#and then by the end of the week start on the second place winners

[quarterlifekitty]

Desperate times

A sequel to this post and poll. Started feeling a little jigsaw-y…. Decided that I wanted to continue this post— what would it be like if their methods didn’t work? If they had to up the ante?

The top two winners of the poll won’t have to find out, because they’re getting you back! The rest? Well…

cw: dubcon/noncon, stalking, unhealthy relationships, somno, daddy kink stuff, intox, violence, baby trapping, and more stuff I don’t really know how to describe lol

❌Gaz is making a spectacle. Formulating the ultimate romantic gesture— a in a public place. He’s used your family and friends to lure you there on their invitation. Can’t you see how all of them want you to take him back? Look at him, on his knee in the middle of the botanical garden, promising to be better for you if you’ll just give him another chance. They’re all waiting on your response. Come on, luv, just give them what they want.

❌Soap is moving onto step 2, and that’s getting you drunk. Not so hard when you and your friends go to an upscale bar. He conveniently runs quite late meeting the 141 there, so to you and your friends, there’s just a handsome group of strangers sending some pretty girls free drinks. And everyone knows the girly drinks have the highest percentages. The rest of the gang will pick off your friends (payment for doing him this favor) and he’ll be ready to swoop in and take you home. Aren’t you lucky he was there? Just let him get you into bed. Ach, he really shouldn’t leave you alone in this state… best stay the night. A bit of advice? Don’t squirm when he gets to work— reminding you of the good times.

❌Ghost keeps it going strong with the scary voicemails. And they keep getting worse. The grunting, and threats, the desperation coating his voice. Not nice to keep your man waiting, birdie. They’re followed by photos. Printed out physically, slipped in your mail slot or under your door, bare. No envelope, no address or signature. All dated with black sharpie, all recent. You looking both ways, getting ready to cross the street. Changing out of your work clothes when you get home. His gloved thumb gently brushing your lip while you’re sleeping. His cum on your toothbrush. That one is dated as two weeks old. Just let him back into your life, birdie.

⭕️ Price feels his heart sing when he sees your name on the caller id. He gives the perfect, respectful response. It’s good to hear from you. Is everything alright? When he agrees to meet up with you, he doesn’t let it show how eagerly he’s been waiting for the chance. Tells you that you look good. Life must’ve been treating you well since he last saw you. He seems so genuinely pleased for you… He almost lets his calculated restraint slip when you say you’d like to give things another go. Asks if you’re sure. If he were being honest, in his eyes, things never ended. This was just a rough patch. But he’s glad you’ve come around to seeing it his way. He’ll have you moved back in by the end of the month, swollen with his kid by the end of the next. It’ll weigh you down, make it easier for him to slip the ring on.

⭕️ Honest to god, König sees the halo glow behind your crown when you meet up with him, and agree to a second chance. He promises that he’ll be better— you won’t want for anything, he’ll be so good for you. He’s acting like you’ve agreed to marry him. Maybe because in his mind, you have. That’s inevitable, seeing as he’s never going to lose you again.

❌ Nikolai starts getting a lot less… clean with your potential paramours. Gone are the bribes, the simple threats and ghosting— in are the bloody heaps of men that are just alive enough to twitch. This could all stop. Just be his good girl again, come back to your ivory tower. Papochka won’t be upset, he’ll just be glad to have you home. His patience for you is endless, but for the rest of the world? Well, do you really want to find out?

[chelseaknoo]

Imagine this: Eminem gets into a rap feud with your rapper boyfriend, and amidst all the drama, you end up cheating on your boyfriend with Eminem. Then, when Eminem releases a new track, he takes a shot at your boyfriend by hinting at your hookup, adding fuel to the fire with a line about sleeping with you.

Eminem x reader

Caution: sexual content ♡

it’s the night of the MTV Music Awards, and you’ve been given the honor of calling out the winner and presenting the award. Your boyfriend, a rising star in the rap game, is nominated in the same category as his rival—none other than Eminem. For weeks, the two have been trading shots, dropping diss tracks, and stirring up a fierce rap feud.

The tension is palpable as the nominees flash on the screen, and the crowd buzzes with anticipation. You can feel your boyfriend’s eyes on you from his seat, his expression radiating certainty. He’s convinced tonight will end in his victory, a public validation of his skills and his place in the industry

But you know the stakes: if Eminem wins, it would be a crushing defeat for your boyfriend—a public blow that could turn the tide in their feud and become the talk of the music world. Yet, there’s a strange electricity in the air as you take the stage, gripping the award envelope, your heart pounding. Whether it’s a win or loss, this moment is about to make headlines.

"Eminem!" you announce, your voice echoing through the venue as the crowd erupts in wild cheers, celebrating his victory.

Eminem strides onto the stage, his expression a mix of pride and that unmistakable cockiness he’s known for. As he reaches you, he takes the award with one hand and, to your surprise, pulls you into a tight hug with the other. The embrace lingers just a moment too long, his hand slipping lower with each second—a subtle but unmistakable taunt meant to rile up your already furious boyfriend, who’s watching from his seat with narrowed eyes.

The audience catches onto the tension, gasping and laughing as Eminem’s playful smirk widens. He whispers a low “Thank you” in your ear, glancing briefly over at your boyfriend, whose jaw is clenched, his confidence shattered by the public loss and the blatant show of disrespect. Eminem lets you go, stepping up to the mic, but you can still feel the charged energy radiating from your boyfriend’s glare. The feud has just reached a new level, and you know tonight will be one for the headlines.

At the after-party, your boyfriend was sulking, stewing over his loss. His confidence from earlier in the night had dissolved into a grumpy silence, and he barely spoke to you, responding with short, cold remarks every time you tried to break the ice. His attention was laser-focused on Eminem, who was mingling across the room, clearly enjoying his win. Your boyfriend’s glare never wavered; he was practically daring Eminem to look his way.

Finally, you had enough. The atmosphere was suffocating, and you weren’t going to spend the night with someone who refused to move past the loss. Frustrated, you excused yourself from the table, deciding you needed a drink just to shake off the tension.

As you walked toward the bar, you sensed someone fall in step beside you. Glancing over, you saw it was Eminem, giving you that familiar smirk. “Rough night?” he asked, his tone a mix of teasing and genuine curiosity. There was something in his eyes that made it clear he’d noticed the icy atmosphere between you and your boyfriend. For the first time all evening, you found yourself relaxing, even smiling, as you felt the weight of the night start to lift.

You leaned against the bar, letting out a sigh, and turned to Eminem with a half-smile. “Yeah, you could say that,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “He’s taking this loss… well, let’s just say he’s not handling it well.”

Eminem chuckled, ordering a drink as he leaned beside you. “Can’t say I blame him,” he shrugged, “but hey, it’s all part of the game, right?” His voice was light, but there was a knowing look in his eyes, as if he understood the cost of ego in the industry.

You nodded, grateful for the change in atmosphere. “True. But it doesn’t mean I have to be dragged down by it,” you said, looking across the room to see your boyfriend still seated, jaw clenched, watching the two of you like a hawk. The icy, simmering tension in his stare made your stomach tighten, but you ignored it.

Eminem followed your gaze, then raised an eyebrow. “Well, if he’s going to sit there and sulk, that’s on him. You don’t deserve the silent treatment.”

There was something disarming about Eminem’s attitude. He wasn’t pushing anything, just being unexpectedly down-to-earth and understanding. As the drinks arrived, he clinked his glass lightly against yours. “Here’s to enjoying the night,” he said, eyes flickering with a mischievous glint.

You took a sip, the warmth of the drink helping you shake off the tension. “Thanks,” you murmured, feeling a rush of relief. Eminem leaned a little closer, his voice dropping to a private tone. “Honestly, you look like you could use a good distraction.”

Before you could respond, the DJ switched to one of Eminem’s tracks, and the crowd went wild. He shot you a grin. “Dance with me?” he asked, extending his hand.

You hesitated, knowing full well how your boyfriend would take it. But in that moment, the thought of breaking free from his cold demeanor and just having fun felt too tempting to resist. You placed your hand in Eminem’s, feeling a spark shoot up your arm.

As you danced with the Detroit rapper, your boyfriend’s absence was the only confirmation you needed—he had already stormed off, leaving you alone with Eminem. The music thumped around you, and you felt the heat of the moment take over, your frustrations melting into the rhythm of the song and the intensity of Eminem’s gaze.

Eminem leaned in, his face coming closer, and before you realized it, his lips were on yours, catching you off guard yet feeling almost inevitable. The kiss was electric, a mix of passion and defiance, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The tension of the night, the rivalry, your boyfriend’s coldness—it all vanished in that single connection.

As he pulled back, a hint of a smirk played on his lips. “Want to get out of here?” he murmured, his voice low, barely audible over the music but clear enough to send a thrill through you.

You met his gaze, feeling a rush of excitement and a sense of freedom you hadn’t felt all night. “Yes,” you replied, nodding without hesitation. With a final glance back at the room you were leaving behind, you let him take your hand, leading you out of the club and into the night, where the evening’s tension was about to unfold into something entirely new.

The ride to the hotel was a blur of city lights and pulsing beats from the car stereo. Eminem’s hand rested comfortably on your thigh, and every time you looked at him, that smirk grew a little wider. You knew you were crossing a line, but in that moment, you didn’t care about the consequences—you just wanted to live in the present, to feel alive.

Once inside the plush hotel suite, the reality of what was happening hit you like a sledgehammer. The room was dimly lit, with candles flickering around the edges, creating an atmosphere that was both intimate and slightly overwhelming. The smell of his cologne filled the air. Eminem led you to the bed, his hand never leaving your waist, and the weight of his touch sent shivers down your spine.

Your heart pounded in your chest as he kissed you again, his hands exploring the curves of your body with a confidence that was both thrilling and terrifying. The world outside the hotel room felt a million miles away, and all you could focus on was the heat of his breath, the taste of his lips, and the way your body responded to his every touch.

Eminem's strong arms pulled you closer, his hands deftly unbuttoning your dress, which slid to the floor in a whisper of fabric. You stood before him in nothing but your lingerie, feeling exposed yet empowered by the raw desire in his eyes. His own shirt and jacket followed suit, revealing a sculpted physique that seemed almost too perfect to be real.

The air grew thick with anticipation as he kissed you again, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands moved to unhook your bra. It fell away, leaving your breasts bare to the cool air and the warmth of his palms. You could feel his heart beating against your chest, matching the erratic rhythm of your own.

He led you to the bed, the softness of the mattress enveloping you as he laid you down. His touch was gentle yet firm, his hands skimming over your skin like a warm summer breeze, igniting a trail of fire wherever they went. You could feel the weight of his body on top of you, and it was a feeling of both safety and exhilaration.

Eminem’s kisses grew more urgent, his tongue dancing with yours as he traced a line of passion down your neck and to your breasts. His teeth grazed your sensitive skin, sending a shiver through your body, and your breath hitched in your throat. His hands moved with purpose, removing every last piece of clothing that stood between you. The sensation of his bare chest against yours was electric, a stark contrast to the coolness of the room.

He paused, looking down at you with a hunger that was almost feral. Without a word, he slid his hand down the curve of your waist and over the band of your panties, slipping them off with a gentle yet firm motion. Your body reacted instinctively, arching towards him, craving more of his touch. The anticipation was almost too much to bear as he positioned himself above you, his eyes never leaving yours.

Eminem kissed you deeply as he entered you, the sensation of his hardness filling you completely, making you gasp into his mouth. The initial shock of his size quickly gave way to a building pleasure, and you wrapped your legs around him, urging him deeper. His rhythm was slow and deliberate, his hips rolling into yours with a mastery that left you feeling utterly consumed by him.

You could feel every inch of him as he moved, his muscles flexing with each thrust. The sound of your bodies meeting filled the room, punctuated by the occasional groan or whimper escaping from both of you. His hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements as if he were conducting a symphony of passion. The kiss grew more intense, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, and you moaned in response, your nails digging into his back.

The bed sheets tangled around your legs as the pace grew faster, more frenzied. The headboard banging against the wall matched the tempo of your hearts beating in sync. You could see the desire in his eyes, the way they darkened with every stroke, and it only spurred you on. Your own eyes closed as the pleasure built, your breaths coming in gasps, your body tightening like a coil ready to spring.

Eminem's fingers found their way into your hair, gently tugging your head back as he kissed along your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine. His other hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the contour of your cheekbone as he whispered dirty sweet nothings into your ear, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your hands roamed over his back, feeling the sweat bead and the tension in his muscles as he moved within you. His thrusts grew more powerful, each one hitting that perfect spot, making you quiver with pleasure. The sound of skin on skin, the faint rustle of the bed sheets, and the muffled moans of ecstasy filled the air—a symphony of lust that seemed to resonate through the very walls of the suite.

As the intensity grew, Eminem’s grip on your hips tightened, his breaths turning ragged. You could feel him getting closer to the brink, his movements more urgent, and the desperate need reflected in the taut lines of his face. You met his gaze, the electricity between you crackling like a live wire. You whispered his name, and that was all it took for him to let go, his body tensing as he reached climax, his eyes squeezed shut, and his teeth bared in a silent roar.

The aftermath was a gentle cascade of shared breaths and lingering kisses. He rolled onto his side, pulling you with him, your bodies still intertwined. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the candles, casting a warm light over the rumpled sheets and the sweat-drenched skin. You laid there, your heart racing, feeling a sense of disbelief at what had just transpired. It had been explosive, a whirlwind of passion that had taken you completely by surprise.

Eminem looked at you, his eyes searching your face, as if looking for any signs of regret or doubt. You met his gaze and smiled, your cheeks flushed with satisfaction and a hint of mischief. The night had taken an unexpected turn, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel guilty. Instead, you felt alive, invigorated by the rush of adrenaline that still coursed through your veins.

He leaned in, kissing you softly, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips before delving into your mouth once more. You tasted a mix of whiskey and victory on his breath, a potent cocktail that only made you want him more. His hand slid down to caress your naked body, his fingertips gliding over your skin like a musician playing a favorite tune. The touch sent shivers down your spine, and you arched into him, eager for the symphony of pleasure to begin again.

After a few weeks of sleeping with Marshall your boyfriend once again dropped another diss track on Marshall, stilled pissed about losing to music MTV awards to him.

A few weeks had passed since things began between you and Marshall, each encounter becoming a carefully hidden secret amidst the chaos of the ongoing feud. Despite the thrill of it all, your boyfriend remained oblivious, though his frustration toward Eminem hadn’t faded. In fact, he seemed more fired up than ever.

Still bitter over the loss at the MTV Music Awards, your boyfriend dropped yet another diss track aimed squarely at Marshall. The lyrics were sharper, more personal, each line dripping with resentment. It was clear that his defeat had stung deeply, and he wasn’t ready to let it go. The diss track hit every outlet, riling up fans and adding fresh fuel to the rivalry. You listened to the track, knowing the words were aimed at Marshall, yet they felt uncomfortably close to home, a reminder of the tangled mess you were in.

Marshall’s reaction, however, was anything but anger. When you mentioned the diss track, he just smirked, as though he found the whole thing amusing.

Two weeks later, Marshall released a new song that sent the internet into an absolute frenzy. The lyrics included lines that would leave no one guessing.The following lines said:

Yo, check it,

You think you flexin’, but you just a clown,

Got your girl in my sheets, ass up, face down,

While you out thrivin’, ballin’ like a thug,

I'm the one givin' her that late-night love.

You a motherfuckin’ joke, man, I’m the real deal,

She whispered my name, now she can’t conceal,

You think you got her locked, but I broke that chain,

She loves my style, man, it drives you insane.

After Eminem released the diss track exposing your affair, it sent shockwaves through the music world. Everyone was talking about it, and the excitement was palpable. The lyrics ignited a frenzy, with fans buzzing about the revelations and the implications of the feud.

A few days after Eminem released the diss track, he showed up at your house, looking more serious than you had ever seen him. The buzz from the song had settled, but the aftermath still hung heavy in the air. As you opened the door, you could see concern etched on his face. “Hey, I just wanted to check in on you,” he said softly, stepping inside.

You led him to the living room, feeling a mix of emotions. “Honestly, it’s been tough,” you admitted, running a hand through your hair. “My boyfriend has been really distant since all this happened. I’m starting to think that maybe it’s time to end the relationship.”

Marshall’s expression shifted as he processed your words. There was a flicker of something—hope, maybe—in his eyes. “I hate to hear that. You deserve to be with someone who truly cares about you,” he said, stepping closer. The tension in the room thickened, and you could feel the pull between you intensifying.

Suddenly, without warning, he leaned in and kissed you. The moment his lips touched yours, all your doubts and fears seemed to evaporate. It was a kiss filled with passion and urgency, a silent confession that spoke louder than words. When he pulled back, his gaze locked onto yours, filled with sincerity. “I love you,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want you to break up with him for me.”

You hesitated, a whirlwind of emotions churning inside you. Your heart raced, caught between the thrill of his confession and the reality of the situation you were in. It was a leap, one that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. But as you looked into his eyes, you felt a spark of something undeniable.

After a moment of contemplation, you reached for your phone. The decision felt monumental as you typed the message: “It’s over.” With a deep breath, you pressed send and immediately turned off your phone, cutting off any chance of a reply from your boyfriend.

Marshall, sensing the shift, pulled you in for another kiss, more enchanting than the first. This kiss was filled with promise and desire, a powerful affirmation of what you both wanted. In that moment, everything else faded away—the drama, the heartbreak, and the uncertainty. It was just you and him, wrapped in each other’s arms, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of clarity. <3

[mia-maybank]

I Have A Feeling You Got Everything You Wanted: Part 1 - George Clarke

George Clarke x Fem!reader ( 1.5k words)

The sidemen charity match , a gorgeous ex-boyfriend with a mullet and his entire friendgroup scattered around the stands to avoid ... what could ever go wrong?

warnings: lots of angst (it gets happier I promise) , hints of poor mental health but it's not a heavy focus

series | masterlist

This is my first fic in a while so sorry if it's not the best :) I've had this idea for a while and then I'm gonna start on everyone's requests this week too! <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The roar of the crowd only increases as the players slowly filter onto the pitch, shaking each others hands and waving to the crowds. I clutch my drink tighter in my hand as I watch one player in particular laugh and joke with Chris and Will.

I don't know quite how I ended up in the stands of the Sidemen Charity Match. Perhaps the impulsive decision stemmed from the knowledge that it would allow me to set my eyes on George for the first time in 2 months, or perhaps it was just the intense loneliness that has followed me around like an unwanted weight, caging my heart in a murky fog of isolation ever since that one Tuesday night.

It's not like our shared group of friends have ever explicitly stated that they were choosing his side or had ever given me any form of grief; yet when I kept my distance in the days following the breakup, fearing their anger, their lack of messages or calls had given me an answer enough.

I sit towards the back of the stands, well away from the friends and family section where I know the Arthurs, Bach, Liv and various other of my old friends will be sat. My hoodie is drawn up, shielding my face from any spectators that may recognise me and blow up my whole plan of 'slip in, watch the match, slip out and avoid any social interaction at all costs'. I doubted I still had much relevance in the YouTube scene these days anyway, as my channel has remained untouched and been left to bury in dust and the weight of my heartbreak. I truly had tried to keep up my career independently, but filming with the absence of George's warm touch, Chris' gremlin-like laugh and Arthur TV's random historic facts didn't feel right. Therefore, I had just avoided social media entirely for the last 2 months, finding it easier than scrolling through the pictures and videos of George and the others partying and filming like I had never even been a part of their lives in the first place.

The match passes by in a blur of mullets running around the pitch, an impressive amount of goals being scored, and a growing pain in my chest that I tried my best to swallow down, although this proved harder with every passing second of watching the people who my world once orbited around carry on existing and living so vibrantly without me. When George scored, I couldn't help but let out a loud cheer; I knew that playing in this match was something that he had never even dared to dream of, so I couldn't help but feel an abundance of pride settle in my chest as he celebrated with Tobi.

