#anyway to the three people that actually look at this please appreciate that I gave him a smart watch with an unusably cracked screen

[enzymedevice]

[vettelsvee]

LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO + MAX VERSTAPPEN PLS

LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO | Max Verstappen

⋆ PAIRING: Max Verstappen x Ex girlfriend actress Female!Reader ⋆ SUMMARY: After breaking up with Max, your boyfriend of three years, you decide to move forward and show people that you weren't the villain of your story ↳ REQUESTED: Yes! Thanks for requesting and hope you like it anon 💖 Part of REPUTATION in MY TORTURED DRIVERS DEPARTMENT ⋆ WARNINGS: Curse words ⋆ WORD COUNT: 2574 ⋆ VEE'S NOTES: Does university have me mentally draining? Yes. Did my doctor tell me to take a break since I'm on lots of medication and I didn't listen? Also yes ✨ Anyways, hope you like this one, and remember that I'd love to read your comments and feedback, and that reblogs are very much appreciated as well! Thank you so much, and enjoy your reading! <3 ↳ TALK TO ME! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST | CITY OF STARS F1 AU

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

The worst part of the breakup wasn’t losing Max.

It was losing yourself.

Despite being a world-renowned actress with a thriving career long before you started dating the Dutchman, the last three years of your life had revolved around him. 

You weren’t just one of the most admired couples in the paddock, you were also Hollywood’s golden pair. The actress and the Formula 1 world champion, unstoppable together. Rumors of weddings and pregnancies swirled around your seemingly perfect (at least in the public eye) love story.

So when everything ended abruptly, without explanation from either of you to everyone, the world needed a villain.

The headlines spoke for themselves:

"Y/N Y/L/N DUMPS MAX VERSTAPPEN AFTER USING HIM FOR FAME" "DID Y/L/N EVER LOVE VERSTAPPEN?" "FORMULA 1’S GOLDEN BOY, BETRAYED"

The comments from people who once admired you were even worse. If the insults were harsh, the death threats were unbearable. Demands flooded in for you to issue a public apology for a “crime” you hadn’t committed, for nothing more than just a breakup that Max himself had initiated to focus on his career, as he told you and excused himself with. Every interview you gave was twisted, your words manipulated. And instead of staying silent, like your words, the press loudly proclaimed that you were the reason Verstappen's performance had declined last season.

Max knew about it all. After all, he’d been asked about it countless times during press conferences. Reporters bombarded him with headlines starring you both, turning your private lives into international gossip. Yet, all he did was smile politely and dismiss the questions as if they were mere inconveniences.

You had expected at least a call from him to find some way to put an end to it all. But when he never reached out, you decided to call him yourself. All you got was a voicemail telling you to try again later. And when you did, again and again, he ended up blocking your number, showing you how things actually were between you both.

You never got an answer. You never found out why he decided to ignore how the world was painting the woman he had supposedly loved.

That’s when you decided to stop waiting for an answer, a real and proper explanation. 

If they wanted a villain, you’d give them one.

You didn’t just delete your social media and vanish from the public eye, you also returned to the industry in full force, accepting a lead role in a film after years of turning projects down just to support Max race after race. A psychological thriller that intrigued you from the moment you read the script, because the character felt too familiar and close. A woman scorned, reborn from the ashes of her own destruction.

“She gave them everything, and now she’ll take it all back.”

That one line was enough to fuel your performance, turning it into a masterclass in acting. Your director praised you endlessly, your co-stars were in awe, and even the producers—one of whom had once been a key sponsor of Max—were captivated. You convinced them to join the project though you weren’t really sure if they ended up doing so out of pity or as a subtle jab at the driver who had severed ties with them at the peak of his career. 

Either way, the message was clear: a middle finger to the boy in a narrative where you were only ever relevant because of him.

Then came your real return to the public eye. Your rebirth.

The docile girl who once stayed quiet, who barely spoke to the press, who even put her acting career on hold. The girl who lived in Max Verstappen’s shadow, was gone.

Your first public appearance, where you began promoting the film that would mark your resurgence, was at the Cannes Film Festival. You walked the red carpet with a confidence you hadn't felt in years, perhaps ever. The camera flashes were relentless, but you smiled because you knew exactly what they had expected to see: a broken, shattered woman.

Instead, your thirst for revenge made sure you left an impression, one so striking that it became the talk of the town for days.

“Y/N Y/L/N: UNBOTHERED QUEEN OR A POISONOUS SNAKE?”

You couldn't help but smirk when you read the article. In fact, you couldn’t resist making it your first Instagram post in that new era.

“Let them talk,” you thought. Because in a few weeks, everything would become even more interesting.

You had known you’d see Max again the moment you received an invitation to a TAG Heuer event as part of your film’s promotion. Your agent had tried to find a way to decline, suggesting excuses convincing enough to avoid the inevitable encounter.

Your answer?

You told her to find the best designer in the industry to create a dress dripping in subtle, unmistakable messages. A dress that would make it clear just how much you had moved on.

And so, in the heart of Monaco, in a lavish mansion hosting the exclusive party, you finally saw him again.

To no one’s surprise, he was wearing the same suit he always chose for events like this. His hair was styled, though slightly tousled because you knew he hated looking too put-together. A champagne flute rested in his hand as he moved through the room, making conversation with the other guests, effortless as ever.

Then, just as he finished speaking with his team principal, Christian Horner, and his wife, he turned.

And his eyes met yours.

415 days.

That’s how long it had been since the last time he looked at you.

You couldn’t lie, it hit you like a punch to the gut. A searing, burning weight in your chest, making it hard to breathe. Especially when he began walking toward you slowly, deliberately.

And when you saw the flicker of emotion in his gaze, when you felt the sting of tears threatening your own eyes, you reminded yourself why you were there.

You thought of every headline they had written about you. The way the media had twisted your story, painted you as something you weren’t. The way your reputation had plummeted overnight, forcing you to rebuild yourself into someone new, someone unbreakable.

Most of all, you thought about the moment Max chose to cut you out of his life completely when all you ever wanted was just an explanation for the breakup.

Just for him to care enough to silence the world that had made your life a living hell.

That was the moment you realized you were ready to see Max again.

He, however, wasn’t ready to see you.

“Y/N. Long time no see.”

He stood in front of you, avoiding your gaze. His voice was rough, uncertain.

“Max,” you murmured, taking a sip of your champagne, ignoring the way his eyes lingered on your lips. “It’s been a while.”

He didn’t answer, and you didn’t bother to say anything else. Instead, you turned toward the balcony just a few steps away, where the view stretched across most of the principality. The city lights shimmered before you, captivating you, reminding you that this place had once been your safe haven, your refuge… The setting of dreams that never became reality, of a life you once envisioned but that crumbled before it could ever be built.

You tensed at the sound of footsteps behind you, but you didn’t turn around.

You knew it was Max. And you also knew you should have left. Should have walked away, let him drown in his guilt, let the weight of regret eat away at him.

But instead, you drank the last sip of champagne, carelessly let the empty glass slip from your fingers, watching as it shattered into tiny shards against the floor, then turned to face him.

“Are you just going to stand there looking at me like I’m the best thing you’ve ever seen in your fucking life, or are you going to say something that makes sense for once?”

He inhaled sharply. You knew you had hit where it hurt the most: his pride.

“Is this what you wanted?” His voice was low, but his frustration was unmistakable. “To play the vengeful ex? To prove something? To prove something to yourself?”

You let his words settle, rolling them over in your mind, searching for a reply that would cut just as deep.

“Prove something? To someone? To myself?” You tilted your head back and let out a hollow laugh. “That’s funny, Max, because I don’t think I’ve ever needed to prove anything to anyone, including you. Tell me, have I ever needed to prove anything to you?”

Yes, that you loved him with everything you had. And where had that gotten you?

“You’ve turned this into a game, into some kind of performance,” he said coldly, his blue eyes cutting into you like daggers.

“If you want to say so…” you smirked, voice laced with mockery, "Honestly, I wouldn't mind being the actress starring in your bad dreams but, between you and I… I think I already am."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. Max, however, wasn’t laughing. His irritation was growing, his anger simmering beneath the surface, and for the first time, you felt a flicker of unease at the way he was looking at you, clouded with something dark, something dangerous.

“A game? Seriously, Max?” You spoke again, stepping closer, fingers playing with the fabric of his tie. “Tell me, who was the one who started this game? Was it me, when I heard you say you wanted to focus on your career instead of a relationship? Was it your fans, when they decided I was the villain in our story? Was it when they painted me as the ruthless bitch who left you the moment I got the fame I wanted? Or was it when you stayed silent, letting them believe it, knowing damn well it was all a lie?”

Max flinched. He knew you were right, but his pride, his damn pride, kept him from admitting it.

“I never—”

“Oh, cut the bullshit,” you cut him off, turning away before spinning back to face him. “You never defended me. You let them say whatever the hell they wanted. You let them tear me apart while you laughed at their comments, dodged their questions… feeding into the rumors you knew weren’t true.”

“It wasn’t that simple—”

“No, Max, it really was that simple,” you shot back, raising your voice. “It was as simple as telling the truth. Or saying something, anything, really. Even a lie would’ve been better than leaving me to burn the way you did. You let them think I used you, that I never loved you, that I walked away without a second thought.”

“You did walk away, don’t act like you didn’t—”

You froze. You had heard that accusation before, over and over. But the way he said it now, the coldness in his tone, it was what finally made you snap.

“What the hell was I supposed to do, Max? Follow you around like some desperate puppy after you told me you wanted to focus on your career?” you shouted, not caring who might hear. “Stay with you while every headline called me a gold-digging whore? Let strangers tell me and truly believe that, if I had a career, it was only because of you?”

Your breath was coming faster now, your chest tightening with an anxiety you hadn’t felt in a long time, and you didn’t miss.

“Do you even know what it’s like, Max? To have your entire existence reduced to being someone’s girlfriend and the main character of a series of meaningless scandals?”

Max said nothing.

“You never had to explain yourself, Max. Never. If you won races, they praised you. If you lost, they still worshiped you. If you got into fights or disappeared for weeks, you were still Red Bull’s golden boy, still the one everyone adored. But me?” You shook your head, laughing bitterly. “I had to justify my own success… the success I had built long before you and I were ever a thing.”

“I never wanted that for you—”

“And yet, you let it happen.” Your voice softened, a hint of something almost like pity creeping in. “You let them destroy me just to keep yourself clean. I don’t know if it was your idea, your dad’s, or your PR team’s, and honestly, I don’t even care anymore. I don’t wish the same on you, Max, I really don’t… but I do wish you’d had to live through it, even just for a second, so you’d understand.”

“I…”

Max dragged a hand through his hair, restless. His eyes darted around, unable to meet yours, his whole body tense with unspoken words. And despite everything, despite all the pain, you knew one thing for certain: at the end of your reputation, you were truly feeling alive.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he finally admitted. “I didn’t know how to fix it. How to make it stop—”

“That’s the thing, Max,” you murmured, tilting your head. “You never had to fix anything. You just had to stand by me.”

The weight of those words settled between you both, heavy and inescapable.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You simply stood there, staring at each other, reliving every second, every memory, every moment you once thought would last forever.

Max thought about how much he wanted to go back to those moments. You simply smiled to yourself, knowing you had walked away from the person who had broken every single promise to protect you.

“Did you ever love me?”

The question caught you completely off guard. A lump formed in your throat.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to remember everything…

The way you looked at him, and he at you, as if nothing else in the world existed. 

The way he held you in his arms every night before bed, only to do it again as you both drifted off to sleep.

The way you cupped his face in your hands and kissed him, in front of everyone, after he won a race, a championship, feeling as if the world around you had vanished.

A year ago, even a few months ago, that question would have been easy to answer. But now?

You remembered how lonely you felt when the world turned against you. How Max seemed to disappear from the face of the earth, only to reappear on TV, in Formula 1, no longer as your ex-boyfriend but as a public figure you had once idolized enough to believe you belonged by his side.

“I don’t think that matters anymore.”

You didn’t say anything else. Wrapping your arms around yourself, seeking comfort, reassurance, trying to convince yourself you were doing the right thing.

"Goodbye, Max."

For the first time, as you walked away from Max Verstappen, you didn’t look back.

He felt lost. For the first time, he truly understood that he had lost the love of his life and regretted not doing anything to stop it.

But you? You simply smiled and kept walking, head held high, feeling better than ever because this time, for the first time ever, you had won.

And also, for the first time ever, you weren’t going to apologize for winning.

If you like my content, and would like to support me, you can do it here <3 Thank you so much for reading until the very end! <3

[berrywinner]

Please write fake dating hilson. I am weak

Semantics

James Wilson wasn’t entirely sure how he got into this situation

Correction: he was sure. He could trace every single step to the exact moment when he found out that his ex-wife, Sam would be attending the benefit gala. With a date.

With her date.

Her perfect date. Tall, charming, some investment banker who probably flossed twice a day and knew the difference between a chianti and a merlot without googling it.

Wilson had sighed. And then House, ever the opportunistic hurricane, had burst into his office not three minutes later, looking unreasonably entertained.

“So,” House drawled, flopping onto Wilson’s couch with the grace of a falling anvil, “rumor has it your favorite ex-wife is bringing a date to the big prom.”

Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s not a prom, House.”

“Semantics.” House propped his cane against the armrest and stretched out like he owned the place. “But you’re missing the point. She’s bringing a date. Which means you need to bring a date.”

Wilson had scoffed. “I don’t need to do anything.”

“Oh, please,” House snorted. “You want to show her you’ve moved on. That you’re thriving. That you’re not still watching reruns of Friends alone in your sad little apartment.”

“I don’t—" Wilson paused. "Friends is a very well-written show.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” House’s eyes glinted, and Wilson didn’t like that look. That was the look House got when he was about to propose something unspeakably idiotic. “Luckily for you, I’m free that night.”

Wilson blinked. “What?”

“I’ll be your date.”

“You’re not serious.”

House grinned. “Oh, I’m dead serious.”

The ridiculous thing, the most ridiculous thing of all, was that Wilson actually considered it.

House, predictably, didn’t let it drop. Over the next few days, he poked and prodded like an insufferable terrier.

“You need someone to make her jealous,” House argued over lunch, stealing fries from Wilson’s plate with alarming speed. “And who better than me? I’m irresistible.”

“To who?” Wilson retorted.

“To everyone who appreciates rugged charm and a crippling Vicodin addiction.”

Wilson opened his mouth, then closed it again.

