head out of the window of his class and grinned at Hajime, teasing him with, “Did you finish your job as the bodyguard?” or “Just came back from dropping the princess off, Iwa-chan?” and he either ignored it, or flicked his forehead hard enough for it to be red throughout the day.

It was a new set of habit, a new set of morning, but Hajime wasn’t complaining. It wasn’t bad at all, starting his day with Hana’s chatters and the excited smile on her lips; the small hand wrapped around his, the soft words of ‘Good morning, Hajime-san’ that felt like a douse of cotton candy in the misty morning. He liked it.

He liked it a lot.

Hana more often than not came to the gym now, every single day Hajime had practice. It came to the point of her being an unofficial manager, helping the other players with their bottles of water, chatting with them to ease them up from the tension of practices and tournament preparations, giving them their towels, helped with the presentation of tactics and formations, and overall just cheered them up from the sidelines. It was new, for Hajime. To have someone this enthusiastic with what he did, who even came and helped around, and he liked it so far.

Of course, there were nasty things going around as well. He knew Hana heard of those, knew that most of the regulars also knew.

“Did you know?” he one day asked, because there was a careless motherfucker who accidentally said disgusting things about Hana, right in the hearing range of the both of them. Hana acted like she didn’t hear it, however.

But all Hana gave to him was a reassuring smile, and a gentle caress to the side of his face. “I always did. But I never have to worry about those, Hajime-san. Because I know that you’ll protect me, that’s why I let them be, and hold on. I can show them, and show you, that I’m stronger than anything they can say about me.”

Hajime took that in, and smiled softly at the answer.

“Hana?” he called, motioning with his hand for her to come closer. They were the last ones in the gym, Tooru left earlier because he had to pick someone up. Hajime vaguely remembered the familiar voice on the other line when Tooru answered a call. A certain kouhai in his middle school—which wasn’t his business at all.

She scooted closer, eyes wide and wondering. “Yeah?”

He gently pushed away the strands of her newly cut bang, and kissed her forehead; soft, trying to convey feelings he was too dumb to explain into words.

But the way Hana stuttered and squeaked and blushed scarlet was enough to tell him that his feelings did come across. He was glad, he thought, smiling at his girlfriend, who tried futilely to hide a smile behind the curtain of her hair. He was glad that she chose him, and he chose to push through and be brave as well—to come out of his shell, and pursue her the way she had tirelessly did the same.

He was glad that life was kind enough to let her stay by his side. And he didn’t plan on letting go; not now, and not for a long time.

In retrospect, it shouldn’t have surprised him as much, but it did anyway—in a way that made his heart beat faster, and the warmth seeped into his skin like a blanket. In a way that reminded him of Tooru’s laughter and the knowing glint in his eyes, as he said, “simp.” Yeah, Hajime wouldn’t even deny it anymore. It really was hard not to be captivated by this kind of innocence, though.

Hana was… not so much innocent as she was just clueless. She was oblivious to the dirty innuendos and the nudges to divulge her love life. Being his girlfriend, it was pretty normal for her to know his friends as well, not to mention that they knew her personally from all those time she spent in the gym. They all talked and joked with each other, trying to include her as much as possible so she wouldn’t feel left out. But there were certain topics that boys caught on faster than anything else, hormone riddled brain recognizing the dirty topics faster than they could catch a serve.

“Ah, but Valentine really is the best time of the year, isn’t it?” Tooru started, looking up dreamily at the bleak ceiling. Hajime didn’t know where he got all those dramatics energy reservation inside of him. He wouldn’t want to know, either. “Chocolates, ladies shyly confessing to you, the little flutters of their laughter as they gather around and talk about the boys they’ll give the chocolate to. Ah! Youth!”

Youth my ass, Hajime wanted to say, as the laughter erupted around them. Tooru was a good captain, and a ridiculously amazing player, but he was a certified clown as well. He didn’t understand how the topic of exams, and the upcoming break for this term, just suddenly evolved into upcoming holidays, and then the argument of which holiday in a year was the best out of everything. Stupidly enough, the other just went along with Tooru’s bait and it got into a full-blown session of mooning over Valentine’s Day.

“You think so too, right, Hana-chan? I mean, you confessed on Valentine’s Day. I fully expect Iwa-chan to at least give you some good ‘ol smooches to show al the love he got in that cold, shriveled heart of his.” Tooru turned to Hana all of the sudden then—who let out a small, surprised squeak. “Hana-chan, don’t just make moony moony eyes at Iwa-chan! Come talk to us too, we’re lonely,” he complained, then fake-wailed so disgustingly that Hajime’s eyebrows just automatically went up two notches higher.

“I’m sorry, Oikawa-san!” she said, panicking and trying to soothe the big baby by patting his arm. “Um, Valentine was memorable for me, because of Hajime-san. But my favorite holiday is Christmas, actually,” she looked so earnestly apologetic that even Tooru forgot to continue his fake-crying for a moment. “We get to see and spend the day with our family, or just have it with our friends, or have the day off for ourselves. Of course, it’s so sad to think that there are people who still have to work on Christmas, but they’ll come home eventually and will have the time to rest as well—and earned extra money! It’s just a warm holiday for me, even if it’s in December, you know? Doesn’t it make you happy that you can forget about your burden and responsibilities for a moment, and just sit and enjoy some hot chocolates under the Christmas tree?”

For a moment, the whole circle was stunned into silence with her lengthy answer. Hajime stared, too; unabashed, devoted. He almost laughed with how the situation had turned. This—this girl just changed a teasing mood into an unexpectedly wholesome discussion, and powered through the jokes and nudges from Tooru beforehand. Maybe not powering through as much as dismissing it altogether, since those jokes probably went over her head anyway.

When the other boys were still recovering from the abrupt shift of mood, and Tooru was hiding his chuckles on his sleeve, Hajime caressed the top of Hana’s head and smiled down at her when she looked up with confusion and worry in her eyes. “Yeah, Christmas is pretty great. Maybe we can go out on Christmas Eve? We can see the Winter Illumination light in Johzenji.”

The pale eyes lighted up immediately, before crinkling into crescent moons as she smiled so hard it made her glow. Hajime couldn’t compete with this girl. She was too much, too lovely, too bad for his poor, cold, shriveled heart.

“Really? We can go there, Hajime-san?” she was all up on his space, and Hajime’s breath got stuck in the vicinity of his throat and lungs. It was hard to breathe properly with how close they were; close enough he could see her long lashes. “Is it really okay? I mean—I would love to go there and spend the Christmas with you, but… won’t you have any other plan for Christmas?”

He shrugged, smiling a little at her. “That is my plan, though?”

She gave him a bright grin that shot straight through his heart, and started chattering about how pretty the light shows would be, how much she was looking forward to this. As they all got excited for a holiday that was still too far away, Hajime gave small, continuous pats to her shoulders. A gesture he had found to be soothing and grounding. It became a habit, somehow, but she didn’t mind and he liked doing it as well. It worked out for the both of them. He did realize when he felt like someone was watching him, though.

When he looked from watching Hana and her excited chatter, he found that Tooru was smiling at the both of them. He didn’t look teasing, didn’t look mischievous; just a plain, sincere smile that reminded Hajime why he still stayed as his best friend for as long as he did. And then, of course, he had to ruin it by scooting closer, and whispered, “You’re so whipped, Iwa-chan.”

“Shut the fuck up you ugly, unused tinsel.”

“Waaah, Hana-chan! Iwa-chan is so mean to me!”

As Hana played along with Tooru’s stupid antics, and the conversation flowed freely around them, Hajime felt an inexplicable confusion and surprising feeling of comfort and endearment towards this discovery. How could a person, who wasn’t that much sheltered by her family; who understood the bad and the good, as clear as the sun and the moon; who had experienced bad things; who was friend with all type of people; who was present for multiple conversations regarding intimate topics—be this clueless and innocent about it? It was a big mystery to Hajime. Either Hana really was that clueless, or she just didn’t care much about this.

Or maybe, she did know, but didn’t understand the extent of it. This was also a possibility. But the fact remained that she was gullible about this sort of topic, and it gave a sense of comfort to Hajime. That Hana would always be the Hana he knew. That this kind of behavior was so her to the point that Hajime wasn’t even surprised, just a little bit confused. It was… endearing as well, to see her so oblivious and earnest in her replies about it, too. He also discovered that he was progressively getting more and more endeared by literally everything she did.

Smiling, crying, whining, chattering, sitting in silence, angry at the crane games, eating, hopping around, helping people, drawing, talking to Hajime like it was her most favorite thing to do in the world. Nearly everything, really.

“Hajime-san?” Hana inquired, peering close to his face and made Hajime’s heart suddenly climb to his throat. “What are you smiling about?”

He shook his head, opting to hold her hand tighter instead. Smiling when, instead of pushing him for answers, she just smiled and squeezed his hand back before diverting her attention to the circle of conversation at hand.

There were times like this, when Hana’s obliviousness came in spades even with all the teasings and multiple innuendos. There were also times when people tried to get her to spill about her love affair, hoping for dirty details and possibly things to embarrass Hajime about. But she just answered with a cheery smile and ran her mouth about Hajime, about their dates, about how great and caring and understanding he was to her. It was… embarrassing. But, just like this time, Hajime felt his heart fluttered like a mad dog in its cage, the enveloping warmth that felt like it was a sunny day for eternity. Like it was a nice day in a spring time; peaceful, content. Happy.

One of the things Hana was most excited about being a senpai, was meeting Kindaichi and Kunimi. She had heard a lot about them (as well as a certain Kageyama Tobio, a name that Hajime never uttered in front of her beforehand, for good reasons). Understandably, she was excited because these were Hajime’s underclassmen since he was in middle school. But to watch the determination in her eyes, how she vowed to be the bestest senpai to ever grace the earth for them, doting on them, and become a cool, reliable senpai all around—it was both funny and warming, all at once.

Of course, to no one’s surprise, she had failed at that spectacularly, and—though eventually become one of Kunimi’s and Kindaichi’s closest senpai—had instead come to rely on them whenever she tripped or slipped or forgot something (or when she got lost in tournaments, when there were too many people around and she got separated from the team). It was, again, most endearing to see her whined and cried about it, how she had failed to be the bestest senpai to ever grace the earth.

“You’re still the bestest kouhai I had ever wanted in this earth, though,” he said, nuzzling close and kissing the top of her head. “You can be assured of that.”

In an instant, she beamed at him; ultra-shiny today with her newly bought sunflower dress. “Really, Hajime-san? You really mean that?”

“Uhuh,” he nodded, smiling all the while. He found it gradually hard to not smile in the presence of this ball of sunshine and determination, as the time went by.

And then, almost like she had wanted to torture Hajime intentionally, she stepped closer into his space, and laid her head on the crook of his neck, whispering, “You’re the bestest boyfriend I had ever wanted in my life, too, Hajime-san.”

It was the moment that mark the process of Hajime’s ticking time bomb of his self-control.

Sometimes, there were happy days.

Life with Hana in it was starkly different. Hana brought something to Hajime’s life that he knew was missing before. The constant presence of someone that he knew he could anchor himself on; someone he could trust with his heart the way he had never tried before; someone that made the sky seemed a little bluer, the stars a little brighter, and time seemed to be infinitely faster each time they were together. Hajime had never been a clingy type of person, but with Hana, he found himself wanting to spend time a little longer with her, stay by her for one more minute, just enough to see her face and felt the bone-deep contentment and peace.

They dated regularly. Once a week, they’d spend their times watching movies, going on the shopping district, going from one café to another, playing on the arcades, walking around the park talking about everything and nothing. There were complicated types of romance, as was seen on mainstream media. But there was also something simpler; something that fell into place softly, unhurriedly. Like what he had with Hana right now.

They went to lunches together, and somehow got into the habit of cooking for one another. Hana’s cooking got better—especially her cakes and confectionaries—and Hajime got teased mercilessly by his mom, even with her knowing smile in place. They told each other about their day, about things they were interested about, about things that worried them. Hajime wasn’t exactly embarrassed about opening up and talking about his feelings, but people had their own burdens, and he wouldn’t want to impose even further. But Hana… she gave back as much as she gave, refusing to settle for less—both in efforts and her complete trust that Hajime would also did as she had done. And Hajime learned to trust that, to trust her, to open up and not feeling like he was less for admitting that he could be fragile, too.

Ironically enough, it started with the match between Aoba Johsai and Shiratorizawa. The match that left Hajime so raw, blistered, lost.

Hajime had had his heart broken multiple times in his life. But this time—he couldn’t even breathe from the pain of it. How could he? When everything he could have ever dreamt of, just on the tip of his fingers, were crushed beyond recognition in just a matter of a few minutes? Was the wall that high? Was Shiratorizawa that strong, or was it just Hajime? Who was too slow, too weak—a failure.

His body still trembled from the adrenaline, the shock hadn’t quite registering yet throughout every limbs. He found it hard to even bow to the other team, knew that everyone on his team felt the exact same thing. But for him, for Tooru, this might be their last chance to meet Shiratorizawa in this stage, in this very court. He choked back a sob from the back of his throat, and went to the locker room with numb legs.

There weren’t much the coach could say, and no one stayed around long enough to say anything more, either. Usually, he would stay behind and watch the rest of the match and scout other teams’ tactics. But he couldn’t even think straight right now, beyond the failure, failure, failure that kept spinning around in his head. He was too sensitive, hurt too much in too many places. Hajime had had his heart broken multiple times in his life, but this time—he felt the pain so acutely that he almost keeled over from it.

Hana was waiting for him outside of the locker room, looking worried sick and sad, so sad. Hajime could imagine the same look on his face, with a lot more desperation and numbness. Her eyes were red around the rim; she had been crying. Gods—Hajime wanted to cry too right now, more than anything. He had always expected the possibility of them losing, how painful it would be for him, for the team. But he didn’t know that it would be this crushing.

She held his hand without words as they walked back to the train station. He didn’t say anything, either. Too tired, too sad. He didn’t even know how he was still standing, walking in steady pace with Hana next to him. She was gripping his hand tight; tight enough to be painful, but Hajime was too far gone to even register another source of pain. The streets were bustling about with people, but it was almost empty nearing the station. The bright neon lights on his left and right, the bright atelier of every shop, the loud city—everything seemed muted in Hajime’s head. Oh—oh, Gods—oh Gods the tears—

“But the funniest thing is,” he suddenly said, with voice so unsteady from unshed tears. “The funniest thing is—that I failed them. I failed as their ace, you know? We were so close, so close. And we—we—“

He didn’t know when the tears started, didn’t know how and when they arrived at the station. He just followed Hana’s gentle hand, as she led him to sit on one of the benches. As she held him tight, enveloping him with warmth, holding his broken pieces with soft whispers and caresses. Hajime didn’t even care that he was crying in a public place, didn’t care that they might just miss their train. Hana was crying with him, whispering, “It’s okay, Hajime-san. Please, please, it’s going to be okay—“ over and over again as Hajime’s body was wracked with shuddering sobs.

At that moment, all Hajime felt was the overwhelming sadness. Hana was the only thing he clung onto, gripping tight and hugging her close to him as he cried on her shoulder. All this time, he tried to be a strong, immovable person in front of Hana because he knew that she expected that from him. She felt safe and protected under that assumption, and though it was part of Hajime, too, but this part was also real. The part where he could break and shatter into pieces; hurt and overwhelmed, failed and cried.

“It’s okay, Hajime-san,” she whispered, voice trembling and thick with tears. “Just let it all out, don’t ever hold back your feelings when you’re with me, okay? Even if Hajime-san is such a strong, gentle person, but Hajime-san… I—I want to protect you too. I want you to lean on me too, I want to help you when you’re sad like this, so please—“ the sob wracked her tiny body, and at this point, they were both crying so hard that it was difficult to breathe. “Please, trust me. I’m here; I’ll always be here for you.”

It was a turning point for the both of them. The moment that made Hana understood that Hajime could break and cry; the moment that made Hajime knew that he could trust Hana with his weaknesses and private moments. Like bracing himself for the journey ahead in her galaxy, knowing that no matter how far he went, he would never be lost. Safe and sound in her embrace and warmth.