As the final whistle blows , conceding the all stars team as the winners following an intense round of penalties, I slip out of my seat, intending to make it out of the stadium long before the boys left the pitch. I had time after all; they still had to celebrate and be presented with the trophy.

However, it seemed fate had other plans, as the throng of people who similarly were trying to leave early was overwhelming, and impossible to push through. Eventually, I found a more private stairwell that looked like it wasn't open to the public and slipped past security, figuring I could make a dash down the stairwell and escape quickly.

In my rush, I didn't notice a blur of red bouncing up the stairs until we collided, the impact sending the other person stumbling into the rail whilst I slipped fully, crashing onto the hard floor of the stairs.

"oh shit, I'm so sorr-" the person began, before cutting of abruptly. I soon discovered why when I looked up at the person and find myself staring directly into the equally as shocked eyes of ChrisMD.

Well shit, there goes my plan of avoiding everyone.

"y/n" Chris breathes out, his voice surprisingly gentle and void of the anger I had anticipated. "what are you doing here?"

"I'm not trying to make this a thing I swear!" I stammer out, panicked. "I just wanted to watch you guys play, I was planning on just slipping out".

"Without even saying hello?" he frowns, and I'm majorly thrown off by the lack of confrontation or resentment in his tone and how he seems offended at the idea of me actively avoiding them.

"Well I mean, it's George's big day, not mine and I knew you guys wouldn't want to see me so I was just going to stay hidden-".

"y/n" Chris interrupts softly, looking genuinely heartbroken now, his eyebrows drawn together in a mix of frustration and pity. "of course we would want to see you. I mean, we were practically joined at the hip at one point, and the other boys miss you too, you were a part of our friendship group just as much as George until you vanished. We thought you just wanted to move on and distance yourself from George so we left you alone."

"what?" I choke out, tearing up despite my best efforts to keep a lid on the emotions that aroused the second I realised the person was Chris. "of course I wouldn't just abandon you guys, I thought you guys were upset with me when nobody messaged and I didn't want to force my place in the friend group if you guys didn't want me there anymore." My voice wavers, my vision warped from tears at this point as all of the unspoken hurt I've kept firmly buried since the breakup finally pours out.

"This is the first time I've left my house since the breakup and I just wanted to cheer you guys on in secret, I thought you guys hated me".

"y/n hey hey it's okay-" Chris steps towards me now as if he is approaching a scared deer, his face lined with concern as he reaches out towards me. The moment is interrupted by the sound of laughter from below us, and Chris' expression drops as he mutters "oh for fucks sake not now".

It's too late to do anything though, as the footsteps have now approached the flight of stairs that Chris and me are currently frozen on. "Chris where did you get to why do you look like you've seen a ghost- wait y/n?".

I finally dare to look up at the mention of my name, giving up any pretence of disguising my presence and make eye contact with a shell-shocked Simon, who was the person who had spoken.

My eyes fall behind him to see Ethan, Will, Max, Tobi and Harry all looking equally as caught of guard. However, my attention is captured by the man staring at me with an unreadable expression behind the rest of the group, as stiff as a board and as pale as a ghost.

George.

Well, fuck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags:

@the-internets-girlfriend

[satoblue]

nerdtoru on the brain…….academic rivals to lovers . . . you both come from wealthy families so there’s high expectations for the both of you to succeed in everything — be it sports or academically. since you both come from such backgrounds, it is no surprise your parents are friends, have been since before either of you were born. due to this, your mother and father are faced with constantly hearing about a certain someone’s achievements.

it was nothing at first, a little comment here and there as you grew older about how satoru won first place at your kindergarten spelling bee. but as those awards piled up and became increasingly bigger on his end, soon did the comparisons of you to the gojo family’s prodigal son — satoru gojo.

you couldn’t help but grow to resent him all your life. he was naturally gifted, passing through assignments and tests with flying colors without breaking a single sweat, all while you had to study day and night, working your brain until you couldn’t see straight just to receive the slightest ounce of recognition from your mother and father.

at times, you think about how you must look from his perspective. for him, it probably felt like a once sided competition, because for him there was nothing to compete against. you weren’t a challenge, you weren’t even another obstacle in his eyes — you were effortless and easy, and he didn’t fail to remind you of that everyday at school or at some stupid soirée your parents forced you to attend.

it was a constant in his life — bickering with you over grades and watching you with a smug grin as you huff and puff, crumpling up your report card and shoving it in your bag because you placed second to him yet again. it was his normal, something he looked forward to. he loved pissing you off simply due to the fact that he was just…better. it would always be like this between the two of you, this back and forth. you’ll always start a fight (that he may or may not have influenced by being a dick), throw a tantrum, yet you’d continue to try and try and try but you’ll never be on the same level.

and if there’s something about satoru, he hates when his routine is uplifted. he hates when you start caring less and less about school. he hates when the girl who’s always had the perfect attendance even when she was sick just to upstage him suddenly stops coming in most of the week. he hates how how you barely glance at your report card anymore — throwing the paper into the trash without a second thought, he hates how you let your grades slip (he snatched it from the bin when no one was looking), how you’re the first to leave the school building instead of staying behind for extra credit or to help the professors clean up just to garner favor with them like you used to…..and all because of some guy.

he never expected this from you of all people. how could you let a bad influence like that into your life? he wasn’t even rich! he wasn’t up to par with the type of world the both of you came from. did your parents even know? they had to, right? they had to know that their daughter was hanging out with some delinquent, getting flustered over the bastard’s teasing and flirty touches.

he’s no longer your first priority, and something about that…really pisses him off. there’s no way he’ll ever lose to some rat-like creature your poor heart couldn’t help picking up off the street. satoru had never been second to anybody. he’s always been at the forefront of your mind, but that’s changing now because of that guy. the thing about satoru, however, is that he doesn’t like to lose — he likes to win. all his life he’s been a winner, so if winning you is what gets you to acknowledge him again — then let the games begin.

[strawberryyyenthusiast]

Dancing with the stars Steddie au 😫

Steve is one of the professional dancers on the show and is paired with frontman of Corroded Coffin, Eddie Munson, who can barely walk in a straight line when sober.

Eddie doesn’t take the gig at first bc he knows that he’s going to be the first one to be kicked out and he doesn’t want to ruin that for the dancer that he’s paired with. Chrissy, CC’s manager, ends up convincing him since it would be great pr and would help reinforce his whole “don’t knock it ‘till you try it” attitude.

The first time they meet is super awkward and Steve keeps making these little bitchy remarks that has Eddie falling head over heels for this quick-witted prep of a man— not to mention that he has a great ass.

Much to Eddie’s surprise, they make it to the finals and Eddie has gained some balance on his legs and a lot more rhythm. (His fans are raving over the fact that he doesn’t look like a baby deer when he does more than walk, plus the newfound, wiry muscles that emerged on his arms and legs were much appreciated).

When they are training for the final dance, Eddie starts to make each session longer than it has to be because he doesn’t want to stop hanging out with Steve. Over these couple of weeks, he’s fallen totally in love with Steve and everyone but Steve seems to notice.

They are waiting to go on stage when Eddie looks into Steve’s eyes and says, “I want you to know that whatever happens, I’m taking you on a date after this.”

Steve just nods and says, “thank god.”

They perform a salsa that has the crowd screaming when they get into their final pose: Steve’s leg wrapped around Eddie’s waist as Eddie dips him.

They don’t win the show, which is totally fine with the both of them. Brad Pitt won with his crowd appeal and gyrating hips.

Steve and Eddie are just happy that they met. Even with their second place status, most watchers of the show deemed them the true winners.

Then they go out on a date and fall in love and get married and adopt kids and grow old together and they stitch TikToks of them reacting to the edits that people have made.

[onceinablueberrymoon]

(cheers) to the future | salesman (recruiter) x reporter!reader

next: scavenger hunt | intermission (mild nsfw) scenario: the final game has finished, and player 456 is the winner. after signing off, reporter!reader visits the recruiter for a well-deserved, celebratory dinner. setting: in seoul during season 1, directly after the squid game between gi-hun and sang-woo (my other beloved rip) warnings: (mostly?) light, fluffy smut; (they truly love each other!); fem!reader; no use of y/n; second person POV; salesman is referred to as recruiter; reader ranks about equal to recruiter in the games’ hierarchy; brief mention of alcohol; just in case, minors dni! word count: 1.1k notes: baby’s first nsfw, i hope it lives up to your expectations :’) please comment and let me know what you think of this, i appreciate any feedback ♡

you can read part 1 here! and happy lunar new year, everyone! 🌙 borders by @enchanthings-a and @strangergraphics-archive!

“No! Sang-woo, no…”

A cry rang throughout the arena.

“And with a bittersweet ending to this gripping fight between childhood friends, the 33rd edition of the Games has concluded. We will return shortly with the highlights of Player 456’s journey to victory. Our coverage will begin in three hours. Thank you for watching.”

Bowing to the camera, you remained frozen in place until the director gave the all-clear. You sighed. The final game didn’t turn out the way you – or anyone, really – expected. The once cheerful, happy-go-lucky man had won because of his friend’s sudden sacrifice. Surely, there would be lots of questions from viewers around the world. You pinched your nose – just thinking about it gave you a headache.

At least you were on break for a couple of hours. While the others at the studio would most certainly go out for drinks to celebrate the end of the Games, the recruiter had invited you for dinner at his apartment. It wasn’t very far, only a 15 minute walk. You gathered your belongings and slipped out before anyone noticed you left.

“Wow, you prepared a feast!”

Much to your surprise and delight, the recruiter had prepared a lovely meal of soft tofu stew, multigrain purple rice, and a variety of side dishes. He had even lit a few candles to add to the ambience. He pulled out a chair for you to sit on before going to sit across the table from you.

As the two of you began eating, he congratulated you on your wonderful performance over the last week.

“I heard you may be up for a promotion,” the recruiter noted in his usual casual tone. 

You scoffed, “I don’t know if it counts as a promotion, per se… They want me to report on the upcoming American version of the Games.” You shrugged. “I imagine it can’t be too different from the Korean Games.”

The recruiter smiled, but his eyes held a darkness to them.

“On the contrary. Rumour has it that gambling and addiction run more rampant there than in Korea… I expect those Games to be equally, if not even more, exciting. And with our dear reporter on the case…” He leaned forward, his eyes twinkling.

“Absolutely electrifying.”

You blushed, breaking eye contact with him. He laughed and continued eating his meal.

As always, the conversation flowed easily between the two of you. You commended him once again on his top-notch recruiting skills. 

“Did you catch the final game? I still can’t believe 456 won… I was truly rooting for 218. Someone like him could be the next Frontman, don’t you think?” You asked, picking at your favourite side dish with your chopsticks.

The recruiter nodded, but seemed as if he was lost in thought. 

“He wasn’t hard on the eyes either. Charming, sharp… Maybe he could have become a recruiter as well? We could have had some fun.” This caught the recruiter’s attention, his eyes gazing into yours. 

He cleared his throat, but your comment clearly affected him. “I’ve already started gathering information on prospective players. I think these new ones will be even more interesting.” 

“Oh?” you cocked your head to the side, “Do tell.”

He continued, “A cryptocurrency streamer on YouTube, Lee Myung-gi. Many of his followers are one click away from falling into serious debt. It’s only a matter of time before his advice leads them to desperate measures.” The recruiter’s eyes sparkled. “I can only imagine how he fares when his loyal fans turn on him.”

Intrigued, you smiled softly. He had clearly been working hard on this case.

Once you both finished eating, you helped him clean the table.

“I’m still surprised you went all out for dinner. I thought it’d be something simple, like ramyeon or take-out,” you paused, “Not that this wasn’t perfect. You made an amazing stew.” You moved to peck him on the cheek. 

The recruiter’s eyebrows raised slightly. “Ramyeon? Well, why didn’t you say so?”

You groaned. Of course he’d turn your comment into an innuendo. 

“I’m always open to ramyeon with you.” 

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the two of you moved to his sofa, and got a bit handsy with each other. It started with innocent touches and kissing. By the time you broke for air, your lips were swollen and your faces were flushed red. 

The recruiter loosened his tie, making you bite your lip in anticipation. You helped him shrug off his suit jacket before tossing it on the floor.

As you continued to kiss, you straddled him and pressed yourself against the growing bulge in his dress pants, making you both moan. He pulled you closer and you ran your fingers through his neatly styled hair. 

He easily popped open the buttons on your blouse with his teeth, a skill he’d perfected from your many trysts. He pushed aside your bra cup before taking your breast in his hand to gently fondle it, brushing his thumb over your nipple. You whimpered, and he flashed his classic smirk before drawing circles around your nipple. His other hand was on your waist, keeping you steady while you rocked your hips against his. 

As you attempted to unbutton his shirt, he trailed kisses down your neck and left a few hickeys, despite your protests. 

“Seriously? I go live in like,” you glanced at the clock on the wall, “One hour!” 

The recruiter took in your disheveled appearance and was very pleased with his handiwork. The world would see that their enchanting reporter had already been claimed — only he was privy to your full attention.

“Wait, one hour?” You did a double-take at the clock. 

You panted, stopping your rutting pace entirely. He groaned, grinding his hips up against yours in an attempt to lure you back in. 

“Sorry, I have to go. Makeup’s going to have a field day with these hickeys…” 

You lifted yourself off of him, much to both his and his body’s displeasure. However, he knew he couldn’t keep you from your job. The higher-ups would throw a fit otherwise. You could continue your session later tonight.

As you cleaned up and made yourself presentable for the public, the recruiter went to his kitchen and returned with two glasses of wine. He handed one to you and made a toast.

“To my lovely, charming reporter, who continues to fascinate me every day.”

You blushed, then replied with your own toast.

“To my handsome, mischievous recruiter, who never fails to impress me.”

He smiled, and kissed you on the lips.

“And to the games that brought us together.”

You both clinked your glasses, wishing for an even more thrilling spectacle to come.

[calypsocolada]

LOSER HAS TO FALL | hero x

(this is part two! click here for part one!) synopsis: maybe the top hero isn't as bad at flirting as you previously thought... authors note: helllooooo! second and final part to this lil series. i think i'm gonna write some more sometime soon about other characters. mainly lin ling <3, old e-soul, queen???? we'll see. hope you guys enjoy this! it turned out a bit longer than I previously thought and i'm sure there could be another part but... idk. we'll see how this one does! enjoy!!! wc: 4.6k cw: spoilers!, fem reader, use of y/n, angst, slightly suggestive, super duper brief mention of sewerslide, not proofread forgive me

click here for my masterlist!

It’d been just over a week since you heard from your father. He’d meant what he said. He was a lot of things but he wasn’t a liar. And you didn’t bother trying to reason with him. He was done with you. 

He had said many times before he only had a place beside him if you were a winner. And you weren’t one anymore. You lost. Pretty damn hard and pretty damn publicly. So you were dropped from your father’s hero association and quickly, a little too quickly to not be calculated, replaced by the next up and comer. 

You on the other hand had actually managed to get signed rather quickly. All thanks to Queen, who had taken pity on you after seeing you sat in the parking lot of the stadium way past when the tournament ended. You’d never really been left on your own. Every single step of your life was puppeteered by your father. You didn’t exactly know how to stand on your own just yet. 

But nevertheless Queen brought you to DOS and after less than a three minute talk you were asked to join the agency. It startled you a bit. Seeing as you were conditioned to think people who lost gained nothing in return. But you were still the top third hero and apparently MIckey, the head of DOS, saw that as a great achievement. 

“Oh, and before you go, Winner?” Mickey called, your hand paused as you turned. Mickey was sitting back at his desk, his hand reaching for his coffee cup. “Our surveillance system wasn’t able to pick up you and Hero X’s conversation.” He starts, you furrow your brow, turning fully to face him. 

“Our conversation?”

“During the tournament.” He supplies. You slowly nod your head. “That man he’s… a mysterious one. I haven’t been able to get a hold of him even for a moment.” Mickey tries to laugh off his words but it’s too hollow, too stressed sounding. “I even visited his floor but… it’s vacant. I’m just curious… since he didn’t speak a single word to anyone else the entire tournament, before and after. But he spoke to you… seemed like he said a lot.” 

“Well he…” You cleared your throat, trying to recall the short conversation. “He mocked me mostly. Then he…” You stopped yourself. He had asked you to dinner and for some reason that embarrassed you. “Yeah… he just mocked me. My hero name.” You averted your eyes. You felt Mickey’s eyes burn into you, you forced yourself to meet his eyes. It was clear he only half believed you, which was fine because you were telling a half truth.

“That’s all?” He asked. You nodded your head. Mickey swallows, nodding head head. 

“Well alright then, welcome to DOS, Winner.”

And welcomed you were. And marketed to. Though this time around you had a lot more say in the kinds of sponsorships and brand deals you took. You had asked a few times to change your hero name but it was always met with a resounding ‘no’. 

“If you change it now, it’s like starting all over!” Mickey had said to you over the phone as you were chauffeured back to the hero tower. 

“What’s so wrong with starting over?” You asked and felt disheartened when you heard Mickey’s laugh over the line. 

“Winner is a beloved hero and a household name. Everyone knows Winner. Millions of people have put their trust in Winner. Winners in the top three leaderboard of heroes. You can’t start over now.” Mickey listened as your car pulled up and your door was opened. 

“It doesn’t feel like me.”

“What does? Winner is a persona… she isn’t supposed to be you.” Mickey says and you can hear the exasperation in his voice and that part of you that never really got out of the habits your father instilled in you rolled over. 

“Alright,” You conceded. “I won’t ask again.” You said, stepping out of the car into the blinding sun, you shielded your eyes as Mickey over the phone all but cheered.

“Good girl.” He hangs up the phone, that familiar click turning your blood hot. You shoved your phone in your pocket and strutted towards the elevator. It dinged, the white doors pulling apart as you stepped inside and let it carry you up to your floor. It slowed to a stop and pulled apart again as you stepped out, something shining and catching your attention. The familiar sound of a coin slicing through the air as it flips onto a hand. The doors to the elevator pulled shut behind you as your eyes met X’s. He leaned against your kitchen island looking exactly as he had the day he beat you. The same tailored suit, slicked back hair and shit eating grin, although he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

“Busy day?” He asked nonchalantly, pocketing the coin he was fiddling with. You stared at him, mouth slightly agape. He raised his brows slightly, tilting his head. “Well?” He encouraged. You cleared your throat, there was something about him. Something like a demand for your attention. 

“Yes. It was busy.” You said. X snapped, two glasses materializing in his hands. 

“Share a drink?” He asks. 

“I… don’t have any wine-” He snaps again and a bottle clatters on the top of your counter. He turns, reaching for the bottle, popping the cork and pouring you both a glass. You hesitantly make your way towards him. He slid your glass to your side of the kitchen island and raised his glass towards you. Your fingers slid around the cold glass, slowly raising it to meet his. His eyes caress your face as your glasses clink. 

“To signing to a new association.” He says, tilting the glass towards you before pulling it towards his lips. 

“How did you-”

“I know alot about you.” he interrupts. “Also it’s all over the news.” He adds as you pull your own glass to your lips. You two meet eyes, taking sips. The third floor of the hero tower had never felt smaller than in this moment.

“What’s… your deal?” You asked as X leaned back, gulping down his glass, snapping as it refills itself. 

“My deal?” He echoes your words, smirking at you. 

“Yes,” You affirmed, setting your glass down. “Your deal.”

“You’re not still mad at me, are you?” He asks and you're glad you set your glass down because you probably would’ve sent it careening towards his head. 

“That implies that I even think about you.” You countered. X perked up at your words, he almost looked… thrilled at your sharp tone. 