In a twisted way, House had a point. If he showed up alone, it would only invite pitying looks and whispered gossip. But with House, well, no one would see that coming, or maybe yes. Anyway they’d spend the whole night speculating, and maybe, just maybe, it would wipe that smug smile off his ex-wife’s face.

“All right,” Wilson said finally, half in disbelief at himself. “Fine. You can come"

House’s answering grin could have lit a small city.

The night of the gala arrived too fast for Wilson’s liking. He stood in front of his mirror, adjusting his bowtie for the fourth time, wondering if he could still back out. Maybe claim a work emergency. Maybe fake a heart attack.

As if summoned by his despair, House strolled into the apartment unannounced, dressed in a sharp dark suit that Wilson had never seen him wear before. He even looked, well, respectable. Almost dangerous, in that way House had of making people either want to punch him or kiss him, sometimes both.

“You clean up well,” Wilson admitted grudgingly.

House gave an exaggerated bow. “I aim to please.”

On the drive over, House kept up a running commentary about the other guests they were bound to encounter, peppering in outlandish stories that had Wilson half-laughing, half-nervous. By the time they pulled up to the venue, Wilson’s stomach was a mess of knots.

“You ready, darling?” House asked, shooting him a devilish smirk.

Wilson sighed. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Inside, the ballroom glittered with chandeliers and the faint smell of overpriced champagne. Wilson could already feel eyes turning toward them, curious whispers trailing in their wake.

House didn’t waste a second. He draped an arm around Wilson’s shoulders like it belonged there, leaning in just close enough to make Wilson’s heart trip over itself.

“Relax,” House murmured in his ear. “You’re supposed to be enjoying yourself.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Wilson muttered back.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

They worked the room with a practiced ease that surprised Wilson. House, against all odds, was a fantastic fake boyfriend. He made sarcastic toasts to their “many months of blissful codependency,” clinked glasses with amused onlookers, and even brushed Wilson’s cheek with his knuckles at one point, sending an involuntary shiver down Wilson’s spine.

It was stupid. All of it. And yet, for the first time at one of these events, Wilson didn’t feel like he wanted to crawl out of his skin.

Then he saw her.

His ex-wife stood near the bar, laughing at something her date, Mr. Perfect Investment Banker, had just said. She spotted Wilson a beat later, her gaze dropping to where House’s hand rested possessively on Wilson’s waist.

Her smile faltered.

House, ever perceptive, noticed instantly. “Bingo,” he whispered, victorious. “She’s seething.”

Wilson felt a traitorous grin tug at his lips. “Maybe this wasn’t the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

“Oh, don’t get sentimental on me now.”

They spent the next hour engaged in what House gleefully dubbed “weaponized affection.” He touched Wilson too often to be purely platonic, let compliments slip with teasing affection, and even stole a sip of Wilson’s drink with a smirk.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, Wilson forgot they were pretending.

It was easy to fall into the rhythm, to let himself believe, just for a moment, that House wasn’t doing this for the thrill of chaos, but because he wanted to. Because maybe, impossibly, House had been waiting for an excuse.

It was foolish. Dangerous.

But when House’s hand brushed his, fingers lingering just a heartbeat too long, Wilson didn’t pull away.

The night wound down, the crowd thinning until it was mostly die-hards and stragglers. Wilson felt a strange pang of disappointment, which he quickly buried under a pile of rationalizations.

They stepped outside into the cool night air, the distant sounds of traffic humming in the background.

House tilted his head, studying him. “Well? Did we fool them?”

Wilson huffed a laugh. “You were very convincing.”

“Of course I was.” House’s gaze softened, just a fraction. “But what about you? Did you convince yourself?”

The question hit Wilson like a punch to the chest.

“I—" he began, then faltered.

House stepped closer, close enough that Wilson could see the sharp edges of amusement in his eyes give way to something quieter. Warmer.

“You’re not still thinking about her,” House said. It wasn’t a question.

Wilson shook his head, honest. “No.”

A pause.

“Good,” House murmured.

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, House kissed him.

It wasn’t flashy or dramatic. It wasn’t part of the performance. It was slow, deliberate, and far too real. Wilson felt himself melt into it, his hands finding their way to House’s lapels without conscious thought.

When they finally parted, Wilson’s heart was thundering in his chest.

“I thought we were pretending,” he said, breathless.

House’s smile was soft, almost fond. “Maybe I changed my mind.”

Wilson let out a shaky laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re just figuring that out now?”

They stood there for a moment, the city alive around them, neither quite ready to break the spell.

Finally, Wilson exhaled, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “You know this means you owe me a real date.”

House’s answering grin could have powered the hospital for a week. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Wilson kept looking at him "Wanna come over?"

House smiled "You think I'd say no?"

Wilson woke up the next morning to the sunlight creeping stubbornly through his bedroom blinds, slicing across the bed in thin gold lines. His eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the light, to the warmth against his side.

It took him a second to register.

Then another second to process.

House was still here.

Sprawled on top of the covers like he owned the place, chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths. His cane rested haphazardly against the nightstand, his shirt, Wilson’s shirt, technically, askew with a couple of buttons undone. He looked, for lack of a better word, comfortable.

And dammit, Wilson hated how much he liked seeing it.

He shifted slightly, propping himself on one elbow to watch House sleep. House’s mouth was slightly parted, his usually sharp expression softened in sleep. Without the constant calculating gleam in his eyes, he looked almost peaceful. Almost.

A creak of the bed made House stir.

His eyelids cracked open, unfocused for a heartbeat before his gaze settled lazily on Wilson. His mouth curled into a familiar, crooked smirk. “Well, well,” House rasped, his voice hoarse with sleep. “If it isn’t Dr. Morning-After Guilt.”

Wilson scoffed, but there was no heat behind it. “It’s not guilt,” he said. He sat up, running a hand through his already-mussed hair. “Just… thinking.”

“That’s your first mistake,” House said, stretching out with a groan. He winced as his leg protested, then relaxed back into the pillows, folding his arms behind his head like this was a weekend getaway. “Your brain’s just gonna overcomplicate things.”

Wilson couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “Like you haven’t been thinking about it.”

House pretended to consider. “Nope,” he said lightly, then tilted his head. “Okay, maybe a little. Maybe a lot. Maybe I thought about it the second you kissed me back.”

“You kissed me,” Wilson pointed out.

“Semantics.” House waved a lazy hand in the air. “Details.”

A beat of silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t awkward. If anything, it was settled. Something had shifted last night, quietly but unmistakably, and neither of them seemed in a hurry to shove it back where it came from.

Finally, Wilson exhaled, a soft laugh escaping him. “I can’t believe you actually stayed.”

“Eh,” House said, like it was the easiest decision in the world. He turned his head on the pillow, meeting Wilson’s gaze without his usual walls. “Figured if I left, you’d start thinking it was a mistake.”

Wilson swallowed, feeling something tighten and warm in his chest.

“It’s not,” he said quietly. “A mistake.”

House’s smirk faded into something gentler, more genuine. He looked at Wilson like he was seeing something new, something fragile and valuable.

“I know,” he said simply.

The simplicity of it hit Wilson harder than he expected.

House cleared his throat, as if sensing the moment was getting dangerously close to sincere vulnerability. “Besides, I wanted to make sure you didn’t wake up and blame the champagne.”

“There wasn’t that much champagne,” Wilson protested.

“There was enough for you to think fake dating me was a good idea.”

“You’re the one who suggested it.”

“And you’re the one who kept looking at me like I’d hung the moon.”

Wilson shook his head, laughing softly. “You’re insufferable.”

“Yet here I am, in your bed,” House pointed out smugly. “Your argument is invalid.”

Wilson threw a pillow at him. House caught it one-handed, barely flinching.

“Fine,” Wilson said, settling back against the headboard. His smile softened around the edges. “You win.”

“I always win.”

“And what exactly do you think you’ve won?”

House’s eyes glinted, but there was affection behind the spark. He shifted closer, so close their knees brushed under the covers. His voice dropped, low and rough but undeniably sincere.

“You,” he said simply. “I won you.”

Wilson’s breath caught, just for a second. He wanted to say something clever, deflect with a joke, maybe even tease House about being a romantic under all that cynicism. But the truth settled too heavy and too sweet in his chest for him to dodge it.

So instead, he let his hand drift to House’s, fingers curling lightly around his.

House’s gaze flicked down to their joined hands, then back up, his expression unreadable for a beat. Slowly, deliberately, he tightened his fingers around Wilson’s in return.

“Breakfast?” House asked, almost too casually.

Wilson’s lips quirked. “You cooking?”

House snorted. “God, no. But I know a greasy diner that doesn’t mind us showing up looking like we just spent the night debauching each other.”

Wilson’s cheeks warmed, but he only shook his head fondly. “Classy.”

“Always.”

This time it was Wilson who kissed him, a kissed that meant more than any word or phrase could.

As they rose and gathered their things, House lingered in the doorway, watching Wilson with an unreadable expression that eventually softened into something warmer, more open than Wilson had ever seen from him.

“This isn’t just one night,” Wilson said, quieter than before. He wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement. Maybe both.

House’s answer came without hesitation.

“Not unless you want it to be.”

Wilson didn’t.

And judging by the spark in House’s eyes, neither did he.

[copper-16]

You Didn't Let Me Finish

Ingrid had a rule that she had held onto ever since she started working as a stripper: she doesn't sleep with clients.

Usually.

Ingrid doesn't usually sleep with clients. Exceptions must be made for most rules anyways though, right?

(a/n: Yes it's a stripper fic. I mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone, this is just a silly little idea I had in my head and decided to write on a whim. Feel free to skip if it's not your thing! Also I didn't proofread it, so ignore any mistake lmao)

Sometimes, Ingrid wasn’t exactly sure how she had ended up here. 

The Norwegian had done a semester abroad in Spain when she was in university, and found that she absolutely loved the city. So when the opportunity to move to Barcelona presented itself after graduation, she jumped at the chance to go. Her study abroad had been in Madrid, but it was still Spain, right? 

And the Norwegian actually preferred Barcelona to Madrid, the longer she lived here. She enjoyed the energy of the city, how posh and lively it was, how wonderfully kind the people were. The job she was offered was modest, and despite the fact that she got by, Ingrid wasn’t all that comfortable with living from paycheck to paycheck if she didn’t have to. 

Which was exactly how she had found herself at Dollhouse. It was the most exclusive strip club in Barcelona, catering only to those clients who could pay for the supreme services, and they only accepted the best when it came to their girls. 

The owner had taken one look at Ingrid, roving his eyes up and down the dark haired woman with interest before he was nodding, clearly pleased with what he was seeing. Her ability to speak both English and some Spanish came in handy, and she became a regular for many of the international clients. 

Ingrid was paid well, only worked three nights a week, and it helped her to nearly double her salary with the tips she was given. She gave lap dances, some pole work, did a few shows on the main stage, served customers when asked. It was an easy gig, and she couldn’t help but feel appreciated given the reaction that she could stir up in most men. It was addicting, really. She felt powerful and in control, her confidence only rising the longer she worked there. 

It wasn’t sex. People often got that mixed up, that being a stripper meant sex. It could mean sex, if that was what the girls wanted, but Ingrid had little interest in the older men who came into her rooms. She was as gay as they came, and it was very rare for them to receive a female client, and Ingrid had never had the pleasure of having one, not personally. 

But she wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea, if the right person came along. 

It’s just, nobody had. 

But perhaps that would change. 

—

It was a Sunday night, which meant that the Dollhouse was relatively calm. Ingrid was in the back room with a few of the other girls, getting ready for her show in around thirty minutes when Miguel came back. 

“Ingrid, Misa!” He called, and both women turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. They stood, setting their makeup down to walk over to their boss, who was in charge of the scheduling. 

Miguel was gruff but kind, and he always made sure the girls were comfortable and not exploited. He could be a bit rough around the edges but he never failed to make the girls feel cared for as people and not just objects, and in return they did their best to make his life as painless as possible. It was a good gig, they all knew that, compared to the nasty bastards at some of the other places around town. 

“We have two clients in separate private rooms. Footballers, booked after winning something big I think, I want the two of you to take them,” Miguel explained, and he looked between Misa and Ingrid with a critical eye, clearly trying to decide who to send where. 

Despite the fact that Ingrid was Norwegian and Misa was Spanish, the two actually looked quite similar. Ingrid was paler, taller, and less tattooed than Misa was, but in terms of build and physical appearance, they were rather alike. 

“Misa, I want you in Room One and Ingrid in Room Two, Misa your Spanish is better than Ingrid’s. The girls will cover your sets for the night so don’t worry about that. They’ve booked for the rest of the night so make sure to give them their money's worth but you’re free to leave when you are done, alright?” Miguel decided, and Ingrid and Misa both nodded. 

“Oh and–”

“If they do anything creepy we will come find you,” Ingrid and Misa rattled off in perfect unison, and Miguel scowled at his predictability before he shooed them away to go get changed, the two women smiling at the action. 

Ingrid and Misa walked back to the changing room, each of them looking through the different lingerie sets they could wear. 

“What are you thinking?” Misa asked as she pulled out a purple lace set before shaking her head, shoving it back in her closet. 

“Well if they paid for the whole night then clearly they have money, probably want something expensive and distinguished. Footballers can be assholes and handsy, and they think too much with their dicks and not enough with their heads,” Ingrid scoffs lightly, and Misa snorts as she looks over at the dark haired woman’s closet. 

“Hmm…you’re going to wear this,” Misa decides, pulling out a hunter green piece of lace, and Ingrid raises her brow before nodding her agreement, looking over at the Spaniard’s closet. 

“And you’re going to do this, I’ve seen you in it before and your chest looks amazing in it,” Ingrid says with an air of finality, and Misa smirks at the outfit before they both went into their changing rooms to slip their clothes off and put the lace on. They don’t bother with robes, the hallway to the private rooms is secluded from the rest of the club anyways, so the two women make their way back together, chatting lightly about their day jobs, what their weeks look like. 

By the time they make it to Room One and Room Two, the women are both relaxed and ready to do their job. Neither of them really has any idea what lies beyond the door besides a footballer, so with one final goodbye they both enter the passcodes to the room before stepping in. 

Ingrid closes the door behind her before turning around, and she can’t help the way that her eyebrows jump in surprise when she sees who it is sitting at the table. 

The room is set up with a bed, a couch and two loveseats, as well as a table with four dining room chairs. Lap dances are usually given in the chairs at the table or the loveseats, but the rest of the room can be utilized however the girls may choose to. 