The force that drove Hajime into spiraling downwards in his lapse of control wasn’t even intimate moments or physical provocations. None of those happened too often in their relationship. Sure, their intimacy were probably off the chart, with how much they made “moony moony” eyes at each other, as Tooru had dubbed. But not in the physical sense of it. Contrary to it, what actually pulled him deeper into the frustration and triggered his ticking time bomb was the mundane, simple thing that Hana did in daily life.

She didn’t even intend to push Hajime’s buttons, she was just doing things as she normally did. In her own ways, which were dangerous enough on its own for Hajime’s heart. She was just—she just—Gods, it was almost like she was intentionally being oblivious and unseeing to the way she slowly, consistently destroying Hajime’s iron strength resolve. He couldn’t even complain about it to her. What was he going to say anyway? Stop being so adorable? Or, don’t do things so endearingly? Or would it be better to just cut to the chase and hit her with stop making me fall even deeper with you? He could already imagine how both of them would just stand there and boiled themselves to death with how much they’d blush. If Tooru ever got a whiff of these thoughts, he wouldn’t live it down to the end of this universe.

There was one time she called him over as they were tidying up the gym after practice. He was putting the volleyballs into the basket, when she suddenly said, “Hajime-san, look!”

When he turned around, he nearly got a cardiac arrest. On Hana’s lips were to potato chips, positioned backwards so they’d form a duck-mouth. She looked so proud of it that Hajime wanted to hit her stupid duck-mouth. Gently. With his own mouth. Did she not understand how dangerous these kind of things were for his heart?

Apparently not, because she looked confused when he hugged her tight, rubbing the top of her head in his frustration. He faintly heard the juniors awkwardly asking Tooru, “Uh… is this normal?” and Tooru answering, “Just let them be. They’ll die if they missed even one second making us single person jealous.”

Or the other time when they went to the arcade, and Hajime won her another plushy. She hugged him tight, unabashed and so dearly happy that she looked even prettier than usual that day. And then, she pulled back, hugged the plushy next to her face, and asked to be photographed just like that. With her cute dress, and the soft plushy resting on her cheeks, and a wide smile on her blushing face. Hajime made it as his wallpaper for two weeks straight.

It wasn’t just those instances. The attentiveness, the exchanged bentos, the shy kisses on the cheeks after their dates. Then Hajime’s birthday came around, and Hana put an arrow right to his heart as they shared their first, proper kiss.

The soft, short peck than felt like an explosion of numerous fireworks behind his eyelids. The scent of her, the softness of her palms as she hold onto his arms, the way she fluttered her eyes close as they kissed. It was all so soft, so warm, so precious that Hajime felt like nothing could ever felt this whole, this complete in his life.

All of those contributed to his lapse of control. Each time, the urge to hold Hana started getting stronger. He just kept noticing how lovely she looked when she smiled, how delicately shaped her fingers were, how soft her lips were when they kissed his cheeks, how small she seemed to be in his arms. Each moment felt like another new nail on his coffin. It almost drove him mad with want; the closeness, the feel of holding Hana so intimately in his arms, the fragile expression she put on. Hajime was still a man with a lot of desires. And day by day, the desire to be closer, closer, closer to her was getting to be overwhelmingly vivid. He just didn’t know when he was going to lose it from all the love he had inside him for this oblivious, precious girl.

Months of their progressing relationship, and Hajime’s progressively diminishing self-control, came to a head on a lunch on a cloudy Tuesday afternoon.

They were having lunch with Kindaichi, Kunimi, and Tooru. All three of them quickly forgotten by Hana as she started conversing with Hajime. At this point, all of them were used to it, and only laughed unflappably as she jolted and squeaked when she realized that they were there as well.

“Don’t mind us Hana-chan, we’re just props on this telenovela,” Tooru said, waving his hand away when she repeatedly apologized. “Go on, go on. We sure love watching you two exchanging moony moony eyes.”

Hajime slapped him on the back of the head, and gave him a piece of his chicken. Their conversation went as usual; clearly, Tooru’s suffering was detrimental to an enjoyable afternoon with friends.

Hana whined that she was falling behind the lesson, and it was only a few weeks away from their exams. Hajime offered to study at his place unthinkingly. Kindaichi choked on his rice, Kunimi absentmindedly slapped him on the back. Hajime was hit with a sense of déjà vu because it looked exactly like what Hana and he did a while back. Oikawa was positively glowing—glowing with a leer, more accurately.

Hana, on the other hand, looked so happy it was almost blinding. “You’ll teach me Hajime-san? It won’t be a bother for you?”

Hajime ignored the rest of them and caressed the top of his girlfriend’s head, feeling the soft strand of hair between the tips of his fingers. “Of course it won’t. I’m glad I can help you.”

“Thank you, Hajime-san,” Hana said, soft, unthinkingly so transparent of her feelings. “And I get to go to your house, too! That will be a first for me, I’m nervous already. What should I bring for your mom?”

Hajime choked on his chicken, and awkwardly told her that not bringing anything was also fine. She insisted to bring her something, however, and finally settled on a basket of oranges. Both his mother and he were fond of those after all. They finished their lunch relatively quick as their class schedules were as tight as ever now that they were nearing exams. As usual, he walked Hana to her class, and waved her away with a smile before going back to his.

As he walked past Tooru’s, however, the trashy asshole pulled Hajime into a dip and dramatically said, “Of course it won’t, Hana-chan. I’m so glad I can help,” he drawled the last bit, putting in as many essence of extravagance as he could possibly have in his body. “My god Iwa-chan, if it wasn’t so cute I’d be grossed out already. Wait—I am grossed out already. Man, Iwa-chan, you’re so far off gone into Hana-chan that you’ll never return to the solar system.”

“Shut the fuck up shittykawa,” he growled out, pushing himself off of the dip and away from Tooru’s cursedly strong arms. “And stop with your weird metaphors, alright? You suck at it. You’re gonna scare Kindaichi and Kunimi away with them.”

“So callous, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa wailed, drawing side glances from the students milling about around them. “How can I recover from this fatal wound?”

He left Tooru and his dramatics, and thought that, maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to go back to the solar system anyways. Maybe he wanted to keep exploring the bright, unknown territory of Akeno Hana’s galaxy.

It was Sunday when Hana came to his house, and Hajime was slightly panicking because he couldn’t sleep last night from giddiness as the bags under his eyes were visible. His mom laughed at him and swatted him away when he asked for something to cover them up.

“Honey, I think by now we both know that Hana-chan and you were too far gone into each other to mind such inconvenience like eye bags. Just put on something clean and neat, and you’re good to go. When is she going to arrive, anyways? The cookies aren’t finished baking yet.”

He had cleaned his room twice yesterday, put on some air freshener, put away his trinkets and changed his bed sheets as well. He had wanted to pick her up, but Hana said that her mom would drop her off because she also had to go somewhere. So here he was, waiting with anxiety riddling his stomach on his living room.

“Hajime, seriously,” his mom said, sighing and chuckling a little. “Calm down, you look like you’re constipated. Even Hana-chan wouldn’t find that attractive.”

He scowled at her teasings, and continued checking on his phone every five damned minutes. When he heard the rumble of a car outside of his house, he nearly tripped on the sandals to open the front door.

Hana’s pretty, blushing face greeted him when he swung his door open. He paused for a second to take her in, and gulped audibly. Was she always this pretty, or was it just his frustration these last few weeks that was talking? Either way, she looked stunning in her white dress, holding a basket of homemade bread and oranges in one hand. He coughed awkwardly, and smiled at her.

“Hey,” he said, nervous, trying his hardest to be cool as cucumber. By the small laughter that left her lips, he couldn’t imagine that it was working splendidly.

“Hi,” she replied, shy and incredibly adorable that Hajime was overwhelmed with the urge to hug her. It wouldn’t be appropriate, however, as her mother was still waiting in her car.

Hajime stepped around Hana to wave at the older lady, and bowed a little. She waved back and said, “Have fun, Hana-chan! Just call when you want me to pick you up, okay? Say hi to your mom from me, Hajime-kun.”

She drove past the house into the office district nearby, and Hajime let out a relieved sigh. He had met Hana’s mother multiple time in the past, but his nervousness about their study session was making his circuit went all haywire and weird.

“So, uh, we should go inside. Mom made you some cookies,” he said, gesturing the hall, where his mom’s voice could be heard even from the outside.

Apparently, putting his mom and Hana in the same room proved to be his biggest mistake yet in this relationship. His mom glanced at him with a smug face as he curled on the couch, wanting to die from mortification. After the introduction, and his mom fawning over Hana, they traded recipes on the cookies and the homemade bread. She seemed to like Hana, and Hana looked comfortable enough to relax around her gradually as opposed to how stiff and awkward she was at first.

But of course. As soon as the two ladies got past the initial awkwardness with each other, they launched into a familiar pattern of conversation that Hajime wondered whether Hana was the actual child in this household. And then, the baby pictures. Kill him now—just kill him now. He didn’t think he could live with this sort of embarrassment.

(And he said that Tooru was the dramatic one. Maybe Tooru was starting to rub off him, he thought despairingly.)

When his mom finally let them go, with a wink to Hajime’s direction, he breathed out and ushered the small girl upstairs to his room.

“Your mom is really nice, Hajime-san,” she commented as he unlocked his door. Her giggles were loud and clear as she said, “and you looked so cute on your baby pictures!”

He groaned and rubbed his face. “She always does that every single time someone visits our house. I don’t even know why I bother wasting my embarrassment. She’ll show you even more outrageous pictures of my childhood the more you visit.”

Hana nudged him softly on the side, a grin plastered on her lips. They were a little bit shinier today, a little bit redder. She must have been wearing lipstick, and light make-up too, by the look of it. The make-up framed her face naturally, as if it were never there in the first place. She was pretty, and Hajime sighed internally for the hundredth time today. Every single thing Hana did these days just pushed all of his buttons, in the right places, at the wrong time. He wondered how she would react if she knew that Hajime had been battling his desires over her these past few weeks.

“Does that mean I’m invited for future visits?” she asked, innocent enough. But it still made Hajime’s heart raced through his ribs.

“Uh—“ he stumbled, not sure how to answer that. Of course he wanted her here, possibly all the time. But that’d sound creepy. In the end, he just settled with, “Only if you want to.”

She gave him a brighter smile at that answer. “Of course I’d want to, Hajime-san.”

He returned the smile as they settled on the carpeted floor. Regardless of his teenage hormones, it really would be nice to see Hana more often around here. His mom liked her too, so it wouldn’t be a big problem either.

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve learned so far, and which part you’re struggling with.”

Every once in a while, they would take a break, and talked about mundane things. This was nice, he thought to himself. Spending time with Hana was always something he cherished. He really was as whipped as people claimed him to be.

He watched the way she concentrated, and started to lose focus himself. Thinking back about their relationship this far, how much she had become someone who meant a lot to him. The focal point of her charm, and the way Hajime couldn’t escape it. Like an absolute gravity, like a black hole. And he welcomed the warm embrace of her constellation, as he delved deeper into the galaxy that was Akeno Hana. This study session might be his biggest mistake yet. But then again, it could be his salvation, too.

The longer he watched, the more he felt restless. She looked very lovely today in her dress, sitting in his room like it was the most natural thing in the world. She smelled fresh, too. He recognized this perfume; she had worn the same on in their previous dates as well. Something fruity, with undertone of flower and musky earth. He found himself scooting closer to where she sat, entranced by her mere presence. She didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, she didn’t seem to mind. Hajime took this as a clue to get even closer, settling behind her in the end.

Hana did look up this time, but it was only to smile at him and nuzzle a bit to his shoulder before continuing her work. Oh Gods, when would this girl stop driving him crazy? He heaved a deep sigh to alleviate the tension he was feeling. It was harder than he thought. Especially with Hana humming softly to herself, and every once in a while would lean back on him. It was okay, he could endure this as well. He had endured those weeks in the face of Hana’s charm, after all. Today was no different.

But of course it was different. They were in a more intimate situation and location. But to add salt to the wound, Hana looked up, face mere inches from Hajime’s and whispered, “You’re so warm, Hajime-san. It’s really nice, like this.” She drove her point by pushing further into Hajime, and he felt like the breath had been knocked out of his lungs. It really was small wonder that his resolve finally broke after so long.

It started out innocent enough, with soft caresses on her head, feeling the soft strands, combing through them with his big hand; grazing the shell of her ears, making her shudder and let out small laughs. Going back up to massage her scalp lightly, and enjoying the way she relaxed and pushed back into his hand. Her head was tiny in his grip, or maybe his hand was just that big. Hajime honestly couldn’t spare a moment to think about the precision of the statement. But she was tiny, wasn’t she? Smaller than him in every possible way.

Younger, shorter, more slender; her delicate fingers, her thin neck, her tiny face, her small hips. Hajime wondered if he could envelope her whole if he were to lie down on top of her. Wondered if his hands could meet if he held her hips with both of them. Wondered if he could easily haul her to his lap with how light, how small, how endearingly gorgeous she was.

Unintentionally, he scrapped her scalp a little bit harder than he intended, lost in thought. As he was panicking about his lapse of control however, Hana closed her eyes and leaned back to his hand even more; soft sounds coming out from her throat without her realizing it. It might be the sight, might be the way he had been thinking about it, might be the feelings of her in his arms, might be the warmth of her right next to him—looking like everything he had ever wanted, wrapped in a personality that adored and wanted him back just as much.

Maybe it was her gravitational pull. But maybe it was just Hajime, plunging himself into the uncharted territory, and reveling in the exhilaration and small wonders he found.

Or maybe, it was just Hana. Small, cheerful, clumsy Akeno Hana, with her pale, wide eyes and her soft smiles; her soft, reassuring touches and her antics and weird quirks; her honest feeling and her affection that was so readily given and showered upon Hajime. And he wanted her, all of her, so much that he almost ached with it.

His hand sled down to her cheek, thumb swiping gently over the high of her cheekbones. She fluttered her eyes open and looked at him with a confusion that warred with apparent comfort—and want. And it was the last straw for Hajime.

“Hana,” he whispered, low and soft, like he was afraid that even the walls would listen. “May I kiss you?”

Her eyes were a little bit glazed, and she bit her lips, shy and unsure. But she didn’t reject him; she was confused, he realized. Hana probably didn’t know what to do in this kind of situation, and was unfamiliar with it as well as her romantic endeavor was even less than his. Hajime waited patiently for her, didn’t move until she looked up again and nodded.

He leaned down slowly, giving her enough time to pull away or to say no. Despite everything, he cared for her deeply. He didn’t want to do something that she didn’t want. But Hana didn’t pull away, not even when Hajime was only a breadth away from her lips, when their breaths mingled with each other; not when he finally drew her in, and closed his mouth over hers.

The kiss started gentle, started with just soft slide of lips against lips; something familiar with them, something warm they could anchor themselves on. He gently guided Hana’s movement, tasting the chemical taste of lipstick and something he vaguely recognized as her, faint as it was. One of his arms wrapped around her middle, pressing her closer than ever. The other one was holding her face in place so Hajime could kiss her a little longer, a little deeper.

He bit lightly at the plush bottom lip, and felt an electric current went through his spine at Hana’s sharp intake of breath. He did it again, harder this time, sucking on her lips as well. He deepened the kiss a little, and was rewarded with a surprised gasp that sounded so lovely in his ears. At this point, Hana was already turning around, chest to chest with Hajime.

Through the clothes, he could feel the softness of her breasts, pushing up against his muscled pecs and making him groan from the back of his throat. He tightened his hold, and Hana let out those small noises that drove Hajime crazy. He kissed her harder than before, coaxing her lips to open under the touch of his tongue. When she finally understood what he was trying to do, and shyly parted her lips under his ministrations, he wasted no time in exploring her mouth—thoroughly.

There was a small ‘eep’ from Hana, as Hajime hauled her to his lap properly, all the while kissing her deep and dirty. He licked every corner of her mouth, chasing the taste of her that felt stronger inside than the door of her lips. Hana was clumsy in her movements, when she tried to tangle her own tongue with his. But even that moment of inexperience was endearing, and sent another jolt of electric current to Hajime, spreading to his every limb and making him lightheaded with want.