“You don’t?” He asks, his voice… soft, almost lilting. You shook your head. 

“My boss does. He’s curious about the top hero.” You said, reaching for your glass again, taking a sip. X purses his lips slightly. 

“And you?” He asks, your eyes cut to his.

“And me?”

“Mhm.” He hums. “You're not the least bit curious about me?” If you could choose a hero name for this man, you would’ve gladly and quickly chosen shameless. 

“Who’re you? What’s your name?”

“X.” He answers simply. 

“You’ll call me by my real name but you won’t tell me your real name?” You asked. X took another long sip. 

“It’s better this way.” He shrugs. “Any other questions for me?”

“Why’re you here? In my home?”

“Well you know… you never answered me.” He runs his finger over the rim of his glass. 

“Hm?” You hummed before taking another sip of the wine. It was good wine, a familiar taste. 

“Dinner?” He grins over his glass. Your eyes cut to his again. Right… guess you never answered him. 

“No.” You said and X’s grin faltered for a moment before he smoothly recovered. 

“No? Just like that?” He dips his head, a strand of his hair falling in his face.

“Just like that.” You affirmed. X rose to his feet, he reached up, smoothing his hair back, he raised his hands in mock surrender. 

“I know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.” He smiles, the first genuine thing you’d seen from him. It was… actually a good look on him. He looked sly when he smirked. He looked down right handsome when he smiled. You walked him to the door, his hand reached out, clicking the elevator button as the cables came to life, pulling it up to your floor. The doors slide open and X steps in. 

“You know, I pegged you as someone who would barter just a bit for dinner.” You said, smirking yourself. X’s eyes snapped to yours. “I must not know you very well.” You waved, he parted his lips to speak just as the doors slid to a close. You stepped back, alone and overwhelmed. You… you had never flirted before. It wasn’t something you thought would come easy but… it came easy just now. It felt good to smile, to tease and argue with someone who didn’t anger easily. It was like he drew out a different side to you. A side of you that wasn’t marred down by lessons learned the hard way.

X sent over a thousand roses a week later. You came home from a mission, exhausted and staggering in pain and tripped up on them, almost sent sprawling on your tile flooring. You straightened, powers extending to hit the light switch. Every color rose imaginable littered the entirety of your apartment, every single surface had a vase with tens of roses inside. Your mouth dropped open in surprise as you winded your way through the apartment. Your landline rings, echoing through your apartment. You trip your way to the phone, yanking it up. 

“Am I pushing my luck?” X asks, you could hear the smirk in his voice. You swallowed hard, thinking about the clean up, about what the hell you were going to do with all these roses. 

“Twenty would have been too many.” You remarked. X laughed, his laugh was warm and amused. You heard his fingers snap and suddenly all but one rose was gone, right on the table next to the phone.

“Better?” He asked, as you reached for it, thinking the moment you got close enough it would disappear but you picked it up, turning it over in your hands. 

“I don’t understand your powers.” You said, tucking the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you walk the rose towards the kitchen.

“Yeah, no one does.” He says, his voice almost warm against your ear. You reach into the cupboard, grabbing a glass, half filling it with water.

“Tell me about them.” You say, placing the rose in the water. 

“You wanna know more about me? Let me take you out to dinner.”

“We’re back on that, huh?” You ask, feeling something warm spread through your body.

“Well, here I am… bartering for dinner.” He says and that warmth goes a bit hot. You swallow. 

“I don't get it. You’re an enigma. Everyones talking about you, about X. No one knows a damn thing, you don’t talk to anyone else in the association. What’s your fascination with me?” You ask, sliding onto the counter. It’s quiet for a moment. 

“You’re fascinating.” He answers simply, voice serious. 

“You never answer any of my questions.” You sigh, leaning back on your hand, looking back towards the skyline outside your apartment window. 

“I think… it’s pretty clear.”

“What?”

“My intentions, Y/n.” X says and your heart actually flips in your chest. You clear your throat. 

“Make them clear for me.” You say, voice soft. It’s quiet for another moment. What’re you getting yourself into?

“I want to take you on a date. I find you… alluring. Always have. I told you at the end of our fight I was a big fan.”

“Of Winner.” He was a fan of Winner, that wasn’t you. 

“No. Not the hero you pretend to be on commercials and tv shows. The one I see on the news smiling as she saves the day. The one that still introduces herself as if she’s not a top hero.” You swallow dryly at his words. Did he understand you? Was he seeing past the manufactured ‘you’?

“It’s… only polite to introduce yourself.” You covered, trying not to sound as affected as you felt. Even you didn’t entirely know who you were yet. There definitely still was a part of you, probably a part you could never entirely rid yourself of, that was still competitive. You wanted to be the top hero and you wanted that title to be something only you accomplished. To show your father you weren’t useless and still had worth.

“I have a feeling you're going to turn me down again.” X’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts as you purse your lips.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why’s that?” He asks, you think it’s pretty obvious. 

“I want to be the top hero. I could’ve been the top hero.” You start, glancing over at the rose on your countertop. “I’m going to spend a lot of my time this year training up so I can wipe the floor with you at the next competition.”

“Ah. So it’s like that, huh?” He asks, that smirk coming back, you could practically see it. 

“Enjoy it while you can.”

“Y/n, are you thinking this declaration of war will deter me in any way? Because… Quite frankly, now I want that date with you more than anything. I like a woman who knows what she wants.” Your brows shoot up in surprise. You were sure your words would put an end to the chase X was running.

“You’re insatiable.” You half laugh, half scoff in surprise. 

“Satiate me then. It’s one date.” He bartered quite well. When did just dinner turn into a date? And it was just one date. Something you’d never been on. Plus this could be your one and only chance to get actual answers about him. Everyone has a weakness, and you needed to find out what that was if you wanted a fair fight.

“Alright. One date.”

“Be ready in an hour.” X answered smoothly, you shot up. 

“Now?”

“Mhm. I’ll be there in an hour.” He hummed and the line went dead. You hopped off the counter and for an hour you rushed around. You took a shower and blow dried and styled your hair. You pulled on a dress that Queen let you borrow for a gala a few weeks ago and stopped in the kitchen, taking two shots to calm your nerves. Just as you set the shot glass down the elevator doors dinged and X stepped inside your apartment. 

“You didn’t give me much time, asshole.” You called out to him as he rounded the corner, he stopped in his tracks and so did you. He wasn’t wearing a white suit, nor did he have white hair. You didn’t know who this man was. “Who the hell-“

“It’s me.” He says, reaching up to push his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose. He had clean black hair, pushed sideways out of his face, black rimmed glasses and a fitted black salaryman suit. He looked like an office job worker, someone that would bump into on the street in a hurry to get back to the office. You furrowed your brows. He snaps his fingers and in a blink of an eye the white suit materializes, his black hair smoothing into white. He snaps again and he’s back to normal. “Most hero’s need a disguise to hide behind.” He reaches up, running a hand through his black hair. You realized you hadn’t said a word and cleared your throat. “Oh no… did I lose my appeal?”

“So this is who you are?” You ask and his face softens slightly, he nods his head. “You’ll show me this but won’t tell me your real name.”

“I’ll save that for the second date.” He smirks and that smirk was enough to make you realize it really was him, the two could coexist in your mind purely by the way he smiled. You relax slightly, your creased brow calming. 

“I really don’t get you.” You said but your voice wasn’t sharp or annoyed.

“Figured maybe you had a thing for brunettes.” His words draw a laugh out of you as you roll your eyes. 

“I don’t know what my thing is.” 

“Well I hope you like sushi.” He raises his arm. You hadn’t even noticed he was holding a take out bag. 

“I thought you knew a place?”

“Mhm. Your place.” He smirks, crossing the floor to the kitchen island, ripping open the bag to start pulling out the food. “I wouldn't get a moment of peace with you out in the public.”

“Why's that?” You asked, crossing the floor to lean on the kitchen island, his hands, once smoothly removing the food, shakes a bit at your closeness. He clears his throat. 

“You’re a top hero… everyone will know you. Not to mention you’d be on a date… looking like that.” His eyes drag down your body then back up to your face. You glare at him. “Pushing my luck again?” You nod your head and he laughs, snapping as two glasses and a bottle of wine appear on the table. 

“If I had known we’d be staying in I wouldn’t have bothered with this dress.”

“I’m glad you bothered. And I’m glad I’m the only one to see you in it.”

“I wore it to a gala. A lot of people saw me in it.” You remarked, reaching for the wine but he’s quicker than you. He grabs it, pouring you a glass. 

“You hate being flirted with, don’t you?” He asks, pouring his own drink. You thought about that for a moment. It’s not that you didn’t like to be flirted with, it was more so there was still a part of you that hated that he beat you. And sometimes being antagonistic to his flirting seemed to be a small payback. You shrugged, taking a drink. 

“I wouldn’t say I hate it. Maybe you’re not as slick as you think.” You say and find yourself smirking into your glass. X cocks his head slightly, eyes devouring your expression. You flush under the scrutiny of his gaze and wonder if your words pushed him to try harder.

“See this is why I bartered for dinner. What other woman would tear me down at every given opportunity?” He asks, his face all amusement and light. You bite your lip, hiding a smile.

“I guess… maybe I am a bit mad at you.” You say as he starts dividing out the food.

“Why’s that?”

“You beat me.” You say and feel a bit out in the open at your response. You couldn’t hide the vulnerability and you’d never been good at keeping secrets and for some reason you felt disarmed by him. He showed a side of himself to you that no one else knew about. 

“I did.” He smirks and you glare at him. He laughs it off and reaches for his glass. “But that’s because you didn’t want to win for yourself, right? You wanted to win for your father.” Your mouth goes dry. “Look, it's not hard to see how hard he pushed you. When you first became a hero you were everywhere. In every tournament and talk show. You were in movies and on cereal boxes. Everyone knew who you were purely because of how much you worked. There’s not a single other hero, aside from Nice, that worked as hard as you. And we all know what happened to him.” That’s right. You remember seeing that on the news. The hero Nice killed himself because of the pressures placed on his shoulders. You remember your father laughing at the tv. Claiming not every hero can take the pressure. It made you angry. You pop some sushi into your mouth. 

“It… it wasn’t all bad.” You say, avoid eye contact. “I wouldn’t be where I am today if my father hadn’t pushed me.”

“Your father shoved you. Not pushed. And no one thinks about your father when they think about Winner. They just see you.”

“They see the persona he created.”

“Sure. He may have created Winner but what’s an empty persona without someone to fill it?” He asks. You swallow, slowly meeting his eyes. “Your success is yours alone. Your father never fought against villains or in tournaments. You did.” 

“You really do sound like a fan.” You try to lighten the moment, the tension between you two has gotten a bit thicker. 

“I’m a big fan. I already told you that.” He smiles. You blow out a laugh. “And if your heart is really in it, I think maybe you could beat me.” 

“I don’t know about that.” You laugh, gulping down the rest of your glass. “You snap your fingers and stuff appears like magic. You beat most everyone in the tournament in mere seconds. I could put up a fight but I don’t think I’ll win.” You say as X snaps his fingers and his other persona walks around the kitchen island to stand in your space. You turn, looking up at him.

“You wanna know my weakness?” He asks, somehow he was even closer. You swallowed dryly, tried to push down the heat rising within you, failing miserably as your cheeks warm up. You nod your head and watch a ghost of a smirk on his face form. He reaches for your hand, warmer than your own as he guides your hand to his chest, holding it right over his heart. “I’m still human. You pierce right here and that crown is yours.” Your heart skipped a beat, his hand enveloped yours, he towered over you. You couldn’t find words, your eyes were locked with his. There was so much confusion. Your head and heart were at war. Nothing winning over lust. Because you’d never met someone so invested in you. Not Winner. You. “Did I push my luck again?” He asked for final time. 

Your hand shot to his tie and yanked him down forcibly against your lips. He made a surprised grunt of a noise, probably due to your strength. Sometimes you forget the extent of your powers. X didn’t waste much time in reveling in surprise though, he recovered swiftly. His hands are on you in seconds, sliding down to your hips, pulling you closer.

This was a horrible idea. You’d be facing this man in a tournament for top hero. 

Your hand ran through, messing up his hair, the other sliding against his cheek as his hand reached out, knocking things off the counter out of the way as his arm wrapped around your hip. He easily pulled you up onto the counter, parting your knees with his hand as he stood between them, body pressed against yours. Your dress rode up dangerously high on your thighs, his hand sliding up your thigh.

You wanted to be top hero. You wanted to be top hero. You wanted to-

He trailed his lips away from your own, kissing down your jaw to your neck. You sucked in a breath. You felt as though someone set you on fire. You supposed it was X.

He wouldn’t even tell you his real name. He was trying to get into your head. This is how he’d win again. 

“God… you wreck me..” He murmured against your neck. Who knew four words could make any shred of doubt about this moment completely evaporate. That little voice in your head had shut right up. You melted against him, hands yanking his lips back onto your own. You kissed him hard enough to bruise because your frustrations had passed into lust and you had to one up him in some way. Your hand slid beneath the shoulders of his suit jacket and pushed it off. He didn’t protest and even smiled against your lips. You fumbled with his tie, huffing as you pulled away from his lips to get a better look at the damn thing as it gave you trouble. He raised a brow watching you struggle. 

“What the hell?” You mumbled, he didn’t take his hands off you to help. “What kind of knot is this?”

“The regular one.” He answered with an amused expression. You shot him a glare, letting go. 

“Take off your tie.” You demanded and at your tone his hands flew to his tie, unknotting it with sly ease. You took over, whipping it off him. You blew out a sharp breath. 

“This is a new side of you.” X said, voice breathy and you met his eyes. 

Sometimes you got frustrated and angry. When you worked for your father your frustrations were seen as a weakness and what anger you had, your father had a whole reserve of. So usually you were able to take it out on the training dummies or run around the gym until you collapsed. You weren’t entirely sure what was making you angry here. Maybe the lack of control, your feelings of inferiority against X. 

You close your eyes, shaking your head. He’d done nothing wrong that you could see and you were misplacing your frustration. This just wasn’t something you were ready for. 

“This isn’t going to work.” You said after a moment. X’s thumb gently moved against your thigh. You couldn’t get out of your own head about all of this. About whether he was using you. “What… do you have to gain from this?” You ask and X’s hands pause on your skin. 

“I have nothing to gain but your time.”

“Bullshit.” You scoff. 

“Not everyone’s out for blood.” He says, reaching up and tucking your hair gently behind your ear. You met his eyes. “I think we both want similar things, judging by the way you kissed me.” You flushed at the memory. “I’m at your mercy, Y/n. What you say goes.” 

“If you're using me to— to get something I’ll kill you.” X smiles at your words, he drags his thumb gently across your cheek and leans in. “I mean it-,” He cuts you off, pressing a kiss to your lips. He kisses you tenderly, trying to make you forget those pesky worries. 

“I’ve been warned.” He whispers against your mouth. You breathed out shakily, flexing your hands tightly to keep from yanking him on top of you. He slowly pulled back, eyes looking over your flushed face. His hands slid onto your hips, easing you off the counter. “Walk me to the door?” He asks.

“You… you can stay. We can eat.”

“I don’t think we’ll do much eating if I stay.” He answers, his eyes eating up your face. You slowly nod your head, quickly fixing your dress, leading him to the door. You ruined the night, you felt it deep in your bones. You weren’t ready so you ruined things. He reaches for the elevator button. 

“Sorry.” You intone, a few steps behind him. His hand pauses, he doesn’t press the button. You look guiltily at the ground. “I ruined the date.”

“You didn’t.” He laughs and your eyes shoot up to him. “On the contrary, I had fun. Can we do this again?”

“You’re joking.” You respond tonelessly, bordering on surprise. 

“Nope. I’ve fallen quite hard. I think I need another night like this with you.” You can’t help but blush. “I’ll call you.” He presses the button and it dings, the doors sliding open. He turns and meets your eyes. You walk a few steps to the door, hand shooting out to grab his tie once more. You pull him to your lips again, a silent confirmation that you wanted to do this again too. You pulled away and let go of his tie just as the doors slid closed. You wouldn’t say you fell because only losers fall, but… it was sure something close to it. 

[heartzfrmkenz]

˚ ༘ " Pretty girls like you deserve the world." ༘

: ̗̀➛ a/n: Hey Guys, this is my first post back! The poll winner was for a one-shot (I didn't wanna wait for the poll to end, I'm impatient), so I decided to write for Karasu, he's one of my fav characters from blue lock. I might wright a poly one-shot with him and Otoya in the near future, if you would want to see that, lmk. This was all done on my computer so it's not as good as I want it to be 😓Other than that, Hope y'all like the one-shot🤗

: ̗̀➛ Word Count: 8.8k (Got a lil carried away 😓)

: ̗̀➛ Content: Tabito Karasu x Fem! Reader (Could also be Gn! Reader) ft. Eita Otoya, Friends to Lovers troupe, Post-Blue Lock, Uni/College setting, Fluff, a little angst (if you squint), Mutual Pinning, all characters are 18+ in this one-shot, Some Suggestive actions/scenes, may be a bit ooc.

: ̗̀➛ Synopsis: Karasu was a friend you met thru Otoya. You three spent a lot of time together inside and outside of your college, so when Otoya starts to openly flirt with you in front of Karasu, you discovered the longing you felt for Karasu wasn't so one-sided after all.

Eita introduced you to his best friend at the beginning of your second semester in Uni. You couldn't deny the fact that the raven-haired man was attractive. He was tall, had a muscular body, and his eyes, oh his eyes, his eyes were a beautiful blue color, The hue of them coming to life just right as the sunlight kissed his face. You also noticed a mole that adorned his face right under his right eye. You learned from Eita that his name was Tabito Karasu.

It is now the end of your second semester and you three were inseparable on and off campus, whether it was them walking you to class, lunch, to your shared locker, hell, sometimes you three would just go wherever the wind took you. It wasn't hard to click into the routine after a while, their presence became something that was second nature to you, it also wasn't hard to realize you had caught feelings for Karasu.

Eita being the bully he is, teased you for it when he caught on. You still remember the conversation like it was yesterday, "You like the douche bag, don't you?" His words ringing in your ear louder than any noise ever could. You couldn't exactly deny the fact that you like him, but you wouldn't indulge Eita with what he wanted. "And what made you come to that conclusion?" You asked, a hint of curiosity in your voice. He shrugged, "What wouldn't? Just the way you look at him gives it away to me" He flashes you that dumb, teasing smirk and you groan, "Maybe I do like Karasu, what about it?'' He shakes his head, looking out the window, "Nothing, just wanted to know" He says in a almost laid-back, relaxed tone that sounded a little too relaxed, even for him. But you decided not to think too much into it, besides there was no way he could have recorded you saying that, his phone was in the other room charging after it died on him while doomscrolling.

Today was no different than any other day. You three were off campus, heading to your place for a monthly movie night that was long overdue. You were walking in-between them, music playing in your headphones as you felt a tap on your shoulder, it was Karasu. "Do ya' have any snacks at yer' place?" He asked, making direct eye contact with you. "I should, I went grocery shopping like a week or 2 ago." Eita just watched from his side, as you and Karasu striked up a conversation with ease, wondering if what he has planned will work tonight. Unbeknownst to you, Tabito and Eita had a similar conversation right after he finished talking to that night.

Eita's POV

Karasu knew his best friend wasn't the brightest with things like this, so he was fairly nervous to find out this "idea" Eita had for him. You were clueless to it all, the conversations those two shared about you, the way Karasu would sneakily glace at you from afar, the way Eita would tease him for it, you always chopped it up to be some sort of inside joke or something between the two since you know they're closer with each other than they are with you. Oh, if only you knew what tonight held in store for you...