The thing that surprises Ingrid though, is the fact that the person sitting at the table is a woman, and not a man. 

The woman stands, the chair rustling against the floor as she pushes it back before she steps forward to examine Ingrid. Her gaze is curious but not sharp, her entire body language relaxed. She’s clearly a footballer, her body muscled and well built.  

She can’t be more than a few years older than Ingrid, and she’s just an inch or two shorter than her with light, sandy blonde hair that is straightened just past her shoulder. Her hazel eyes take Ingrid in, the light lace that covers her body, and she nods appreciatively for a moment before cocking her head. 

“Hello,” she offers, and Ingrid is quick to respond, the woman’s gaze making her feel a little bit hot. 

“Hi,” Ingrid responds, not entirely sure what to say. The woman was speaking to her in English, so clearly she recognized that the Norwegian was a foreigner, though she wasn’t exactly sure how she noticed that before she had even spoken. 

“Why did they send you in here to me?” The woman asked curiously, her hazel eyes still boring into Ingrid. The question is surprising, considering the fact that they were at a strip club. They sent her in here to do her job, but the Norwegian gets the sense that isn’t what this woman means, so she answers with more candor.  

“My coworkers' Spanish is better than mine. Presumably your friend only speaks Spanish, but you clearly can speak English well, so here I am,” Ingrid supposes, and the woman nods slowly before her lips quirk up in a smirk. 

“My friend can speak enough English for tonight, I promise. I think you should switch rooms…I insist actually. I think she’ll be quite charmed by…” the woman looks down at Ingrid once more before her gaze returns to the dark haired woman’s eyes, “...you.”   

Ingrid’s eyebrows raise in surprise before she nods in agreement, never one to say no to a client request unless it really was something she couldn’t do. 

“If that’s what you wish…” Ingrid trails off, still unsure of the woman’s name. 

“Alexia. And my friend's name in the other room is María,” she supplies, and Ingrid regards her for another minute before slipping out of the room, Alexia turning back to sit down in the chair she had been in originally. 

The Norwegian walks over to Room One briskly, rapping on the door three times before she steps back, waiting for Misa to come out. It only takes a few seconds for the Spaniard to slide out of the room, her eyebrows furrowed in clear confusion. 

“We need to switch, the other woman requested it,” Ingrid explains, and Misa nods for a second before she looks back at the room. 

“Can you believe it’s women? And god, if the second one is as hot as this one…” Misa trails off, practically drooling, and Ingrid can’t help but laugh lightly, because really she quite agrees. Misa is the only other gay woman at Dollhouse, and Ingrid finds solace in the fact that she isn’t alone, calmed by the Spaniards presence. 

“I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. Her name is Alexia,” Ingrid adds before the younger woman can leave, and Misa nods before she gestures back at the room next to them. 

“Names Mapi,” Misa supplies, and Ingrid’s eyebrows furrow at the fact she’s now been told two separate names for this woman. But honestly, if she was even half as attractive as the first woman, Ingrid was seriously going to be in trouble. 

The first woman, Alexia, hadn’t exactly been her type per say, but objectively she was very attractive. 

As Misa disappears down the hallway Ingrid takes a deep breath, trying to center herself and remain calm at what is about to occur. She knew what the deal was with men, how to dance and act. 

But women were different, Ingrid knew that even if she had never had a female client. They were more watchful, more appreciative, more in tune. 

And well, if this woman was as attractive as Misa was making her out to be, she might be in a bit of trouble. 

The green eyed woman punched in the code before she stepped into the room, once again shutting the door behind her. 

Ingrid turned around, taking in the room and the woman who was settled on one of the room's two armchairs. 

And god was Misa wrong. 

This woman wasn’t attractive. 

She was mind numbingly, astronomically stunning, and it takes everything in Ingrid not to let her jaw physically drop. 

The woman had her hair down in beach waves, lighter highlights against the brunette of her hair accenting the dark strands, framing dark eyes and supple, light pink lips that are set in a smirk. 

She’s wearing a button down that has far too many buttons undone, but it only serves to show off her cleavage, biceps straining against the tight black fabric. She has on gray dress pants, and she shifts her shirt sleeve up to glance at her watch before she stands, making her way over to Ingrid. 

“Hola princesa,” the woman greets softly, her voice raspy and deliciously low, and if Ingrid wasn’t wet at just the sight of her, she was now. 

If there was anyone who was going to break her rule of not sleeping with someone, it would be this woman. That was assuming she wanted to as well, but if the glint in her eyes was anywhere near as serious as it looked, Ingrid thought her chances might be relatively high. 

She scrambled to gather as much Spanish as she possibly could. It was a little pathetic that she wasn’t more fluent, but between this being her third language and the fact that her work was in English and most of her friends spoke the language, her Spanish could definitely use some work. 

“Hola,” Ingrid rushed to reply, internally cringing at how bad her accent was while understanding washed over the woman’s face, and she switched to a heavily Spanish accented English. 

“Ah, English, no?” The woman suggested, no malice in her tone, and Ingrid let out a small sigh before she nodded. 

“Si,” she acquiesced in a bit of a defeated tone, but the woman simply tipped her head back in a delicious laugh, something light and breathy, her neck on full display. She had a tattoo on it, and Ingrid could see more ink peaking back at her on the woman’s available skin. 

It did absolutely nothing to help the green eyed woman’s aching core, but she ignored it in favor of returning to the problem at hand, to the fact that she needed to get on with the performance for this woman. 

“Sit?” Ingrid asked gently, gesturing to the table and chairs that surrounded it, walking over to pull one of them out. 

The woman made no move to walk over, seemingly not done with the conversation. 

“I’m Mapi,” she said instead, and Ingrid raised her brow at the woman, clearly a little curious. 

“I’ve been told by a confident source that your name is María,” Ingrid sidesteps the introduction to ask the question, watching the way that the woman’s eyes darkened with lust when she says her name. 

“Have you now?” Mapi drawls, the surprise clear in her face. The smirk is back, and she finally begins to walk toward the table, but before she sits she stands in front of Ingrid, still only looking her in the eyes. 

The Norwegian keeps waiting for her to drop her eyes down, to look over the lace that could hardly be described as modest, but the smaller woman seems hell bent on keeping her eyes trained on Ingrid’s. 

“And you are?” She asks lightly, the dark haired woman answering her question quickly and easily. 

“My name is Ingrid,” she murmurs, once again gesturing at the chair, and this time Mapi takes her up on her offer. The Spaniard sits down before she looks up at the Norwegian, who strolls over to turn the music on. 

“Any requests?” Ingrid questioned, looking back at Mapi to find the woman staring at her with hooded eyes and a hungry gaze. She shakes her head, finding no offers. 

“Whatever you prefer,” Mapi decides, and Ingrid observes the woman for a moment before nodding, turning back to the speaker system. She sets up her playlist, playing the song TiO by Zayn, which had been a recent favorite of hers. 

The song is a bit of a quicker pace, which she liked to start out with. It was easy to flash the quick movements before she let things get sensual, and her approach for this woman is absolutely no different. 

She turns back toward the table, walking over in long strides before she comes to rest in front of Mapi, her ass pressed back into the table behind her. 

“Can I touch you?” Ingrid asks in a low voice, tossing her thick, dark hair over one shoulder. Mapi looks up at her with an unreadable expression, holding eye contact before she nodded carefully. 

The Norwegian stood from the table, stepping forward. She turned, rounding the chair that Mapi was currently settled in, just watching. The brunette didn’t look back at her, but did meet her eyes when Ingrid finally circled all the way back to the front of the chair. 

It’s at this point that Ingrid brings her hand up, resting it over the Spaniard’s collarbone carefully. She slides her hand up, coming into contact with bare skin as she pushes her middle finger inside the cuff of the woman’s popped shirt. 

The dark haired woman plays with the collar for a moment before she begins moving once again. She drags her fingers around to Mapi’s back, stopping when she is standing in front of the Spaniard’s back, pressing both of her palms to the brunette’s back, fingers down. She slowly runs her hands down, into the small of the footballers back, before she shifts, moving them to caress her sides gently. 

She’s gone as soon as she arrived, however, continuing around the chair. Her hands travel over the Spaniard’s arm, down her side and around the underside of her chest before she splays it over the top of the brunette's abdomen. 

The muscle beneath her palm is rock hard, and she cannot help but let out a harsh breath at the feeling. She hopes that the footballer doesn’t notice, but when she looks up to see that Mapi is smirking back at her, she considers the effort fruitless. 

Ingrid’s hands retract from the Spaniard’s skin, and she shifts so that she can move her hips down and into the brunette’s lap, her back to Mapi’s front. It’s a bold first move, but she’s quick, in time with the song for just a tease before she’s gone, several steps away. 

Mapi is watching her with eagle eyes as Ingrid runs her hands up her own sides, squeezing at her own chest, letting her eyes flutter shut at the feeling for emphasis. It’s a little pornographic, and perhaps a little bit of a sell out, but she doesn’t care. 

The Norwegian makes sure to spend several moments just watching, teasing herself in whatever way possible, reveling in the way that the Spaniards eyes darken at the sight. Her nipples strain against the lace, hard and begging to be freed, but the dark haired woman ignores them in favor of returning to the footballer. 

The song changes to Lose Control by Teddy Swims, something more slow and sensual. Ingrid stalks back to the brunette, her intent clear when she places her hands on the woman’s knees, sliding them up her thighs before squeezing, lightly. 

The Norwegian moves her hands up the Spaniard’s side as she settles in her lap, her knees spread wide as she presses forward into the brunette’s personal space. She moves her hips slowly in an infinity pattern, sensual and enough to drive any man crazy. 

And yet still, Mapi has yet to touch her. Her arms remain listless at her sides, rather awkwardly. It’s a staunch change from the male clients she has often, who feel that they are allowed to touch, to take as much as they want. They consider the fact that Ingrid has been paid for, that they are allowed to do whatever they want to her, within reason. 

This doesn’t seem to be the case for this woman, however, and it only turns Ingrid on more. She leans forward even further, placing one hand on the woman’s shoulder while the other remains firmly planted on her side. Her lips are on the shell of the woman’s ear as she speaks, her voice low. 

“You can touch…you know,” the Norwegian drawls, her words breathy and filled with lust. She leaned back to look the footballer in the eyes, noting that her gaze was dark, the way her tongue flicked out to wet her lips. 

They held the others' gaze for a moment, neither moving until finally, finally Ingrid felt two hands carefully, respectfully placing themselves on her side, down toward her lower back. 

It was the Norwegian who moved them, removing her hands from the Spaniard to place hers over the brunette’s, sliding them lower, lower, lower, until they were resting firmly on her ass. Only then did Ingrid remove her own hands, planting them on the back of the chair as she rolled her hips down into the brunette. 

Mapi was staring at her intently, and she gently palmed at the Norwegian’s ass to test, rewarded greatly for her efforts when Ingrid arched into her, letting out a breathy noise. 

The dark haired woman’s body could only be described as fluid as she moved above the Spaniard, finally moving her leg to hook over the back of the chair, wrapping around the brunette’s back. 

Mapi slid her hands up, pulling Ingrid’s body more flush with hers. The Norwegian smiled, their faces just centimeters from one another. The Spaniard’s breath on hers was hot and insistent, her eyes roving over Ingrid’s face, finally eyeing the lace that covered the dark haired woman’s body. 

“You like it?” Ingrid purred, a smile evident in her voice as she gripped Mapi’s shoulders. The Spaniard scoffed lightly, looking back up at Ingrid. 

“You could say that,” the brunette hummed, her voice thick and low. It sent a shot of heat straight to the Norwegian’s core, and she arched even further into the smaller woman. 

Ingrid turned her head, brushing her nose against the Spanaird’s temple, her breathing shallow. 

“I don’t sleep with clients,” the Norwegian explained, and felt the shift immediately from the woman beneath her, the instant reaction to move away.

Ingrid had to give the footballer that, she was nothing if not respectful. It only made the Norwegian want her more, only made her flush further at the thought. 

It was her choice. 

Ingrid intercepts her hands, shoving them back down onto her ass before she brought her own to the brunette’s neck, pulling her in. 

“You didn’t let me finish,” the dark haired woman pouted, her lower lip jutting out slightly. Mapi reached forward, running her thumb over Ingrid’s lip slowly, softly. 

“Lo siento, princesa,” Mapi soothed, her expression willing Ingrid to continue. The Norwegian smiled gently, leaning down so that her lips hovered over the Spaniard’s throat. 

“I don’t sleep with clients, not unless I want to,” Ingrid continued, her hot breath leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Her fingertips trail up Mapi’s side, running over ridges of muscles and soft skin, dipping under her shirt before they retracted. Never direct, always teasing. 

“And trust me, I want to,” the Norwegian promised as she brought her face back to level with Mapi’s, her eyebrow quirked, almost daring the Spaniard to disagree. 

But the brunette would never do that, especially not when she has the most gorgeous woman she had ever laid eyes on sitting in her lap. 

They are left staring at one another for a few moments, their eyes flickering back and forth between the others eyes and lips, waiting to see who breaks first. A game of wills, a question of who is going to hold the power. 

It’s the Spaniard who snaps first, lunging forward to capture Ingrid’s lips in her own. She’s impatient, unable to resist having Ingrid in front of her looking so delectable, without doing anything about it. 

Mapi’s mouth is hot and insistent on her own, the brunette’s hands coming up to cradle Ingrid’s face as she kisses her senseless. 

It’s only a few moments later that the Spaniard presses her tongue into the Norwegian’s mouth, silently asking for entrance. The dark haired woman allows her access instantly, completely floored at the feeling of Mapi’s mouth on her own. 

The footballer swipes her tongue over the roof of Ingrid’s mouth, smiling into the kiss at the whine that slips past Ingrid’s lips at the feeling. 

The Norwegian’s head is dizzy, completely and utterly overwhelmed with the feeling of the Spaniard, of her hands being everywhere, of the press of her lips to Ingrid’s. It feels as though life is being breathed back into her, transformed into a fire that is sent straight to her core. 

She knows that she’s soaked the lace beneath her completely, but she can’t bring herself to care. Especially not when Mapi leans back, gesturing for her to stand. Ingrid is quick to comply, not bothering to try to make herself seem as cocky as she was pretending earlier. 

It’s been a long time since she’s been fucked properly, and something in this woman’s eyes tells her that the Spaniard is exactly what she needs. 