He pulled off for a second, and was treated with a sight that would probably haunt his dreams for months on end. Hana looked—she looked wrecked, debauched, even from a small make-out session. Her hair was no longer as neat, what with Hajime caressing and pulling at it. Her lips were bitten-red, shiny with saliva. And her face—Gods. Her cheeks were dusted with red, it looked pretty on her pale skin and Hajime wanted to nip on them to see if they would turn even redder.

The look on her face was not something that he could forget so soon. Hana looked dazed; eyes glazed over and blown wide around the ring. Her lips parted a little, and she tried to refocus on him. She still looked confused at what had just happened. But there was something else on the lines of her small face. Despite the confusion, Hana was welcoming his every approach. She looked… she looked like she wanted it, without even realizing that she was broadcasting her desires to him.

Gods—could she be even more adorable?

Hajime’s body felt hot, even with the conditioner on in his room. The heat from his skin, along with how close he was with Hana in this suggestive position made his head spin with desires that he had locked away from her innocence. He kept it tight under a lid all this time, but how could he be expected to hold himself back with such a wonderful girl right here, a warm, delicate weight on his lap?

His hand on her hips slowly moved further down, caressing the swell of her behind. He leaned in once again to capture those luscious lips, and felt a certain satisfaction when Hana enthusiastically welcomed him into her mouth this time around. She seemed more comfortable, no longer as confused with the kiss compared to the first time. This time, though, Hajime’s hands didn’t stay at one place.

He caressed the side of her face, down to her small neck, finding a specific spot under her jugular that made her moaned into his mouth. Another one behind her ear and a louder one when he scratched his nail a little on her collar bones. It felt hotter and hotter in the room.

Hana’s hands found a place on his shoulders and settled there, gripping his shirt tight when he touched a particularly sensitive place. He continued his exploration as he kept kissing her, feeling an unquenchable thirst the more he got a taste of her. She shuddered when he rubbed the side of her ribs, small caress underneath her breast. He could feel the protective padding of her bra against his knuckles, and wondered how soft it would feel if he were to unclasped it right now.

What would she look like underneath the pretty, white dress, he wondered? What would she look like, lying beneath him, on his bed, out of breath and looking thoroughly wrecked?

These thoughts made Hajime pushed forwards, hands gripping Hana’s exposed thighs tightly and reveled in her little gasps between their kisses. She felt so soft, so lovely under his fingers; he couldn’t get enough of her.

“Hajime-san—“ she moaned out, hitches in her breath when Hajime broke the kiss to mouth at her neck. She smelled incredibly good this close. “Ah—Ha—Hajime—“

He liked it, hearing her little pleases and mewls when he touched her on a certain place, pushed and knead on another. It made him bold, brave. How far he could take this, he wondered? How far would she agree to go? How long would he last under the very temptation in front of his eyes?

Hajime didn’t even realize when he started rocking his hips against her, but Hana’s grip was unrelenting on his shoulders, and the way she closed her eyes and pushed back clumsily— he held her tighter, and pushed upwards into the warm curve of her body. It felt so good, to be so close to her. To rock back and forth against her. So good, felt so warm—so—

All of the sudden, time seemed to stop. Hajime let out a shuddering breath. He let go of a piece of skin he had been sucking on, and pulled back to look at Hana’s face. She hadn’t realized what was happening yet, and Hajime reinstated his iron grip on his control when those eyes opened and he saw an obvious want in them. Hana might not understand this kind of thing, but her body certainly recognized it and went with her instincts.

Fuck, he cursed inwardly. She looked so good like that, and Hajime realized with impending horror that he was hard since a while ago. The look on Hana’s face right now wasn’t helping in the slightest. She looked like she enjoyed it, looked confused why they stopped all of the sudden. She looked like she wanted more, and Hajime prayed that he was granted strength against lovely girlfriends that broke his resolve like a butter.

He heaved a deep sigh, trying to calm himself down, and rubbed Hana’s back gently. He willed his hard-on to flag down, and peppered her face with little kisses along the way. No. He wouldn’t let himself lose control once more and did what he promised to himself he’d only do once they graduated from high school. It wouldn’t be fair to impose this kind of thing to Hana without her understanding properly about it first. Hajime liked her, so much to the point of desiring her; but he also prioritized her safety and comfort first and foremost. His desires could be controlled; it could wait just another year.

“Hajime-san?” Hana finally croaked out, looking a little bit lost, and lot more red on the face once she realized that she was essentially sitting on his lap. “Um—I’m—I’m sorry— was it that bad? Was I—“

He chuckled softly, and shook his head. “No,” he said. “You were absolutely amazing, Hana. It’s just. It’s not the time yet. I like you a lot, you know that, right? A lot. And it’s common for boys my age to get a little intense on that feeling. I want you. Want to be with you, and kiss you every morning, and hold you close with me.”

Hana burned bright red at his words, but listened attentively. She understood that he was saying something important for their relationship. She allowed him to soothe her with calming touches and small kisses on the sides of her face. “I like you a lot, too,” she replied.

“Thank you,” he said, smiling. “But you might not be ready for the intensity I’m talking about. Things I wanted to do to you, with you. We’re not ready for that yet, I think. I’ve been holding it in by myself all this time. I think it makes sense that I lost control like this. But I… I wanted to wait. For you. I want you to be familiar with my desires, and understand about it first, before we continue to the next step.”

She nodded at him, and seemed to be a little lost in thought. “Thank you for taking me and my inexperience into consideration. I’m glad, really glad that you care so much about me. That you’re willing to wait. And—even if I’m not very good at those kinds of thing, but I think—I think I understand what you’re trying to say. You’re really kind, Hajime-san.”

He hugged her close to his chest, kissing the top of her head and laughing to himself. “I can’t believe we just made out when we’re supposed to be studying.”

“Hey!” she laughed along with him, hitting him lightly on the side. “You’re the one who started it!”

“I know, I know,” he sighed. “I’m sorry for suddenly springing it up to you like that.”

She nodded, smiling a little. Her lips still looked red, even with her lipsticks swept away in-between their kisses. She still looked absolutely stunning, and Hajime’s heart ached with how much he wanted her. He would wait, no matter how long. If it was for her, he’d wait.

He leaned in to kiss her again, just because he could, and because it made her laugh into the kiss. When he pulled away, he threw her a smirk and reveled in the slight shudder that rocked her body.

“I’m serious, though,” he teased, getting close to her face just to see it reddened in pretty blush. “You better prepare yourself, okay? Because I’m not going to hold back anymore once we both graduated.”

She bit her lips at the promise, and thwacked his forehead in retaliation. “Don’t tease me so much, Hajime-san!” she complained, but she was laughing, and leaned her entire weight into his arms as she peck the place she just hit. “Okay. You better wait for me, then.”

“Always,” he said, promised, and drew her in for one last, soft kiss on her lips.

Her eyes twinkled in happiness as she basked in his affections. They looked like millions of little stars in the constellation of her irises, and he felt like he was home. Right here, in her arms, lost in the wonder of her galaxy.

[lunar-wandering]

Mountains, Caves, Who Cares?

@winterpower98 because a few months ago you asked for a fanfic of a scenario I created, and I am happy to oblige.

Summary: Through a series of events, Macaque, MK, and Wukong end up trapped in a cave again. This wouldn’t be much of a problem if it weren’t for the fact that Wukong is kind of claustrophobic.

Word Count: 1.4k

Read on Ao3

---

"Wukong, if you keep pacing like that, I will not hesitate to punch you." Macaque threatened. Wukong temporarily paused his pacing to turn and glare at him.

"Try me." He said. The two of them glowered at each other, until MK stepped between them, concerned.

"C'mon guys, we can't do this again." He said, "You two do still remember how we got trapped in here in the first place, right?"

You see, this had all started out as a simple training session between MK and Wukong, with Macaque watching on the sidelines, as he currently wasn't allowed to be out of either of MK or Wukong's sight. Thing had been going fine, that is, until Macaque chose to comment on Wukong's training style, saying that he was being 'too gentle'. Wukong, as one would expect, took offense to this, responding with something along the lines of Macaque's training just being 'too rough'. And then, before MK could even register what was happening, the two of them had started fighting again.

Now, at the start, MK wasn't all that concerned, as it wasn't that out of the ordinary for those two to fight. He did start to worry however, when he noticed bits of the mountain they had been training beside start to shake and crumble. It eventually got to the point where MK had to start dodging large pieces of rocks to avoid being crushed.

He must've miscalculated his dodge at some point, as Wukong and Macaque both shouted his name, before tackling him back into a small cave, just barely saving him by getting hit by a large boulder, at the expense of all 3 of them getting trapped in the cramped space. They quickly found that the area was too unstable for either Wukong or Macaque to get them out without the entire cave collapsing, and figured that it wasn't worth the risk of them not being fast enough to get MK out before the whole thing crumbled. Thankfully, thanks to the unlimited Wifi/Data plan Wukong had given to MK, he could easily text Mei and inform her of the problem, so now it was just a waiting game.

...A waiting game that was clearly starting to grate on Macaque and Wukong's nerves.

MK sighed, trying to think of something to defuse the tension, when his phone dinged with another message from Mei. Oh. That could work.

"Hey guys," He said, "Mei sent me some puppy videos and vines to watch while we wait, if you want to."

"...What's a vine?" Macaque asked. MK gasped in (partially faux) horror.

"How can you not know what a vine is?!" He asked.

"It's not my fault that I'm an immortal who barely interacts with modern tech." Macaque replied.

"Being immortal isn't an excuse, Monkey King is immortal too and he knows vines!" MK said, "Monkey King, quote a vine!"

"Freshavocado." Wukong deadpanned.

"See?"

"...That's just because he's an idiot with nothing better to do with his time." Macaque said.

"Hey! I take offense to that!" Wukong said, his tail fluffing up in irritation. Macaque smirked.

"Good, that's what I intended." He said. MK could sense that if he didn't interrupt, another fight would break out, so he did the first thing that came to mind.

He pushed Macaque to the ground, sat down beside him, and practically shoved his phone into his face.

"Wh- hey!"

"Stop arguing with Monkey King and learn some Internet Culture." MK said, "Monkey King, do you wanna watch too?"

"Uh..... no. I'm. Fine over here." Wukong said, before going back to his pacing. MK shrugged, and pressed play on the first vine compilation Mei sent him.

---

A few minutes later, and MK was starting to get concerned. He didn't think Macaque had noticed, considering how drawn in to watching the videos he'd become as soon as they had started, but Wukong's pacing had slowly but steadily been getting more frantic. His tail's movement had gone way past what MK had come to recognize as stimming and had landed somewhere much more... agitated, he'd say. He'd also started chewing on his nails.

Thinking about it for a moment, MK made his decision, and paused the video, bringing Macaque's attention back to the present as well.

"Uhh, Monkey King, are you alright?" MK asked, genuinely concerned. Wukong stopped pacing, turning to give MK a smile. It wasn't very convincing.

...Especially since, now that Wukong was no longer pacing, MK could see that he was trembling.

"I'm fiNe." Wukong said, then winced as his voice cracked in the middle of his sentence. Macaque snorted.

"Never thought I'd see the day when the mighty Monkey King would experience a voice crack- ow!" He said, cutting himself off when MK smacked his shoulder, glaring at him. Macaque glanced at MK's mad, but still incredibly concerned face, and then back at the still shaking Wukong, and then sighed, standing up and reaching out his hand.

"Alright, Wukong, you've got the kid all worked up, just come over here and tell us what's-"

"Don't touch me." Wukong hissed, and Macaque froze, watching as Wukong backed further away from him. "I'm fine, I just, give me a moment-"

Wukong's back made contact with the stone wall of the cave, and something in his mind seemed to snap, as he instinctively jumped away from it, shaking, hyperventilating, and, apparently no longer having the effort to keep up a calm and collected act, sat down on the ground, curling up a little. Macaque stood near him, close but not touching, not entirely sure what was going on or what he should do.

Looking at his mentor on the ground, MK mentally thought of all the stories he had learned about him, hoping to find something to explain what was going on. And then it clicked. MK hurriedly signaled to Macaque, catching his attention.

'Mountain'. He signed, grateful for the few sign language lessons Wukong had been giving him, in the case of an emergency.

'500 years. Mountain.'

Macaque seemed to understand what MK was implying, if his wince was anything to go by. Neither of them were really quite sure were they should go from here, now that they knew what the problem was. The best thing to do would be to get Wukong out of the cave, but MK's phone said they still had about 20 minutes before Mei would show up to get them out, so that option was currently off the list. So the next best thing would be to find a way to calm Wukong down, but, to be honest, neither Macaque or MK had much experience in this department.

Didn't mean they couldn't try.

MK scooted closer to Wukong, not too close though, not wanting Wukong to feel more trapped than he already clearly did.

"Hey, hey, Monkey King, it's uh. It's going to be fine. We're going to be fine." MK said.

"The kid's right, Peaches." Macaque said, sitting down on the ground on the other side of Wukong. "We won't be in here for much longer. That dragon girl's already on her way."

Wukong gave a shaky laugh.

"Heh. 'S been a long time since you've called me that." He mumbled.

"Called you what?" Macaque asked.

"Peaches."

"Oh." Macaque said, lightly blushing as he glanced away. "I didn't even notice I said that... sorry."

"It's fine." Wukong said, "....Keep talking, 's a good distraction."

MK glanced at the two of them, sensing that there was some history between them that he hadn't been told about. ...Now probably wouldn't be the best time to ask though, so instead he started rambling on about some of the weirder stories from his noodle delivery days, hoping that they'd cheer Wukong up a little as well as distracting him.

---

When Mei finally got the rocks out of the way, the first one out of the cave was Wukong, who shot out of there with an impressive speed, using his cloud to fly away and leaving the others far behind. Macaque and MK walked out of the cave soon after.

"Well that was rude." Mei said, "He didn't even say thank you."

"Just let him be for now, Mei." MK said, "Monkey King.... needs a bit of space right now."

Considering that Wukong had run off, Macaque guessed that it would be best for him to stay the night at MK's place instead, and leave Wukong to himself for a little.

...The next morning, MK awoke to a basket of peaches for him and Macaque on his doorstep.

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 33

A/N:  Hope you guys enjoy this one...⛪️

August 7th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was nervous as fuck.  

It was Game 4, less than 24 hours after giving up a 3-0 lead, and the Leafs were on the brink of elimination.  The boys were quiet.  Focused.  Only had one thing on their mind.  They didn’t want to leave the bubble.  They wanted to prove everybody wrong – everybody.  Their coaches.  Their bosses.  Their fans.  Their haters.  The media.  Themselves.  This was their opportunity to show everybody what they could do.  

Aberdeen couldn’t even think about it without trembling.  She never in a million years thought hockey would make her feel this way.  It didn’t help the love of her life was a major part of it.  And it didn’t help that Alec had texted her early this morning.

Looks like the boys might cost you a writing job if they get eliminated early.  Not many shenanigans to get up to in, what, ten days?  Article might be a bust.

I’ll have 10,000 words written for you as promised was what she texted back.  She didn’t want to stroke his ego, play along with his games, or have him think she wasn’t going to produce just because he thought they might leave early.  It didn’t matter to her.  Even if they did leave early, she could still do it.  She knew she could.  She knew she had to, because she couldn’t blow this opportunity.

They morning had been anxiety-ridden at best.  She hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep, tossing and turning after getting off the phone with William, and then because of the text, she was barely eating breakfast.  Apparently, it was noticeable to the boys, because John had come over to her table and brought her a plate stacked fruit.  “If we can eat, you can eat,” he said as he set it in front of her.  Mitch ended up coming to sit across from her at the table, and John took the other seat.  William approached, standing six feet away, and Auston too.  They were congregating, which made her even more nervous.  

“Thanks,” she mumbled, forking a strawberry and putting it into her mouth reluctantly.  “You guys aren’t nervous?” she posed the question to all of them.