You three finally reach your place after 15 minutes of walking. As you step in, the cold air from you AC brushes against your skin nicely as you let out a sigh and kick off your shoes, tossing them along the wall of the front door. The two men do the same, as this isn't their first time in your home. "I see ya' cleaned up for us darlin' how nice." Karasu purred out, flashing his usual smirk at you. You were used to the nicknames by now, even though they still get you flustered. "Had to, didn't want my favorite people tripping over trash now, did I?'' You spoke back, looking over your shoulder to look at the two. Eita snickered and elbowed the taller male, "Tonight's gonna be great." He said, while chuckling. You didn't mind it much, though, Karasu did. It put him on high alert to look out for himself and you, he knew Eita was bound to do something stupid sooner or later.

You three sat on the couch in your living room, watching some horror movie. You were on the far left of the couch, Eita was in the middle and Tabito was on the right. Yall were in pajamas and there was a blanket sprawled out among you three. You had a plushie placed in the center of your lap as you watched the movie, occasionally reaching for snacks that were on the table. Karasu couldn't help but look at you every now and then, the way your eyes would slightly shut when a gore scene came on, when you jumped at some of the scares, it amused him. He just wanted to wrap his arms around your waist while you were in his lap, cuddling and watching the movie. Of course, Eita noticed his small smile and the glances he was stealing at you, so he decided to start step one of his plan.

He slides over to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder and whispers something in your ear that makes you giggle. Karasu stares daggers into the back of his head, Eita knew he was looking but continued. Karasu normally wouldn't call himself a jealous man, but Eita was pushing his limits. Every laugh he drew out of you, every look, every smile, it only made Karasu more jealous. So, he got up and went upstairs. "Tabi, where are you going?" You asked, confusion in your voice. Though as much as he wanted to turn around and make a snarky remark, he didn't. "To the bathroom." He mumbled. Otoya had such a grin on his face, you would think he knew what he was doing, and of course, and unbeknownst to you, he did. He knew his best friend was bound to get at least a little jealous. But what he didn't know was the effect it had on him.

When Tabito reached the bathroom upstairs, he locked the door behind him and sat down on the floor. Seeing his best friend openly flirt with you like that made him feel a certain way. While his ego may be big, his self-image wasn't. He's always viewed himself as mediocre or average. He was nervous to confess to you, not because he thinks he'll get rejected, but because he sees you as way out of his league. When Eita told him that you said you like him, he was just a tad bit shocked. He just thought you were being polite at first, but the more he looked into it, the more he realized that it wasn't being polite. It was small gestures that pointed to how much of a liking you took to him. Lingering touches, the smile you'd give him, the way you'd look at him. It made sense to him now, and that he has the opportunity, he doesn't wanna let it go. He just hopes this is the one thing he isn't mediocre at. He wants to be with you, near you always, never letting you go. He wants to-

*Knock Knock*

"Tabi? Are you okay in there?" You ask

silence...

"Eita's been texting you, you haven't responded so I'd thought I'd come check on you myself..."

Karasu takes his phone out his pocket.

Karasu's POV

" 'm good." He finally says. You noticed his voice is softer than usual. "Can I come in..?" You finally manage to ask. After a few moments, you hear the doorknob click and you twist it and open the door to see Tabito in the bathroom, standing and just looking at you. "Can we talk, like in private?" Tabito asks, his voice laced with an unusual tone of seriousness and something else you can't predict. You look at him with a soft, almost sympathetic look on your face "Sure, is there something bothering you? If so, we could go talk in my room." You shoot him a small smile, and it makes his heart melt, you grab his hand and lead you two into your bedroom, closing the door behind you.

"So, what's up?" You asked, looking off to the side, nervous for whatever will come next. Tabito took a seat on your bed, eyes casted down on the floor. "Me and Otoya had a talk the other night." Your heart dropped as you remembered the talk you and Eita had the other day, your mind flooded with doubt, but you kept up a facade. "Oh, what did y'all talk about?" You asked even though your gut feeling was telling you that you already knew. "He told me that ya' liked me, is that true..?" Your heart dropped down so far you swear you could feel it at your feet. Your gaze suddenly got more anxious, more rapid, looking anywhere but at him. He noticed your nervous body language and decided to speak up. "If it is, I wanted to tell ya' that I like ya' too..." His eyes trailed from the floor to your figure, searching for any reaction. To his surprise, you were already staring at him, slightly widened eyes staring into his. "You're serious?" You said with a small glint in your eyes, staring back into his, hoping he wasn't joking. He nodded his head, "As serious as I've ever been." He said, staring back at you.

There was an awkward silence between the two of you before you stepped forward in front of Karasu. You take your hand under his chin and lift it to look at you. "Is that why you stormed up here? Were you jealous..?'' You said with a smirk on your face and a smug tone alluding from your voice. His eyes casting somewhere else, anywhere else rather than on you. You chuckled and kissed him on his cheek. "We both know I wouldn't fall for a womanizer like Eita, besides, your more of a gentleman than him and you're not ashamed of what you like, I adore that about you." Those last words spoke out to him more than anything. He looks at you, those beautiful blue eyes boring straight into yours as you stared back, you had to admit, you thought his eyes looked pretty in the sun, but they look even better in the moonlight. He pulls you into his lap by your waist and had you sat on his thigh. "Can I kiss ya'?'' He asked, lips already just mere inches away from yours, you nodded with slight fever.

His lips meet yours in a slow, sensual and passionate kiss, his lips slotted against yours so perfectly, like they were made for each other. His large, calloused hands holding the small of your back as you wrap your arm around his neck. He lifts you up with ease and you squeal into the kiss from his sudden action. "Tabi, where are we going?" You ask through little giggles, that turn into chuckles when he positions you to carry you bridal style. "I wanna show off what's mines now." In a low yet teasing tone as he carries you down the steps. Eita hears the footsteps and turns towards you and Tabito. "About time you two finally got together." He says nonchalantly, going back to scroll on his phone. "Damn right we did, couldn't just leave my pretty girl up for grabs now, could I?" You chuckled and turned your head to look at him. "You really are something aren't you?" You say, a slightly teasing tone behind your words. "What can I say? Pretty girls like ya' deserve the world." He says, kissing you once more. Eita fake gags at the romantic action. "Get a room dude, I'm right here.." Tabito chuckles at his friends reaction, sitting back down on the couch, with you in his lap this time, and Un-pauses the movie. "We jus' might." He says, teasingly while holding your waist, head resting on your shoulder as he kisses your cheek as you three go back to watching the movie.

(This lowkey took less time than I thought it would. Let me know what y'all think and what y'all wanna see next, requests are open btw)

[pwblant]

CHASING YOU — p.wb

synopsis : you and wonbin are the top runners of your school and have been rivals on the track for as long as anyone can remember. you’ve known him since childhood, but it was impossible to have even become anything close to friends. whether it’s practice, sprinting, relay, or endurance runs, the two of you are always neck and neck, pushing each other to the limit with sharp words and even sharper competition—it’s only until you have a great fall that the soft spot he has for you exposes itself.

♡ pairing : !track athlete y/n x !track athlete wonbin

♡ genre : rivals to friends (and eventually more sort of)

♡ wc. : roughly 1.7k

♡ a/n : just remembered predebut wonbin used to do track and field, so i cooked this up 😁 also, happy late valentines riizeblr! the ideal valentines gift for me is seunghan back in riize 🙏 thanks a bunch to @lelengerine for proofreading everything🫰

you and park wonbin had joined track and field at the same time back in 5th grade, and since then, you’ve both been each other’s rivals. during competitions, there was always one unspoken rule: one had to win, and the other comes in second. and of course, no one wants to be second. the two of you are the school’s best runners, and every race that took place had often ended up as a two-man competition, as the other contestants aren’t able to keep up with the competitiveness that the two of you share.

for months, the rivalry between you had only intensified. every practice, every sprint, and every time trial was always filled with some sort of rivalry.

now, with only a week left before the competition, the pressure is at its peak. the coach blows the whistle and the mock race begins. the championships were happening soon and the stakes couldn’t be higher, the winner’s prize would be a scholarship at SMU, one of the top schools in korea. no one in their right mind would pass up this once in a lifetime opportunity, which meant that you, wonbin, and every other competitor were prepared to give it everything you had. you didn’t just want the scholarship—you needed it.

the sound of pounding in your footsteps echoes through the track, the hot summer air running through your face. this was your fourth and last trial run, and the heat was definitely starting to get to you.

“can’t keep up, Y/N?” wonbin looks back, taunting you with a sly smirk on his face.

“in your dreams, park wonbin.” you grit your teeth, picking up the pace of your running to overtake him.

the coach whistles again, signaling that the race was coming to an end. you managed to speed through the finish line, beating him by just a bit.

“—and in the end, i still won.” you tease, feeling a bit dizzy, but you hold your head high because you won. his face was plastered with an annoyed expression.

wonbin was definitely infuriating, he never backed down from a challenge. if he lost, he’d train extra hard that day just to beat you in the next race. if you lost, he’d make sure you knew it. the only thing more impressive than his speed was his mouth—the way it could say the most enraging remarks that effortlessly made your blood boil.

next week..

today’s finally the day—the big day every track student has endlessly been training for. all contestants gather up at the start of the track and get into their positions.

bang, as soon as the gunshot fires, you take off.

everything else around you that was irrelevant to winning started to blur—the crowd, the screams, the sound of your pounding footsteps, and even the ache in your stomach. the only thing you’re focused on is the finish line and your breathing pace. you can see wonbin from the corner of your eye, and he’s fast—just like always—but so are you. you continue to keep yourself focused.

then it happens.

the track curves, and as you were trying to pivot, you felt the sharp twist of your ankle. a searing pain shoots up your leg and before you can catch yourself, your body fully gives up beneath you. the world spins as you crash down onto the rough asphalt, scratching your skin and leaving you with deep scratches.

for a moment, everything is blurry. you hear people shouting along with footsteps thundering past you. the race is still going. you should get up—you have to get up.

but then—

“Y/N!”

wonbin’s voice cuts through the chaos. he’s suddenly right there beside you. he shouldn’t be there. he should be running to win the scholarship. but instead, he’s crouched right next to you, trying to analyze your injuries with his hands hovering over your shoulders, unsure if whether or not he could touch you.

“why did you stop?” you rasp, trying to push him away. “the finish line—“

“forget the finish line,” he snaps. “can you walk?”

“i’m fine—“ you try sitting up but the pain was sharp, unbearable. you squeeze your eyes shut in response to the sudden sensation, quickly revealing your true feelings.

“i’m taking that as a no,” he assumes. “come on, lean on me. i’ll get you to the clinic.”

“i’m fine, please get back to the race. i can do this mysel—“

“don’t be stupid, Y/N.” he cuts you off, urging you to just give in and take up his offer. before you could protest, he’s already getting ready to lift you off the ground.

you should push him away and say something sharp, something that reminds him about your long-time rivalry, that you’re supposed to despise each other. but, for the first time, wonbin isn’t looking at you like you’re his competitor. he’s looking at you like someone who doesn’t want to see you get hurt.

once you arrive at the clinic with the help of other emergency teams at the track site, it’s awkward. purely awkward. you don’t know what to say—should you thank him? scold him? worry about him potentially losing his chances of getting into SMU? your head was a mess.

from time to time you’d wince everytime the nurse would press too hard on your ankle. in the corner of your eye, you see wonbin shifting in his seat, his arms crossed, brows furrowed, and his leg was slightly bouncing up and down as if he had something to say.

you hate it. you hate the awkwardness and the silence that gives you too much room to say something. everything. you hate that he threw away his dreams of SMU to come to your aid.

“why would you do that?” you finally ask, breaking the silence. your voice was softer than you thought.

wonbin exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “what do you mean, why?”

“you know what i’m talking about,” you start. “the scholarship and everything, i thought you needed it.”

“i did,” he admitted. “but what was i supposed to do? just leave you there?”

“yes!” you argue, throwing your hands up in anger. “a normal rival would’ve kept running. that’s what we are, right?”

his jaw clenches for a second, then he looks at you. with a sigh, he bends forward and rests his elbows on his knees.

“look, Y/N,” he starts, his voice seems more gentle and calm now. “it doesn't matter if we’re rivals, i won’t care about some race if you’re lying on the ground, hurt. do you really think a scholarship matters more to me than—“ he pauses and shakes his head. “forget it, just rest well.”

you follow up, brow quirking up in slight interest. “than what?”

wonbin doesn’t answer and makes his way to the door, his hand hovers over the handle, debating whether or not he should turn back around or just leave you here.

you should let him go, but you can’t. not until he answers your question.

“wonbin.”

he freezes in response to his name. slowly, he turns back to face your direction. “what?”

you take a moment to stare at his face, you’ve never seen him look at you with that much care before. “you never answered my question.”

“about what?” his brows furrow.

“about why you ditched the scholarship to help me.” your heart races as you feel your eyes well up with tears. “why did you throw away everything you practiced for me?”

“i already told you—“

“no,” you stop him. “i want the real answer. the real reason.”

for a moment, he just stands there, as if frozen in his own world, but you blink and before you know it, he’s standing right infront of you.

“because it’s you, Y/N.” he finally speaks, voice shying away as his words trail. “it’s always been you.”

“what?”

“god, do i have to spell it out for you?” he scoffs. “i like you, okay? maybe more than i wanted to and maybe i hid my feelings behind the rivalry we had, but when i saw you on the ground like that—when i saw you hurt—i couldn’t hold back. i didn’t care about the race anymore, i just cared about if you were okay. even if i lost the race, i’ll still be able to look at myself in the mirror tomorrow because i wouldn’t have regretted doing nothing to help you.”

you paused.

“you… like me?” you repeat with wide eyes, trying to take in all the things that have unraveled. the pounding in your chest now sounds louder than the cheers from the crowd—you were positive that he could hear it.

“you really picked the worst time to say this, huh.” you chuckle.

“yeah. well,” he mutters, rubbing his sweaty palms together. “blame yourself for getting hurt.”

despite everything, you feel a warmth in your chest. you should be mad at him for throwing away his opportunity all for a girl, but at this point you can’t even be mad. you just feel grateful that you have such caring support around you, even when you didn’t notice. so, you do what you need to do.

you reach for his wrist, stopping him from leaving. “wonbin,”

he looks at you with expectation in his eyes.

“thank you.” you begin, a grateful expression on your features, “also, just—if you want, we can always try things out, maybe be friends first?”

“you’re not trying to kid your way out of this situation right?”

“do i look like i’m kidding?” you deadpan for a second before shaking your head with a chuckle.

“no ma’am!” he straightens himself out, but a smile that mirrors yours is plastered on his lips. “now let’s get you tucked in—i’m gonna make sure you get the rest you need.”

“im being serious though. i might’ve been the childish one for dragging on this rivalry for so long…” you added, now complying as the boy helped you get to a comfortable position.

“then it’s a good thing we’re ending it now.” he pats your head lightly, “cause you’ll find that i’m not going to leave your side.”

m.list

[dclovesdanny]

Super Brain Dead as Peter, Harry and Mary Jane

Kon was Mary Jane, Tim was Harry and Danny was Peter

Kon didn’t remember who he used to be until the day he saw the comics. They were given to him by John, who had been trying to bond with him for the past few weeks. Kon had just taken it to humor him. He had already stopped expecting family from the supers, but Lois and Mama Kent and Papa Kent had made sure to hammer into his head that he was a Kent, regardless of Clark.

When he started reading the comics, he didn’t know how to stop. Memories clanged in his head as he read and read and read and recognized so much that he felt almost like he could throw up. He didn’t realize he was crying until Bart pointed it out, joking about if the comics were really that bad. (Kon kept a copy of the comic under his bed every night and bought Jon a new one. He didn’t want to let go of what made him remember.)

Tim remembered who he was first time he saw the trailer for the new Spider-Man movie, and caught a glimpse of the green goblin. He proceeded to faint, and after he woke up, went straight to the camera and proceeded to use all of the tech skills he knew to figure out what it happened. 

He learned a lot. So many sources told him about his father in a way that he didn’t know him. He would’ve dismissed them if everything about him hadn’t been so accurate. (He tried not to read about his father’s death. He tried not to read about his own. When he read about his father’s death, he tried to convince himself it was a lie, but in the end, it did sound like something his father would do.)

Instead, he thought about how ironic it was this time, he was a hero while last time he was a villain. The color and then an animal name was also a constant.

Danny remembered who he had been after the first time he was described as a menace. Later, Jazz would worriedly explain that he’d had a seizure in class and teachers had debated calling an ambulance before he calmed down. He tried desperately to play it off to his friends as a freak accident, but he could tell they didn’t buy it. Of course, three weeks later he had another accident that stole their attention. (what was it with him and radioactive materials?)

He tried not to think about the similarities. He tried not to think about how Tucker and Sam both reminded him of Gwen and Mary Jane and Harry all in different ways or about the home sickness they gave him. He tried not to think about how Jasmine was like Aunt May and uncle Ben rolled into one perfect package. (He tried not to wonder if his birth parents would’ve actually been like the Fentons.)

The first time he saw Phantom being referred to as a menace in a newspaper, he laughed and taped it to his wall. Somethings just happen over and over again.

There was a competition for Spider-Man fans. A 100 question test, with the top scorers being promised in all expenses, paid vacation to the set of the new Spider-Man film. They would even be able to play small roles in the movie.

When the top five winners came out, Danny was not surprised that he was number one with 100%. He was surprised to see that two people tied for a second with 99%. The fourth place winner had a score of 89%, far behind the three of them. He wondered who the two were.

Kon recognized Harry during a late night movie night, after most the others had gone to bed, and Harry made a remark about the movie being cheesy in the exact same tone that Harry would’ve made it. Kon hadn’t been able to stop himself from snorting and telling Harry off. It was only after Harry froze that he realized that he was talking to Tim, not Harry. He had one second to panic before Tim whispered “Mary Jane?”

It been six months after their little revelation one the contest was announced. They both entered, and neither of them were surprised they made it to the top five. What did surprise them was the fact they did not get a 100%, and that someone else did. Tim figured out that the question they both had gotten wrong was one about Peter‘s aunt May’s maiden name (they had both only ever thought of her as May.)

Regardless, they were all going to the set of the new movie!

(None of them realized exactly who was waiting for them there.)

[aritsukemo]

Utterly Devoted To You | Furina De Fontaine

Furina De Fontaine x Familiar GN!Reader

Warnings: Reader's just a bit obsessed with Furina/loves her just a bit too much to be considered healthy. Furina has a breakdown. Reader is implied to be a Kitsune Fox like Yae Miko and has, like, ceremonial tattoos ( although they're barely mentioned ) all over their body! Author has not played through Furina's Story Quest yet!

A/N: Here's the winner of the poll I started like last week! ..I have no idea how to end fics 😭 Sorry if it's awkward or anything. I literally haven't touch this draft since like last year when I posted it as an abandoned wip..

Knocks vibrate throughout the apartment. They start off soft with an intermittent rhythm only to become loud and incessant after a while without acknowledgement. The owner of the apartment—who had been so rudely awoken by the noise—arose from her bed with a sour look on her face. Her heterochromic, ocean-like eyes burning with fire as she scans her room for her slippers.

"Coming, coming! Gosh.." She shouts in a rather grumpy manner when the knocking continued. Understandably so. It was the middle of the night and someone, who clearly has no mind for other peoples' sleep, was banging on her door like some madman. Anyone in her shoes would've been furious.

Honestly, do people have no respect these days? To just disrupt someone's sleep without a care in the world.. What could possibly be so important?

After finally finding her slippers, Furina practically stomped out of her room, down her stairs, and up to her door. She was planning on giving whoever was on the other side a piece of her mind for waking her up and then go back to bed when she cooled down. As the door swings open and Furina is met with the perpetrator, however, all her anger is washed away like a seashell against a water current.