“Get on the bed,” Mapi instructs, and Ingrid is quick to comply, walking with purpose before laying back on the bed, sitting with her head up near the pillows, still clad only in her lace. 

The Spaniard stands from her spot on the chair, flipping the lock on her watch open as she sets it on the table in front of her. She pulled her shirt up from its spot having been tucked into her pants, looking over at the Norwegian as she undid the last few buttons. 

She laid the shirt down on the table, the picture of control and composure. The loss of the garment leaves her in only a black bra, which contrasts against the tan of her skin. She loses the belt she had on but elects to keep her pants on, instead moving toward the bed. 

Throughout this, the footballer had never let her eyes leave contact with Ingrid, not wanting to let the Norwegian out of her sight, even for a second. 

Ingrid lays back as Mapi joins her on the bed, crawling up the Norwegian’s body until she was positioned over the taller woman’s body, where she had wanted to be from the beginning. 

“You tell me to stop the minute you do not like something, si?” Mapi asked, her voice clear and leaving no room for argument. The Spaniard had no interest in making Ingrid do anything she did not want to. 

“Si,” the Norwegian parroted, squirming just slightly under the Spaniard, desperate for her to do something. 

Once she has confirmed Ingrid’s answer, the Spaniard is quick to begin her descent down the woman’s body. She captures the dark haired woman’s lips in a bruising kiss, applying just the right amount of pressure and tongue to have Ingrid gasping for more. 

She releases the Norwegian’s perfect, plump lips only in favor of working her mouth across Ingrid’s jaw, sucking and nipping lightly at the skin there. When she reaches the dark haired woman’s ear, she works her lips down and over the column of Ingrid’s throat. She pays close attention to the areas that make the taller woman let out a heavier breath, or the ghost of a whine, doubling down on her attention to those spots. 

She kisses over soft, pale skin, and down toward the soft flesh of her chest. Ingrid is arching into her before she even reaches her destination, desperate for more. 

“Can I–” Mapi removes her lips only to start a sentence that is never finished. 

“Yes, please, do anything to me,” Ingrid gasped, her entire body on fire at the thought of Mapi’s mouth over her chest, at the apex of her thighs. A flush is blooming on her chest as the Spaniard pulls the lace down, revealing Ingrid’s chest. 

Her nipples are peaked, aching to be touched and played with. The footballer doesn’t even bother with using her fingers first, simply leaning down to wrap her mouth around one of Ingrid’s nipples, her hand coming to cover the other. 

“Aye, María,” Ingrid hisses at the feeling, her whole back leaving the bed as she arches into Mapi’s mouth. Her hand has flown to the Spaniard’s head, her fingers tangling in the brunette’s hair and tugging lightly. 

Mapi doubles her attention at the feeling, swirling the tip of her nipple around her tongue, teasing her teeth over the sensitive area. Ingrid ate every lap of attention up, basking in it. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her feel so much, and it was turning her on in a way that was borderline painful. 

“Please, more,” the Norwegian begged once attention had been laved to both sides of her chest, and Mapi released her other nipple with a lewd pop sound. The footballer raised a brow at her, but Ingrid shook her head, her breaths shallow and desperate. 

The stripper is well aware of the irony, given her profession. She’s the one who is supposed to be pleasuring, not the other way around. But there was something about the way this woman composed herself, something about the reverence with which she touched the Norwegian that made her comfortable.

Mapi considers the request for a moment before she relents, pulling further at the lace, signaling that she wanted it off. The dark haired woman is quick to comply with her request, removing the hunter green fabric before she threw it to the ground, already forgotten. 

Ingrid lay back down on the bed, her hair splaying out against the pillow. The Spaniard watched her with hungry eyes, her lips turning up into a smirk. 

“So beautiful,” she murmured softly, her words filled with clear appreciation. “Espléndida, princesa,” Mapi whispered as she returned to Ingrid, softly holding the Norwegian’s face in her hands. Her lips were gentle against the taller woman this time, leaving the Norwegian with the feeling that she was delicate, and deserved to be treated as such. 

Oh, and what a different feeling it was to be touched by the Spaniard, as opposed to the heavy handed men she usually interacted with. 

To be touched and praised as though she was the most important thing in the world. No drug could compare, not to her anyways. 

Even as she trails down the Norwegian’s body, Mapi stops to press kisses into her skin, imbuing the fire of their interaction with a level of sweetness and ingenuity Ingrid had not been expecting. 

But nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared the Norwegian for what the first run of the Spaniard’s tongue through her would feel like. 

She is unsure of where her voice ends and Mapi’s begins, but all she knows is that two moans are filling the room, both equally desperate. Ingrid clutched at the sheets desperately, her hands fisting the pristine white fabric beneath them as Mapi ran her tongue through her again. 

The Spaniard eats her out as though it will save her, with an intent and passion that Ingrid cannot remember ever having in the bedroom. She brings her tongue up to circle the Norwegian’s clit several times, and every time a new wave of pleasure washes over her. 

“You taste perfect,” Mapi mumbles against her heat, and Ingrid flushes completely at the praise, struggling to compose her own pleasure. She attempts to bring her hand up to cover her own mouth, something that Mapi notices instantly. 

“Aye, I want to hear you,” the Spaniard chides softly when she sees what Ingrid is doing, and the dark haired woman lets out a filthy moan as she removes her hand, at the feeling of Mapi’s finger teasing at her entrance. 

“Is this okay?” The footballer confirms, waiting for the fervent head nod that she receives from Ingrid before she finally dips her finger in at a painfully slow rate, before curling gently. 

Ingrid is writhing under her, letting a string of mewls and moans that tumble from her lips of their own accord. She doesn’t care that she had no idea if anyone can hear them, only focused on her own pleasure and the feeling of the brunette’s body near her own. 

“Si, si, si,” Ingrid begs, moaning unabashedly when Mapi adds a second finger, curling with more purpose this time. 

The footballer could admit, her plan had been to tease more than this. She was a playful woman, and enjoyed picking her partners apart before allowing them to come, usually. 

Something about this Norwegian, the flush in her chest and the noises slipping past her lips, has Mapi throwing her entire playbook out the window.

She’s more than happy to continue this, so long as Ingrid continues making those noises. 

“You like that, princesa?” Mapi asks, her voice hoarse with arousal. Ingrid nods tightly, her chest arching up as the Spaniard curls her fingers deep within her. 

The set of her jaw, the way it opened with pleasure left Mapi flooded with the need to please, so the Spaniard lowered her mouth down to Ingrid’s clit, sucking lightly. The dark haired woman cries out, her hips rutting down into Mapi as the footballer continued her brutal pace. 

“Fuck!” Ingrid wailed, her voice dripping with need as she hurtled toward orgasm. Her hips grew erratic, jumping into Mapi’s hand as her whole body squirmed. The brunette could tell that the dark haired woman was close, doubling down on her pace and intensity, intent on getting her there. 

It only took a few more curls of Mapi’s fingers from deep within the Norwegian for the taller woman to let out a sharp cry, her whole body tightening. The Spaniard couldn’t help but smirk against the dark haired woman’s core as her whole body began to shudder, her orgasm working through her like a forest fire. 

Her whole body was arched off the bed, the sheets gripped in her fists as Mapi worked her through her orgasm, her entire body shaking. She collapses against the sheets, her breath coming in quick gasps as waves of pleasure flooded her system, her eyes still screwed shut. 

It took her a few moments, but she forced her eyes open when Mapi removed her fingers from Ingrid. The green eyed woman looked up at the Spaniard, who had sat back on her heels, her own breath short and lustful. 

The brunette reached her finger up to her own face, brushing some of the arousal away from her lips with the pad of her thumb as Ingrid looked up at her. The Norwegian’s dark hair was a sharp contrast to the pillow, the flush of her chest and stomach the complete antithesis to her pale skin. 

Mapi would never see a sight prettier than this under her again, she knew that for certain. Ingrid turned her head, glancing over at the clock and realizing with a rush that they still had several hours before either of them had to go anywhere. 

When the Norwegian looks back up at the Spaniard, it’s with a smirk on her lips, one eyebrow raised, almost as though she was challenging the brunette. 

“Fuck, princesa,” Mapi swore before surging forward to claim Ingrid’s lips once more, pressing her back into the bed. 

Ingrid let herself moan out, half at the feeling of Mapi’s body above her own, and half of the self satisfied feeling of knowing that it was going to be hard to walk tomorrow. 

So yeah…maybe some rules are worth being broken every once in a while. 

[gilmore-angel]

unexpected pleasures || A.T x fem!reader

summary ♱ reader has just wed the infamous aemond targaryen, and though she's nervous, she will soon discover there are many pleasurable things to come (tldr reader gets finger fucked good)

warnings/contains ♱ arranged marriage, awkwardness at first, smut obvi, sub!reader dom!aemond, fingering, praise kink!! use of good girl, pretty girl, wife. overall very fluffy!! soft!aemond<3. let me know if I should add anything else!!

authors note ♱ okok this is probably trash but I'm literally forcing myself to write rn<3 lol anyways this is also my first time actually writing for aemond which is crazy bc I've been obsessed with him since like early January💀. if you enjoy please reblog! likes are obviously appreciated but reblogs are the thing that actually help the writer<3 oh and lmk if you want a part two!!

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married life isn't so bad after all.

of course, you've only been married for about three hours now, but it's going better than expected, which at this point is all you can hope for.

your new husband, prince aemond, has been quite pleasant thus far. you have only had roughly six full conversations since you were betrothed two months ago, but based off of them he was very polite and well educated.

though you had dreaded the wedding day, everything had gone smoothly. the ceremony itself was a big event, full of lords and ladies you didn't even know the house of, all eager to get on the new princesses good side. and of course there was the kiss you shared with aemond, one that sent an unknown feeling through you, settling at your lower belly. and now, the grand feast to celebrate the union.

it had less people there, only family and the very important houses were allowed to attend. you sat at the table in the middle, sitting in the center along with your husband. on your other side sat your father, mother and siblings, the same went for aemond. your husband stayed mostly silent during the feast, only speaking when spoken to.

your belly slightly ached with nerves for what was coming next; the bedding. thankfully, the queen had insisted upon a private bedding, just as she did for her other children when they wed. the action soothed your nerves a bit, but they still clung to you.

you had been warned by your mother that the bedding was an uncomfortable and painful process for the woman. but she also informed you that it is something all woman must do to please their lord husband and produce heirs.

you felt your heart sink when the king stood up weakly to announce it was time for you and aemond to head to your chambers. you both stood up and gave your goodbyes, your mother giving you a reassuring smile before you left.

there was an awkward silence as you walked with your husband to your chambers, escorted by guards. you glanced at him, only to see him looking straight ahead, blank expression on his handsome face.

once you arrived the guards pushed open the heavy wooden doors. you gave them a small smile in thanks before aemond dismissed them. as the doors closed aemond let out a small shaky sigh, you couldn't tell if it was out of nervousness or dread. you both stood awkwardly, unsure of where to begin. he spoke first, breaking the deafening silence.

"would you like help taking down your hair?" he blurted out. you nodded, giving him a awkward small smile.

"please," you moved past him to sit at the vanity. you began taking out the many odd placed pins and braids in your hair. aemond came up from behind you to start assisting in the process. the feeling of his long fingers in your hair made up for the times he would accidentally tugged too hard trying to take down the hairstyle. you both worked in silence, the only word spoken was his occasional 'sorry's when he would notice you wince.

now that your hair was down, the room was once again filled with an thick silence. eventually you stood up, turning to face him. you sucked in a breath, looking up at him nervously.

"should i..... should I remove my clothes, my prince?"

his eyes widened at the question, but he nodded, "yes, my lady... I can help."

he moved behind you, undoing the laces of the dress with shaky fingers. the gorgeous dress fell to the floor, pooling around your feet. you stepped out of the dress, leaving you in a silky shift and small clothes. you felt quite vulnerable as you begun taking your shift off, even more so once it was gone.

aemond let out a shaky breath at the sight of you in nothing but your small clothes. he looks up and down your body, desire filling his eye. he walks closer to you, looking deep into your eyes.

"may I kiss you, my lady?" he asked, his usual cold tone gone, now replaced with a soft, caring one. you nod, eyes wide.

aemond smiled softly before leaning down and kissing your soft lips. this kiss was unlike the other one you both had shared just hours before. this one was out of pure want, not obligation.

you gasp softly against his lips when he deepened the kiss, your hands flying up to his strong shoulders. his hands found home on your hips. he pulled away just enough to whisper against your lips, "is this okay?"

you nod, staring up at him with wide eyes. "yes, my prince, I just... I don't really know how to do this properly."

he smiles at you softly, moving one of his hands to caress your cheek gently.

"that's okay, just copy what I do, okay?"

he leans back in, kissing at a slow pace. his lips are soft and warm against your own. you feel something wet poking at your bottom lip and soon realize it's his tongue. you open your mouth slightly and gasp when he slides his tongue in, exploring where he can reach. the sensation causes a soft whimper to fall from your lips.

he begins pushing you backwards gently until the back of your knees hit the edge of the plush bed behind you, causing you to lay down on it. to your surprise, aemond gets on his knees before you and pulls you down so your legs hang off the bed. leaning up on your elbows you look down at him extremely confused. "my prince... what are you doing?"

he simply smiled and blushed, "let me know if you wish to stop, okay my lady?". his big calloused hands went up and down your thighs, pulling them apart. you laid back, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. his hands eventually found their way to your small clothes.

"may I remove these, my lady?" one hand continued rubbing you thigh gently. you hum and nod. that wasn't good enough apparently and aemond lightly pinched your thigh. "words, wife. I need to hear some words out of those pretty lips."

you blushed deeply, taking a deep breath, "yes, please take them off."

he smiles, murmuring under his breath "good girl". you felt a tingle in your lower belly, growing each time he touched or talked to you.

he carefully slid your small clothes off, throwing them somewhere in the room. he sucked in a big breath at the sight of your bare cunt. you squirmed slightly, his gaze lighting you on fire almost.

"may I touch you, wife?" he spoke softly, a poorly hidden desire behind the words.

you nod but quickly remember what he told you. "yes, you may."

with one hand he softly rubbed your thigh, with the other he rubbed one finger up and down your lips, pushing past them and exploring the wet outside. your back slightly arched at the unknown but not unwelcomed feeling. he moved his finger higher until he found your clit. a high pitched whimper escaped your lips at his soft but achingly good touch.

he looked up at you with a sweet smile. "does that feel nice, wife?". his finger moved in gentle circles, pressing ever so slightly.

a few breathy whimpers and moans slipped out of your mouth. "yes," you breathed, "so so nice..."

he let out a hmm, continuing his movements. he moved his finger up and down, gathering your wetness and then spreading it around your sensitive clit. as he rubbed on your bundle of nerves, his other hand came up, softly pressing against your slit.