John shrugged.  “We know what we need to do.  We just have to go out there and do it.”

Aberdeen didn’t know how he could be so calm, as the captain of the team.  Then again, he was John fucking Tavares, and calm seemed to be his middle name.  She nodded her head.  “I don’t mean to be a nervous wreck.  I’m just not used to playoff hockey, as you can imagine.  This is all new.  I never knew I could feel this way about a sport.”

That made John laugh a bit.  “Not about a sport, but definitely about a book, right?”

She couldn’t help but smile slightly as she forked at a piece of watermelon.  “Definitely about a book.”

“How’s the article coming along?” William asked.

Aberdeen almost dropped her fork on her plate.  All the guys turned their heads towards him at the same time skeptically, then towards her at the same time, their eyebrows furrowed.  Her body felt like it was on fire.  She hadn’t told anybody about the article – except William, of course.  She assumed Brendan sort-of-kind-of knew since he set her up for it, but she hadn’t said anything to him.  William was the only one who knew.  Her cheeks flushed red.  

“What article?” Mitch asked, turning his head back and forth between the two of them once more.

“Yeah, what article?” Auston asked.

“It uh, it’s—um, it’s a thing for Toronto Life,” Aberdeen stuttered out.  

“Toronto Life?!” Mitch repeated excitedly.  

“Yeah,” she nodded slowly.  “Brendan uh, Brendan put me up for it.  It’s, like…an audition.  I don’t know.”

“An audition?  So like if it’s good they’ll publish it?” Mitch kept asking questions.

“Basically, yeah.”

“Well what’s it about?”

Aberdeen gulped.  “Um, life in the bubble.”

The boys looked taken aback for a brief moment.  She knew they were trying to hold back the emotion, but she could see it in their eyes.  She wondered if they were thinking the worst now.  She wondered if Auston was looking at her and thinking that all she wanted to do in this bubble was get a scoop like Steve Simmons.  She wondered if Mitch was looking at her and thinking that she was going to write some scathing article about how he was being paid $10.8 million to not show up in the playoffs, like most articles were saying.  She prepared for the worst, honestly.  She really did.  Because she knew these guys had been betrayed before.  She knew the media were constantly down their throats.  She knew all they wanted was a little reprieve from that.  And now, someone they knew, someone they worked with – someone they trusted completely – was writing something about life in the bubble?  When she was in the bubble with them?

“Life in the bubble, huh?  So, like how we play video games the entire day ‘cause we can’t do anything else in here?” Mitch asked.

Her stomach was in knots.  But that follow-up from Mitch was definitely not was she was expecting.  Truth be told, she didn’t know what she was expecting – anger, maybe?  Caution?  Suspicion? – but it definitely wasn’t Mitch saying that.  “Something like that,” she said.  “I’m trying to, like, capture how hard it is for you guys to be in here.  How hard it is to be away from your families.  How you guys are…you know, human, and not just hockey players.”

Mitch smiled.  “I think it’s gonna be a great article, then.”

“How’d William know?” Auston asked.  “How’d he know before any of us?”

William knew he had to think fast.  “I saw her writing it the other day when we went out to the gym,” he said.  He had approached her on the sidelines that day for a brief minute or two, during a break in his workout, so if anyone was paying attention and saw them, it was an entirely plausible scenario.  “She told me what she was writing.”

“Why didn’t you tell any of us?” Auston asked him.

“Because it was Aberdeen’s news to tell, not mine,” William said.

Auston looked towards Aberdeen.  “You’re not writing, like, gossip about us, are you?” he asked.

“Auston, what the fuck—” William began.

“Buddy—” Mitch intervened.

“Hey now—” John piped up.

“No no, it’s fine,” she waved the boys off, staring directly at Auston.  She knew exactly where Auston was coming from.  She knew he trusted her.  He admitted so during the phone call when his Covid-19 story became national news.  She knew she had to be one hundred percent honest with him if he was going to have no qualms or suspicions about this article.  “They want me to.  They want me to write about shenanigans.  The stereotypical stuff.  But I’m not.  I refuse to.  I wouldn’t…you guys know I wouldn’t do that to you.  And I mean…I—I haven’t told them yet that I refuse to pander to that shit, but they’ll know when they get my article.”

Auston’s entire demeanour softened at her words.  It was like his entire body relaxed.  He knew – he always knew – he just needed the affirmation.  But then he realized what that meant.  “But then what happens if you don’t get the job because you don’t give them what they want?” he asked.  

Aberdeen shrugged.  “Then I have keep looking for writing jobs at other magazines.”

Then and there, he realized what was on the line for Aberdeen.

***

As Aberdeen wallowed in her room, she was nervous.  As she showered before the game, she was nervous.  As she did her hair, she was nervous.  As she got dressed, she was nervous.  As she opened her door and walked out into the hallway, meeting some of the guys, she was nervous.  When she got off the bus and the team went one way while she, Brendan, and Kyle went another, she clutched at her iPad pro.  She looked at the boys one last time, catching Willy’s eye, before the disappeared down the hallway, where no doubt a photographer was waiting to get pictures of their outfits before they went into the locker room.

As she sat in the box with Brendan and Kyle, as always, she saw Brendan look her way.  “Don’t even think about asking me how it’s gonna go tonight,” she said before he could even open his mouth.  

He held his hands up in front of him.  “Excuuuuuuse me.”

“I’m so nervous.  I barely ate today,” she elaborated.

“Somebody get Aberdeen a Coca Cola,” he called out to no-one in particular.  “She’s gonna need the sugar and the caffeine or else she’ll crash by the third period.”

She couldn’t believe how light-hearted he was being.  She didn’t know if it was some type of coping mechanism or if it was because he was generally in a good mood.  “How can you be so…calm?  Such a jokester?”

Brendan shrugged.  “If I was doom and gloom all the time, I wouldn’t still be president.”

***

Aberdeen was on the verge of tears.  

Cam Atkinson had scored in the first period.  Vladislav Gavrikov scored in the second period.  Her heart was heavy.  Her stomach was in knots.  And now, the impossible: she was watching Jason Spezza fighting.  The last person who should be fighting.  A part of her understood what he was doing, somewhat – trying to fire up the guys – but the other part of her kept asking why the fuck does he have to do this?  Where the fuck are they?  Why aren’t they playing?  WHY AREN’T THEY PLAYING?!

“I can’t believe they’re fucking doing this to him,” she mumbled under her breath through gritted teeth as she watched Jason skate off the ice.  Her knuckles were white for how tightly her hands were in fists in front of her mask.  Her leg was bouncing uncontrollably.  She couldn’t believe what was happening.

“What was that?” Brendan asked, apparently hearing her, his own voice indiscernible but also just…void of any emotion.  

She glanced at him quickly before shaking her head.  “Nothing.”  She looked over at Kyle.  She couldn’t tell what he was feeling, either.  What was it with these men and being so stoic?  

She pressed the palms of her hands together and intertwined her fingers.  “God, if you love me…” she began, mumbling into her hands.  “If you love me, God, don’t let them go out like this.  Not.  Like.  This.”

***

Boone Jenner scored in the third period.  It was 3-0.  This was it.  

Aberdeen had to come to terms with the fact that they were leaving early.  She had to come to terms with the fact that the boys would lose, again.  They’d be out of the bubble.  She knew that was probably a silver lining, but these guys so desperately just wanted to play hockey and play hockey and win, and for them to crash out like this was just going to be the worst.  They’d never hear the end of it.  Bee McTavish told her about last year, about how they lost to the Boston Bruins in Game 7 and how hard it was on the boys, particularly Morgan, and how awful the media was to them, and Aberdeen didn’t want to think about what the media would say now.  She didn’t want to think about what they’d say about Fred.  About Mitch.  About Morgan.  About John.

About William.  

But just as Aberdeen came out of her thoughts, she noticed something weird on the ice.  It wasn’t the regular line out there.  Sheldon was doing something different.  It was…well, it seemed to be the nuclear option.  All the top goal scorers were on the ice.  William, Mitch, Zach, Auston, and John.  Hustling all over the ice.  Passing the puck.  Shooting at the net.

And then, with just less than four minutes left, William scored.

Aberdeen jumped out of her seat and screamed.  The boys celebrated briefly, but they knew more work needed to be done.  She looked over at Brendan, who wasn’t blinking as he looked down at the ice.  She looked at Kyle, who wasn’t blinking either.  

“Please God…please…” she whispered to herself.

Sheldon kept out the nuclear option.  They were young.  They could do it.  

John Tavares scored only forty seconds later.  

“Holy fucking shit,” Aberdeen stood up from her seat, saying her words loud enough for Brendan and Kyle to hear.  “Holy fucking shit.  Holy fucking shit.”  

She barely breathed a single breath for the next two and a half minutes.  She was standing with her hands over her mouth over her mask and her body was completely still as she watched every move on the ice like a hawk.

William, to Auston, to Zach, who scored to tie it at 3-3.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!!!” she screamed as the boys really celebrated on the ice now.  She banged her fists on the counter in front of her as she watched Zach jump on top of William as all the boys on the ice huddled together excitedly.  She swore she heard some happy swears from Kyle, and she definitely heard some happy swears from the extra players who were sitting in the seats right below them where the seat covers ended.  She barely remembered the period ending.  

“They’re gonna fucking do it,” she said to no-one in particular.  “They’re gonna fucking do it.  They’re gonna make a comeback.”

Everything was a blur as Aberdeen sat back down into her seat.  The overtime period.  The lines.  The minutes.  She felt like she was in the twilight zone – some alternate universe where time stood still and nothing else mattered besides hockey.  Not even just hockey – nothing else mattered besides this game and what was happening right here, right now.  Seven minutes into overtime, Morgan drew a tripping penalty.  An enraged Nick Foligno was sent to the penalty box.  The puck dropped.  It was passed.  Marner to Tavares.  Tavares to Matthews.

Auston let it rip and scored.

“WHAT!!!!!  WHAT!!!!!” Aberdeen screamed louder than she ever had in her life as she jumped up from her seat like a rocket and threw the pen she was holding out into the stands.  She began pumping her fist in front of her and pointing out onto the ice.  “THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT, BABY!  THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!” she shrieked, her jaw somewhere between her face and the floor but her smile taking up her entire face.  Then came the excited, can’t-believe-what-I-just-witnessed high pitched uncontrollable laughs.  She looked over to Brendan and Kyle.  They were stoic.  She liked to believe they already freaked out and she missed it.

“Down 3-0 in the third period!” she screamed at them.  “Down 3-0 in the third period!  Can you believe it?!”

“What are you doing waiting up here?  Go down there,” Brendan said, nodding his head towards the exit.  

Aberdeen bolted out of the box and rushed towards the locker room as quickly as her feet could take her.  Once she got there, she saw the boys filing in, screaming ‘Woooo!’s and ‘Let’s fucking go, baby!’s.  William entered the locker room first.  He noticed her standing in the room almost immediately and rushed over to her.

She held her breath.  

He picked her up and spun her around, causing her to squeal until he set her down.  He was wet and sweaty and she could see the droplets of sweat dripping down his face but God if he didn’t look incredible and like the perfect human specimen.  “Let’s gooooo!” he screamed once he set her down.

“Let’s gooooo!” she repeated, noticing more of the boys make their way in.  Clifford.  Spezza.  Kerfoot.  Barrie.  Kasperi.  Hyman.  Engvall.  Rielly.  Tavares.  Holl.  Dermott.  Everybody.  Everybody.  They all came in screaming and did the exact same thing that William did, lifting her up and spinning her around excitedly as they continued to scream and go their stalls and start stripping in front of her.  They probably weren’t allowed to do that – they definitely weren’t allowed to do that, be that close together – but it didn’t matter right now.  Nobody cared.

“You guys gave me a fucking heart attack!” she yelled at them, clutching her heart as she looked around the room at all of them.  She saw a couple of them giggling as they undid their hockey tape and threw it into the garbage.

“Wouldn’t have been a Leafs series without one!” Morgan joked.

Sheldon walked into the room and high-fived Aberdeen.  Then Auston walked in and the boys started screaming and yelling all over again.  “Let’s fucking goooo, Aberdeen!” he screamed as he picked her up too, one last twirl, before setting her down.  “Let’s fucking go, baby!” he screamed to everyone in the room.

It was at that point that Brendan and Kyle walked into the room.  Aberdeen composed herself as much as possible as she faded into the background, watching Sheldon give his post-game speech.  Everybody looked so happy.  So excited.

They could fucking do this.

***

Aberdeen was typing like a furious mad woman in the Notes on her phone.  She wanted to write – needed to write all the authentic feelings that were in the air right now as she waited on the bus for everyone.  She needed to remember this moment.  Every single detail of it.  What was said.  What was heard.  The smiles.  The spins.  How she was still dizzy.  

“Hey Aberdeen!  You made it on to TV!” Mitch yelled from the middle of the bus.

Everyone’s head popped up, and she watched as all the guys already on the bus took off their headphones.  “What?!” she shrieked.

“They caught you celebrating in the box!” he said, turning his phone and showing her the video.

Aberdeen heard all of the boys get up out of their seats and crowd behind her to watch the video.  She noticed the Sportsnet logo on the bottom of screen first and foremost, then listened as she heard the announcers describing the scene, which they replayed in slow fucking motion.  “I think that young lady is indicative of most of Leafs Nation right now!” she heard Jim Hughson’s voice as the video showed her jumping up from her seat and throwing her pen.  The boys behind her were howling as they watched, and when she began pumping her fist in front of her, they laughed some more.  Slightly embarrassed, Aberdeen buried her head in her hands and shook her head.  “It’s always me!  Why is it always me that gets caught doing these things?!”

“The camera loves you, Aberdeen!” Mitch giggled.  

“It happens to all the wives and girlfriends at some point,” Morgan said as most of the guys went back to their seats on the bus.  

“But I’m not a wife.  Or a girlfriend!”

She could tell Morgan was smiling behind his mask.  “Not yet,” he mumbled to himself, shrugging.

Aberdeen turned red.  She sat back down in her seat and continued typing away on her phone furiously, making sure nobody saw her skin hue.

***

It was only when everybody got back to the hotel when Aberdeen had to stop typing, but by then, she was sure she’d gotten every feeling.  Everybody was still buzzed as they rode two at a time in the elevator up to their floor, and she could still feel the energy even when she was bottled up in her room – like everybody else – and it was eerily silent after just having been so loud.

She had just finished changing into her pajamas when she heard her phone buzz.  She knew it was William texting, so she grabbed her phone immediately, ready for his request to FaceTime.

open ur door really slowly so it doesn’t make any noise

Her eyes bulged out of her head.  She set her phone down and rushed over to her door, not bothering to look out the peephole, but doing exactly what she was told.  She opened it slowly, carefully, making sure not to make a peep.  She looked out into the hallway, down to the other wing, and saw William’s head popping out of his own room.  He rushed out, closing the door quietly before rushing over to her wing.

“William,” she whispered.  Her heart was beating out of her chest.  He was not allowed to do this.  He was not allowed to do this.  She watched as he made his way over.  “William what are you—”

She was silenced by his slipping past her and into her room, putting his hand over hers to shut the door slowly so it didn’t make a clicking sound.  When it was closed, she tried one more time.  “Willy—”

Her attempt was futile.  He crashed his lips against hers, wrapping his arms around her as he squeezed her against his body, so much so that he could lift her up in his arms and she could wrap her legs around his torso.  He stuck his tongue down her throat.  She moaned out at the sensation before realizing that he was walking them into her bathroom – her bathroom that faced the open area in front of the elevators, and not facing or sharing a wall with her room neighbour.  He kicked the door closed with his foot before setting her down on the marble vanity sink, her legs still wrapped around his body keeping him close.

“Take this off,” he mumbled as he tugged violently at her pajama shirt, almost ripping it as she shoved her off her body and threw it across the bathroom.  She pulled on his t-shirt too, throwing it in the same direction as they crashed their lips against each other’s again.  

“We’re not supposed to be doing this,” she whispered out after he bit down on her bottom lip and pulled it away from her.  “You’re not supposed to be in my room.  We’re breaking the rules.”