There, standing before her with their fluffy ears twitching eagerly atop their head and pastries in hand, was the Hydro Archon's—Furina's former companion—you.

"You finally answered, my lady!" You chirped, "I'm so glad! Hehe..~! For a second there I thought I had the wrong address!"

She was at a lost for words. Why were you here? And why did you seem so happy? After everything came to light and Fontaine found out she was a sham, she was sure she'd never see you again..

So why in the world are you standing at her doorstep?

"Y/n.." She mumbled out in disbelief, but you seemed rather pleased nonetheless. Your name always sounded so lovely whenever it came from her lips.

"May I come in, my lady?" You ask after a while of her staring at you as if she'd seen a ghost, "If not, I don't mind standing here."

"Oh! Uh- No! Come in!" What is she saying? She should be showing you away, not welcoming you in! "Sit wherever you'd like!" She continues anyway, stepping aside.

Obviously pleased, a sharp smile graces your face and you walked in without hesitation, marveling in awe at her home as if it was made of gold or something.

"This place is so cute! You've decorated well, my lady!" You praise and she has to resist visibly cringing in response to your praise. In all honesty, her place wasn't much to look at. In fact, the place was quite barren since she hadn't gotten around to decorating it yet.

"Thank you.." She forces out, avoiding your piercing gaze as it falls on her. She turns on her heel, showing her back to you as she slowly, hesitantly closes the door.

"So..uhm, what brings you here at this hour?" She finally asks after taking her sweet time locking her door before turning to you—silently gulping when she, once again, locks eyes with your slitted ones. Your eyes were always so intimidating to her even when she was playing house..

Or maybe she's only thinking that to spare the slither of ego she still has.

"I wanted to see you, of course!" You gleefully say. You looked so happy—so excited to see her again and here she stands, surprised, looking almost petrified at the sight of you..

She can barely force a smile onto her faces, but she manages. She almost positive of how crinkled it probably looks, but it'll have to do for now, "I see..so that's your reason.. Well, you've seen me now so you can go and—" "I stopped by Café Lutece earlier today."

"I ran my errands super early so that I had the time to get your favorite cake," A small sigh leaves your lips as you continue, "Unfortunately, by the time I got there all sixteen slices had already been sold out.. I should've expected that, though. After all, my lady has great taste in dessert so it's no wonder they always sell so fast."

You shake your head—your ears wiggling a tad as a result of your attempt at physically clearing your head, "Anyways I'm sorry I couldn't get your favorite cake, but I bought everything else you see here to make up for my blunder so I hope this can earn your forgiveness."

While you spoke, Furina's eyes darted downwards, eyeing the plethora of small boxes in your hand which she's only, somehow, now noticing. She stared at it until it grew so close that she went cross-eyed from the proximity and you dumped the heap of sweets into her arms.

She staggered for a moment as the newfound weight immediately swayed and she reach with one hand to catch the boxes that threatened to slip through her grasp and splatter all over the floor. It was only after she managed to steady herself that her eyes widened at the realization of the mere size of the pile.

This variety of sweets isn't at all small. There were so many that even she would take at least a few days to get through.. Just how much time and money did it take you to get all of this for her? Furina's heart sinks at the mere thought of you spending even a dime on her..

"H- Hey, how much was all of this exactly?" The question hesitantly—almost fearfully—escapes her. Your ears perk up and your rambling comes to an abrupt stop. Nevertheless, your face easily gives away how you feel towards the question; genuine confusion.

"Why the sudden ask, my lady? Whenever I used to buy you sweets before, you'd never care to ask about the prices.."

"Well, you of all people know that I'm not..y'know.." She couldn't even get the words out. To put it simply, the mere thought of the incident made her shudder from the shame of it all. In fact, everything was so embarrassing to think about that it makes her want to lock herself in this home for five hundred years. Not that she could live that long anymore, thank the archons above..

"Ah, I see.." You say, and for a second, sheepish relief washes over Furina like a nice, but cold morning shower as she thought you had connected the dots to what she couldn't bring herself to voice out loud.

She sighs, that awkward smile returning albeit a little smoother now, "Thank you for your—" "You can't possibly enjoy your sweets without your usual bubble bath and milk tea!"

Her smile crinkles again.

"I- No.. That's not—" "I apologize for my forgetfulness, my lady," Your ears press flat against your head like a sad little kitten.

"It seems our time apart has taken a toll on me.. I'll get to it right away to make up for my slip up," And you speed past her and up the stairs as if this was your home and you had walked the halls of it a bajillion times over. Furina could only reach her hand out to you as if wanting to grab you but couldn't, 'lest she wanted a heaping, sticky mess on her floors. She failed to call after you as well which ultimately left her standing there with her mouth agape longer than it should've been.

What..just happened? More importantly, why did she just let it happen? Yes, she has fallen from godhood, but has she lost her nerve as well? She could've ended this as quickly as it started by simply telling you to leave so why didn't she do just that?

All she had to do was tell you to leave and she could've truly put everything behind her. So why was she unable to do just that?

"My lady! Your bath is ready!" She hears your cheery yell from the top of the stairs. As if put under some spell, her previous thought is crushed into dust and blown away from her mind and out of her ears, replaced by a much simpler task; to take a nice, soothing bath that you had oh so graciously prepared for her.

Her feet move as if under a trance, her slippers treading across the wooden flooring and leaving small plaps and squeaks in their wake as she goes about setting the mountain of sweets on her lackluster dining table and going up the stairs where she's met with your toothy grin—that wonderful smile that has been bestowed upon her for centuries—that tells so many of the stories you have shared together in earnest.

How could one possibly turn it away? At the very least, she certainly couldn't, even when she was playing god.

"Thank you, Y/n. I'll be out in a little while," Her mouth moves before her brain can even think to say something differently. Your smile remains, widens even, and she finds her body slouching—relaxing—at the sight.

"Very well. I'll be setting things up downstairs for when you return. Please call me if anything is not to your liking, my lady," And with that, you bow your head to her and make your swift exit.

Furina sighs. It happened again. Why? Has she seriously been put under some kind of incantation caused by a simple quirk of your lips? She finds herself scowering her mind for the answer to that question as she sheds herself of her night garments and nears the tub—which had been filled to the brim with bubbles that shouldn't have been possible as she hadn't went and bought anything for her baths, or for anything else, in fact.

She steps into the water and immediately drops herself in, allowing herself to be enveloped by the pleasant smells as the bubbles cling to her skin.

The water was just the right temperature. Not scorching, but not lukewarm either; just how she liked it. A delighted exhale flutters from her lips on instinct as her head falls against the rim of the tub.

What is she doing? Everything has changed, so why is she indulging in pleasures of the past, why is she letting you service her, and most importantly, why are you so eager to please her still? Was it beacuse, archons forbid, you were trying to pretend nothing happened at all as a way to still cling onto your previous life as a servant to an all-powering god? No matter the reason, she needs you to come from behind those curtain of lies you tell yourself and face reality.

She needs to get you to wake up and smell the roses, otherwise neither you or her will be able to truly move on from your former lives..

Before she knew it, her mind had completely swallowed her and time had passed with her mindlessly soaking in the tub. By the time she realized it, the water had cooled to that lukewarm temperture she had such a strong distaste for, and all the bubbles had just about dispersed.

This was all proof of how much time had passed, but even with all of that, all she managed to accomplish was nearly fall asleep. And, when she was finally brought to the realization of that fact, she sat up and pulled herself out of the tub against her better judgement.

In the time it took her to dress herself in her new sleepwear—which was not much different from her previous garments—she had once again worked up the courage to try again. Deciding that when she goes downstairs, she'll set it to you straight, no hard feelings!

With that sudden confidence rising in her like a tidlewave and ultimately exuding from her being, she waltzed down the stairs. She swishes as she walks and passes through her living room, her mouth already open to say the first thing on her mind as she enters the kitchen..

..Only for that confidence to shatter like a glass mirror when her eyes lands on the spread of pastries you brought her splayed out in a neat assortment across her dining room table with you standing before it with that god-gifted smile of yours.

"My lady, you've returned!" You cross the small distance between you two quickly, your tattooed hands cupping around her bare ones. Trapping her in place and blocking her view from anything else other than the gorgeous swirl of your hues.

"It took some time, but I managed to set the table with all the desserts! I set it from the sweetest pastries to the more tone down ones just how you taught me!" As you spoke, you guided her to the table and set her down at the head, the only place you deemed worthy of her, "I also made your milk tea with extra honey and topped it with a swirl of vanilla cream just how I remembered it!"

Furina, now sat, was staring in a daze. Her face looked rather shocked, or I guess horrified and overwhelmed would be a more accurate description. It was an odd display. One that didn't escape your feline eyes.

"My lady.." You called and she jumps. Yes, she jumps at the mere call of your courteous title to her.

So you call her again, "My lady," You repeat. She doesn't jump this time and it has you believing that her startling reaction before was unrelated or simply your eyes playing tricks on you. It had to be, right? Surely it wasn't for a reason as ridiculous as she feared or was upset with you or something, right? Right.

"Do you not like the spread I prepared?" You asked softly, as if the mere thought had saddened you to a near breakdown, "Is this not satisfactory..?"

"No!" She yelped out like an automatic response. As if you were the former god and she was the servant. As if she was programmed to have some kind of auto pilot that will say anything to make a smile return to your marked face, "No, no! Heh.. E- Everything's fine! I mean-! Uh..i-it's excellent! Thank you!"

Your smile doesn't return and her anxiety turns into full-blown panic. Her mind kicks into overdrive as she thought, "Say something! Say something!" over and over and over again.

She has to say something to appease you. To put you at ease. You deserve that much after the embarrassment that was caused by her downfall. You deserve to be at peace after fighting tooth and nail to defend her in that trial. You deserve to smile after so long of appeasing and bending to this false god's every ridiculous whim!

"My lady," Her breathing stutters. She blinks, awestruck at the sudden lapse from reality, and it's only after that shock leaves her veins that she finally realizes how damp her cheeks had suddenly became and how blurry her vision had gotten.

She had started crying..right before you of all people. By the time that fact finally dawned on her, you had already pushed her chair back to make room for yourself at her feet and were wiping them away with a cloth..

"I- Y/n, I'm so.. I'm sorry.. I- I can't—" Pathetic. It truly was such a pathetic character she was protraying right now. Surely anyone in Fontaine- No, in all of Teyvat would agree if they saw her right now..

But you weren't anyone. At the face of her crystalline tears cascading down her face, you gently patted the cloth in your hand across her cheek and used your other hand to wipe the other side, fingers bent as you made the necessary precautions as to not nick her beautiful skin with your pointy nails.

"It's okay, my lady. Please don't apologize," You cooed, "And please, don't shed tears over me. I don't deserve such the honor."

You're right. You don't deserve her tears. You deserve so, so much more. You deserve to be covered in riches. To be spoiled and praised from Mondstadt to Snezhnaya. Not anything she has put you through..

"..After everything was over, I spent days in turmoil and anger. I lashed out at Monsieur Neuvilette, the Traveler, everyone and anyone who I thought was to blame for stripping you of your title and making you cry like this," You admitted, "Despite that, everyone still respected me and gave me the time to come to grips with reality..with you and your centuries-long lie."

She chokes, her hand coming up to cover her mouth only to immediately hide her entire face behind her hands; a futile attempt to hide herself from you.

She told a lie to the nation. She was aware of it and had come to live with that for so long. So why is it that she seemed to break down at you simply restating the obvious? Why is it that she couldn't bare the thought of you viewing her any differently than before when she was just fine with everyone else doing so?

..And why is it that you even wasted your time coming here and serving her like old times if you did view her in a different light like everyone else? Was this a way to mock her of her past performance? Was it because you were trying to get back at her for lying to your face and use you as some stage prop?

Apparently—surprisingly—it was none of that.

"In that time I spent locked away from the world and resenting it with all my being, my thoughts ran back to you in search of comfort. My mind took me back to the night you took me in and gave me the prestigious title as your familiar.. The day you gave me a purpose other than to hate the world so much that my flames of hatred would one day brun everything in Teyvat to ash.. I remember every feeling that coursed through my veins that night and it made me realize—"

"Stop!" She mustered up the strength to scream, "Stop.." She repeated, that strength having promptly left her and leaving her with nothing but mere crumbs of intensity to speak with, "Please..don't say anymore.. I don't want to hear it.."

"Why not, my lady?" You questioned as you used your strength to pry her hands away from her face as you waited for a response, which she gave eventually with her previous ferocity returning. ..Unfortunately, her weeps had made her fiery words come out damp, jumbled, and shaky..

"It's because I don't deserve it! I- I- I don't deserve your loyalty-! I don't deserve you or anything you give me! Not after.. N- Not after.. Not after all that I did! I— I.." Like blowing steam from a train, she quickly ran out of gas and was left puffing, sputtering, and whimpering like some novice actress who had forgotten her lines during the most emotional part of a play.

..But despite that, you still sat and watched her nonetheless. You listened and took in her every hiccup and blubber like some diehard fan. And, when her sorry performance came to an end, you even blessed her with the gift of your warm embrace.

You stayed like that, letting her sniffle and sob into your shoulder until her tears dried up and her throat was too raw to snivel out nonesense. It was a courtesy she didn't deserve yet you granted her regardless..

"After I had come to peace with eerything that had happened, I went to Palais Mermonia and talked to Monsieur Neuvilette where we both agreed that I should step down from my position as the Hydro Archon's Familiar and assistant of the ludex," You confessed, and you can tell by her sudden stiffness and that ghost of a gasp she let out that she was surprised. You found it such a cute reaction.

You knew that she wanted to question you, ridicule you—something that would make you realize how dumb that decision was, but after bleeding on stage, her throat was so sore that even the simplest of words felt like knives. You'll admit that you're partially thankful of that, especially since that meant you would be spared of any distateful words for a little while, especially after the words you said next..

"I love you, my lady," You told her, "I love you more than anything in this world and in a way a familiar shouldn't dare to feel about their master; that's what I realized during my break from the world. During the time I spent away from you.."

"I realized that not having you in my life would be more painful than any death sentence or punishment, and because of that, I grew selfish and I acted on my own..so.." You pull away and the remnants of her tears chase after you—an action she has to resist letting her entire body mimic. She watches you, her mismatch eyes widening like a desert platter when you bend your head until it makes contact with your crossed arms on her lap; a sight that would remind one of a devout follower pleading with their god.

"..Will you forgive my selfishness, allow me to indulge in this feeling, and pursue my desires?" You asked her in such a sweet tone that her heart—that had been clouded and choked by unease and trepidation—was coated in this sugary, tooth-rotting wisp that sent her heart into this feeling of sickening bliss..

And as a silent thank you for relieving her chest of the heavy feeling, she decided to put on her cracked mask and step back onto the ruined stage for just a moment and ask you in a quivering tone, "And what are those desires exactly?"

"To be by your side again," You replied immediately, "I showed you that I can still serve a be useful to you and it doesn't matter what I'd be to you either! Just allow me to bask in your presence for the rest of your mortal days, my lady. I'd do anything for that pleasure.."

"You shouldn't," Her voice was cracking so much that a broken mirror had paled in comparison. It hurt so much to speak right now, but she forced herself to talk anyways, just for you, "You're so much greater than me.."

"Not anymore," You retorted, looking up at her, "Now, I'm just a regular civilain of Fontaine just like you. I have no power, no status, nothing.. I gave all of that up without a second thought for you and I'd do it a million times over if you so wished."

She chuckled. Yes, chuckled at your words. There was no humor to be found, though, as she was she couldn't believe how ironic and absurd this all was; a formerly reserved kitsune who once bore a heart of stone and was incapable of understanding, feeling, or sympathize with the feelings and well being of those around them, who despised the world for merely existing in their presence..was now begging to be by her so that they could essentially experience internal bliss everyday for the next century if they're lucky.

She chuckled again at herself, this time out of disbelief of herself and how hot her face was getting because of that irony.

She truly was a horrible person. A liar. A fraud..and yet, you kneeled at her knees and begged her to allow you to spend the rest of your life—which she will no longer be able to live to see the end of—with her. It was such an insane ending to this play, one that would surely turn off many of the audience members—but she didn't mind it as much as she thought she would.

"Such a stubborn fox you are," She says as she ever so gently caresses the fluffy ear atop your head, feeling them twitch from sensitivity under her touch, "..But I suppose I'm mostly to blame for your behavior. After all, I taught you everything except how to give up when the situation calls for it.." She sighs.

"I..suppose that I wouldn't mind some company from a fellow civilain of Fontaine.." She croaked rather bashfully and your entire demeanor perked up.

"Thank you, my—!" "Before anything's set in stone though," She withdraws her hand to hold it up, further telling you to halt your celebration. You freeze as prompted and after seeing you do so, Furina finally continues..

"I have one last request—er, command to make to you," She says and you slowly nod along to her every word like a puppy patiently waiting for their next instruction.

Whatever she asked, you already told yourself you'd do, without question. If she wanted one hundred boxes of pastries by the time she woke up tommorow, you'd jump to it. If she asked you to stand on the top of the Opera Epiclese and profess to the world how much you loved and cherished her, you'd gladly adhere! Anything for her!

"You can't refer to me by 'my lady' from this point on."

..Huh? You blinked. She wanted you to..do that? Of all the things to ask for..and she wishes to discard the title she has earned and that you've been referring to her as for literal centuries?

"B- But, my- Lady Furina—" "Ah, ah, ah.." She cut off, albeit as softly as a flower petal falling onto someone's hair, "No honorifics or titles. You may only call me by name."

It was a simple request in hindsight, but would you be able to abide by it? To you, it was as if she asked you to defeat the Traveler and Monsieur Neuviellete simultaneously in battle while both of your hands were tied..

But it seems your fair lady had no sympathy about doing this to you, "So? What about it? If you can't do something as simple as that, I can't grant you the wish of remaining at my side," She egged on, and that gave just the right push for you to say, "No! I- I can do that for you, easy!"

"Then? Go on. Say my name," And she stared at you with that expectant gaze that brought you back to the same old times she wanted nothing more than to bury. It surely was a twist to her character.

"F.. My.. Miss F- Furina," You stammered, and odd enough, your face grew hot at hearing her name coated in your tone and voice, "..Would it be too much to ask to stay by your side?" By that point, you couldn't continue staring in her eyes and found comfort in burying your face in her thighs.

"Hmph.. I suppose that's good enough. We can always work on it," She said, "And I suppose that it wouldn't be too much trouble of a request.."

It took a moment, but your joy overcame your embarrassment and you lifted your head once again, flashing her the widest, toothiest smile she's ever seen on your face. If anyone else were to behold this sight, they'd truly dedicate hours of their busy day to paint it..or at least simply marvel at the sight of it. Though, as fatuous as it was, she found herself almost uncomfortable at the thought of you showing this smile to anyone other than her.

"Moving on from all of that.. Tommorow I'll have to seek someone out to rennovate this place," She said and your head tilts, your ears leaning.

"Why?" You asked, and to that, she gave you an equally confused look.

"Well, first off you have nowhere to sleep. Surely you wouldn't be fine with sleeping on my couch for a century.."

"But can't I just share a bed with you?" You questioned, and you watched as Furina's entire face and body became redder than strawberry jam.

"Excuse me?!" She shouted, "W- What do you take me for? Some harlot surely to suggest such a thing!"

You merely laugh, both at her sudden flustered appearance and the nostalgia her yelling brings to you. It's a shame Furina didn't seem feel that same rush.

"What's so funny?!" She asked, her eyes following you sharply as you stood up.

"You are," You answered honestly before turning on your heel, "Now, it is late so we should get to bed! I'll clean everything up tommorow morning when I come down to make breakfast."

"What do you— Hey! Don't just waltz around my house as if it's yours! A- At least shower first before laying on my bed! I just washed those sheets! Hey, are you listening, Y/n?!"