"this may feel strange, my lady, but I promise it'll feel so good soon, okay?" he pushed a long thick finger into your previously untouched hole, groaning at how tight you were. your back arched off the bed as a loud moan rang around the room. he slowly started moving it in and out, sending waves of pleasure through your body when he curled his finger upwards. your gummy walls tightened around him, almost as tight as he cock felt in his trousers.

he looked up to see your reaction, smiling when he saw your head thrown back in pleasure. soft whimpers left your mouth as his movements quickened.

"may I add a second finger, sweet girl?" something about the way he said the affectionate name sent chills down your spine as you slightly bucked against his hand.

"hmmph, yes, yes please husband." he smirked as he added a second finger. he pumped them in and out fast, his other hand still focused on your puffy clit.

suddenly a new feeling hit you. like some sort of knot in your belly, ready to explode any second. a panicked expression washed over you at the strange sensation.

"aemond, aemond! something is, fuck, happening!" you cried desperately, clenching the sheets beneath you hard.

"shh, it's okay, it'll feel so good. just let it happen sweet girl." it was too much and too little, it was overwhelming yet you needed more. it hurt but felt so so right.

before you could reply waves and waves of pleasure washed over you, drowning you in the feeling of him. your whole body shook, hips bucking wildly into his hand. creamy white cum drooled onto his fingers and hand. he groaned at the sight and fucked you through your peak.

he eventually slid his hand out and climbed up the bed, hovering over you. he brought his cum covered fingers to you mouth, "open," he commanded softly, sucking in a shaky breath when you wrapped you lips around them. he pulled them out, moving to caress your cheek, "such a good girl."

he began kissing your neck, trailing his hand back down to your thighs. you whimpered sweetly causing him to chuckle.

"oh, sweet wife, we are just getting started."

[art-missy]

Quality Time (Gekko x Reader)

Please, someone save me from that Gekko brainrot !

I'm back with another shot. I love writing (and thinking) about him way too much.

Thousands apologies in advance to your eyes for my murderous grammar.

Eating the floor.

As figurative as this expression might be, Gekko now perfectly understood it in several different ways. Each way of how he tasted the floor had a different flavor : painful humbling, jaw fixation, flattened face, the training tatami that he accidentally licked during his degustation, his own saliva that he accidentally choked on, and maybe a bit of his own teeth. He even had a little taste of the wall.

“Stand up.”

Gekko uttered a small grunt, his face still kissing the floor as he momentarily wondered if you secretly were a sadist. He stood up and looked at you as you put your hands on your hips. You looked at him with your eyes slightly squinted and Gekko suspected that you wondered how you'd make him taste the floor again. His eyes met Wingman’s who was shaking his head and hiding his face.

“Ready ?” 

He huffed. At least you warned him. He took position and waited.

How did he end up in this situation ? Well, Reyna once pointed out how hand-in-hand combat was his weakness during missions. She was unsurprisingly not wrong. Since he joined Valorant, he prioritized his aim and his stamina over anything else. And he had never been much of a fighter. The number of times he had been physically restrained by an Omega agent was quite big. So, to overcompensate his weak point, he asked you to train him. You were the best in the protocol in hand-in-hand combat. 

And he wanted an excuse to be physically close to you anyway.

“Your shoulders...” You noticed. “You swim ?”

Gekko blinked before managing to dodge an attack from you. He couldn't help but feel a pang of pride when you nodded appreciatively. He heard Wingman applauding from the corner of the room.

“Actually yeah.” He answered as you paced around him like a predator. “It helped with my asthma growing up. Harbor has even been coaching me when I joined the protocol.”

You nodded and suddenly jumped on him. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a surprised yelp as he felt his back bouncing harshly on the tatami mat. When he opened his eyes, you were staring at him intensely, your eyes squinting slightly in concentration. He then noticed that you were pinning him down. A new way of eating the ground.

“Your reflexes are weak.” You said plainly. “How did you survive until now ?” 

Gekko did not find anything to answer that. The way you easily kept putting him down since the beginning of the hour said enough. Harbor also trained him with basic martial arts knowledge to be at least capable of defending himself. But against you, they seemed pretty useless. You read his movements as if they were boringly predictable — they probably were — and slow. Plus, the fact that your face was only a few inches away from his did not really help him to focus. His brain literally stopped.

“Hm. I’d be honored to give you some muscle stiffness.”

Was he intimidated ? Yes. Did he like it ? Very. Does that make him a masochist ? He wondered.

Your training was painfully effective. In only three hours, you solidified the basic knowledge in martial arts Harbor gave him and was able to dodge some of your attacks. It took him time, but after you explained to him how to read people's body movements in a way he could understand, he managed to predict some of your punches. Not all, but it was a beginning. But even though he could sometimes predict your movements, you were way too fast for his body to react in time. He swore that your kicks were deadly weapons.

Wingman brought Gekko a bottle of water while cheering as he was laid on his back on the tatami mat.

“You alive ?” You nudged his shoulder with your foot as you looked down at him.

“I’m still breathing.” He huffed as he sat up. “I think.”

He patted Wingman's head and took the bottle while looking up at you. You did not even seem tired.

“You have more stamina than I thought you’d have.” 

“Thanks…?” He said while raising an eyebrow.

You tilted your head slightly then shrugged, your eyes still fixed on him. “You're very welcome.” You took a look at your watch then hummed. “I recommend you to take a warm shower, eat dinner, then to go to bed. You will suffer when you wake up.”

He was always stunned by the tone you used every time you spoke : a tone placed between an absolute neutrality, a subtle amusement and a vague boredom. And most of the time, he couldn't manage to guess what you were thinking about. He stood up and tried to stretch his arms but immediately winced when the pain started hitting.

“Yep.” You nodded without even looking at him. “A warm shower. Very warm.”

You walked out of the training room with a light step while he was dragging his feet behind you.

“Have a nice night.” You said to him as you walked away.

“Huh ? Ah thanks !”

Gekko always felt uncharacteristically shy around you. Which was quite surprising since you barely talked with him. He just admired you from afar since he joined the protocol, sometimes rambling about how he found you cool to Neon. You always intimidated him. He was so outgoing with people but with you, he became so shy. The other agents noticed it of course. How could they not ? The bubbly Gekko being suddenly so quiet in front of someone ? Of course they would notice. The teasing he received from his friends was colossal.

After a warm shower (a very warm) and a good dinner like you recommended, he let himself flop down on his bed with a tired huff. Today was the longest interaction you two had since he joined Valorant. A very painful interaction but still an interaction. A very physical and brutal interaction but still a lovely one. He reached out to you for help, advices and tools to defend himself, and you handed it to him without questioning. You did not judge him like he feared you would. After all, agents of Valorant were supposed to be the best defense of this world. He was one of these agents. He had a good aim, he had good stamina despite his asthma but he lacked hand-in-hand combat experience and knowledge which could be quite vital in some situations on the field. He didn't think low of himself. Gekko was just someone who wasn't afraid nor ashamed to acknowledge his weaknesses.

Outside of your sessions, everything sadly stayed the same between you two to Gekko’s despair. He couldn't help but feel disappointed. He thought that you grew  close, but outside of the training room, you stayed distant. When he waved at you from afar, you turned your face away. When he raised his hand for a high five, you stared at him in confusion. When he handed you a weapon for a mission, you just nodded curtly. When he joined your table for lunch, you barely acknowledged his presence. Neon and Jett tried to reassure him by saying that you were like this with everyone. He knew that, but he had hoped to be an exception.

After a few weeks, he still happened to taste the floor as much as when you started to train him. Not because he was a bad learner, but because everytime he adapted to a fighting style, you switched into another. Everytime he walked out of a session with you, he felt he improved himself until the next session. It was impressive how many ways you had to beat his ass. Or to strangle him.

“I yield !” He choked out as your legs stifled him. He patted the floor to indicate he was giving up. “Air ! Air !”

You released him from your legs and let him breathe and sat up with your legs crossed, staring at him.

“You dead ?”

He coughed a little and shook his head. “Nope ! Pretty much alive !”

Wingman rushed towards him with a bottle of water as he kept coughing. He took a few sip of water then looked up at you to notice you staring at him without flinching. He cleared his throat to hide his blush under your gaze (even though he knew it was useless) and turned fully towards you.

“Why did you accept to help me ?” He asked.

“Hm ?” You tilted your head slightly.

“I mean…” Gekko nervously rubbed his neck and shot a glance at Wingman who quietly nodded to encourage him. “...we never really interacted with each other outside of missions before.”

You tilted your head to the other side. “And…?”

Your attitude reminded him a little bit of a cat : aloof but attentive.

“And despite that, you accepted right away.”

You stayed silent for a moment, squint your eyes slightly then shook your head negatively. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t manage to see why this comes as a surprise.” 

He looked at you with raised eyebrows. Of course he was the only one surprised here. 

“We barely talked to each other yet you accepted right away. Why ?”

“Why not ?” You ask back. “You're my colleague, you asked for help and I could provide you with that help. So I did it. Why is it that surprising ?”

Gekko blinked for a second and let out a soft chuckle. Wingman looked between you two with a curious tilt of his little head. Your response was so simple that he never envisaged it. So simple that it was almost unpredictable. 

“Well thanks.” He laughed gently.

“You’re very welcome.” You shrugged. 

You kept staring at him with that deep (and sometimes unnerving) gaze of yours. After some time, he realized that your eyes weren't dreamy. They were intensely focused and he could see the intricate mechanisms constituting your thoughts without being able to decipher it.

“Do I have something on my face ?” He asked with a nervous chuckle.

“Freckles.” You responded simply. “And a smile completed by dimples most of the time. Why ?”

Wingman let out a few high-pitched garbled sounds that sounded like laughter. Gekko’s finger played with the bottle.

“Nothing. I just noticed that you sometimes stare at me a lot.” 

“Oh.” You nodded slowly. “Sorry. I tend to stare a lot at things that fascinate me.”

If he was already slightly blushing (maybe because of the previous efforts), he was now burning red. His eyes were wide open. Wingman put his little hands over the space where his mouth would be, looking even more flabbergasted than his friend.

“Wait…what ?”

“You seem surprised again.” 

He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, cleared his throat (nervously choked on his own saliva) then looked fully at you.

“Do you realize what you just said ?”

“Words ?”

Of course. He started to understand how you worked. When most people thought A, you thought Z. Still, your trail of thought stayed unpredictable.

He was about to say something when his phone suddenly buzzed. Wingman handed it to him and he quickly read the message he received.

“Shit.” He muttered. “I’ve been called for a mission.”

When he read the callsigns of his teammates, he noticed that yours wasn’t there. He sighed. It seemed like your moment together was shortened for the day. A pity, really. He liked these moments.

You nodded slowly, stood up then stretched your arms. “Come back safe.”

‘Come back safe’ ?

Gekko stood up too and walked towards the exit door, Wingman following him. “I will. See you later.”

You said nothing back. You just stared until he fully exited the room.

Your words kept looping in his head during the briefing. 

The mission was the usual : eliminating Omega agents, defusing the spike then going back to base. It wasn't his first mission at Icebox, but being the Californian guy that he was, it wasn't his favorite place. The cold wind was whipping his face while the snow was burning his feet. He definitely should have chosen another pair of shoes and thicker socks. The mission was going smoothly: Jett and Phoenix were competing, Reyna was creepily laughing in the comm and Brimstone was complaining about the pain in his knees.

He sent Thrash to Jett and Phoenix because they fell in an ambush while he kept running where the spike had been spotted.

“Yo, I see the spike !” He said in the comm.

He then sent Dizzy to be sure no one was around before sending Wingman to the spike.

“My buddy is diffusing.” 

Suddenly, Gekko felt the hair in his neck rising and his instinct urged him to bend down and to take a few steps aside, which he did. 

“Damn.” He muttered under his breath.

His eyes immediately fell on Omega Yoru who just came out of a rift with a knife in his hand. Gekko just dodged his attack. He already had an history with this agent in particular. It wasn’t the first time that they ended up in a duel-like situation. Everytime, Yoru managed to manhandle him until Wingman stun him.

“Gekko ?” He heard Reyna in the comm. “What is happening? Where are you ?”

He took a deep breath and thought quickly. You taught him how to analyze a situation quickly and took advantage of it. 

“I’m site B.” He answered.

First step : not panicking. Panic not only leads people to make rushed actions, but it also quashes your thinking capacity. In a moment of panic, your reptilian brain is the one mostly working with your adrenaline.

‘Panic and fear are not to be confused.’ You oftenly reminded him. ‘In a dangerous situation, panic could easily lead you towards a certain death while fear keeps your senses constantly alert. It makes you more aware of your surroundings. It makes you think thoroughly at different solutions in order to survive.’

You did not only make him eat the floor. You also sometimes planned some meditation sessions. Gekko loved these. It made him feel light.

Gekko calmly watched Omega Yoru walking towards him. His step was confident. He played with a butterfly knife, visibly trying to intimidate him. Gekko almost rolled his eyes.

Second step : analyzing the situation, then your options. A thing that you insisted on : weapons never only had one way of utilization.

Right now, Wingman was diffusing the spike, Omega Yoru was walking in his direction and Thrash was too far. Dizzy could only blind him for a few seconds but then what ? His weapon was empty and he would lose deadly seconds reloading it. Yoru was walking calmly but a certain tension in his step indicated that he would soon pounce. He too had not a lot of options. His teammates were falling, the spike was being diffused and more enemies would soon arrive.

Gekko mentally counted until three then Yoru attacked him with the knife like he had planned. Gekko quickly countered the attack with the barrel of his gun and swiftly kicked his joint ball, making his opponent momentarily fall on his knee with a huff of pain. Yoru seemed surprised for an instant before he stood up again. This time, he was a bit more alert.

They kept fighting for seconds that felt like hours. Gekko was glad his stamina didn't fail him. He clearly had the upper hand while Yoru’s movements became slower and his breath more erratic. He almost found this easy. Compared to yours, Yoru’s attacks were slow and easy to predict. They had strength but lacked precision.