“Isn’t that half the fun?” he quipped, a small smirk on his face.  Aberdeen could feel her body get hot – hotter than it already was.  This was so wrong.  So wrong.  He wasn’t supposed to be in her room.  They weren’t supposed to be touching.  They weren’t supposed to be kissing.  They weren’t supposed to be doing any of it, yet here Aberdeen was, her body heating up and her core getting even hotter.  She scratched her nails down William’s broad and toned chest as he kissed a trail down her neck and to her breasts, sucking and biting down at her nipples gently, causing her to gasp out.

He immediately put his hand over her mouth.  Her eyes went wide.  He looked up at her from where he was at her breasts.  “You can’t be too loud or else we’ll get caught.”

Oh my fucking God.  Now she really felt her body light up like a fire.  She whimpered slightly.  “But Willy—” she tried to mumble against his hand.

“Shhhh…” he cooed.  “Can you be quiet, Aberdeen?  Can you be quiet while I fuck you?”  He was waiting for an answer.  She felt a shiver run up her spine.  She nodded her head.  “That’s my girl.”

William continued paying attention to her breasts before kissing his way back up to her lips and sticking his tongue down her throat again.  Aberdeen ran her fingers through his hair and tugged on it slightly before scratching down his back and pulling down his trackpants and underwear.  He did the same to her, letting his fingers play with the wet folds of her pussy until he heard whimpers from her again.  “Quiiiiiet, Aberdeen,” he cooed once more, bringing his hand that was just playing with her pussy up to her lips.  

She grabbed his hand in both her hands and sucked his fingers into her mouth.  “I’m not going to be able to,” she whispered, shaking her head.  

William pulled her off the marble vanity, grabbing her hips and spinning her around so her back was against his chest.  They were able to see each other through the mirror.  Aberdeen watched as William’s hand snaked around her body and down to her hot core again.  “You’re going to have to be quiet or we’ll get caught,” he whispered huskily in her ear as he played with her core again.  Her legs were shaking at the feeling.  She gripped on to the vanity.  

“Fuck me raw, Willy,” she begged.  She had her own tricks up her sleeve.  If William was going to play this game, she was going to play hers.  She watched his reaction in the mirror and could see his pupils dilate.  “I started birth control.  It’s okay.”

“You what?”

“I started birth control a month ago.  It was supposed to be a surprise but—”

“—Aberdeen—”

“—Please Willy,” she begged, her voice breathless.  She could feel his hard cock against her body and was so desperate for it, she didn’t care how wrong this was.  “Fuck me raw.  Fuck.  Me.  Raw.”

He bent her over the vanity.  She stuck her ass out and kept her eyes on him through the mirror, watching as he positioned himself at her entrance, sliding into her easily.  She cried out at the sensation, feeling his hand almost automatically cover her mouth to silence her.  When he began moving in and out of her, the sound of their flesh smacking together, she didn’t know if she should close her eyes to revel in the feeling of his slick, hard cock filling her up, or if she should keep her eyes open to watch him fucking her hard and fast through the mirror.  She chose the latter.  She and William had had many sexual escapades before (sexcapades, if you will), but nothing had been as hot or as raw or as dangerous as this was.  The exhilaration of doing a completely banned act – banned since they figured out they were working together, even more so banned now – was giving her the ultimate rush.  

His hand was still over her mouth as she arched her back and William pulled her back against his chest.  She could feel herself getting close, and when William’s other hand snaked around once more to play with her clit, she tried to cry out but couldn’t.  “Are you gonna be quiet when I make you cum?”

She shook her head.  “I won’t.  I can’t.”

He thrusted into her harder, trying to make a point.  She whimpered again and his hand somehow tightened around her mouth.  “Are you gonna be quiet?” he asked again.  She looked at him through the mirror, seeing the absolute fire in his eyes.  She knew what he was looking for.  She knew he would tease her and tease her and tease her until she agreed to what he was asking.  She nodded slowly.  He smiled.  “Good.”

He quickened his pace, harder and faster and rougher than before, and Aberdeen continued to watch them fucking through the mirror until she could feel closer and closer to her sweet release.  Eventually, her legs began to shake, and she could feel an intense orgasm rush through every single inch of her body.  She tried to stay as quiet as possible, but the feeling was too much, and her whimpers escaped her, though they were much quieter than the usual vocal performances she usually gave when she and William had sex, and though William still had his hand over her mouth.  At the sound of her stifled whimpers she could feel William’s hot cum spill inside her.  The feeling was hot and raw and simultaneously everything she imagined it would be and feel like but also completely new and unlike anything she could have ever expected.  His own small grunts escaped his mouth as he felt himself empty inside of her, revelling in the feeling of filling her completely.  He eventually let go of her mouth, and her body bent over against the marble vanity again, unable to stand up straight due to the long, intense orgasm.  He tried to catch his breath as he continued to watch her body shake, the last of her orgasm rushing through her.  He could see her chest rising and falling from her trying to catch her breath.

It was a few minutes before Aberdeen and William could regain their breaths.  He slipped out of her slowly, and she whimpered again at the loss of him, still bent over the vanity, though she could still feel a slickness between her thighs.  She felt his body bend too, his chest on her back, and felt him kiss her shoulders delicately.  She craned her neck to get a look at him.  “I better get a writing job soon.  I don’t think we’re gonna be able to hold it back for much longer,” she whispered.

William giggled – a low, rumbly giggle from his chest as he smiled and continued placing kisses on her shoulder.  “I agree,” he whispered back.  “We gotta make sure you get that Toronto Life job.”

She bit her lip.  “Did it feel good for you?”

He nodded.  “Of course.  What about for you?  Did it feel different?”

“It felt fucking amazing,” she nodded.  “It…it did feel different.  I…you’re the first one I’ve ever let fuck me raw,” she admitted.

William nodded in understanding.  He knew what she was really saying – that this was, at least physically, the ultimate form of trust, and he was the only one in her life, ever, who she trusted that much.  “We can keep doing whatever you’re more comfortable with,” he said.

“I liked this.  I don’t know if I’ll be able to go back,” she giggled slightly.  

William smiled.  He pulled her back upright and, at that point, she could stand on her own again.  She spun around so she was facing him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him down to kiss him.  They stood in her bathroom kissing for a while until William pulled away slightly.  “I love you so much,” he mumbled.

“I love you too.”

“Sorry I made you break the rules…yet again,” he smiled mischievously.  

Aberdeen winked.  “Isn’t that half the fun?”

[the-melting-world]

Strength | Side B: "The Lily"

Art by @ ligiawrites

~ In which a secretive barhand sacrifices a dream...

The Trio Appearances: Kipling | Khleo | Ozy

Arcana LI appearances: Asra | Nadia | Lucio | Valdemar

Track Origins: “The Lily” by Blanco White

Not sure if this is the right track? The full album can be found here: Strength

Khleo is Non-binary and uses she/they pronouns interchangeably

cw: language, alcohol, mild violence, blood, hostile work environment, pregnancy (*For clarification, themes of pregnancy are not connected to themes of blood or violence*)

~ 5k words

While Lucio waits outside the basement of the Chandrian Tavern Hall, he’s approached by Khleo’s familiar, Hefe. The lioness has a few questions for the former Count…

Lucio was well aware that there were certain familiars that could communicate with people aside from the humans to which they were bonded. Still, he never thought that he would be holding a conversation with a lion in the back alleys of Center City.

Hefe, as she introduced herself, had joined Lucio on top of the pile of crates, which whined considerably as she settled on her haunches.

< You smell like Death. >

Hefe spoke the last word as if she knew the Arcana personally. Lucio took one glance at the lioness’ great paws and chose not to deny it.

“You’re right,” he said thickly. He struggled to maintain eye contact with her steady, amber gaze.

< If you mean to bring my cub any harm, you can take it elsewhere. >

Lucio’s naturally blond eyebrows lifted an inch. “Do you mean Khlee?”

She nodded slowly.

He shook his head and huffed, “Death’s ties are to me and me alone. Trust me, I’m not trying to drag anyone else into it. What I have to go back to…” he thought about the dank cellar of the Lazaret and its shelves full of outdated medical instruments. He thought of pale green skin and carefully mummified horns. Lucio turned his head and shuddered. “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

Hefe was silent for a moment before a purr trilled low in her throat.

< Good. >

When Lucio looked back up, the familiar was gone.

Commotion trickled in from the other side of the door. Lucio could hear members filling up what sounded like a spacious area. Greetings rang out. Equipment was dragged off of shelves and out of boxes. Whatever this club meeting was about, it sounded like there was something physical going on.

The former count waited a few more minutes before taking a deep breath, standing up, and letting himself inside.

About two dozen people were crowded around some kind of pit. The pair locked in were definitely fighting. Lucio could see over most of the heads taking up the space. He picked up on the challengers’ bare feet and how they sparred bare-knuckled. Except, they weren’t sparring. The blows were connecting. Solidly. Intentionally.

Lucio’s game was swordplay, but he had some training in hand to hand combat. He used what he could remember to try to pinpoint the style. The closest he could figure was kick-boxing, but that didn’t seem quite right. The punches looked too strange for that — too curvy. And the blocks were absorbed more by the elbows. When the opponents were locked, grasping for the back of each other’s head, no one broke it up. The lively spectators only watched while the challengers tried to climb up each other, knees first like excited apes.

“Monty. You came.”

The new presence at his elbow startled Lucio. Just like their cat, Khlee had managed to easily sneak up on him. Lucio noticed that her suspenders swung below her waist and her shirt was unbuttoned a lot lower than would be appropriate for serving customers. They didn’t seem to care.

Khlee gestured to the energetic knot of people.

“What do you think?”

Lucio glanced back at the fight and grimaced. “Is no one going to break them up?”

Khlee smiled. “Doesn’t work like that. They’re looking for the clinch. Makes it easier to lay in some knees to the more vulnerable part of the body.”

Lucio grunted like he knew what the hell they were talking about.

“And they’re okay with getting so… bloody?”

The barhand nodded. “They look forward to that too.” They looked up at Lucio and hooked their thumb over their shoulder. “Come over here and I’ll show you the basics.”

The fights went on in the background while Khlee led Lucio to a quieter spot closer to the minibar. Finally working up the courage to comment about them, Lucio waved at Khleo’s arms.

“I bet fights are over for you pretty quickly.”

Her eyes widened a bit before she realized his meaning. “I mean, sure, I throw punches, but there’s more to it than that. Speaking of arms.” She explained that he would only be allowed to block with his gauntleted arm in order to minimize injury. After that was established, she started to show him how to properly stand and defend himself.

Lucio never even agreed to fighting in the first place, but this barhand seemed to know what she was doing when it came to instruction. Sport and the physical challenge that came with it was always something that resonated with Lucio no matter the playing field. And it had been ages since he learned something new. So he swallowed his doubt for the time being and absorbed Khlee’s crash course in this unorthodox style of combat.

The way of eight limbs, she called it.

Lucio learned that the “clinch” Khlee spoke of earlier referred to the series of standing grappling techniques that he witnessed when he first walked in. Despite how important this was to combat, Lucio made it very clear that he did not want to get caught in one of those. Especially not against someone smaller and scrappier than him like Khleo, whose shorter limbs and concentrated muscle gave her all the advantage in this sport.

“What? Afraid your skin will bruise too easy?” Khlee teased right after she was done showing Lucio all the ways he could disengage himself from a sudden grapple.

Lucio, who had discarded his top layers a while ago, gently caged his alchemical arm over his abdomen and said, “Uh duh. Besides, I just ate. Forgive me if I’m not looking forward to losing my dinner all over my opponent.” Then he blushed and added sheepishly. “Thank you, by the way. For dinner.”

“Focus,” Khlee reminded him as they squared his hips and elevated his arms. They spent the next few minutes guiding him in strikes, many of which were concentrated not so much in the fists or feet, but in the elbows, knees, and shins.

“Can I be honest?” Lucio spoke up after forgetting to engage his hips on the last kick.

“Go ahead,” Khlee huffed right before punishing Lucio for his mistake with the proper form. Her shin met his ribs in a clean, controlled strike. Lucio knew that she was holding back, but he grunted all the same.

“I don’t like having to adjust to this style at all,” he whined. “Can’t I just fight the way I know how? Because really, this,” he exaggerated his hip movement and popped up his knees like he was bouncing a ball on them, “is all really stupid if you think about –”

Lucio felt his mouth pool with something gooey and hot before he tasted the iron. He doubled over shortly after his ribs started screaming at him.

“Oh. Look at that,” Khlee noted, “you just took a stupid elbow to the face and a stupid knee to the gut.”

Lucio waited before turning his head and spitting a wad of blood off to the side. “You almost made me lose a fucking tooth.”

Khlee came over and clapped him on the back. “If I wanted to do that, I would have. Now, Monty. Are you done insulting my way of fighting or is there something else you want to add?” They smirked at him in a way that appeared good natured and unoffended despite their sudden outburst of violence.

Before Lucio could answer, a handful of voices called both of their attentions towards the ring in the middle of the room.

“Khleo! Bring his green ass over here!”

“Yeah. You’ve had him long enough. We’re itching to break him in!”

The very last thing Lucio wanted was to get broken in by the scrappy-looking bunch that beckoned him over. But he also didn’t want to appear spineless in front of all of these people, so he didn’t protest as Khlee guided him to the center of the ring.

Lucio found comfort in her heavy hand resting on his shoulder as she looked out at her club members and recited a few rules. The first two were the same. Don’t talk about the damn club. A few members chuckled at that. Khlee reminded them that if someone tried to tap out, said “stop” or went limp, that meant that the fight was over. Lucio was relieved to see the members take this one more seriously. They all nodded in grave understanding.

To Lucio’s disgust, one of the rules was no shirt, no shoes. Biting back his groan, he removed his boots and handed them off to one of the members on the sidelines.

“And finally, rule number eight.” Khlee gave Lucio’s shoulder a squeeze. “My friend Monty here, it’s his first night, which means,” she dropped her hand and backed up into the throng, smiling broadly, “he has to fight.”

Many were eager to take Lucio on, but since it was his first time, he got to decide which of the volunteers he would go against. In the end, he went with someone of his similar height and build. He didn’t want the smaller fighters using their advantage against him. He only hoped that his challenger lacked about as much flexibility as he did.

After they assumed their stances and touched knuckles, the challenger said something Lucio didn’t expect.

“I want you to hit me as hard as you can.”

Lucio hesitated, but only for a moment. Then he swung quietly, but with all his might.

The rest of the fight was a bit of a blur.

Lucio forgot everything that he learned. One minute he was blocking with his elbows and keeping his opponent at a distance with well timed foot jabs and the next, his arms were flailing and he was losing all balance.

The bystanders acted as the ropes to a real boxing ring. Whenever he staggered, they pushed him back into the fight. He ate a lot of blows. Some hands. A few elbows. His head was spinning and his blood was on fire.

Sound warbled in and out of his ears like he was underwater. His eyesight was lost to the sweat. His blood ran down his neck, his chest, and made the floor slippery. Both he and his opponent lost their footing and came down hard. Then they laughed together.

Lucio knew he couldn’t fight blind on unsteady legs, so he asked them to stop. They did and many hands came to help Lucio onto his feet. He was given towels, water, and a kiss on the forehead, no doubt by his challenger.

Since Lucio’s was the last fight of the night, the crowd retired around the broken picnic table by the wall. Khleo served them up a round of bread and ale so flat and diluted, it was practically water. But no one complained.

Lucio didn’t have much to say amidst the group of companions, but they made him feel at home. A few of them asked about his arm and showed off their own prosthetics to compare.

Later, after everyone had gone, Lucio left the table covered in empty beer glasses and joined Khlee at the minibar.

“You in the mood for a real drink?” She asked, already pouring something amber and smoky into a crystal tumbler.

Lucio sighed. “Usually, I would, but I think my blood has had enough excitement for one evening.”

Khlee added a couple of ice cubes and chuckled, “No such thing.”

While she took her first sips, Lucio tested his swollen cheek with the blunted fingers of his alchemical hand.