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Congratulations to the official winner of the fuck-you-up music tournament of tumblr!!!!!

Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen!

With second place going to Fast Car by Tracy Chapman!

And third place being claimed by Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen!

And that's it, officially the end.... of this round! As it turns out, I can't get enough of running this tournament, discovering new music, reading people rant and rave in the tags, so the fuck-you-up music tournament will continue with a brand new bracket! Featuring brand new songs!

Submissions for the second bracket will open in a week or so, along with the submission rules. I can't wait to get started all over again, so get your submissions ready! Let's get fucked up all over again!

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

Prof. Xiao-Long AU Concept

Note this one is way longer since it did in fact win the polls

Yang Xiao freaking Long was just what her name would suggest XL, bigger then life, the center of attention and life of the party! She was arguably the toughest gal to step through Beacon’s doors. At worst she was tied with her partner Glyn.

They were the strongest duo, Glynda’s ability to bullshit just about everything with her telekinesis and Yang packing enough raw strength to shatter boulders with just a punch. Heck, they were the two time Vytal Festival Winners of Beacon’s Golden era, Even STRQ came second to them.

And that team had her brother Taiyang in it, okay, true it did have the clearance sell, looking knock off of her too, Raven definitely dragged them down… No, she was not pissed at the bandit at all, nope, not a single inch of rage for abandoning her team, leaving her brother broken hearted, she totally didn’t spend months tracking her down and wrecking every member of the Branwen tribe’s shit that she could.

Well regardless she’d gotten over that who issue with her brother’s team, graduated, spent a few years living the dream, journeying around Remnant, helping people, exploring, just outright enjoying freedom. Life had been good. But eventually she got bored of it, bored of it, turns out Yang wasn’t for the lone wanderer shtick, didn’t live up to the hype…

It got lonely, and then her brothers wife died… Summer, Summer disappeared and Tai went into a depression. him remaining teammate Qrow tried, but he could only do so much, and she knew he was avoiding spending a lot of time with them cuz of his semblance the idiot. So she made her decision without hesitation, Yang starting crashing at her brother’s place and helping him with Ruby while beating the depression outta him.

And thankfully Glyn had a job she could work, a Professor at Beacon, she tried to get one at Signal but in her partner’s own words “That School already has to Suffer One Xiao-Long, why would you curse them with two.” And hence begun her domestic life as the stand-in mom for her adorable silver-eyed niece. And Yang realized she was freaking Maternal has all hell! Like Whoa, the amount of times people assumed she was Rube’s mom was scary, and not just cuz it implied she was banging her brother.

And hey, she was a pretty great teacher too, sure she was really more a couch, and every once in a blue mom stand in for Port but hey when she did the students were a heck of a lot more invested in her telling them about her past glory. It had nothing to do with her love of high cut tee’s she swore, she was just that charismatic.

Life was good…

-0-0-0-

LIFE WAS NOT GOOD!!!! She Was Gonna Murder Thos Little Turds! Few Things were as precious to Yang as her hair, and they, her students had abused her trust! She could understand a pulling pranks, heck she still pulled them on her fellow teachers. But The Fuck! CUT SOMEONE HAIR WHEN THEY SLEPT!!!

Beacon was starting up in several weeks! And she was gonna have to show her face now! With her hair like this!

Oh She Wasn’t Fooled For A Fucking Second!!!

This Had Bitch Written All Over It! It had to be those girls who’d been giving her the stink eyed just cuz the boys she taught couldn’t pull their eyes off their bombshell of a teacher! Or Maybe it was one of those douchebag students she put in their place when she caught them claiming they’d bed her.

The fact of the matter was she didn’t technically have concrete evidence of who it was, all she did know was when she went to bed she was fine and when she woke up she felt horrifyingly light. Her beautiful locks of golden magnificent hair scattered across the ground. All she saw after that was red, too bad her partner was there otherwise she could’ve slaughtered the perpetrator, true she would’ve ended up killing a few innocent students, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made for the greater good, and were they really innocent if they just sat there and let such a tragedy happen!

They were lucky her partner Glynda was there to restrain her with several dozen times gravity being forced down upon her. And now here she was in Vale, already on her fourth group of A-Grade assholes clobbered for trying to pick up a red-eyed and incredibly pissed off Yang.

She stopped before it, a salon, one Ozpin had recommended, and one whose life and current state of function was on the line. Because if even an inch more of her remaining beautiful hair was ruined there would be hell to pay.

On the plus side they all seemed to know who she was, a negative is that that also meant every stylist was hesitant to do said firey dragon’s hair. She couldn’t blame them but if someone didn’t hike up their skirt and do something soon she’d-

“Ma’am, th-this way please, our new hire offered to do you hair.” Her eye twitched, a new hire, what the hell, she was ready to tear into him before a voice cut in.

“Hey can you calm down please, your kinda scaring everyone.” She blinked before looking up and meeting eyes with a fellow blonde. A guy around her student’s age, one who was standing up, facing her down with a stern look.

Your scaring the kids her with their parents, she noticed that in fact he was right as she saw some kids looking at her and backing away. And… She suddenly felt terrible. And when she went lack she heard it, a relieved exhale leave her fellow blonde, looking his way she met the boy’s gaze and felt a bit embarrassed.  Leave it to her to go and get worked up and have a kid around her niece age tell her off.

The boy examined her, or to be more precise her hair and she saw his eyes narrow with recognition.

“Prank gone wrong?” She growled.

“No, I think it went just how those little shits wanted it to.” He blinked before shaking his head.

“Well then guess they could count their lucky stars they didn’t do that to a sister of mine or they wouldn’t live to regret it.” That made her smile.

“Oh trust me, I intend to do just that.” The blonde chuckled, shaking his head.

“Well hopefully not with your hair like that you won’t, kinda hard to instill fear in them while their laughing at the result of their prank. C’mon, let’s fix that.” Turning her made his way to a chair, expecting her to follow as he walked confidently to it. She blinked again, well, the new guy was definitely interesting, few people had it in them to sass her while her hair was so much as touched let alone ruined like this.

“Hey you just gonna stand there and gawk or do you want me to fix your hair.” She couldn’t help it, nobody talked about touching her hair.

“If you mess it up I’ll mess you up blondie.” Instead of the usual whimper or retreat the blonde boy… smiled?

“’Snort’ You sound just like my sis Beryl, relax, I have experience with styling long, blonde fine hair okay, your in good hands.” She rose brow, but slowly started to make her way to him. Noticing a picture of a boy and seven girls stuck up in his station.

“Whoa, is that you with all your cousins or something?” He laughed.

“Sisters actually, and I’ve done each of their hairs more times then I can count.” Okay, she was willing to risk it, at the very least the kid had experience. So she plopped herself down and let him do his magic… Okay so she might’ve had to stop herself once or twice from decking him when he touched her hair.

But hey his small talk took her mind off it, heck she only threatened him once when he pulled out the clippers. The boy seemed totally in his element. They talked about tons while he worked his magic, washing, shampooing and clipping her hair.

Eventually she begun asking how long he’d been doing this, she was surprised when he admitted this was his third and last week at the place. Something about needing extra money and having picked up several jobs before he hopefully got into his dream school. She couldn’t get much more details outta him, the boy was very cagey about it.

Finally thought he moment of truth came out and she saw… A pretty good looking cut, a bit shooter then what she’d come in with but not bad. In fact she was sorta digging it! Huh? Who’d’ve thought she could pull off a short due just as epically as she could a long one.

She grinned the boys way, walked up to him and gave him a full on huge, lifting the blonde up in the air as she did. And suddenly he went from her confident sassy groomer to a flustered, confused mess of a teen as socially awkward as her own niece.

It was honestly kinda endearing, guess he was the sort who just got in the zone when it came to doing their job. Well not like she was gonna complain he was so freaking expressive now it was actually kinda hilarious not to mention a bit adorable. She teased him once or twice, and got the boy to fluster pretty bad before she gave him a big fat tip that hit the triple digits. Hey her hair was a treasure, he earned it in her not so humble opinion.

And so she walked out and made her way back to Beacon, all smiles and snark as usual, much to her fellow staffs relief… Until the next day. Where she realized she couldn’t style her hair the exact way the guy had! Made sense, she never had short hair after all!

She made a mad dash back to that salon… Only to find out he wasn’t working there anymore… WHAT!? She had to all but threaten the boy’s name outta the manager! Yes! She threatened a civilian, but this was important! And she got exactly what she needed, a name.

Jaune Arc.

She rushed to Juniors, needing to use Vale’s best info broker to find out the single most important information in the entire kingdom… Why the hell did he go on about Torchwick and White Fang when she said that. Obviously the info she meant was on the blonde stylist!

He blinked at her, and then asked about the name again… Then went pale. And then called Jaune over, apparently one of the jobs he was working also happened to be here as a bartender. One look at her and he flustered going all red face… Yeah, she did dress up, she was in a club after all, had to look good. Glad to see she still had it, not that it was ever up for debate.

Anyways she had him now, made her demand had him promise to teach her how to do her hair, and until then would have him do it. She’d pay him obviously, she wasn’t a monster, and a guy who could actually style her glorious hair was worth his weight in gold.

He told her she’d have to wait till his break, she was about to drag him off as her waiting simply wasn’t a option, until he offered to give her a free drink, a thanks for the huge tip she gave him yesterday. Well, she was already in Vale so why not… And again he shocked her!

Seriously what had she been drinking up until this point? Cuz it sure as hell wasn’t a Strawberry Sunsrise compared to the one he served her. She was about to ask, but he seemed to pick up on her question and gave the answer of ‘Seven sisters’ which just sorta answered it, guess a few of them liked drinks.

And he was back to being mister focused on his craft, sassy and cool as a cucumber… She just had to mess with him. Wasn’t hard, just a little shake here, a suggestive pun there and a wink or two and the boy went cherry red.

It was the best time she had out in a good minute, and then slowly, things started to relax and she fell into that age old troupe of shooting the breeze her the bartender. Talking about her brother and niece who’d get into Beacon this year and how freaking proud of her she was.

It was great, fun, and she was… tipsy, so maybe when his break came around she chose to drag him to the dance floor for some fun instead of out to do her hair… And once again he surprised her with another skill of his. Jaune Arc, could dance.

He even dared suggest he was better then her… the nerve. She had to prove to him wrong, she just had to. So they spent his whole break dancing, drinking, laughing and just having fun, and one stink eye from her and Junior let her new young buddy take the rest of the night off.

And then everything went dark and she woke up in a bed, naked… Oh no.

Then she realized thank Oum there was no blonde boy right by her, instead her Scroll had a message, saying how he’d taken her to one of junior’s rooms to rest after she’d gotten wasted. And how he swore he left the room when she started to strip…

Yeah, that sounded like her when she got three sheets to the wind, he also sent her a message about how to do her hair. She asked Junior about the blonde but the guy insisted he was just a temporary hire.

-0-0-0-

Well, it was time her baby niece’s first day was upon them! It took everything she had not to charge up grab little ruby up in a huge and completely embarrass her in front of everyone of her potential classmates.

Yang might’ve been wary of Ozpin when he first suggested it but still, she was aiming to enjoy this, to watch her niece, thrive in Beacon, to make a name for herself and have the best experience she cou- And she exploded…

Then some little white haired bitch started hounding her niece! She readied to walk up there and clobber the uppity brat. But before she could the spoiled brat left when some other goth looking chick got in the way. The black themed kid left too, leaving her poor niece all alone looking miserable!

She readied to make way only for the last person she expected to show up.

“Jaune?”

-0-0-0-

She stood with Ozzy and Glyn watching things go down in the emerald forest, watching her niece having the misfortune of teaming up with the bratty Schnee. But there was also someone else who interested her, Jaune Arc, AKA her personal stylist, bartender and clubbing escort to be the next four years of Beacon.

What could she say, the kid was a man of many talents that she very much appreciated. She’d looked his files over, and yep… Guy had fake transcripts, so that’s why he needed all that extra scratch. Still though, considering they had a ex-terrorist in their roster this year she couldn’t view it too negatively, heck Qrow had been a freaking bandit.

Also, the kid really wanted this, I mean guy let Ozzy launch him into the forest… without aura! Yeah that was a shocker, the fact the kid was even willing to fight Grimm with having aura much less knowing what it was spoke volumes to his bravery, stupidity too yes, but mostly bravery. And hey, when the cereal girl herself unlocked it turned out he had a bunch.

Yep this year was shaping up to be a interesting one.

-0-0-0-

Glynda didn’t know what to think of how Yang was acting, given she rarely knew what to do when it came to said brawler, but moreso today the usual, Yang was acting quite perplexing, well more then usual. Focusing on miss Rose she could understand, the woman all but raised the silver-eyed warrior after all. But her interest also seemed to focus on a second individual as well.

Mister Arc, a student she still had doubts about, but who also seemed to gain her partners attention, she sighed for the poor student. She didn’t wish her partner’s teasing on anyone, much less a seemingly easy to fluster first year like him.

Oh well, she supposed sacrifices had to be made for the greater good, a happy or at the very least entertained Xiao-Long mean much less collateral damage for the school and free time for herself. Perhaps she could offer him a bit of favoritism for such a burden, he did have a lot of aura, she supposed she could give him advise on control of it, he’d need it in case her partner ever tried to spare with the poor thing after all.

-0-0-0-

Okay, this was not good, Yang had not expected Jaune to be in Beacon, much less for him to befriend her precious niece and be such good friends with her… What was this kid? He could, do hair, make drinks, dance and could even be a reliable man when the chips were down if him turning back to help against the Deathstalker was any indication.

Seriously, the kid didn’t even have aura for a full hour and yet he turned to face a grimm most huntsman would think twice about facing much less potential first years. And all for some strangers… Yep she didn’t care if his transcripts were real or not, Jaune earned his place in the school with that bit of bravery there.

She nearly laughed when he was declared leader of his team, not cause it was funny, kid was the obvious choose, he was quick the decide, enact and didn’t hesitate. Hell, he had no actual training and yet when the chips were down he lead three people he didn’t even know the name of into battle.

Ozpin would have to be blind not to pick him, at the after party she made her way right to him ready to tease him to high heaven. But instead caught him talking to one of his sisters, well her her wife and… And. AND THE MOST ADORBLE THING SHE’D SEEN SINCE BABY RUBY!!!

Apparently, it was his nephew Adrian! So yeah she sorta cut in and got involved, talked to his sister, baby talked his cute nephew and informed said sister that her little brother was on the fast track to being a kick butt huntsman. What? you didn’t it so many checkmarks with her and not get a few benefits for it. Yang Xiao-Long was the kinda teacher who definitely played favorites, and Jaune Arc was certainly one of them.

-0-0-0-

Yang did not know what to do… Well, that wasn’t true, she knew exactly what she wanted to do, or to be more specific… Who.

How had it come to this!? Seriously, she just didn’t know what to do… Okay, maybe she should back up a sec and explain. So she, Yang Xiao-Long, Huntress extraordinaire, hottest teacher in Beacon (Okay… Maybe Glynda and her were tied) was lowkey crushing on one of her students…

No! It was not Blake! She didn’t get why Port assumed that? Nope, she had found herself thinking of and gioving extra attention to Jaune, yep, Jaune, mister fake it till he made it. HE JUST CHECKED OFF ALL THE THINGS SHE WAS LOOKING FOR IN A GUY!!!

Yeah, she was surprised too, as it turned out, you didn’t need to be a huge giant of muscles like Yatsuhashi or that transfer student Sage. Nope, lean was good too, maybe not Lie Ren lean but a nice in-between. And Jaune Arc hit that sweet spot, heck he was decently built even before Beacon, it was just more like a farmboy than a actual knight. But now, ‘heh’ Yang very much approved his teammate Nora’s insistence on weightlifting.

He was blonde! Which yeah maybe that wasn’t strictly necessary for him to catch her eyes but it didn’t hurt. He got along with her niece, heck he was her first friend in Beacon. And he was brave, something she knew when he turned back to help his team against that Deathstalker during his Initiation.

He proved it again though about a month later when he saved Cardin Winchester against a Ursa Major, now that said a lot about him. While his team ran for their lives Jaune stood his ground and fought to save his bully… the threatened him to not mess with his friends… Yeah, that was when she realized he was on her radar.

More then that he checked off things she didn’t even know she was looking for a guy, he was good with hair (though not his own if that mop of blonde was any indication), dancing drinks, And Oh My God Cooking! The Boy Could Cook! Again Thank Oum For His Sisters and Mom For Forcing Him To Learn Those Glorious Glorious Domestic Skills! But More Then That thank Mama Arc for giving him that ass!

And she was perving on Jaune again… Great. Ugh she needed to settle this already, heck she wasn’t even able to hide it anymore. The Staff totally made fun of her over it even!

But like, she didn’t wanna be all weird, plus the blonde liked the little icy no tit princess, and she was in a mood again… Was she really jealous of a teenager who was built like a ironing board… Yes, yes she was and that more then anything else infuriated her.

Heck he was on a team with Pyrrha-Obvious-Nikos! At least Yang could accept losing to the spartan! Okay… Maybe lose was a bit much. After all if she went for it she would nab that blonde up in a second. So why didn’t she?

Cause, cause she was a teacher… Y-yeah, that was it, totally not because she had cold feet, and never been in a relationship that lasted more then a weekend… Gods Dammit.

And then she stumbled upon it, Jaune and her partner training, Glynda had taken a shine to Jaune, not at first, her partner was pretty peeved about the whole Transcripts thing. But after a few weeks her favorite student (Ruby being the exception) had used his Arc charm on her.

Glyn was a bit softy underneath all that stern strictness of her’s. Wait? Was she… checking him out? Yep, Glyn was focusing pretty hard on her blonde Himbo’s ass… And she was touching him! WAIT WHAT!? Glyn Didn’t Touch People, She didn’t need to with her semblance! Why Would She… OH THAT BITCH!!!

That’s right Glynda had been benefiting from Jaune’s talents as much as she was, actually he was also helping her with paperwork apparently (something about paying her back for the aura control lessons) NO NO NOOO!

She was not losing Jaune To Her Partner and the stick up her ass! Yang never thought of herself as the jealous type but here she was, going into her room and grabbing some of her risqué clothes… Yeah they were pretty old, she at least went up to cup sizes since she last wore this to… Perfect.

Now all she needed was a night to alter them, thank Oum she was used to sewing cause of Ruby. And she was ready, and as she stepped into class, ready to teach unashamed and with a cocky smile on her face she looked to her mark. Jaune Arc much like the other boys in her class was staring just like she wanted him to.

Yep, Yang Xiao-Long might’ve been scared of screwing up, of causing issues for Jaune or more importantly Beacon and the moral implications of a teacher screwing her student, but that all came second, because more then that she refused to lose to anyone. And now that Glynda might be in the competition she wasn’t gonna hold back.

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

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Summary: You thought planning your wedding was going to be a magical memory. You didn't realize that it might make you second guess everything.

Pairing: Fiancée Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Hurt-ComfortWarnings: Explicit Sex, Toxic Family Dynamics, Arguments, Sex Toys, Self Doubt, Over Thinking, Yoongi Overworking Himself, Reader Needs To Speak Up.

A/N: I started chapter 8, and my goodness did it get dramatic.

“They both look the same to me,” Yoongi says as he examines the invitations that he is holding in his hands.

He rests his elbows on his knees as he sits on his leather couch. His dark eyes dart between the two wedding invitations in his hands, pondering over which one he likes best. You sit across from him patiently waiting for him to make his decision. You think that he looks cute looking at them with such sharp attention.

“No, no, one is black with white writing and the other is white with black writing,” you tell him as you watch his eyes continue to go back and forth between the 5x7 pieces of cardstock. “And, supposedly, they are in two different fonts.”

“They are literally the same font,” he tells you as he brings them closer to his face to examine the lettering more carefully.