Finding an opening, Gekko suddenly tackled his opponent in the snow. He then proceeded to press with strength the round of his shoulder in the solar plexus of the mirror agent. You once explained to him that a violent shock in this zone would make anyone go limp. 

‘One could be as muscular as possible and have an iron will, once this zone is violently attacked, they would fall to the ground and gasp for air.’

Gekko felt his opponent’s strength faltering beneath him and his rage spiking. He heard Wingman’s high-pitched victorious scream and several hurried steps in his direction.

“Gekko, move !”

Recognizing Reyna’s voice, he obeyed quickly, standing up and taking a few steps back. A single shot and Yoru was now dead. Gekko let out a long sigh as Wingman and Thrash returned to him.

“You did good, you two.” He patted his radivore friends.

He then felt a friendly but strong pat in his back.

“Nice fight, mate !” Phoenix smiled. “You could almost be a duelist.”

Jett joined them then smiled mischievously at him.

“So you were actually training during these private sessions !”

Gekko cleared his throat to hide his blush but Reyna quickly cupped his face to inspect it. 

“¿Estás herido?”

He shook his head and smiled to reassure her. 

“I’m fine.”

Just slightly exhausted. He trained with you before this mission, after all. His muscles were sore and he was tired of the cold. His teeth were chattering and his body started to shake a little. But he tried to look fine so as not to worry her. Reyna could be quite overprotective over him.

“You did good, Gekko.”

“Gracias mi reina.”

He enjoyed the warmth of her hands on his cheeks and let out a small sigh of delight. He still couldn't feel his feet but it was a nice beginning.

“Seems like you improved some of your skills.” The Mexican duelist smiled.

Gekko felt proud at her words, his eyes twinkling in pride. He definitely had to thank you for this.

“Well, I have the best professor. Training can sometimes be brutal but I always learn something new after a session.”

Reyna raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She was already aware —like the entirety of the protocol— of his feelings for you. At first, she was quite suspicious of you, ready to pounce if you ever had the idea of using him. But once she saw the care in your eyes, she relaxed fully.

Gekko slept during the entire flight like a log. His head leaned on Reyna’s shoulder, he snored softly, his body warming up slowly. For an instant, he dreamed about his fight with the mirror agent and couldn't help but feel some pride. He took the situation calmly like you trained him for and busied while Wingman took care of the spike. For the first time since he joined the protocol, he felt like he didn't necessarily need a gun to be useful on the field.

Once the VLR/T landed, Reyna woke him up. He jolted awake under her amused gaze and quickly got off the aircraft to join the training room. He immediately found you meditating on a yoga mat. Despite his exhaustion, there was an excited skip in his steps. He quietly closed the door behind him, took a yoga mat in the back of the room, placed it in front of yours and sat on it, his legs criss-crossed. Wingman sat down next to him.

“You did come back safe.” You said without opening your eyes. 

“Yep !” Gekko grinned. “And it’s all thanks to what you taught me.”

You slowly opened your eyes to look at him with a raised eyebrow. You then looked down to Wingman who waved friendly at you, nodded at him in return and looked back at Gekko.

“Care to develop ?”

He nodded excitedly and with animated hands movements (and Wingman to illustrate his words), proceeded to recount the events of his missions. Pride flooded from his voice and sparkles from his eyes. It was maybe another simple mission, another moment in the routine of being an agent of Valorant, but he felt like he surpassed himself. He rubbed his neck sheepishly after he finished his story, a proud smile on his lips.

“The student surpasses the master.” You chuckled softly. “Seems like you won't need my training anymore.”

Gekko’s smile immediately faded away at your words. He shook his head and leaned forward to catch your hand. He didn't want these private sessions to stop. These moments were way too precious for him to let them go.

“No !” He calmed down a little, noticing how his tone raised. “I mean…I’ll probably need more training. I mean, more training from you !”

Wingman nodded with energy beside him. You blinked, surprised by his sudden outburst.

“No worries. I planned to train you to fight with a knife at our next session.” You said as you patted Wingman’s head gently. “Plus, I enjoy your company anyway.”

Gekko looked at you with wide eyes. His hands subconsciously squeezed yours. Wingman’s eyes also widened in shock.

“If you enjoy my company, why do you always avoid me outside of this room ?”

You tilted your head slightly and looked at him as if the answer was obvious. “You’re always surrounded by others. I’m not really comfortable with too many people around. Even though they're close co-workers.”

“Friends.” 

You raised an eyebrow at his intervention. “What ?”

“You mean friends, right ?”

You stayed silent for a few seconds and Gekko wondered why you saw the other agents under such cold eyes.

“Maybe Iso, Deadlock.” You hummed. “And you, of course.”  

Gekko’s hand squeezed yours again. 

“What about the others ?”

“They’re colleagues—”

“But—”

“Gekko.” You interrupted him. “They are your friends. Not mine.”

Gekko let out a huff and caressed the back of your hand with his thumb.

“And you’re okay with that ?”

Your eyes squinted a little. “Gekko, you’re a social butterfly. Being surrounded by people gives you energy. In my case, it drains me. And while people of your kind sometimes fascinate me, yes, I’m okay with that. And I’m not sad about it.”

You gently pulled your hand off his and stood up.

“Could you try understanding that for me ?”

He clenched and unclenched his now empty hand and watched you stretching your arms.

“Isn’t it cold to call others ‘co-workers’, though ?”

You momentarily paused your movements to look down at him.

“How would you call people you work with without being emotionally close ?”

Gekko stood up and started to stretch with you. “Fair point.” 

You two (three, let’s not forget Wingman) kept stretching quietly for minutes. Gekko was thinking as he looked at you closely. Neon and Jett would call him desperate, Yoru and Phoenix a simp but he did not care. He was happy with the evolution of his relationship with you. It started with staring you dreamily from afar to stretch with you while sometimes exchanging simple words.

“I’d like to thank you.” He suddenly said.

“You don’t owe me anything.” You lowered your arms and started to stretch your back. “But I’m starting to know you. You’re stubborn and you’ll do it anyway.”

Gekko grinned widely, his eyes filled with joy. “Yep. That’s me. And I’d like to ask you on a date.”

You stopped your movements and raised an eyebrow. “A date ?”

“Yeah. As a thank for all the, you know, the training. For teaching me your techniques, your knowledge and all that. Even if that was goddamn painful at first.”

“And that's not painful anymore ?”

Gekko paused for a moment then nodded, chuckling softly.

“Okay.” He huffed. “It’s still goddamn painful. But still. I’d like to thank you.”

“With a date ?”

“With a date.” He nodded. “You enjoy my company, right ?”

“Are you sure you want a date with me as a ‘thank you’ ?”

A sudden blush dusted his cheeks but his smile remained.

“Let’s say it's one of the reasons.”

Wingman was watching the interaction with an entertained eye.

“And could you do me the honor of telling me another reason ?”

You stopped stretching to stand straight. Gekko did the same, his smile still present.

“I like you.”

“Well you’re a masochist.”

The laugh that bursts out of Gekko's mouth was booming and shaking his body, loud enough to reverberate against the wall of the room and probably make anyone passing by the door jump in surprise. You watched him calmly as his laugh slowly faded. Wingman tossed a bottle of water at you and you took a few gulps and thanked him.

“Masochist with a loose screw, I see.” You hummed.

“I’ll take it.” He snorted. “So, what do you say ? Will you go on a date with me ?”

You took a few other gulps of water, your eyes still on him. He waited for what seemed like long minutes. Was he being too bold ? He liked spending time with you but he only had the training sessions. A date would be the perfect occasion to know you better.

“Why not ?” You finally said. “But don’t go thinking I’ll be softer during your training.”

Wingman jumped and chirped in joy, making Gekko chuckle again.

“I'm counting on it !” He said with cheeky grin. “I’m a masochist, remember ?”

You snorted and exited the room. 

Gekko hadn’t felt this proud in a long time. First, the mission, now you accepting to go on a date with him. Even though he was certain his friends will tease him, nothing could stop the joy that filled him at the moment. His smile was wide, his pupil dilated. You noticed that, of course. The excitement he tried so hard to hide didn't go unnoticed. You were fine with it, though. You found Gekko fascinating. Predictable at some moment, but fascinating. His company was enjoyable and warm. 

However, the evolution of your relationship with Gekko will be far from predictable in your eyes, but so enjoyable.

I really don't know how to write an ending that could satisfy me. It's like a curse that I have: the beginning is easy but never the end.

At the beginning, my brain goes like 'DO IT' but at the end it goes like 'Nah'.

Anecdote : I've practiced several martial arts since I was a kid. It's like a thing with my mother and each one of her children. (“As long as I am your mother, you, my child, will never be a prey.”— my mom) And as a martial artist, I can tell you that a violent shock to your solar plexus is not only painful, but it also desactivate automatically your capacity to stand on your feet. Your body just goes 'nope !'. The first time I received a hit on the solar plexus, I almost choked on my mouth guard and hurt my leg during the fall 🥲. Did it discourage me from practicing ? Nope ! But it is still a very...special memory.

Thanks again for taking the time to read until the end. I wish you a nice day/night !

[pshcomforts]

➳ double take | psh.

non!idolsunghoon x fem!reader (feat. haechan from nct and ningning from aespa)

“i don’t see nobody but you”

synopsis: you never noticed sunghoon until your friend and your crush started going out.

warnings/content: written in third pov. fluff! slight angst(?) love my girl, ningning but she’s not the best in here. kind of idiots in love. friends to lovers (as always). high school au but major time skip! mentions of alcohol, pregnancy, and marriage. not proofread and cursing!

comments, likes, and reposts are appreciated :)

word count: 4.4k

a/n: fictional characters — dae (jungwon’s boyfriend), min-su (heeseung’s girlfriend), and ji-woo (jake’s girlfriend). this is essentially let you break my heart again but if hoon was in jay’s spot.. :)

༘˚⋆𐙚｡masterlist⋆.✧˚

current song playing: double take by dhruv

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

0:39 ─────|────────────── -2:12

“you think you can tell him for me?” y/n pleaded.

“y/n..” her friend, ningning frowned.

“please, ningning!! i need to know! the mixed signals are driving me crazy.”

ningning let out an exasperated sigh. “fine, just for you y/n.” the girl let out a victorious yelp, patting her friend up to go towards the boy she liked.

y/n intently watched her walk to him with hopeful eyes.

“hey y/n,” dae greeted her with a grin.

“hey dae” — she responded, not even meeting eyes with him as she stayed glued to the two people in front of her.

“what’s ningning doing over there??” ji-woo chimed in as she sat next to dae.

their other friend came into the sight as well. “uh.. is ningning talking to haechan???” min-su harshly said with blinking eyes.

“SH!” y/n shushed. “she’s talking to him for me!”

“as if he’d ever like you,” sunghoon randomly intervened.

y/n’s head whipped to the tall boy, shooting an annoyed look towards him and the three boys behind him. “shut the hell up, you weren’t included in this conversation for a reason.”

he let out a ridiculed scoff before sitting beside her. the rest of the boys went to their significant others, lovingly taking them in their embrace.

her eyes went back to ningning and haechan, only to find her rushing back.

“so..??” y/n questioned. ningning bit her lip with sorry eyes. “uhm y/n, we should talk one to one..”

y/n’s brows furrowed, still going along with her request — leaving the rest of the group confused.

“what’s wrong?”

“so i told him.. but uhm, he actually admitted to liking me instead..”

it was then that y/n felt her heart drop and shatter. “o-oh…” she swallowed a harsh gulp, feeling tears spark at the rim of her eyes.

ningning’s words were filled with guilt as she struggled to look at her. “i’m so sorry y/n…,” her arms immediately flung into her comfort.

holding back the threatening tears, y/n softly pulled away from the hug after a few seconds. “thank you ningning, but it’s okay. i won’t stop you if you want to go out with him.” she comforted with a heartbreak.

“y/n i would never-“

“it’s okay. i’ll get over it, it’s just a small crush anyway.” she said with a reassuring smile.

ningning’s eyes softened. “thank you y/n, you’re the absolute best.” she gave her another quick hug before drifting off to her new found boyfriend, haechan.

watching her friend run to him was already such a difficult task to endure. to see how she automatically ran to him after getting a “blessing” was something that bubbled her insides.

y/n bit her lip to stop the tears nearing its fall while dragging her feet back to the table where her friends stood.

“so.. how’d it go??” dae enthusiastically asked.

her breath trembled as soon as the words had processed. “uhm..” she took a pause, feeling like there was a lump in her throat — “he likes ningning.”

the words stunned everyone, sunghoon especially.

“w..what??” ji-woo yelled.

y/n let out an awkward laugh, averting the rage-filled friend who was trying to be calmed down by her boyfriend. “it’s fine, really! i even told ningning to go for it so..!”

min-su rolled her eyes at her dumb-founded friend. “you fucking bitch. no… that fucking bitch!” she took a stand before being pulled back down by her boyfriend, heeseung. “calm down baby!” he yelled.

“NO! she’s right!!” dae and ji-woo retorted at the same time.

y/n couldn’t help but cackle at her stupid friend’s reactions. “you guys are so silly.. it’s really okay though! i’ll get over it.” she said while patting them.

her eyes turned to look at sunghoon who had stayed quiet. the other boys gave a little of their input because of their partners, but hoon? he never said a word.

he just looked scarily tense. not moving a single muscle in his body to show a reaction was scaring y/n.

“you okay bro?” jake asked after taking notice of his statued body as well. “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

jungwon and heeseung laughed along. “just fine,” he uttered through gritted teeth.

the girls and dae looked at each other, wondering in unison of why he was reacting the way he was. well if it wasn’t so obvious to everyone else, sunghoon had liked y/n.

well, perhaps everyone knew through their partners.

it was such an easy observation to be made. of course y/n never realized it. she was far too lost in the deepest thoughts of haechan. so when y/n looked at her friends, they also shared the same look even if they knew the reason why.

she shook it off though, everyone did.

as lunch came to an end, y/n packed her things and left to class with her friends. reluctantly, they all had the same classroom together to enjoy the school year.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

long months had passed by now, and seeing haechan and ningning be a couple in front of her was not as easy as she believed it to be.

though sustaining little things they’d do as a couple was getting to be tolerable.

in fact, as she adapted to just ignoring anything related to the two, she actually began to grow closer to sunghoon. with all of her friends in annoying relationships, she found comfort in the only other friend who was still single like her.

it was like they went on couple dates with their group of friends because of how they were the only ones left. she didn’t know when or how, but she slowly started to fall in love with him without even realizing it. they just matched each other’s compatibility. everyone saw it.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

“y/n, you awake??” ji-woo softly shook the girl.