“At first I couldn’t really understand why you all would fight hard enough to draw blood. If it was for some money or a prize, it would have made more sense to me, but…”

“But you realized that we’re all just perverted little piggies looking for punishment.” Khlee rested her empty glass on the wood.

Lucio laughed. “Yeah. That.” He shook his head. “But then I got in there and I get it now.” Listening to the patrons talk, he caught on to what they did for a living. They were the chamberlains, the couriers, the nurses, the gondoliers, the construction and sewer workers. Khlee’s club was full of the people who pulled the most weight to keep this city afloat. They were the ones who needed to let off the most steam from what Lucio could tell.

“So, Montag…” Khlee said, breaking Lucio from his line of thoughts, “Did your mother give you that name?”

Lucio raised an eyebrow.

Khlee added, “I was just thinking, why Montag? Wouldn’t it make more sense to name you Donnerstag – Thursday, after the god of thunder?”

Lucio scoffed, “Why would that make more sense?”

She started buttoning up her shirt. “Well because, you know. No offense, but everybody hates mondays.”

“Is this your strategy to keep your patrons coming back?” Lucio snapped. “By hacking their birth names to pieces?”

The barhand didn’t appear ruffled by the other’s outburst. “Just trying to make a little conversation.”

Lucio leaned back some. “Alright, then. What about your name? Von Heine. I know that village. The Heine.” It was a little hamlet nestled on the edges of the Scourgelands. Lucio’s people and Khlee’s shared the same language, but different histories. “It’s where you all dress like snaggle-tooth toddlers and spend every waking hour grinding wheat and growing yeast for your bread or your booze.”

The barhand rested her forearms on the bar, leaned on them and smiled. “Based on the stories Papa told me, that sounds about right.”

The distant look in her expression made Lucio soften his voice. “You don’t remember?”

She waved at nothing. “I’ve never been to the Heine. Only heard stories growing up. My folks found me in the coliseum when I was just a kid. They raised me.” There was some silence.

Khleo cleared her throat and straightened up a little. “As for the tracht,” She looped her suspenders back on and gave them a light snap. “You can blame the owner. He wanted the tavern to appeal to tourists. So while I might look like a toddler, remember that I can still kick your ass, Monty.”

Lucio snickered. “Noted.”

Still grinning, Khleo asked, “You got yourself a place to sleep tonight?”

Lucio looked elsewhere. “Uh. Not this time.”

Khleo pointed at the fireplace. “I know it doesn’t look like much from here, but it’s pretty cozy in the hearth. And Hefe can keep you warm.”

Lucio briefly considered the idea of sleeping in an empty fireplace with someone else’s lion for a blanket. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing that had happened to him in one evening. Once upon a time, the thought of going to sleep somewhere like that would make his skin crawl. But like many things that had seen that day, he experienced it through a new lens. He trusted Khleo.

Besides, he really, really didn’t want to sleep out in the cold street.

“Thank you.”

Before Khleo could respond, their privacy was broken by the sound of a door opening.

“Shit.”

Quick and without making any noise, Khleo hoisted herself over the minibar and dragged Lucio off of the stool. She pressed a finger to his lips when he tried to protest. One look at her dark expression told him now was not the time to argue. Lucio tried to keep his steps soft as Khleo guided him to the hearth. She gently bent him over and pushed him inside, tugging the curtains closed behind him.

Hefe growled dimly as Lucio tumbled over her. There was some awkward movement as the lioness made room for him. By the time Lucio was semi-comfortable, he tuned in to the heated conversation that already started in the basement.

“Overheard one of your idiot friends on their way out. You don’t charge admission?” The mature voice must have belonged to the person descending the stairs.

There was no answer from Khleo at first. Then she murmured almost too low for Lucio to hear, “No, but they’re welcome to leave donations.”

Lucio listened to heavy footfalls making their way to the broken picnic table.

“And you’re giving away our food?”

In a voice that suggested this wasn’t the first time they had this argument, Khleo finally spoke up.

“You never said I had to charge for entry into the club. You only said I had to pay rent, which I do. I’m never late. And that’s just bread left over from today. We can’t sell it tomorrow. I don’t see the problem if we have to throw it out anyway.”

Something pounded once on the wood, rattling the glass mugs.

“This is a place of business, Khlee. Not a gods-fucking food bank!”

“Are you done?”

“Am I…” The wood creaked. “Am I what now?”

Khleo sighed. “Nothing, Otto. We’re good. I’ll start charging for the damn bread.”

The silence that followed was tense, uncertain. Lucio longed to see what kind of looks were being exchanged between them, but he wouldn’t dare move aside the curtain. Hefe seemed to sense it too because she kept her head leveled a few inches off the ground and her ears at alert angles.

“Oh no, I think you forgot something. You definitely forgot who the fuck you’re talking to.”

Crash.

“Didn’t you?”

Crash.

It took a moment for Lucio to register the sound of glasses being flung and breaking against the minibar as well as the wall behind it.

The barhand’s voice had lost its cool indifference.

“Otto, come on. Don’t. I’ll pay for it, okay? Just put it on with the rent. You don’t have to–”

CRASH.

“Wait!”

CRASH.

Hefe lowered her ears, but she didn’t move. Lucio pressed his back against the brick in an effort to steady himself and quiet his breaths.

“Stop! Stop! Why are you doing this? I’m sorry, okay? Uncle – hold on!”

CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! CRASH!

Lucio leaned forward, but Hefe used her shoulder to shove him back.

< No. >

“Onkel, bitte.” Khleo’s voice came from somewhere low. Like she was squatting on the floor. “Tut mir Leid… . Es tut mir Leid. It won’t happen again. I promise....” She inhaled a ragged breath and whimpered as if in pain.

The man’s breath came out a little labored from all the effort. “You said you take donations?”

“… Ja.”

“Where?”

Khleo sniffled. “Unter da.”

Glass crunched and broke underfoot as the man went about his search. Eventually, he gave a contented sigh. “That should cover all this mess and the bread. Now... clean this shit up.”

More glass popped under his weight as he headed towards the stairs. The sniffles died down a few minutes after he left. Lucio sat frozen, unsure how he should proceed.

Finally, there was movement and Khleo’s voice came out dark and choked.

“Hefe… just do it.”

Khleo’s voice and the sound of Hefe’s hypnotic purr was the last thing Lucio remembered before losing himself to total darkness.

*

*

*

Basil seethed in silence while he listened to his boss get on Samira’s case yet again. This time it was about her uniform.

“Mr. Otto, I told you, the ones you gave me when I started working don’t fit me anymore.”

Otto snorted. “I missed the part where that’s my problem. Those uniforms don’t grow on trees, girl.”

The afternoon shift had just ended, so they were all tired, but still had their stations to clean. Khleo was taking her break from deliveries under a quilt in one of the empty booths. Gabe had started his delivery shift a few minutes ago. The bar was empty except for Samira, Basil and of course, their boss. Currently, he was enjoying his afternoon snack in front of his employees.

Samira shook her head and surrendered her hands. “I didn’t even know the uniforms were mandatory. Basil and Gabe never wear theirs.”

Otto swallowed a spoonful of oatmeal. “Last time I checked, you weren’t Basil or Gabe.”

Samira’s glasses started to get misty the longer she looked at her employer. She waved at Basil without looking away from Otto. “But if the uniforms are mandatory, why don’t you ever say anything to them?”

Without missing a beat, Otto punctated the air with his spoon as he explained. “They’ve put in their time here, while you… Lass, you haven’t been here but a minute.”

“Mr. Otto, I’m sorry, but this is not fair.”

It’s more than unfair, Basil wanted to add, but he bit back his tongue. He shot a glance over at Khleo’s sleeping lump, wondering if they could hear this right now.

“Fair.” Otto dragged out the word. “What about if I cut my losses with you and hire a new barmaid?” He studied his bowl as he scraped the oats off the edges in a way that set Basil’s teeth on edge. “All you do is look pretty at the front of the house. Anyone can do that, Miss Kaba.”

Samira’s garnet eyes went wide and then narrowed suddenly. Her lip trembled. “That is not all that I do.”

Finally, Otto looked up and sighed. “I don’t have time for the tears today, Samira. Here’s the key for the costumes in storage. You and Khlee are dancing tonight. Now, the waistlines on those dresses are all adjustable, so I don’t want to hear anymore excuses about your fitting issue. Understand?”

Samira looked like she had something else she wanted to say. Instead, she blinked rapidly as she took the keys from Otto and practically broke out into a run.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Basil let Otto have it. “Did you really have to give her the whole ‘you’re replaceable’ speech?”

Otto narrowed his eyes at the barhand. “I pay you to make drinks, Jebeles. Know your place.”

Basil replied, “You’re always going on about how the barmaids bring in the most customers, yet none of ours stay for more than a few months. Think you should lighten up some? Just maybe?”

Otto rolled his eyes. “If the lass doesn’t have the backbone to work here, then she should find herself another bar.” Then he grunted as he stood up and wandered over to the booth where Khleo was resting.

Otto used his foot to jostle Khleo awake. She poked her curly head out from under the quilt and scowled in her usual way.

“You’re dancing tonight,” He said without a hello. “Go get dressed.”

Basil expected Khleo to give at least a little pushback. She wasn’t a fan of wearing the dirndl unless it was for the annual beer festivals. Otherwise, she chose to perform without it. But to Basil’s surprise, Khleo set her jaw and didn’t meet Otto’s eyes as she climbed out of the booth. She rolled up her quilt, tucked it under her arm, and wordlessly headed towards the basement. After she left, Otto floated back to the bar, smiling smugly to no one in particular.

Basil wasn’t sure what he just saw, but he didn’t like it.

***

The costume chest was already opened by the time Khleo got there. She changed mostly in the dark until it was time to lace up the bodice of the dress.

Figuring Samira couldn’t be far off, she left the costumes and wandered further through the storage space.

“Mir,” Khleo called out, her voice still raspy from sleep. “Can you help me with this? You know I always forget how to…”

Khleo found her coworker off in some corner, sitting on a prop used for talent shows. She was hunched over a bit, her arms resting palms up against her thighs, almost as if she was waiting for something to fall into them.

Samira looked like she had gotten halfway with putting on her dirndl when she had given up. Even in the low light, Khleo could detect the wet shine clinging to her cheeks.

“Sorry, Khleo. I was on my way to help you, but I... kind of lost track of time.”

The sound of water rising up her throat drew Khleo closer. It wasn’t the first time they had shared a room during costume changes, so neither had much of a reaction to Samira’s state of undress. As Khleo came closer, her eyes wandered past the barhand’s bra and down to where her stomach interrupted the costume.

“Don’t laugh, but I can’t get it over my tummy.” Samira snorted, almost like it was a joke.

Khleo reached out her hand and arched a curious brow.

Samira sniffed. “It’s okay.”

The barhand took a deep breath before grazing the skin over Samira’s navel with her fingertips. She felt a flicker at first. When she pressed her entire palm against the warm bump, she felt something more.

< Ask her how long it’s been. >

“Six and half months, I think.” Samira answered when Khleo voiced Hefe’s question aloud.

Khleo withdrew her hand. “You think? You haven’t seen a doctor yet?”

Samira closed her eyes and sighed. “No, but… I haven’t had the money or the time. Have you seen where I work?” Then she opened them and glared a little at Khleo. “Plus, I’m not an idiot. I haven’t had a drink or a cigarette since I first suspected. I can take care of myself.”

“You need to see a doctor, Mir.” Khleo was pacing now. “The father?”

Samira’s face twisted as she mumbled something dark and negating.

Khleo stopped. “Right,” she sighed. There were so many other questions she wanted to ask. But when she looked at Samira, who seemed like she was already regretting trusting someone else with this information, Khleo inhaled again and approached her friend.

“What do you want to do next? If you could?”

Samira blinked, gratitude and relief filling her eyes at the question Khleo had settled on.

“I have a half sister in Nevivon. She would take me in, but she’s got kids too and she works. If I could just get to her.”

Khleo grunted in understanding. Trips across the sea were not cheap. And Samira couldn’t just stop paying rent.

While Khleo was still thinking, Samira curled on herself and whispered, “I was trying to take more shifts so I could get out of here as fast as I could, but Otto… he’s going to find out, Khlee. He’s going to figure this out and then he’s going to fire me. I know he is.”

“No he’s not,” Khleo replied calmly as she unhooked her keys from one of her inner pockets. She held out the one to her apartment. “Here. My place is in the Flooded District. Hefe will help you. Go there and wait for me.”

Samira sat up a little straighter. “What? I can’t just leave. My shift is nowhere near over.”

Khleo took Samira’s hand and pressed the key in her palm. “Don’t worry about that. Just trust me. I can explain everything tonight.”

To Khleo’s relief, Samira relaxed her hand around the key. She hesitated once more before sighing and nodding. “Okay. Let me help you tie up your dress and then I’ll go.”

As soon as Samira and Hefe were out the back door, Khleo put the next few hours out of her mind. She entered a sort of trance as she walked up the stairs and made up an excuse for Samira’s absence. Otto wasn’t happy about it, but that wouldn’t even matter after tonight.

Khleo put on a smile, danced, served, and entertained the patrons. Whenever Basil tried to get her alone and ask his questions, she dodged him with the grace of a feyling determined to remain elusive.

Otto, thankfully, went home early and left his barhands with the responsibility of closing up. Khleo pulled some favors and managed to free herself soon after her boss left. She skipped changing out of her dress and just jogged briskly through the lanterned avenues until she made it to her apartment.

When she came inside, she found Samira asleep on the couch. Hefe lay on the floor, guarding the space. Khleo avoided her familiar’s gaze as she quietly walked past the couch and down the hall. When she entered her room, she closed the door behind her and shut her eyes.

There wasn’t time to think about what she was going to do. If she gave herself even a moment, she feared she would lose her nerve.

Moments later, Khleo was back in the common room, gently helping Samira onto her feet.

“Khleo?”

Khleo hugged her. “I’m sorry it took me so long. Here.”

Samira blinked a few times and put on her glasses before accepting the glass jar that Khleo offered her. She briefly took note of the contents before asking, “What’s this?”

Khleo cleared her throat. “It’s enough to get you to Nevivon and set up with a doctor until you have the baby.”

Samira turned the jar over in her hands. “What, you just had this lying around? What was it for?”

“Please.” Khleo couldn’t look at the jar, so she locked eyes with Samira instead. “Please, Mir, just take it. Take it and go.”

Whatever Samira wanted to say, she held onto it. Then she opened her arms and held onto Khleo.

“Thank you, Khlee. I was so afraid that… just. Thank you.”

Khleo was out of words. She hugged Samira back, staring wide-eyed at the walls of peeling paint in her apartment as she nodded in understanding.

After Samira had left, Khleo noticed that Hefe had disappeared too. She had no desire to look for her. Instead, Khleo drifted back into her bedroom and came before her antique dresser like it was some kind of altar.

Soon she was on her knees, bowed before the very last drawer, where she kept the dreams of her father, her mother, and her own.

Khleo seldom opened the drawer. She knew that if she wanted to take out and admire her dreams, she would have put them back and close them inside the wood. Tonight she looked down at her dreams and they looked back at her.

A tight moan escaped the barhand as she dragged her palm up her face and dug her nails into her hairline. With her other hand, she tried to close the drawer. Like always, it was stubborn and would not bend to her.

And so Khleo fought with the drawer until it gave in. She shut up her dreams so she wouldn’t have to look at them anymore. Tears and sobs consumed her until there was nothing left but thoughts. The low and bitter kind.

[unstoppableforcce]

beer pong

—trivia night universe (3)

pairing: Santiago “Pope” Garcia x bartender!reader

part 2 | next part | masterlist

a/n: I really enjoyed writing this moment between the two of them so I hope you enjoy the mix of fun and somewhat serious! there’s no smut in this part but the next idea I have for them is smut related, and if yall have any ideas, feel free to let me know! I love these guys !!

“Now, do you want to do this or do you want to fuck around?”

Santiago Garcia had never been more in love with another person than he had been in that moment. 