“I said supposedly,” you defend.

“They look the same,” he repeats once again. “I like the black with white writing,” Yoongi finally decided and handed them both back to you. You place the winner in your bag and throw the other on his table to recycle later. “I like the little bow on it, too. It was a nice touch.”

“Great, now what about a plated dinner for the reception or a buffet style? Plated options would be the normal chicken, steak, or fish,” you ask next. “The winery offers charcuterie boards as appetizers, but we are responsible for the catering.”

Yoongi leans back on his couch and cocks his head to the side in thought as he crosses his arms over his chest. He looks quite relaxed in his contemplation as he rests his ankle over his knee. It makes you happy that he is weighing his options carefully. That he is taking this seriously. Jimin and Hobi were actually the ones to give you the idea to narrow some easy choices down and let Yoongi pick from there. You had easily agreed with them hoping that by doing this it would feel like Yoongi was actually helping you. You also knew that he probably felt guilty for not helping as much as he should and that made you feel guilty in return for him feeling guilty. So, in the end you hoped it would ease his worries, your stress and all the damn guilt.

“Buffet, more options that way,” he says with a satisfied nod. “We could have a noodle bar, and maybe we can have your oh so precious rolls catered.”

“That is the best idea ever. Jisoo offered to call around to places and get some prices once we decided,” You tell him as you take out your phone to text her. “We have to get our guest list done sooner than later. The invitations will take about two weeks to get here once I put in the order. I only have like seven people to invite, and two are in the wedding, so the guest list is mainly up to you.”

“Come here, baby,” Yoongi says, patting the couch cushion next to him. “Let's relax for a minute.”

You get up from his chair, place your phone on his table, and make your way to sit next to him. Yoongi slings his arm around you as he reclines back against the cushions, taking you with him. You turn into his body and lay your cheek on his chest, taking in the sound of his thumping heartbeat. Your finger absentmindedly traces the smooth black vinyl letters on his white shirt as you close your eyes in relaxation.

“We need to hire a photographer as well,” you comment.

“Baby, relax,” Yoongi commands you softly.

Moments like this are a few and far between for the two of you. Usually, when you're here, it's to drop off food during your lunch break or to clean up for him quickly before you head home for another night alone in a cold bed. His studio has pretty much become his main place of living. Although you would rather be in your shared apartment, you don't want to take this moment for granted. He's here. You're here. The both of you together and enjoying an actual moment together. It doesn't matter how small of a moment it is. You are going to cherish it.

“Where do you think you would be if we never met again?” He asks quietly as his thumb draws small circles on the back of your shoulder.

“What?” You ask with a light laugh. You look up at him, resting your chin on his chest, but his eyes are closed. “What are you talking about? Where did that question even come from?”

“Let's say, I left earlier that night from the restaurant and didn't see you. What if I just didn't recognize you? What if I wasn't hungry that night and didn't go with Hobi and Jimin? What would you be doing right now?” he asked again. His eyes still remained closed as his thumb still continued with the lazy circles.

“Umm,” you had to think for a minute. “I guess I would probably still be working at that horrible office just barely scraping by. I wouldn't have had a reason to quit. My family situation probably would have never changed. I would probably be drinking wine with the girls as Lisa tells Jisoo and I about her latest boyfriend. Everything would probably be the same as before. Lonely and monotonous.”

“You don't think you would have been dating anyone?” he asked next, his hand running up and down the expanse of your back and side.

“Well, I mean, Kai was putting his best moves on me,” you say jokingly and smirking up at him. “You know he is a pretty big deal, right? Model, actor, and now singer. Damn, I missed my chance.”

Yoongi growled at you and threw himself on top of your body. You fall onto your side, landing on the unoccupied cushions as his fingers dance along your sides, tickling you underneath your shirt. Laughing, you try to push him off you, but he is way too strong for you.

“Apologize and take it back,” he growls into your neck as his fingers still tickle your side. His teeth lightly sink into the smooth skin of your neck. “Take it back, now.”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Yoongi, please,” you laugh out loud as your hands lightly slap him away.

Yoongi finally pulls away and brings you back into your original position. You wrap your arm around his stomach and sling your leg over his. He is so warm, and you just want to soak in it. You want to close your eyes and go to sleep surrounded by that warmth. Surrounded by his scent, which barely lingers on his pillow anymore. You wish you could wrap it all up and take it home with you. Maybe it would make you feel a little less lonely.

“You know that little weasel is around here somewhere,” he informs you as he closes his eyes again, holding you tighter to him. “He's working with Hobi, I think. I kind of skipped the email when I saw his name attached to it.”

“I don't care about him,” you say, snuggling against him more. You slid your hand up his shirt and rested it on his bare chest. You just needed to feel his skin. “I don't know, honestly. I'm sure Lisa would have a string of blind dates lined up for me, and I would make up some sort of excuse to cancel on them. I really don't think that I would be seeing anyone. What about you?”

“What about me?” he asks, finally opening his eyes and looking down at you.

“Okay, let's say you had a girlfriend when we met outside the bar. What would have happened then?” You counter. “I would like to assume that we wouldn't have gone home together that night.”

“That would have never happened,” he said with certainty and a shake of his head. “I didn't date.”

“Like at all?” You raise an eyebrow in question and look at him warily. “Was there no one after my sister?”

“Oh there were women…I…just didn't date them,” he said, smirking. You poke him hard on his side. “Ow, violent.”

“Seriously, I answered your question,” you pout. “Answer my question honestly.”

“Okay, if I had a girlfriend,” he said with a sigh and a tilt of his head. “I wouldn't have cheated, but I wouldn't have stayed with her. I don't think I could have gone through life with you just being a friend. I tried just being your friend before and look what happened there.”

You hear your phone chime. You sigh, you know that it is probably your mom, but hopefully it's Jisoo answering you back. You've been ignoring your mom since your little outburst on the phone the other day. She even got your dad and his girlfriend to text you to figure out what was going on. You explained to them that you were pretty sure she was trying to build her own dream wedding. He told you just to ignore her, and his girlfriend was ready to tell her to shove it where the sun didn't shine.

“Do you want to know something?” you ask quietly, ignoring your phone on the table.

“What?” he asks just as quietly.

“You were only my second,” you admit, and you bite your lip at your admission.

He shifts you a little bit so he can fully look at you. His eyes study your face, resting on his chest with confusion swirling in dark eyes. His eyebrows furrow, and he purses his lips in thought. You don’t know why he is taking so long to answer. His silence is making you nervous. It's making you feel like you should have never said anything. It made you feel like such a loser admitting your inexperience as if he probably couldn't tell the first time you were together.

“What do you mean I'm you second? I'm your second, what?” he asked, still confused.

“You know,” you mumble, your face turning red. “The second guy I ever…” you drift off and cast your eyes away from him.

“Fucked?” he asked with pure surprise on his face. “Really?”

“Yes and don't say it like that,” you say, hiding your face in his chest. “Why do you sound so surprised? I'm awkward, and it was always worse around boys.”

“Baby, you're fucking beautiful,” he tells you.

Your eyes take a peek up at him. His face is serious. He gently moves the hair out of your face that had fallen obstructing his view of you. His eyes are soft as they look at you, and you want to hide away from them.

“You're biased,” you whisper, and he shakes his head no. “Yes, you are.”

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you again. You look up at him again, and he seems lost in thought. His eyebrows are furrowed as if he is thinking hard.

“Was it that kid?” he asked, suddenly sitting up and his eyes widened in realization.

“Who?” you asked in confusion, sitting up right next to him.

“That Woo….whatever his name was,” he asked. “That little shit who you got drunk with at that dance.”

“Wooseok?” You asked, throwing your head back laughing.

“Don't say his name,’ he said slowly with a deadly glare, making you roll your eyes. “I’ll hunt him down. I swear I will.”

“I told you it didn't go any further than the hickey. I didn't lose my virginity behind an equipment shed with Lisa right next to me,” you assured him, still laughing. “You saw them. He was not in any condition to do anything that night.”

“I always kind of thought you lied to me about that,” he admitted quietly. “I don't want to know who it was. I'm just happy it wasn't him.” He gets quiet and stares at you for a minute before speaking again. “Who was it?”

You laugh and push him back down with your hand to his chest, resuming your previous position. “Do you really want to know?” you asked, and he shook his head no.

“Good because I honestly don't remember his name.” You do honestly try to recall his name…Dave…Devin? You're not even sure it began with a D.

“You know,” he said, breaking you out of your thoughts. “I think that we would have always found each other again.”

“You think?” you ask.

“Jimin and Lisa would have met anyway no matter our timing that night. That means I would have met her as Jimin's girlfriend eventually. Which, in turn, means I would have inquired about you and probably would have asked her for your number. We would have always met. It just would have been a little later.” He explains.

“So, we are kind of destined to be together, huh?” You ask with a small smile on your face.

“Absolutely,” Yoongi kisses the top of your head. His thumb runs back and forth against the skin of your side. “And I wouldn't have it any other way.”

The insistent knocking on your door has you groaning as you get off the couch. Making your way to the door, you open it to see your two best friends carrying a deep red trunk, and it looked like they were struggling with it. Lisa pretty much knocks you out of the way as they enter your apartment, and you have to catch yourself on the wall so you don't fall over. They place the heavy looking trunk down in the middle of the living room and stare at you as they try and catch their breaths.

“Is Yoongi home?” Lisa asked, flinging a piece of her hair out of her face.

“No, why? What is that?” You asked, looking at Jisoo, hoping she will have the answers.

“No idea,” she answers with a shrug. “She wouldn't tell me.”

“Listen, because you and Yoongi are absolutely boring and don't want a bachelor/bachelorette party, I graciously still got you a gift,” Lisa explains and gestures to the decent sized red trunk.

“I'm scared,” you whisper, eyeing the trunk.

“So am I,” Jisoo says, sharing your sentiment.

Lisa smirks and motions for you and Jisoo to help pick the trunk back up. The three of you make your way to the bedroom and together, fling the red trunk on the bed with what little muscles you all had. Thankfully, the physical trunk itself felt heavier than whatever was inside of it.

“Sorry, I didn't think it was this heavy when I ordered it. I should have read the description,” Lisa apologized. “Okay, sweets, open it.”

Your hands undo the two black latches on the front and slowly open the lid. You hear Jisoo gasp and slap something. You are pretty sure that something was Lisa's arm, but you were too much of a shock to really care.

“You got her…toys,” Jisoo hissed. “That is soooo inappropriate. Some things should just stay private.”

“It's just sex toys, and it's for the both of them,” Lisa claps her hands together happily like she did you a favor. “I don't know why you seem so shocked, Jisoo. I've seen what's in your closet. You and Seungkwan get freaky. Good for you! I didn't know that you had it in you.”

Jisoo's eyes widen, and she turns the deepest shade of red that you have ever seen. Without a word, you watch as she practically runs out of your bedroom and down the hall. The slamming of your front door tells you she left. You wonder what the hell she has in her closet, but honestly, you don't want to think of Seungkwan that way.

“Umm, I don't know….thanks….I guess,” you say, turning back to Lisa and her...present.

“Oh come on,” Lisa says, putting her hands on her hips. “You and Yoongi are already like an old married couple. I'm just trying to help you keep the spice alive in the bedroom. He is the strong, silent type, and by my personal experience….they are the best, but they sometimes need a little push.”

“We don't have any issues with that,” you mumble and shuffle your socked feet against the carpet. You think you might just be as red as Jisoo was. “Oh really, when was the last time he was actually home? I'm not talking about a quickie,” Lisa asks you seriously. “When was the last time he actually took his time with you? Jimin said that Yoongi has been sleeping at the studio every night.”

“I don't know,” you admit and look at the…things inside the chest.

“Well, then some of these will definitely help you when you miss him, and some will be fun to use with him,” Lisa said. “Look, you have your standard vibrators in different sizes, shapes, and colors, a personal massager,” she says, holding up the objects one at a time. “This….”

“What is that?” You ask, interrupting her. You grab onto a colorful object that is pink and purple and very, very textured. “Is this a… tentacle?” You whisper in shock.

“Sure is!” she exclaims. “It looks like fun and has a lot of five-star reviews. You'll have to let me know how that one goes. I was thinking about getting me and Jimin one but in a different color because that would be weird if we had the same one.”

“It looks scary,” you correct her and drop it back in the trunk.

“Lighten up, sweets,” Lisa said, hugging you from behind. “I'll leave and let you go through everything in private. Also, if you want a sure-fire way to get your man home. Send him a picture with one of these bad boys. He will come running. Oh, by the way, everything is cleaned and charged.”

With a wink, she leaves you the bedroom alone with the goods that she bought you. Even though you are alone now, your face still heats up when you look at them. You reach your hand in and see there are a few…non scary items in there. Blindfolds and other silk fabrics that look very tame and non-threatening . You gulp hard, however, when you find a pair of what you think are black leather handcuffs. Dropping them back in, you shut the lid quickly and avoid the other objects in the box. One day, maybe you'll find the courage to go through them. Maybe…a big, maybe. You will probably need a couple of drinks first.

You sit down on the bed while latching the red box shut. You are not quite sure how you are supposed to react to Lisa's gift. You've never owned anything like that, and at 23, you shouldn't be getting embarrassed about the thought of using them. Since Yoongi came along, your whole world was thrown upside down when it came to the topic of sex. You finally discovered how good being intimate with someone can make you feel. Not just physically but how it made your heart feel so warm. You almost worry if he will be mad and offended when he sees what was gifted to you. Lisa and obviously Jisoo seem to think that it's perfectly normal to have these kinds of things. You still wonder what's in Jisoo's closet.

Sighing, you stand up and drag the heavy trunk off your bed. It lands on your floor with such a heavy thud that you hope your downstairs neighbor isn't home to complain about it. Pulling with both hands, you drag it over to the closet and push it off to the side and into the corner of the wall. Grabbing one of your many extra blankets that you have stashed away, you throw it on top along with a few of Yoongi's hoodies that were on the floor. You hide it away the best you can , you have no plans to tell Yoongi about it. Absolutely not. Plus, he is never home to find it anyway.

Your phone chimes from the living room. Stepping out of the closet, you walk out of the bedroom. You head to the side table by the couch in the living room where you left your phone laying plugged in and charging. Swiping your phone open. You freeze as you look at the message.

One word.

Two letters.

Hi

Your sister.

《Chapter Four》

Tagged Readers:

@mggv97, @granataepfelchen, @kam9404, @svnbangtansworld, @futuristicenemychaos,

[malk1ns]

january 29 @ utah, 3-2 OT win

hi geno. this was inspo for today's.

sid is rounding into form and had several milestones in this game.

Zhenya understands why sometimes new guys mistake him for part of the equipment staff, or one of the trainers.

It’s been decades since your designation stipulated what types of jobs you’re allowed to have, even in the NHL. There are omegas at all levels these days, and the Penguins hire more than most. With Zhenya’s tendency to mooch around the training facilities in athletic gear, it’s never a surprise when a rookie or a new signing tries to hand off their gear to him, or stop him to ask a question about their rehab plan.

Zhenya’s too nice to turn up his nose and sneer, even though handling sweaty hockey gear even for a second makes him want to hurl. They never make that mistake more than one time anyway, not when they see the symbol on his badge or one of the more established guys comes up to poke fun at them for the misunderstanding. 

Zhenya doesn’t mind. He knows he dresses a little untraditionally for a contracted omega; the girls are usually decked out in skimpy dresses that wouldn’t be out of place at a nightclub, and the guys tend to either wear formalwear or mesh. Anything to stand out.

He hasn’t felt a need to stand out in a long time. It’s not like anyone who counts is going to forget what he’s got on offer.

The rest of the team omegas usually watch games from whatever room the team has set up for them. Zhenya goes sometimes, to mingle with the omegas with other teams he’s known for years and introduce himself to the newbies, but most games find him down in the lounge, taking advantage of the quiet and craft services to have some snacks and zone out on his phone.

He usually keeps the game on in the background, just to keep track of what the mood in the room is going to be after.

This road trip has been pretty ugly, but Zhenya’s watching raptly when Sid backhands in the overtime winner, and the manic smile on his face as the players all pile on him says it all.

He’s on the clock now, so Zhenya beelines to the trainers to get his knee looked at quickly and make sure the muscle he strained in the pickup game he went to last week is in good shape. He manages to skid into the locker room just before Sully starts in on his postgame pep talk.

The omegas always cluster at the far end of the locker room, out of the way of the cameras if they can help it. Zhenya ends up standing next to Evelyn, who gives him a pointed once-over, rolls her eyes, and turns to face the coaching staff.

Evelyn’s new, and she doesn’t like him. Zhenya doesn’t take it personally. Whenever the Penguins contract on a new omega, they always walk into the job thinking they’re going to shoot to the top of the pecking order, that the big prize on the Penguins will lay eyes on them and be so overwhelmed by their scent that he plucks them from the crowd and makes them his favorite.

Evelyn does smell nice, sweet and slightly fruity, like the jam Zhenya likes to stir into his tea. She’ll be popular. She’ll never be a threat, though.

Eventually she’ll come around. Zhenya’s charming and funny, and he’s been able to win over every omega the Penguins have hired over the last 19 years. She’s taking longer than most, admittedly, but he’ll figure her out before the end of the season.

Sid gets the helmet tonight, which isn’t a surprise. The commentary from the team is explicit enough that Zhenya can see the cameraman wincing.

Finally everyone calms down enough for the players to pick their omegas.

Zhenya’s never known how they decide who gets to pick one for the night. There are the obvious ones, of course, the game-winner or the goalie that kept them in the game or the guy who scored his first NHL goal. Outside of that, though, the team has some arcane internal system for deciding who gets a reward for any given game.

It doesn’t matter. Zhenya isn’t like the rest of the omegas, waiting to see who picks them, if anyone. A night off isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but an omega who goes too long without getting selected is in danger of getting traded, or sent to the AHL affiliate, or cut entirely.

Sid will pick last like always, so Zhenya watches the rest of tonight’s winners make their selections.

Ned and Petey, both of whom are far too faithful to their wives to utilize a team omega, cede their choices to Rusty, who isn’t. His grin is sharklike when he pulls two omegas along with him to his stall, and Zhenya snorts, loudly enough to distract Evelyn from where she’s staring at Sid to glare at him again.

Whatever psychic summoning she was trying doesn’t work. Karl picks her, which doesn’t surprise Zhenya at all—he knows everyone’s type. He swings her into his arms as she giggles up at him, batting her eyelashes. Zhenya smiles blandly at her when she shoots a poisonous glare over Karl’s shoulder, then moves his gaze to Sid.

“Boring,” Zhenya hears Tanger mutter as Sid gives to the staffer who’s in charge of writing down their choices Geno’s name.

“Smart,” Zhenya corrects, tilting his head just enough so that his scent starts to fill the room. “Sid gets best, he knows this—why change?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tanger says with an eye roll, but Zhenya doesn’t miss the way his nostrils flare.

Zhenya’s scent has always defied an easy description. There’s something marine about it, salt and wind and ocean spray, but with a base note that’s just on the verge of being unpleasantly spicy. It’s complicated, and it turns heads wherever he goes. Some people hate it, but some—a surprising amount of athletes—find it absolutely irresistible.

None more than Sidney Crosby, who’s making his way across the room, a huge grin on his face.

“Did you watch?” he demands, stopping scant inches from Zhenya. He’s still in his base layers, and if it were anyone else Zhenya would wrinkle his nose and step back, but he’s been conditioned into finding Sid hot no matter what state he’s in—and it doesn’t hurt that his own scent is especially sharp right now, citrus and sugar and gin making Zhenya’s mouth water.

“Such good goal, Sid,” Zhenya praises, watching as Sid’s chest puffs. “Best backhand, like, goalie doesn’t have chance. Great win for team, too.”