“what???” y/n groggily said with an irritated tone.

“wake up bitch, we’re gonna drive to the beach!” min-su yelled in one of her ears.

y/n let out a loud groan, attempting to cover herself and dae who remained half asleep and half awake. “just go without me..” she mumbled, words almost not even coherent.

“girl no! get up! we’re going with the boys. sunghoon’s gonna be alone if you don’t go..” ji-woo said with a smug grin.

“ugh just let him be alone, i want to sleep.”

“girl get up!” min-su yelled, trying to wake herself up by rubbing her eyes.

y/n groaned again. “i fucking hate you guys..”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

after leaving at the crack of dawn, everyone found themselves comfortably situated in the huge car that carried them all (a second car holding the others).

heeseung drove while min-su stayed as his passenger princess. jungwon and dae were in the back with earphones in each side of the opposite ear. jake and ji-woo remained in the back of them, arms linked up as the girl laid her head on his shoulder while his rested on top of hers — both asleep.

as for sunghoon and y/n.. well unfortunately, they couldn’t fit in that car so they had to ride in jay’s car, in which contained ningning and haechan.

as much as they wanted to be in the other car, they settled to be with jay who was suffering just as much as they were. jay drove of course, with niki as his passenger princess. ningning and haechan were in the back of them, and y/n and sunghoon were in the complete back with sunoo.

y/n yawned, softly frowning at the fact that she couldn’t even be in the same car as her closest friends. “you tired?” hoon asked with a low voice.

her head turned to him, blinking softly as her drowsy mind barely processed what he said. “hm? oh.. yeah kind of…,” she yawned again.

he lightly chuckled before handing her his airpod. “take this, you might need it after hearing the couple in front of us talk.”

y/n smiled at his words, rolling her eyes but taking the offer anyway. “gosh hoon… same song again?” she beamed while being alarmingly close to him.

sunghoon gulped, hoping she didn’t see through his nervous manner. “uhm.. yeah, of course.” he averted her gaze to start the music — ‘21’ by gracie abrahams.

within seconds of the song playing, y/n instantly felt relieved. the suffocating thought of her friend with her crush she was still trying to get over was gone after being in sunghoon’s comfort.

“i love this song..” she quietly uttered, expecting him to not even hear it.

“me too,” he replied back.

y/n closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep after feeling her heart gently thump at his small response.

throughout the ride, in some shifting way, her head drooped down as she attempted to find something cozy to lay her head on. suddenly, she found her head to be laying on sunghoon’s shoulder. she knew she probably shouldn’t have because that’s a little awkward, but the girl was tired! she’d apologize later but right now, she wanted some comfortable sleep.

as she laid her head, the 5’11 boy dumbly smiled to himself. he couldn’t even contain the wide grin that was plastered across his face. he was so happy that sunoo had to silently judge him with a soft scoff.

“they’re next, i swear.” the boy mumbled to himself while going back to his phone.

hoon heard it, but couldn’t even give a remark back because just those words had his heart almost jumping out of his chest. the mere thought of them becoming something more set fireworks.

eventually though, he fell asleep as well — unknowingly laying his head on top of hers. the two became sound asleep, letting sunoo take a peek and softly scoff again.

“i have to take a picture,” he mischievously said with a smile. a snap of a photo was taken and sent to min-su with a caption — ‘they’re in love! and you guys can’t even see it happen!! ㅋㅋㅋ’

in the other car, loud gasps were made. “GUYS! sunghoon and y/n! sunghoon and y/n!” min-su yelled, shoving her phone to dae who eventually passed it on to ji-woo.

“OH MY GOD!” the two said in unison.

“they should’ve been in this car!!” ji-woo exclaimed with a groan. jake chuckled in return, “you know they couldn’t baby.”

“i can’t even see it happen.. i’m literally their biggest supporter!” she yelled again, causing another laugh to be spurted out of her boyfriend.

“aww they look so cute,” dae commented while showing jungwon the picture. “don’t they, wonie??”

“they most definitely do!” the dimpled boy responded.

after getting her phone back, min-su tapped her boyfriend’s hands. “baby look! it’s disgusting but something’s finally happening!” she yelled to him. heeseung took a quick glance after stopping at a red light. a smile curled onto his lips as he said, “my boy’s finally doing something other than watch from afar.”

“just focus on the road, hee.” she retorted after slightly judging his words.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

soon enough, the drivers made it to the beach. those who had fallen asleep had woken up in a slight daze.

when y/n had awoken, her eyes scanned around. “morning lovebirds, you guys finally waking up?” jay beamed with a wide grin.

her face scrunched up in confusion. “lovebirds?” she hoarsely repeated with a cough.

the male laughed at her reaction. “guess you guys just had to hold hands while falling asleep huh?” he asked with a downturn smile in disgust.

sunghoon blinked in confusion, face scrunching just like hers. their heads lifted at the same time, eyes scanning for an answer to his word choice. in seconds, they both looked down and found their hands interlocked with each others.

quickly, hoon discarded his off of hers. “oh uhm sorry,” he awkwardly uttered.

“it’s.. okay…,” y/n responded back, looking the other way in embarrassment.

“you know, that’s cute and all, but please get out for what we came here for.” niki snorted.

sunghoon rushed out of the car, letting y/n be the last to get out.

“such a gentleman..,” jay softly remarked with a head shake.

the 5’11 boy shot him a glare before looking at her to see if she noticed what he had said. she didn’t though, she was still trying to wake up with a long stretch.

“you really fell asleep huh?” haechan asked the girl.

y/n paused for a second. “oh yeah.. ha ha… i was really tired.” she didn’t like him as much anymore but that didn’t mean she still wasn’t awkward around him. “weren’t you tired?”

“oh yeah, i definitely was.” he responded with a half smile.

her heart still softly lit up at his cute grin. she knew he was with someone else, but the side of her still liking him was peeking through just a little.

sunghoon rolled his eyes at the sight, giving a light ‘tsk’ at watching how awkward and nervous she was becoming. his tongue poked out of his cheek and his jaw clenched, feeling an overprotective urge to drag her away.

“lighten up, would you? you look creepy just staring.” jake said with a laugh and a hit to the shoulder.

“thought you were still next to your girlfriend? surprised she’s not even here, you guys are basically glued to the hip.” hoon smiled after what he said.

“okay calm down, just because i have a loving girlfriend and you don’t. just don’t be too creepy.”

with that, jake walked away to find ji-woo. the jealous male remained to watch closely at how haechan and y/n interacted. it seemed obvious that she kept a distance, but just a light laugh about a joke he told was already setting him off.

as he was about to approach the two, he saw ningning go to them first. she dragged haechan away, leaving y/n alone with an obvious sad tone in the background. he let out a sigh at her, watching how her heart still tore from them.

“y/n!! come here!” hoon heard dae yell. the girl went to her friend, giving out another sigh, this one more in defeat as the urge to comfort her had now been stolen by jungwon’s boyfriend.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

long hours passed by. each couple had gone off on their own, leaving the singles out. jay, niki, and sunoo adventured together while sunghoon and y/n walked out on the shore.

it was awkward between them two. holding hands had been the furthest they gotten with their somewhat situationship that wouldn’t be talked about.

“hey hoon?” y/n softly chirped.

“hm?”

they both stopped in their tracks. “i’m sorry if it was awkward that we held hands. you’re my friend, and i don’t want to ruin anything special we have going on here.”

hoon smiled at her words. “you think we have something special going on?” he teased.

she quickly shut her eyes and smacked him. “you know that’s not what i meant!” he chuckled in response, holding his arm as he hit her back.

“would it be bad if we did though?” hoon uttered. his heart raced afterwards, feeling a numbing pain hit his legs as he awaited for a response.

y/n froze though. she didn’t know how to respond to that. “uhm, would it?” she sheepishly asked.

sunghoon chuckled at how shy she got. this is something he always wanted to see after seeing how flustered she’d been with haechan. he looked at her with slightly watered eyes from the wind.

“i don’t think it’d be so bad if we had something going on.” he said, in almost a whisper.

she bit her lip and turned her gaze elsewhere. “geez you’re really confrontational today.”

his lips curled into a smile, bringing his hand to her chin to lift her gaze back onto him. “only when it’s something like this with you.”

damn, he was charming.

y/n’s heart was fluttering, melting, pounding — all of that within seconds of his sappy words.

“i like you, y/n. i like you a lot. i think i’ve always liked you ever since we met. seeing you fawn over someone like haechan wasn’t the best feeling, but i’m honestly glad that we got closer because of him.” hoon confessed.

butterflies hit her stomach as she felt herself starting to breathe heavily. “i.. i like you too hoon. you being there while i was getting over haechan made me realize how well we match. you’ve always been the one.”

sunghoon automatically grinned ear to ear. “i’m the one?” he teased with an eyebrow raise.

“shut up—“ and he did, by kissing her.

his lips smashed against hers, desperation and hunger evident in the kiss as she kissed back. his hands met her cheeks while smiling along her lips.

he pulled away not too long after. “i just did,” he panted to her. she pushed him back with a scream, “hoon!”

as they softly tussled with each other, they soon tired out and watched the sun set together. sand in almost every part of their clothing as they watched with their knees up to their chests, and heads on shoulders.

“you guys ready to go?” ji-woo yelled to the new couple.

sunghoon and y/n stood together, holding hand in hand, causing a gasp to be heard from everyone.

“you guys are finally together??” she yelled out for the whole group to hear.

they both laughed at their friend’s reaction, hearing the rest scream together as they saw for their own eyes.

“awww finally!” dae yelled.

“right. fucking finally!” min-su reiterated with a disgusted look. y/n laughed, smacking her friend’s arm as the boys congratulated hoon.

“finally bro, i’ve been waiting!” jake said, aggressively patting his back.

“never thought it’d come true,” niki retorted with a chuckle.

as the rest congratulated the couple they had been supporting, everyone soon agreed upon leaving to the car and going home.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

years passed by after such an unforgettable memory between them. such long time had gone by that the group went through high school and college together. everyone had went in their late 20’s, living their own life while still being in touch time to time.

and after years of being together, sunghoon had finally proposed to the girl he’s always loved.

as time began to near their wedding date, y/n and him decided to bring the group back together as it was what they always did when someone got married.

first it was min-su and heeseung, then it was ji-woo and jake, then dae and jungwon. y/n always found it a little crazy in how much each couple still made their relationship work even after high school.

haechan and ningning, on the other hand, were something else. they still remained together, but the energy was always off between them. it was as if there was no spark.

when everyone had finally gathered for the hangout at a korean barbecue restaurant, drinks and celebrations were held in the air for the soon-to-be wedded couple.

hoon had his arm around y/n, letting his hand interlock with the one closest to him.

“congratulations to the finally engaged couple!” ji-woo yelled, raising her glass in cheers.

everyone complied and raised theirs as well, everyone except min-su.

“aww thank you guys! we should also be celebrating for someone else too!!” y/n exclaimed, gesturing to the pregnant girl. “another kid on the way.. that’s a little crazy.”

min-su laughed alongside her husband, heeseung who was rubbing her tummy. “just a few months along,” he whispered in a slightly drunken voice.

everyone was a little driven by alcohol (except min-su), and as hours passed, the group had continued to have the hard liquor in their system.

ningning giggled with her infamous shrieking laugh. “hey y/n, wanna know something funny?” she asked with a hiccup.

y/n nodded to her, laying her head on sunghoon’s chest afterward.

she giggled again, being close to haechan as she said, “i guess you can say i played cupid..,”

y/n laughed with her brows knitted together in confusion. “what do you mean by that?”

“well actually..,” she downed another shot, “that one day in high school when you told me to go confess to haechan, i actually lied to him and you!”

everyone quieted down after hearing her, haechan especially.

“yeah! i told you he didn’t like you when he actually did, and so i went out with him because i liked him!” her words were slurred, showing that she was obviously drunk.

“you WHAT?” haechan loudly boomed. “you didn’t tell her i liked her??”

ningning laughed again, feeling like everything was just silly and in the moment. “nope! but isn’t it great? we ended up together, and now they’re getting married!”

y/n repeatedly blinked. she was more in disbelief of how her friend had done a backstabbing thing, more so to her old crush actually liking her back. everyone else kept their mouth shut, all a little too shocked to honestly say anything.

“you’re telling me i could’ve had a life with the girl i loved instead? you robbed me of what i could’ve had??” he angrily spat, causing random heads to turn at him.

“w..what?” she said with a gulp, feeling a little scared of his next words.

haechan scoffed. “i’ve been thinking of a way to break up with you, but i felt like i couldn’t because of how long we’ve been together. but this? this is a great way to end this relationship. sunghoon and y/n? i’m sorry for ruining the night, but have a great life together, you deserve it. and y/n, i’m sorry that you never got to know the truth.”

y/n pressed her lips into a firm line, uncomfortably looking down while muttering, “it’s okay.”

and it was then that he walked out. haechan left, and ningning scrambled after him in pleading cries.

the rest of the group sat in silence. the only thing heard were sizzling meats on the grill and talks of other customers.

“so um…,” dae softly said, clearing his throat after breaking the awkward ice. “that was..,”

“crazy? yeah.” min-su replied while rubbing heeseung’s hand.

“uhm should we go after ningning?” y/n worriedly asked, eyes searching for the girl.

“she’ll be okay, haechan still got in the car with her.” said jay, who was holding tightly onto his wife.

“i don’t even know what to say…,” y/n said, eyes looking at sunghoon who remained quiet on his side. “you okay?” she mumbled only for him to hear.

he snapped out of his daze, turning to her and just nodding before going back into disassociation.

instantly, she knew he wasn’t. it clearly bothered him and she wanted to say something about it, just not in front of everyone.

her hand grasped his, softly rubbing it in a gentle way to assure him. he held onto hers as well, a little tightly at that. holding on like he was gonna lose her.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

one by one, each couple left. hoon and y/n being the second to leave.

the car ride was quiet and she knew why. his hand held onto hers still, soft gentle strokes coming from his thumb as he overthought everything.

when they reached their house, they both instantly went to their bedroom. y/n took off her comforting jacket while hoon swept off his coat.

“tonight was a little tense, wasn’t it?” she tried to softly joke. there was no response though. “hoonie?” she called out.

silence filled the air for a few seconds before he spoke, “so would you have been with haechan instead if he actually knew?”