He had been dancing around the idea for about a week or two now, but never had such a foreign concept been so clearly illustrated to him before. It caught him every so often, for brief seconds or sometimes minutes, but it didn’t stop him in his tracks until now. 

There had been the morning that you insisted on going with him to the grocery store because he never bought the right kind of apples and danced around him in line humming whatever song had been on the radio while the two of you were in his car. There had been the day that you texted him asking him what his favorite color was then showed up later that night with your nails painted that color. There had been some smaller moments too. When you asked him to put your necklace on for you, when you came up behind him in the kitchen and trailed kisses across his shoulders, when your perfume lingered in his bathroom long after you left for work...

The thought had a firmly secured spot in his mind, but it took you standing across the table from him with a raised brow, quirked hip, and ping pong ball in hand and repeated the question, he knew for sure. 

He was head over heels, breath knocked from his chest, absolutely and indiscriminately in love with you. 

And he was going to kick your ass at beer pong at the same time. 

Frankie couldn’t help but laugh as he walked towards the table and handed Pope a fresh beer. He didn’t say anything aloud, but he could read it on his face. He was smug and Fish only got smug when he was seeing right through him, and just as Santi was sure that he was in love with you, he was also sure that Frankie could see that on his face. 

He caught the ping pong ball you threw at his head and rolled his eyes, “Honey, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I don’t know, you talk a lot of shit Pope, but this is kind of my realm of expertise.” You smirked back, bringing your beer to your lips as Benny joined you by your side with another beer. 

To think you had been so nervous about meeting the guys officially for the first time. He’d told you over an over again that you had nothing to worry about but it wasn’t until the two of you actually arrived at Will’s house and you truly met them. You fell easily into pace alongside them, bouncing back and forth with them like you had known them for years. It was everything Pope knew it would be, and maybe that made him love you a little bit more. 

“Ok, house rules here. Nothing too crazy.” Benny warned carefully as he waved his hands over the table as if he were blessing the triangular assortments of red solo cups. “And normally I’d argue the lady gets to go first but it looks like we’ve got an honest-to-god face off ready here so...”

“Damn straight.” You easily replied, holding the ball up as Santi mirrored your movements. “Give me your eyes, baby.”

“You have them, honey.” 

Frankie and Benny both shared in a whistle, and as Will came outside with a beer of his own and a plate of snacks, he joined in as well. But your stare stayed locked with Santi’s as you both counted off and threw the balls across table to the respective cups. 

Yours sank easily while his swirled around the edge of the corner cup and rolled out, leading to the first round of cheers shared between you and Benny. 

Fish landed a heavy hand on his shoulder and blew out another breath, “this is going to be fun.”

And that was exactly what it was, an extension of what it had been for the first hour of the night, an easy flow of fun times. At least until you guys came down to two cups left on each side. 

“Oh the pressure is building.” Benny mocked as he lowered himself to his knees to put his face behind the cups to distract Frankie as he faked a few tosses before finally throwing and missing by nearly a mile. “Oh! The pressure has claimed another victim.”

“Shut up Benny—” Fish fought but the two of you were laughing too hard as you bent over to grab the ball from the grass. “They are a dangerous duo—“

“You’re telling me.” Santi chuckled, lining up his shot as both you and Benny began to dance behind the cups to distract him. It almost worked too, but at the last second, he found his focus and his skill and nailed the water in the cup effortlessly. “There it is!”

He slammed his hand against Frankie’s in the most intense high five that they had maybe ever shared while you and Benny threw your hands up, exasperated as the cups in front of you now totaled 2-1, not in your favor. 

Passing your ball to Benny, you fished the other ball from the water, dumped the water out, and stacked the cup all before reaching for your own beer and taking a hefty swig. This was it. If there was ever a moment when you needed to call upon the skills you probably should have left behind in college, this was it.

“After you,” Benny gestured with another wave of his arm as you sat your drink down and you gave him a quick reciprocated nod. 

Santi and Frankie began a similar dance to the one that you and Benny had managed, pulling the edges of your straight-lined focused mouth up at the corners even as you fought it. And when Will laughed, the whole group was dancing and laughing, and you couldn’t keep a straight face but you were determined to keep your shot straight. 

“We don’t have all night honey—”

“I’m focusing—”

“Focus faster—”

“Shut your pretty mouth—”

“We’re waiting—”

The toss was perfect, landing in the cup with a satisfying splash and an echoing cheer taking over the rest of the group. “Worth the wait, baby?”

He pulled the ball out with a smile he couldn’t keep down. He tried to smother it with his drink as he flicked the water off the ball but it was no use, the smile was there. The smile was there and it was contagious to the three other men who considered themselves his closest and only friends. 

It was good to see him this happy. Overwhelmingly good to see him this overwhelmingly happy. How could it not make them equally as happy?

Though, Fish wasn’t happy to see his chances to win slipping through his finger tips. 

“Let’s see what you got, Benny.”

“Let’s go.”

“You got this.” 

He turned to you and gave you a solid fist bump, something that had slowly became your ritual the more the two of you played. Then he turned back towards the table and tossed without a practice windup or any hesitation. 

It bounced on the rim. 

Both you and him leaned with it. 

It bounced in. 

The shouting must have annoyed the shit out of Will’s neighbors but none of the five of you seemed to care. You all just burst out in obnoxious cheering, Benny wrapped you up in a quick hug, twirling you around before the two of you descended into laughter, relishing in your victory even more when you saw both Frankie and Santi throw their hands up. 

“Good game,” Frankie easily conceded but Santi just shook his head, reaching for his beer. 

“Great game,” you countered with a fully body chuckle as you grabbed your own drink and walked around the table to wrap your arm around Santi’s waist and steal a quick kiss from his lips. But as he tried to hide his smile still, you quickly broke through when you said, “do I taste like a winner?”

That not only broke his smile from him, but a full body laughter of his own as well as he shook his head and pulled back from you. “You’re breaking my heart, honey.”

“You knew what you were getting yourself into.”

“Nah, I’m calling for a rematch,” he said, turning back to the group and repeating himself, “A rematch, and we’re going to get Will in on this one.”

“He can’t accept a fair, honest game—” Benny shouted as you raised your bottle in agreement. 

“I want a rematch—”

“Sore loser.” You mocked, but another game happened anyways. 

Though, this time, there was much less structure to it. Benny was blowing balls out of the cups as they swirled, Santi was smacking away bounces without second thought, and even Frankie was leaning in from the sidelines to get in the way of shots. But it was fun. More fun than you could remember having in a long time. 

The night calmed down after that; not as high energy but equally as fun once you all moved back inside. 

Benny had a few questions about mixing drinks which ultimately moved all of you into the kitchen with half of Will’s liquor cabinet and refrigerator out on the counter. It was mindless fun for you and they all seemed to be having a good time, but it also meant that by the time you all decided it was a good time to go, you were very, very drunk. 

With your fingers intertwined, the two of you said your goodbyes and walked back out into the nighttime chill, swaying your linked arms between the two of you as you walked down the driveway to where Santi was parked on the street. And again, as you giggled, tripping over yourself slightly, he was reminded again of the fact that was becoming a more and more common fact of life for him. 

He loved you. He was in love with you. He adored every bit of you and, the two of you hadn’t been together for long, but he was sure of it. 

It wasn’t a familiar feeling for him, it wasn’t something he was anyway comfortable with admitting if he was going to be honest, but he was almost a hundred percent positive. 

He loved you. He was in love with you. And he was sure of it. 

“Why so quiet?” You hummed, swinging your linked hands back and forth with more force to attempt to snap him out of his own head as they two of you made it to the curb next to his jeep. 

“I’m not quiet.” He attempted to counter but as he stopped walking and turned to you, he could see the disbelief plainly on your face. 

“You sure you’re okay to drive? I can call a lyft—”

“I’m fine to drive, honey, I had maybe three beers since dinner—”

“Then why so quiet?” You fought, with maybe a bit more drunken determination than you typically had as you tugged on his hand more. “Come on, I thought tonight went well—”

“Tonight went so well, I had an amazing time—”

“Then what’s wrong?”

You sounded sad, he didn’t want you to be sad, there was literally no reason in the whole universe for you to be sad and he hated that you thought that something was wrong but... but he couldn’t get the words out. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t said them before, it was just that he had really never felt comfortable saying them. The few relationships he had where he did say it, they ended shortly after the three little words left his lips, and the last thing he wanted was for that to be the case here. You were the best thing that had ever happened to him and if he went too fast... if he said it before you were ready for it and he messed everything up...

He didn’t want to ruin this. He was terrified, and by the looks of it, so were you and that was his fault. 

Keeping his mouth shut was going to ruin it, telling you was going to ruin it...

“Nothing’s wrong, honey, I swear.” He said easily but as he pulled his keys from his pocket and tried to turn to the door, you kept your hold on his hand and kept him where he stood. 

“Did I do something wrong tonight?”

This was so far from fair to you. You were drunk and he was being evasive, giving you every reason to worry while he was trying to get you not to worry. 

How could a night where everything had gone right so far go south so fast?

If he could just open his goddamn mouth—

“Santi, I don’t understand—” You dropped his hand, bringing both of yours together in front of you, wringing them over each other as his silence held...

And he just couldn’t take it anymore. 

“I love you.”

He swore his heart was going to beat out of his chest, his stomach was filled with nerves he hadn’t felt in years and watching your face was doing nothing to calm him down. Half your face was cast in shadow from the street lights that lined the road, and as his eyes scanned over every inch of you, he still didn’t find anything to go off of in terms of your reaction. You held his stare with the same sad look you had been wearing before he said anything. 

What did that mean?

Was it too early? It had only been a few months, so he couldn’t blame you if you didn’t feel the same especially given how long it took him to open up to you about the littlest of things. He didn’t even know how long he was supposed to wait, was there some sort of timeline that healthy minded adults followed that he was just never told about?

Did he just ruin things? Was he moving too fast—

“Really?”

Really?

What did that mean? Did that mean that he said it too early and you didn’t believe him? Did that mean that you didn’t feel the same? Did that mean he just caught your off guard or did you wish he hadn’t said it? 

He could see what felt like a thousand emotions playing across your face and he didn’t know which meant what—

You lips cut him off before he got too deep into his thoughts. And it wasn’t just the surprise of your lips on his, it was the pure force you put behind it. 

He stumbled back into the side of his truck, catching you with his body as you pressed every inch of yourself into him. Your hands pulled at the sides of his face, tugging on his ears to get yourself even closer as he wrapped his arms around your waist and towards your back, holding you as close as you were holding him as his lips reciprocated the heavy kiss. 

There wasn’t a thought in his mind anymore that wasn’t you. Your intoxicated feet even stepped on his in your overwhelming eagerness, solidly holding every single part of you that you could against him. 

He wasn’t sure what it meant, but there was no way it could be bad news anymore, that he was sure of as your tongue pushed into his mouth and your hands trailed up to his hair, tugging with much more intensity than he was used to. 

But even then, he had to pull back to catch his breath and it was worth checking in with you as he did. With his forehead pressed to yours, his arms cradled around your back, he opened his eyes and found yours waiting there for him. “So...”

Your face twisted into an adorable intoxicated confusion, “So?”

“I just told you I loved you and you kissed me and I don’t know--”

You stole another kiss off his lips easily. “Are you kidding me?”

Was he supposed to know what that meant? Did he know what it meant and his brain just wouldn’t let him think it or was he just too hesitant? How could you kiss him with that kind of passion and still leave him so confused--

“No, I’m not—”

“Santi, I’m so in love with you...” 

Blowing out a breath of relief, he shook his head and pulled your face back towards his, reconnecting your lips and swinging you around to press you into the side of the car while you giggled against his lips. But then he pulled back again, leaving you chasing his lips. 

“What—”

“I have to drive home eventually, we can’t just have sex in Will’s driveway...” He laughed out, bringing his hand to your bare neck and the gold necklace that laid there and tracing it lightly with his calloused fingertips. 

“Why not?” You chuckled back, nudging your nose into his as his laughter melted together with yours, as hot as the sun despite the gentle chill of the night that surrounded the two of you. 

“Because I know he has security cameras and I have a very comfortable bed at home...” He countered, taking his keys back into his hand, unlocking the car, and opening the passenger door for you. 

“Fair point...” 

As he led you into your seat, he moved to turn away but you caught him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him back in for one last kiss. 

One last kiss he couldn’t pull away from. 

He didn’t know what was different about it from all the others, he definitely didn’t know why it stood out from the kissing session that had just concluded, but he knew that he could feel it was different. And you felt it too, because you lingered the same way, leaning out of the car to hold onto him, still by the collar. 

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me...” He sighed out against your lips, the words falling much easier now than they had around the three little words. 

He didn’t know if it was just the words of ‘I love you’ or just his own fears or his comfort now... He didn’t know what it was, but the words fell like dripping honey from his lips. 

“I don’t know, you’ve got three pretty good things in the form of your best friends who we just left inside and—”

“And they’re the best and I’d put my life on the line for them, I have before, but I’m not in love with any of them.” He continued easily, stealing one last kiss before shutting the passenger door and walking around to the driver’s side with a smirk he was never going to lose. 

Not as long as he was with you. 

And he was hoping that was going to be for as long as he lived. 

He got back into the car next to you and found you staring at him wide-eyed and surprised but his smirk didn’t leave his lips and he easily started the car. 

“Santi—”

“Now that I’ve said it, I’m going to be saying it all the time, I just want you to know that.”

Your slightly drunken brain had cleared up enough to leave you happy and sober. Your head finally caught with you and a smirk the same size as his grew on your lips. “Good.”

“It might even get annoying—”

“Do you worst.”

Yeah. He loved you. 

--

tags: (these are tags from teh first part, let me know if you’d like to be added or removed) @mandoplease​ @spider-starry​ @shakespeareanwannabe​ @mylifeliterally​ @this-cat-is-dea​ @woakiees​ @imananxiousdriver​

[springday-aus]

Hockey Player!AU with Mark

moodboard link

Group: NCT

Member: Mark Lee 

Genre: fluff, romance 

Additionally: college!au

Type: Bulletpoint AU

Word Count: approx. 2.3k 

→ Inspired by NCT U’s 90s Love! 

I’m gonna be completely honest: I don’t know shit about hockey so apologizes in advance

Mark is a left-winger for the team

he plays for his university’s team and they’re actually pretty good

within the three-ish years that he’s been on the team, they’ve won a couple of championships

it’s not really hard considering that Mark takes everything too seriously

(at least that’s what Donghyuk says during practice all the time)

Johnny somewhere: “okay Mark”

Yuta: “let’s not overreact Mark”

Taeyong: “leave my son alone”

Mark: “I’m a grown adult…”

Taeyong: “shhh”

since he used to play for his team back in hometown, he naturally joined the university’s team

he was a natural and everyone easily took a liking to him

especially since now they have someone to make fun of constantly

by they, I literally mean just Donghyuk

I’m just kidding—it’s all in good fun because it just shows how close they are

Mark is just that one college kid that’s still cute even when he’s not a freshman anymore

the other team members still treat him like the youngest even though YangYang and Sungchan are like

👁👄👁 hello ?

speaking of which, their teamwork is incredible and it shows through their games

and, on the rare occasions that they don’t win, they still have dinner together afterwards

well, it’s less of dinner and more of drinks and strategizing what went wrong—which are kind of depressing but it’s fine

at least that’s what Sicheng says as captain, but it sounds like denial

anyways, even though Ten is the co-captain, they all work to make their play plan together

they all contribute ideas, especially since they’ve been in the positions they’ve been in for, like, ever

anyways

again, Mark is like really good

so you know he got that bombass scholarship

and that’s what really pushes him to do well bc let’s be real, college is e x p e n s i v e

he also likes ice skating in general because the cold reminds him of home

so he’s one of those hockey players that also likes figures skaters and it’s funny because he gets so many weird looks from the others

(altho, Jeno goes with him sometimes bc he’s nice)

back to what I was saying tho: Mark is really good

despite his personality, he’s a bit more aggressive on the ice—considering he’s a forward

Donghyuk, the right-winger: he makes sense

there’s the passive aggressive-ness

Mark? who knew he had some strength to him when it’s actually applied

seriously, have you seen his thighs?

speaking of which, the team serves a lot of looks

which means a lot of speculators that show up to the games

which means lots of fans

people typically come for the looks, but then stay for the games bc the team is very underrated

they actually win games and everything but like

advertising for the team? nonexistent

@stupid college funding distributions that focus on mediocre sports like football

so, where do you fall into the mix? you’re an og stan

you’ve been in the stands since you entered university

it didn’t even have anything to do with the members (altho, it is nice to have some eye-candy)

you just……… like hockey

even if you don’t understand much about it

it’s just… interesting to watch

so, whenever the season rolls around, you go to the games

but to say over the years that you didn’t develop a particular attachment to our boy Mark…… is an absolute lie

so, do you have a crush on Mark?

yes

but also like

who doesn’t have a crush on Mark

this man is literally so talented and nice and adorable and he just makes you want to take care of him all the time and ugh

one of your friends went to a game with you and literally was just like “oh he’s cute”

You: “we know”

he’s def one of those guys who everyone has or has had a crush on at some point

and you are no different

the thing is that you are fine with not ever confessing because you’re happy with just being on the sidelines because you’ve. literally. just been on the sidelines…

the idea of confessing feels ridiculous bc realistically, what would you mean to some guy that literally e v e r y person has a crush on?

the thing is though is that Mark knows you

at least, he knows of your presence

if he didn’t, it would be embarrassing considering that you come to every game - he’s got loyalty unless some people

Ten: “who?”