“Yeah,” Sid says, looking around the room with a fond smile. The guys who got omegas are all happy, of course, chatting with their picks at their stalls before staff shows up to hustle everyone into the showers and out to the shuttle, but everyone else smells happy too, relief and excitement saturating the air. “We needed it.”

Zhenya’s not a part of the team, not like the players are, but he takes pride in their successes and mourns their rough streaks too. A happy, chattering locker room settles something in him, especially after how dire they’ve been the last week.

“You get for them,” he says, redirecting Sid’s attention back to him. “Surprise you let them give you helmet, though.”

Sid shrugs sheepishly at that. The helmet isn’t meant for players like him, he’d explained to Zhenya years ago. For big milestones, sure, but it’s meant to recognize a guy who did a lot of little things right, or someone who’s been struggling and got the monkey off their back. Sometimes, though, the players insist, and Sid almost always gives in when his team wants something for him.

“Okay,” Tags says, popping up at Sid’s shoulder and smacking his arm. “C’mon, Sid, you know he’s a sure thing, you don’t need to flirt. We need to get packed up and get to the plane. You’ll get him back when we land.”

Sid looks ready to snap something unkind, so Zhenya reaches forward and squeezes Sid’s shoulder, and Sid relaxes, heading obediently back to his stall to strip off the rest of his gear.

Tags watches him go, shaking his head. “Pain in the ass,” he mutters, but it’s fond, just like everyone on the Penguins is when dealing with Sidney Crosby. “Hey, did I see JP at UPMC the other day? You thinking of extending after all?”

Zhenya hesitates, and Tags doesn’t push, giving Zhenya a kind smile as he rushes off to start breaking down the room.

Zhenya’s agent had been in town, it’s true. He’s been fielding calls about Zhenya’s contract status for months, now that Zhenya’s eligible to extend again starting in July, and he’d wanted to meet with Zhenya face-to-face.

He’d left their meeting frustrated, Zhenya knows. He’s not being a very helpful client right now.

He brushes those thoughts away and makes his way to the dry change room to throw sweatpants on over his compression shorts and grab his bag. He’s really looking forward to going home.

—

Technically, omegas and players aren’t supposed to sit together on the plane. There’s something about it in the code of conduct contracts everyone signs, to keep any funny business with team omegas away from team property, but when Sid snags Zhenya as he’s walking down the aisle towards the back and tugs him into the empty seat next to him, nobody has much of a reaction except for Ty, who shakes his head at Sid but keeps walking.

“Sorry,” Sid says, not sounding very sorry at all. “I just didn’t want you walking past everyone.”

Zhenya stares at him, unimpressed. He’s never had any problems with any of these guys. The last time a player joked about picking Zhenya before Sid was able to, Sid had practically dropped fang in the locker room and the guy had been traded a week later. Nobody who’s sitting on this plane is going to give Zhenya a hard time or look at him twice, not after a game like that and with the way Sid’s smelling. “Okay,” he says, making sure he sounds exactly as skeptical as he feels. “So, what we do?”

Sid’s eyes drop to Zhenya’s mouth, but before Zhenya can say a word he shakes his head and leans down to dig through his bag, pulling out his iPad. “Want to watch something?” he says, offering the tablet to Zhenya. “I haven’t watched any more episodes of Severance after the ones we watched together.”

“Me too, was waiting,” Zhenya says, grabbing the iPad and scrolling until he finds the right app. Sid’s found Zhenya’s headphones, a too-expensive pair Sid bought for him a few years ago, and when they’ve got the audio figured out so they both can listen they settle into their chairs.

Sid’s warm against Zhenya’s side, and he smells fantastic, strong and masculine and like a winner. Zhenya shifts in his seat and tries to focus on the show, but his mouth is watering and he thinks he’s getting wet. If Sid notices, he’s too polite to comment on it.

They have to wait until they’re back at Sid’s house. Sitting together is one thing; Sid gets rules bent for him all the time. Starting something with the team all around them, though, might actually have consequences, and Zhenya’s not willing to risk that.

He misses most of what happens in the show. From how Sid’s scent grows, though, he’s not doing much better. They’ll just have to re-watch these episodes some other time.

—

Sid’s restless by the time they touch down at Pittsburgh International. Zhenya spends the last hour of the flight with his hand covering the back of Sid’s neck trying to pump calming pheromones at him, but it’s pretty much a lost cause; he even snarls at Kris when he walks past their row.

Kris just rolls his eyes at them. Zhenya grimaces apologetically and thinks to himself that probably this is why omegas aren’t supposed to sit with the players that picked them on the plane.

Sid bats Zhenya’s hands away from his own carry-on and shepherds him off the plane, practically tripping in his haste to get them both to his car. Zhenya barely manages to toss his keys to a staffer; they’ll get his own car to Sid’s house for him to use in the morning.

If Sid lets him leave tomorrow. Sometimes he doesn’t. That’s not technically allowed either; an omega’s obligation ends after twelve hours, but nobody can dictate what Zhenya does in his off-hours—or who.

Sid relaxes once he’s got Zhenya tucked safely into his passenger seat. The further he drives them away from the airport, the more his shoulders come down, and once they’re pulling into his garage and the gate is closing behind them he’s practically jovial again.

“It was a pretty good game, eh?” he says, hauling their bags inside and dropping them unceremoniously in the mudroom. Zhenya considers making a fuss—he’s got a lot of his nice clothes in there, after all—but for all that Sid’s finally stopped looking around for an active threat, he’s still practically vibrating with pent-up energy and hormones. Zhenya can bill him for his dry-cleaning.

“Great game,” he affirms, letting Sid tow him to the staircase. Sometimes Sid gets like this, needs his ego petted before he’ll let the game go and take his reward. “You get team working together, like, everyone on same page. I’m know you figure out what to do.”

Sid sends a smirk over his shoulder, and Zhenya shivers a little at the show of teeth, suddenly aware on a very primal level that he’s alone with a dominant alpha male that’s strong enough to take him down and keep him there without much effort.

Sid’s smile goes sharp at the turn Zhenya’s scent takes, and the click when he shuts his bedroom door sounds final.

Zhenya hasn’t made his living off reading alphas his entire adult life for nothing, though. He knows what it is Sid really wants tonight.

Before Sid can turn around from closing them into his room, Zhenya’s got him pinned against the door, wedging his hand around Sid’s chin and turning his head so Zhenya can see his face. Sid looks like he’s going to fight it for a second, but Zhenya grinds against him, rubbing his dick along Sid’s ass, and Sid lets out a long breath, deliberately letting his muscles go lax.

“And I figure out what to do with you,” Zhenya coos, trailing his hand down Sid’s torso until he can grope Sid’s dick through his jeans. He’s rock-hard, huge in Zhenya’s hand, and when Zhenya squeezes Sid growls, bucking his hips forward into Zhenya’s grip. “Yeah, you want it bad, I watch you all night and I think to myself, he’s play so good, superstar, I get to have him tonight.”

“Fuck,” Sid hisses through gritted teeth, letting Zhenya manhandle him back to the bed and shove him onto the mattress face-first.

Once he gets Sid naked, Zhenya spends some time groping his ass. He doesn’t get his hands on Sid this way all that often, so he ignores Sid’s whining to really appreciate it.

The omegas from other teams always giggle over Sid when they’re gossiping with Zhenya. He’s more than happy to share tidbits—nothing too personal, of course, nothing that would get either of them in trouble or result in bad press if it went public, but enough to make them jealous, make sure everyone knows what they’re missing out on. They couldn’t even dream of anything like this, though. Sid’s ass is everything that’s been said about it and more.

Zhenya reaches down to palm himself, taking the edge off a little. Sid figures out what he’s doing and struggles under Zhenya’s hold until he manages to flip onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows to stare.

Zhenya’s got a big dick for an omega. It’s nowhere near even the most poorly-endowed alpha, obviously, but he’s proud of it, knows how to use it. When he fucks around with betas and other omegas in the offseason, he does his best to leave them panting and bow-legged.

Sid’s bow-legged enough on his own already, but he’s got a perverse fascination with Zhenya’s dick and balls. Has since the beginning, really, the first time he felt comfortable enough to hint around this as something he wanted sometimes. It turns Zhenya’s crank the way Sid practically drools over his dick.

“You want?” he asks, cupping his balls and tugging meanly, watching Sid’s mouth drop. “Yeah, you do. Big strong alpha, big important captain, everyone wants to say how good you’re play—what if they knew, huh? What if they saw how much you like getting fucked by omega dick? What you think they’re say?”

“Oh my god,” Sid whimpers, reaching forward. Zhenya slaps his hands down, baring his teeth when Sid moans and his dick twitches, drooling precome all over his stomach. “G, please, I need it bad.”

“I know, baby,” Zhenya croons, leaning off to the side to paw through Sid’s nightstand until he finds the lube. “I give to you, nice and hard like you’re deserve.”

Sid lets Zhenya turn him back over and tuck a pillow under his hips, spreading his legs obediently when Zhenya tells him to.

“Good boy,” Zhenya says, watching Sid’s whole body shudder. “I take care now.”

He opens Sid up agonizingly slow. Sid shivers and pants and sweats under him, squirming back for more as Zhenya gets one finger, then two, then three into him.

Sid’s always so tight when they do this. It’s a good thing he doesn’t like alphas, not even for an occasional dalliance, because Zhenya’s not sure there’s enough lube in the world that would let another alpha get at his ass.

There’s plenty for what Zhenya’s working with, though.

Sid’s practically incoherent by the time Zhenya takes himself in hand and lines up against his hole. “Take it now,” he mutters practically to himself, pushing until he’s inside Sid’s body.

He can feel Sid squeeze around him, an instinctive rejection, before he takes a breath and relaxes. When Zhenya pushes all the way in with one smooth thrust, they both moan.

Zhenya goes slowly at first, but when Sid fumbles one arm back and grabs his thigh, he tucks his head, braces his palms on the mattress, and starts to fuck him in earnest.

Sid always goes so, so quiet when he’s getting fucked. It had alarmed Zhenya the first time; he’d stopped, concerned Sid was in pain, or had changed his mind and didn’t know how to say it.

As if Zhenya could ever do anything to Sid that Sid wasn’t explicitly allowing.

Now, Zhenya focuses on his smell, the way the citrus blooms so heavy it’s overripe, almost rotten, the closer Sid gets to the edge. He runs his hands over Sid’s back to feel his muscles clenching and relaxing, the way his hips hitch into the pillow as he rubs himself off.

When Sid’s scent is strong enough that Zhenya feels like he’s practically drunk off the gin lacing through the orange, Zhenya slips his hand under Sid’s torso and squeezes hard where his knot would pop if he were fucking an omega.

Sid howls. His back bows to an almost painful angle as he comes. His dick kicks in Zhenya’s hand, pumping come out at an incredible rate, and Zhenya whines at the feeling, clenching around nothing as he fucks Sid through it. He knows what it feels like when Sid comes inside him, and the smell of Sid’s come kicks at something in his brain that makes him want to fawn and beg.

He grits his teeth and fucks Sid harder instead, holding him to the mattress with the full weight of his body until he grinds in one last time and comes with a grunt.

As soon as he’s got control of his limbs again, Zhenya pulls out and rolls to the side, making sure to give Sid space. They’ve learned the hard way that sometimes Sid’s body reacts in the aftermath before his brain can, and Zhenya isn't interested in spending 20 minutes trying to talk down an angry, hormone-addled alpha who’s got him pinned to the floor tonight.

Sid comes back to himself quickly tonight, and it’s not long before Zhenya finds himself in Sid’s arms, cheek rubbing against Sid’s pec as Sid plays with the hair at the nape of his neck. Zhenya purrs, going boneless at the answering rumble in Sid’s chest.

He’s practically half-asleep when Sid opens his mouth and jolts him back to wakefulness.

“Has Kyle talked to you about your contract?”

Zhenya freezes.

Some of the guys, like Tags earlier, have been tiptoeing around asking him outright. Trust Sidney Crosby to just rip the bandaid off.

The truth is, Kyle’s been asking him to sign for at least another year for months now. He wants Zhenya there for Sid, he’d explained; nobody else knows Sid as well as Zhenya does, nobody can get to him when he needs sense talked into him. Nobody could step into his shoes.

It’s the truth, which doesn’t make it less flattering. Zhenya’s still hesitating, though.

Sid clears his throat. “I mean. I know you’re probably…well, this is your fourth contract here, and I wouldn’t blame you if-—you’ve probably got offers from all over the place, right? You don’t need to stay in Pittsburgh.”

“Yes,” Zhenya says warily. There’s no such thing as tampering rules when it comes to omegas; teams are allowed to submit contract proposals whenever they want. JP’s got a filing cabinet in his office dedicated to the most outlandish offers Zhenya’s gotten over the years. The compensation packages aren’t as outrageous as they were a decade ago, but they’re still lucrative, and there are plenty to choose from.

He could go somewhere warm if he wanted. He could walk into a new locker room, one that’s closer to winning the Cup, and relive the manic adrenaline rush that is a run for the championship one last time. There are options that would cater to whatever whim he wants to indulge.

But…

“I figured,” Sid mutters, and his scent goes briefly sour. “I know that Pittsburgh isn’t…there are other cities. But I was wondering, maybe…I mean, I’d never ask you to quit, not if you didn’t want to, but if you’re thinking that maybe you don’t…” He blows a big gust of air out of his nose, laughing ruefully. “Sorry. This is coming out all wrong. But, I wanted to ask…” He tightens his arms around Zhenya briefly before loosening entirely, rolling Zhenya away from him until they’re face-to-face. “I was wondering, would you consider contracting with…with me, instead. Like, as my omega. Not mine, oh my god, you’re your own person, obviously. But—”

Zhenya lets him babble, staring at him wide-eyed.

Sid’s hinted at this for years now. Zhenya never really took it seriously—alphas say all kinds of shit when they’re knot-deep in an omega’s pussy and drunk on pheromones. Before Sid put unofficial dibs on Zhenya and he’d still get picked by others, he’d been proposed to probably half a dozen times. But…

Sid had emailed him this past August, just a few days before his own contract extension went public. They talk pretty frequently over the summers, just to catch up and chat, but this message had gone a little more serious than their off-season conversations usually do.

I don’t know how much longer I’m going to play, not really, Sid had written. I don’t want to be one of those guys that everyone looks at and shakes their head, like, why isn’t he retiring, doesn’t he see he doesn’t have it anymore—you know? I never want to go out that way. I do know that I don’t want to do it without you, though. Even if you decide to hang them up after you’re done, I hope you’re still around with me.

Zhenya can recite that email word-for-word. Sid hadn’t said a thing about it when they both got back to Pittsburgh for camp so Zhenya hadn’t brought it up either. He’s spent the intervening months wondering, though, and avoiding his agent’s increasingly irritated missives about giving Kyle an answer.

“Yes.” Zhenya interrupts whatever no doubt embarrassing nonsense Sid is stammering his way through. “Yes, I want. Want to stay with you. Be yours.”

[putellasawfc]

mapi leòn as a girlfriend is the type to …

-

gf!mapi is the type to … ramble on at bedtime, the clock ticking away into the early hours of the morning but she can’t sleep, so she decides you can’t either as she goes on and on about anything and everything. “do you think mermaids exist?” “what if the world is going to end but the government just don’t want us to know?” “should i go blonder?” “we need to book that vacation tomorrow before it’s too late.”

gf!mapi is the type to … beg you to let her tattoo you, she just won’t give up no matter how many times you tell her you’re not looking for a tattoo yet. she assures you she knows what she’s doing, she’s even drawn out a few ideas for you without you knowing. she just really wants to be the one to give you your first tattoo.

gf!mapi is the type to … get clinger, the more exhausted she gets. after a gruelling training session, or an intense match, the woman is hanging off you any way she can. her arms linked with yours, fingers intertwined, hand on the small of your back, arms wrapped around your waist with her chin resting on your shoulder and her favourite of all: getting a piggyback ride back to the changing rooms.

gf!mapi is the type to … be the first person to jump on you to celebrate when you score a goal, whatever type of goal it is. a simple tap in that didn’t take much? she’s all over you. a long range shot that hits the top corner beautifully? she’s cradling your face in her hands with the cheesiest grin on her face. you get the match winner in an important game? her arms are wrapped around you like you might disappear if she doesn’t hug you hard enough.

gf!mapi is the type to … be almost brought to tears when she sees how well you and bagheera bond so quickly. it’s no secret that, that cat means everything to her, and if you didn’t get along it wouldn’t be the end of the world but she’d be upset that her two favourite beings weren’t clicking. but she doesn’t have to worry about that. not when she returns from the store and spots the two of you cuddled up together whilst taking a nap on the sofa.

gf!mapi is the type to … take an excessive amount of pictures of you till her camera roll is 80% you (& bagheera). she’s always snapping photos of you, even if you’re doing something as mundane as folding laundry. she thinks you’re the prettiest girl she’s ever met, and she makes sure to remind you everyday. you cringe at some of the pictures when she shows you, some of them not being the most flattering. but she just playfully swats you away, grumbling under her breath with a frown. ‘stop being mean to yourself before i get it printed out and stick it on the living room wall.’

gf!mapi is the type to … miss you so much when you have to go on international duty. you’re never usually gone for long unless it’s for a big tournament, but she counts down the minutes until you’re back almost the second you leave. phone calls, texts, facetimes and social media interaction’s just aren’t enough for her. she needs to have you back with her in person asap.

gf!mapi is the type to … buy your football shirt and wear it proudly with the most adorable smile on her face. she has every barcelona shirt with your name and number on the back, wearing it whenever she would come to watch the team whilst she was out with injury.

gf!mapi is the type to … talk about the two of you getting married so casually, as if it was inevitable. she’ll randomly suggest places for your honeymoon, ‘venice would be nice wouldn’t it? or would you prefer somewhere colder?’ or she’d point out decorative bits and claim that would look nice on the table during the reception, as if you were already engaged.

gf!mapi is the type to … be annoying at the most inconvenient times. you could be watching a movie that you’ve been dying to see for weeks, and she’ll start fidgeting beside you, which eventually leads to her talking your ear off, and then suddenly she’s tugging on your arm and poking you, and trying to tickle you because she’s unhappy with the lack of attention she’s receiving.

gf!mapi is the type to … comment the stupidest things on your instagram posts. she’ll do it sat beside you, giggling away to herself as if she’s the funniest person in the world. you’ll post a picture of yourself during a training session, and no sooner than five minutes later there’ll be a ‘working hard or hardly working? 😏’ comment appearing. you have to fight the urge to delete it.

gf!mapi is the type to … paint your nails for you when you’re struggling to stay between the lines, especially when you’re using your non dominant hand to paint. she’ll take over for you when you ask, her tongue poking out whilst she concentrates, taking her job very seriously.

gf!mapi is the type to … argue with the ref until she’s red in the face when you get fouled, and the ref decides it was a clean challenge. her arms are thrown around as she tries her best to not raise her voice, absolutely appalled that the ref is letting the player get away with the foul on you with no consequences. she’ll make sure you’re okay, and then target said player for the rest of the game.

gf!mapi is the type to … have you try new skincare products with her. she’ll buy a big package of different lotions and oils and creams, eager to try them out and get her skin gleaming. but she wants you to get in on the action too, the two of you will have plenty of self care nights which include taking stupid selfies with face masks on and a lot of kissing.

gf!mapi is the type to … make sure you know how much she loves you everyday. she’ll make sure your favourite foods are stocked up in the house, she’ll give you a foot massage whilst you watch tv together, she’ll call your name just to say ‘i love you’ every so often, she’ll give you her jumper to wear the second she suspects you’re getting chilly, she’ll randomly message you huge paragraphs about how much you mean to her when she’s feeling a little sentimental. she’ll make sure you never question her feelings towards you.