Mark: “dude”

Donghyuk: “is this another one of your imaginary friends?”

Mark: “I TOLD YOU THAT IN CONFIDENCE”

jkjk , they all kind of know you, considering you’re one of the more consistent faces since they’ve been playing in these games (primarily the home ones bc free tickets for students but still)

you also don’t paint your face or anything—you just show up in your university sweatshirt with a couple of those foam light up sticks or something

again, not that wild like signs with his face or anything

you’re just…. a spectator

but yeah, Mark knows of you as a loyal fan ?

who also is kind of cute when you’re cheering for them

I want to emphasize that you have gone to, like, nearly every game, but the main ones you’ve *always* have gone to are the home games bc they’re more convenient

or the final games bc hello

they’re the finals, why the fuck would you miss the finals

I emphasize this because, when you’ve suddenly gone down with the flu, you literally cannot make it to the finals championship game

you thought: no one was gonna notice your absence anyways

haha, you thought

anyways

your friends figured you were sick from the beginning and were like, my friend, it’s flu season, stay away from me and pls stay at home

(wash your hands kids, it’s still covid season)

so you didn’t go and stayed in and binged watched iCarly or something

meanwhile, during the game, Mark was like

where... where are you???

so homeboy is highkey distracted and lowkey worried bc did you die???

(you were dying bc of your clogged nostrils, but otherwise, no)

they somehow managed to win by a couple of points so it was kind of fine

but the teasing was increased by all of Mark’s friends

i.e. Johnny, Donghyuk, Jaehyun, and everyone else

come on, it’s so easy to make fun of him

but like he doesn’t care about any of it bc he was worried about you

which got him thinking

why is he worried about someone whose name he doesn’t even know? is there something more? why is there something more? he literally doesn’t know you? except that you come to the games and you’re really cute cheering him on? what is this?

you know, ✨just Mark things✨

this bothered him for quite a bit more than he liked to admit

and it’s about a couple of days later

things are normal and you don’t feel like everything is dripping out of your nose

until you’re walking through campus from your class

and there’s some footsteps running from behind you that makes you coil up into a semi-standing ball bc you thought a bunch of frat boys were just excited or some shit

but then the footsteps stop at you and you’re standing there, wide-eyed

in front of an out of breath Mark

he was walking out of his class with Jaemin and he spotted you from across the quad

and immediately ran to you

Jaemin: I was talking but okay

this isn’t about you Jaemin

anyways

Mark is in front of you, panting and you’re just like sir?

You: “how are you out of breath? aren’t you an athlete?”

Mark: “oh my God, you’re just like Donghyuk”

you give him a bit of time (and some water bc he seemed like he needed it)

and once he’s caught his breath, he stands up and blurts it out

Mark: “what happened to you during the championship?”

You: “....................... what?”

seeing you blink at him confused, he can feel his ears reddening when he’s realized the situation he’s put himself into

Mark: “um, I just”

Mark: “I noticed that you weren’t at the game”

You: still confused bc how does he know about you

You: “huh?”

Mark: oh my God this is the wrong person, want to die

Mark: “you know what, I have the wrong person, I’m just gonna bounce I am so sorry—”

he starts backing up, but you aren’t letting him escape

You: “whoawhoawhoawhoawhoa, hold up hold up”

You: “I didn’t even know that you knew that I knew you”

You: “wait, did you run here just to ask me that?”

Mark is full on flushed at this point bc of all the questions and realizations and it’s all crashing down on him all too soon

and now you have this mischievous look in your eyes that remind him of Ten when he’s clowning Doyoung and he feels like he’s made a mistake

a good mistake but still a mistake

You: “is it?”

Mark: “well, you like, show up to all of our games and you didn’t go to the finals so I didn’t know if anything happened”

You: “oh, I got sick and I figured I shouldn’t be going into giant crowds while having my insides die internally”

You: “but, I did hear from my friends, congrats btw”

Mark: “thanks”

Mark: “are you feeling better tho?”

You: “yeah, but like, my throat is still kind of shitty”

Mark: “oh, if you want, I have a couple of friends who might be able to cook something up for your throat”

Mark: “I’d offer to make something, but Kun doesn’t let me in the kitchen anymore after finding out about the egg incident”

You: “the egg incident?”

Mark: “I can’t cook, like. at all.”

You: “I think I’m good, I was just gonna go get some tea to make it less scratchy or something”

Mark: “I can walk you?”

You: “sure”

so you two go to a cafe or something for you to get some warm tea and you two end up talking and you get to know each other a bit

and then you end up trading numbers and you make some time together

since Mark doesn’t have to go to practice until the next season, his time has opened up considerably

sometimes you study together

other times, you go check out some other places nearby campus

(eventually, you did get to try Taeyong, Jaehyun, and Kun’s food, to which there was no turning back at that point bc they make the best kind of food—free)

you’re basically dating at this point and his friends know you as his significant other so

Chenle: “is (Y/N) gonna be here?”

Mark: “no? it’s our movie night”

Donghyuk: “aren’t you dating tho?”

Mark: “what”

he told you he took it casually and cool, but considering how red his ears were getting when he told you………………. cute

Mark: “c-can you believe they thought we were dating?”

You: “is that not what we’re doing?”

Mark: “what?”

you both established your relationship after that and Mark got a lot more shy and it’s super adorable bc it makes you wanna take care of him and ugh

he’s precious okay

also cut to him trying to ask the other guys for advice, but then he gets embarrassed as Johnny and Ten tries to educate him about love

or how Lucas gives him cheesy lines to use on you

these boys are having a field day and Xiaojun and Doyoung have never felt more at peace

anyways

def the nervous type that he can’t even hold your hand and keeps asking if it’s okay

so you’re the top of this relationship bc he’s a shy lil boy

after a bit tho, he gets more comfortable and it’s great

he’ll get teased often right? when it happens in front of you, he just runs to you with a whine of your name and buries his face into your neck

and you end up yelling at someone

it’s cute tho

bc they def see you both as an adorable couple

when the hockey season starts rolling around again, you def spend more time at the practices—whether you’re there to watch, do your homework, or just help motivate him to play better

you started dressing up more too, especially since he gave you his jersey so you started wearing them to the games (and also face paint bc Jungwoo had some extra for an unknown reason)

and you make Mark Lee signs and it’s super cute

Sicheng also invites you to the afterparty dinners bc why not

also, remember that thing I said about watching figure skaters?

you two watch the Olympics for that and it’s like tradition now for you two to settle in front of the tv with snacks and watch them skate

so, since he’s an athlete, he has to be careful with his body bc then like scholarship will go poof

that means some of your dates might be physically limited

like he’ll go mini-golfing with you, but he can’t go to like self-defense classes with you

he’ll go to support you but if his foot gets busted, his coach and the rest of the team will be on his ass and he feels a bit bad about it but like you understand

considering that you absolutely refuse to get on the ice bc hockey is hard people

speaking of hockey, you told Mark he’s hot when he plays and he was FLUSHED

bc like the look in his eyes and the way he carries himself…. reminds you of when you’re doing some more………...steamy activities

anyways, stan Mark Lee

he’s a sweetheart who works so hard and you’re there to provide him with lots of love

[beccascribbles]

hi can i request a scenario for kageyama, bokuto and kuroo where they ask you to help them practice volleyball and they get like surprised as to how good their s/o plays too??? maybe s/o could be a part of the women's team :D thank you!!! i love your works so much, thank you for making them ❤️

a/n - i'm glad you enjoy my work! this kind of took me a while (and i kind of feel like i didn't really write bokuto right but eh). i hope you enjoy!

as your relationship was relatively new, he was a bit hesitant to ask you to help him practice

while volleyball was important to him, he also cared about you a lot (he wouldn't have started a relationship with you otherwise) and he didn't want you to think he was prioritising the sport over the time you got to spend together

therefore he approaches you rather hesitantly, volleyball cradled in his arms. his words come out in a sutter and a blush rises on his cheeks

"i didn't get enough practice in this week so i was wondering if you could help me. you don't have to do much. and i won't be so distracted that i can't talk to you.."

you interrupt his nervous rambling by placing a hand on his shoulder, a wide grin appearing on your face

"i'd love to help you, tobio, so stop being so nervous," you laughed, standing up and stretching a bit. "besides, i could use the practice"

practice? he blinked at you in confusion. he didn't really understand why you would need to practice but brushed it aside, his nervousness slipping away as you followed him into his garden, where a volleyball net was set up

his next words were all business, the confidence he felt playing volleyball flooding through him. "i'm going to serve to you and then you can just send the ball over to me"

you nodded, moving to stand on the other side of the court, giving kageyama a quick thumbs up to signal that you were ready

he moved back to begin his jump serve, your eyes trained om his every movement, muscles tensing slightly in preparation

the ball came barreling towards the left of you

reflexively, you adjusted your position, angling your body in the perfect way to receive the ball

it hit your forearms with a bump, going up in an arch towards where the setter would be

kageyama just looked at you, eyes wide. he didn't think he'd ever been more attracted to you than in that moment

"you play volleyball?" he questioned. how had he not realised this before? the loud sigh you released at his words made him aware of how clueless he was towards your after school activities

"really, tobio?" you questioned, hands resting against your hips as you shot him a playful glare. "did you not wonder why i stay so late after school?"

"i thought it was to walk home with me," he blushed, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly

this boy was so dense, honestly

you found yourself explaining that you actually played on the women's team, were the libero (that explained why you had received his serve so easily)

"i don't know how you don't know this," you chastised, shaking your head at him. "it's not like i keep it a secret"

"we're still going to practice, right?" he asked, picking the ball up from where it had rolled. "you're not mad at me, are you?"

you rolled your eyes at the worry on his face, how his hands clenched on the ball as he held it between his palms

you called across the court to him. "just get ready to serve already. i'm getting impatient over here"

his mouth tugged up into a smile, not an awkward or forced one, but a genuine one that softened the lines of his face. he nodded slightly, getting ready to serve again

his hand is tangling with yours and he is pulling you towards the gym, a bright grin on his face as you stumble after him

"where are we going, kou?" you question, marvelling at the way your boyfriend can be so energetic after a long day of class

"to play volleyball," he states, his head turning to look at you slightly as he pushes open the door to the gym. neither of you are dressed for it, but he doesn't seem to notice as he walks over to set up the net

you follow, helping him when needed. as he rushes to get a ball, you pull your hair away from your face, tying it up

when he returns, he hands the ball to you with a wide grin. you already know what he wants before he even asks the question. "can you set for me, babe?"

even if you wanted to say no, with him looking at you with those wide eyes and a pleading pout, it would be almost impossible

"sure!"

the next thing he knows, you are putting up the ball for him in the perfect position, synching up with his moments after a couple sets. the ball hits the other side of the net with a resounding crack as he slams it down on the sideline

he spins to face you, mouth hanging open in shock as he stares at you. it takes him a moment to process that you were the one who set that ball for him

now, he probably knows that you play volleyball (it's a topic you talk about a fair bit). however, he's never seen you play due to his own volleyball commitments keeping him busy... and he definitely didn't expect you to be this good

"huh?" he says, running towards you to grab your wrists, pulling you to him in excitement. "how? you're fucking amazing, y/n. like, for a moment, i forgot it was you setting for me"

"i'm the starting setter for a reason, kou," you laugh as he begins to bounce up and down on the balls of his feet

he is clearly very proud of you for this feat, crushing you against his chest in a hug. his excitement is infectious. you can almost feel it seeping into you as you return his hug

"does this mean we can play volleyball together more often?" he asks as he pulls away, though his arms still remain wrapped around your waist

you let out a soft giggle, reaching up to place a soft kiss to his jaw. "yep!"

at that word of confirmation, you can forget about worrying you won't get enough practice in

whenever akaashi is too busy (or just tells bokuto to go away - he needs a break from the boy sometimes), he will come running to you, a volleyball in his hand

forget saying no. that isn't an option, not when he is looking at you with such hope

and, to be honest, spending time with your boyfriend more than makes up for the ache in your arms at having to set for him so much

most of the time you spent together involved studying (it was a bit sad really, but you were third years, and, if you wanted to make time for each other, it meant compromising)

so, because of this kuroo proposed that you help him with volleyball practice, this being the other thing that occupies his time

you readily agreed, taking any moment you could steal with your boyfriend, especially away from the stress of studying for chemistry (and hearing his ridiculous science jokes that were supposed 'to help you remember the content')

when you arrive at the gym to help him with extra practice, his mouth drops open in shock at the sight of you in your training gear, knee pads dangling from your grip

the grin that spreads across his face is down right devilish as he strides towards you, an arm wrapping around your waist as he presses a kiss to your lips. "don't you look hot, kitten? think you can play as well as your appearance suggests?"

you pull away from him, an indignant look on your face as you poke his chest

he chuckles at the expression, grin widening at the words that fall from your mouth. "why don't i show you how good i am?"

"bit cocky, aren't you?" he teases, walking away from you to grab some volleyballs. he throws one to you, which you catch deftly, as he moves towards the end line

"i call it confidence," you said, your lips pulling up in a smirk as you moved to stand beside him. "working on serves, are we?"

"yeah," says kuroo, walking backwards a couple steps in preparation. you scoot to the side slightly to give him more space. "i'm working on improving my jump serve so it's more reliable in games. it's almost there but i just need to fine tune the accuracy a bit by adjusting the angle i'm hitting it at. give me a spot to aim at?"

"zone 5?" you question, voice hinting at a slight uncertainty. you were unsure if he wanted you be more specific, choosing a specific spot in the zone. he seems satisfied by your response, giving a nod

you watch as he does he run up, tossing the ball up in the air and jumping to hit it back down on the other side. with narrowed eyes, you follow the balls trajectory. it lands in court, but in zone 6

"shit," he curses, jogging over to collect the ball

"want me to aim in the same place?" you question, spacing out your run up. he watches you with raised eyebrows

"sure you don't want to start with an over-hand serve?"

"nope," you say, giving him a wide grin. you are a pinch server on your team, so, though you may not get a lot of game time, you have the team's trust to nail a serve at a crucial moment. might as well show off a bit in front of your boyfriend

you aim right for the far corner of zone 5 with brutal accuracy. that is where it hits, the sound the ball makes as it slams against the floor resounding around the gym

the volleyball in kuroo's grip falls to the floor as he stares at you. it is rare to see him lose compusure so you treasure this moment as he stutters out, "so... you play volleyball as well? think you can give me some pointers?"

his teasing demeanour quickly returns though as he makes his way over to you with both the volleyballs, "i could probably receive that with no problem though"