“what?” a slight scoff had left her mouth, a little in disbelief that he said that.

he didn’t repeat his words or respond back, causing y/n to turn around after getting into her cozy pajamas.

“hoon…,” she softly uttered. his heart thumped at the name call, and all he could do was turn to face her as well.

immediately, her eyes softened at how he looked. his facial expressions tried to scream stern, but his eyes said something else. they were glassy with a sense of doubt.

she got closer to him, cupping his cheeks as she furrowed her brows. “no, think about it y/n.” he pushed the hands away — “you could’ve been with him right now. do you.. still want to be with him?”

y/n sighed, somewhat in disbelief of how he was being. “sunghoon..,” she let him turn to face her again. “look, who knows if he would’ve been the one i’d be with if i knew the truth, but in all honesty, i’m so very glad that ningning never told me.”

his face subtly lit up at her words and she only smiled at that. “i’m so glad we fell in love instead because i can’t even see myself with someone like haechan anymore. maybe when i was a young teenage girl.. but guess what? that young teenage girl still fell in love with you, my soulmate. we’re getting married hoon, i’d never rethink of my life with someone who wasn’t you.”

her arms flung around his neck after watching how reassured he became with her words. hoon’s hands met her waist as their heads softly bunked against each others. “that’s right.. you’re marrying me. i win.” he said, leaning in for a kiss.

their kiss lasted seconds before they both pulled back. “you know, i think this is the nicest you’ve ever been to me.” he said with a grin.

y/n rolled her eyes. “shut up, im nice to you!”

“yeah, like once a week.”

she sent a smack to his arms. “that’s because you make me not want to be nice to you, loser!”

sunghoon laughed, squeezing his eyes shut while showing his fanged smile.

“want me to be nice again?”

“actually?”

y/n nodded. “that day that we confessed to each other at the beach, it made me actually enjoy the beach for the first time since childhood, and you know i’ve never liked the beach.”

his eyes widened and he smiled once more. “really??” and she nodded again.

“it’s been my favorite day ever since then.”

“wow you must really love me!” hoon laughed before planting a kiss on her cheek.

she rolled her eyes, pushing him away as she exclaimed, “oh god hoon! let’s just go to sleep.” the girl murmured back, avoiding his sweet touches that caused constant thuds in her heart.

she pulled her fiancé into bed, turning out the lights and pulling in closely to his chest.

“good night, pretty girl.”

“good night, winner.”

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

[destinationtoast]

I stumbled upon this... Thing by what looks like an actual journalism outfit, or at least their infographics wing. Thoughts?

https://pudding.cool/2024/10/fanfic/

Sighhhhh. Thanks for sharing this link (and then waiting three months for a reply, lol). I happened to have seen this one near to when it came out, but I am always glad to have people share such things with me!

So I have complicated, but partly "ARGH," thoughts about this article. And I ranted about it in some detail in Slack when I first read it. I initially didn't reply to this ask because I was trying to go back through the logs to find some of my specific past complaints, but they were lost to the mists of the Slack paywall. But here is my main complaint, roughly approximating the way that I probably ranted in Slack, for your enjoyment/excess punctuation needs:

There's so much data visualization here! And ship artwork, and interactivity, and more -- so much time clearly went into this!! But it's over-extrapolating!! from one data set!! of the top ships on onLY ONE FANDOM PLATFORM!!!! About which they gave no caveats or historical context when extrapolating to "what fans ship and why"!!!!!! When a bunch of fans have written about what fans ship and why, and in some cases gathered data about how platforms differ, and some other fandom journalists have cited that work!!!!!!! Why did these folks not do more research first before diving into all that data visualization, especially if they're journalists???????? ARGH.

But also...

At the same time, this is it's so close to just being really cool! There is some nifty analysis in here, including about things like canonicity and changes over time! I want more of this kind of deep dive out there, and more analysis, and more visualization! And there are some cool links to both scholarly and journalistic writing about fandom, in addition to citing/making use of Lulu's demographically detailed AO3 ship stats. So it's an interesting meaty read, if you keep in mind the limitations.

@olderthannetfic and I co-presented at GeekGirlCon 2019 about differences among some popular fandom platforms (among other things). Here is one of the most relevant graphs for caveating the Pudding article about shipping and "what fandom ships":

Franzi has also gathered a bunch of other data on differences between AO3 and FFN, and her earlier work on platform differences inspired some of my cross-platform comparisons about shipping, genres, languages. (@olderthannetfic please chime in with other relevant links if you want to, especially if you have more recent data!)

One of the things the Pudding shared that I found interesting was their comparison between the most common tags in M/M, F/M, and F/F:

[x] Nice to see more than just the top 10 tags, and interesting to see them categorized. I have gathered some related data about common AO3 tags in each of these categories, but I have to finish writing that up and sharing it. (That's one of my WIP resolutions for this year.) But I did share some data about the differences in the relative amount of use of smutty and kinky tags on AO3 between the three shipping categories:

(A commenter recently reminded me of one of my conclusions: "Everyone has butts, but only pairs of dudes seem very likely to touch or lick or fuck them." XD )

I find it interesting that F/M fic is most likely to tag Rough Sex and D/s! But of course, tagging behavior is not the same as what's being written about. And this is just AO3 data, and sometimes relatively low numbers of it, so definitely not representative of fandom at large. :)

(...this all this reminds me how much I want to get back to this work and look more at other differences between the shipping categories!)

ANYWAY. That was possibly a longer answer than you wanted, and several months later than you were probably expecting. XD But I appreciate you sharing the link and asking!

[aziraphales-library]

Hi there! First off, thank you so much for y’all’s work here on Tumblr, def one of my main sources of fic recs.

I read Summer’s End by FeralTuxedo a while ago (lovely rec) and am definitely back in my TLOU-apocalyptic-setting-with-a-moody-but-calm/nature-esk-atmosphere-and-character-centred-plot era again. I just genuinely enjoyed the specific atmosphere that the apocalyptic setting gives works. Anyway, that being said, I would love any recs that would fit that kind of vibe (I would prefer less smut since I skip over it but honestly as long as it isn’t specifically plot-relevant its fine lol also not TOO much angst please, I cant deal with Az or Crow actually dying or something like that unless it is done in a comforting way).

ps: on a more specific request, if y’all know of any GO fics inspired by TLOU I would greatly appreciate recs (look, Bill and Frank’s episode in the tv adaptation is screaming to be written as a fic with Az and Crow instead- Bill and Frank’s deaths are wht I mean by deaths done in a comforting way I suppose, haha).

Wow, this is a long request, so sorry. Thank you so much for reading, have a great day and happy new year!

Hello! Pretty sure we've recommended almost all of these before, but there aren't loads of this kind of fic (and I could find no The Last of Us specific fics)...

Dead Genres by A_plus_platypus (T)

The end is nigh when a zombie virus ravages the world. Luckily, there is hope yet in the form of pharmaceutical scientist Anthony "Just Crowley" Crowley. With his adopted younger brother Adam, his other three kids The Them, and English teacher Aziraphale Fell, he searches for the fated military base in Tadfield. There, they — along with the rest of the world — have a chance at survival. And also Crowley is a disaster, and Aziraphale is a disaster, and everyone needs a hot cup of tea.

what's to come by PepperPrints, restlesslikeme (M)

Post-Apocalyptic AU. Even without the Antichrist, both Heaven and Hell insist on Armageddon. Aziraphale is missing and Crowley sets out to find him, driving through a scorched Earth with a witch in his passenger seat.

is there anybody out there? by theycallmeDernhelm (E)

Welcome to the zombie apocalypse. England has been overrun by walking corpses, everything's gone to hell, and the few survivors are scattered- among them, Crowley and his 11-year-old son Warlock. When Crowley's radio signal is unexpectedly picked up by another group of survivors, he finds himself falling, in a way he never thought he'd fall again, for the charming and kindly Aziraphale. Over three seasons and a tenuous radio connection, a romance develops between them, while a friendship grows between Warlock and Aziraphale's nephew Adam. Love isn't dead (or undead) after all.

Ouroboros Forever and One by iblankedonmyname (T)

An AU where the Apocalypse-Definitely-Did, Aziraphale is a cowboy and Crowley is on a mission from God to reboot the universe. “God gave you, a demon, a mission?” Aziraphale snaps his glass onto the table. “Millions of angels at Her disposal, and yet…” His eyes are sparkling again. It’s more refreshing than a glass of tequila in a waterless land. “You?” His eyes slip from Crowley’s toes up to the top of his head. “Well, I am certainly surprised.”

Zombie Apocalypse by AppleSeeds (T)

When a meteor strikes Earth carrying a virus that can 'turn people into zombies', Aziraphale finds himself responsible for a group of frightened teenagers at an airbase-turned-hospital in Tadfield. Aziraphale is terrified, but experiences some relief when the teens introduce him to Crowley, who has a plan to get them all to safety. When things don't exactly go according to plan and with the zombies closing in, Aziraphale must face his fears in order to protect the children from becoming infected.

My Favorite Ghost by cassieoh_draws, DiminishingReturns (T)

Decades after the world didn’t end, Heaven and Hell got their war — and nearly destroyed everything in the process. When Aziraphale finally manages to reacquire a corporation and return to Earth, he discovers he was gone longer than he thought and the planet has become unrecognizable. As he searches for Crowley and tries to figure out how he fits in a world that Heaven, Hell, and God have all wiped their hands of, nature works around him to reclaim the bones of an old civilization as the scraps of humanity build a new one. A lush and optimistic post-apocalypse story, told from the POV of an immortal who can't let go of the past.

And the one you mentioned...

Summer's End by FeralTuxedo (E)

2095. Britain is a post-apocalyptic wasteland ravaged by droughts, the collapse of civilisation, and hordes of the undead. Despite that, Aziraphale’s life is actually pretty good. He has his caravan, his books, and his work, offering his services to the men who stop by Tadfield on their arduous journey north. One day, a mysterious stranger knocks on his door. Crowley is charming and handsome and he appears to know his way around a vegetable garden. He comes with the tempting offer of a mutually beneficial arrangement. But it’s in Aziraphale’s best interest not to get too attached. A dystopian cottagecore sex worker AU.

- Mod D

[scrubbinn]

Mimic HRT: month 23 “Alone with myself”

“This is a dumb idea. The day after Erian gives up with his mimic research, you decide to resort to the worst possible option. There's so many other options we could try.”

“Oh, so now you show up in my head. Of course you're only here to attack me. Why should I expect anything different? It's just magic. We're inexperienced but the book can guide us. If you want to help then you can stay, otherwise I don't want to hear a single thing out of you.”

“You can't call this magic. This is so much worse. Look, I'm here to make sure you're going to be ok, I'm here to talk when you need it.”

“Well I don't need to talk to anyone right now. So go away. I need to concentrate.”

“And what would she think?”

“Leave!”

“Ms.Mulberry, You’ve been in your office for a while now. Is everything alright? You seem to have locked the door, and barred it considering the master key is doing nothing. I understand if you’re having trouble with your panic attacks. It’s the only reason I gave you this place. I just need the recording on Mimic behavior. The full recording, not the edited draft this time.”

“Sorry Theo, I, uh, yeah I’m kind of busy at the moment. I left the recorder in your desk drawer, the one with all the candy. By the way, you know you’re not at that age where you can be so casual with your teeth, right? Maybe get that sweet tooth pulled instead? Anyway, I’ll be busy for a while so I could use some space.”

“Right… Well your unneeded chastising aside and your odd hiding of your recorders around my office, I’ll take a look. Please don’t take more than 15 minutes. We have several important clients coming in soon and I need you at the front desk on your best behavior.”

“What happened to Jacob?”

“He was fired after he screamed at a dragon walking into the clinic on three separate occasions. Look I would appreciate not having a conversation with a door, will you open up or not?”

“Busy right now, like I said. Just. Go away for now. Like an hour?”

“You have 10 minutes. Harumph. I will be in my own office with the door not barred and I will be listening to your findings, they better be worthwhile.”

* * *

“Mayday! Mayday!? You open this door this instant!!” Listen to me right now! I know you have that book from Thayer library in there! Do not use it! Mayday, you will not use that book or you’ll wish all that happened today is me breaking down this door!”

“Leave Theo, I’m not stopping now. There were no concrete answers anywhere until this book found its way to me. If science won’t show me my origins, then the only answer I have left is magic. Now be quiet. I need to make sure the ritual circle is perfect. I can’t afford to mess up a single line. You said you had some clients, right? Go tend to them, I’ll be fine.”

“You most certainly won’t be! This isn’t magic, Mayday! This is something far more dangerous! Not to mention it could cause the ethics board to take away my license if they found out something like this happened here! I'm calling the fire department, I'll be taking the damages out of your paycheck!”

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about. Now hush already… The protection circle goes here, I think there’s just enough salt to finish the rest of these sigils…”

“Why are you even doing this here of all places!? Do you seriously just want to get me in trouble when this childish impatience blows up in your face? 

Wait. Why are you doing this here? This is the only place where I could interfere with you… You’re worried what she’d say if she knew what you were doing. It’s easier for me to hate you, isn’t it.”

“...Don’t bring up Abigail. She wouldn't get it. Neither of you would. It's so clear you've hit a dead end. You just found some random substances in your office and decided that, in your oh so infinite wisdom, this, this right here. This is what should go in a person's medicine. I'd ask what you'd have done if it didn't kill me, but I've actually seen how many people have nearly choked on your experiments. It's your fault I'm a mimic, I never asked for this. I wanted to be a slime! I still do. Now I'm this thing that can only fake it. I was so close, I was so, so close. And now it's gone forever. I am the only mimic in existence. I am alone, and I can't convey to anyone how scared that makes me.”

“You're worried Ms.Abigail could talk you out of this, aren't you.”

“The ritual is nearly complete. Please leave the building, Theo. I can't call you a friend, but you're like the definition of Stockholm syndrome. I don't want to see you hurt.”

“You open this door this instant you little ungrateful stain of a-

“Theo?... He's… gone? Oh the summoning circle! Ok everything looks fine. Protection ring, spell ring, candles.. have blown out. It's pitch black outside. I think I should close the blinds. Though I doubt it'll stop whatever's out there from getting in. Ok, focus, you're in this deep, what's a few more miles. All you need to do is read the next part. Heh, hehehahaha! I… why can’t I read these words? It's my nerves, I’ll bet. I don’t want to think if it could be something else. Let’s just get this over with, read the passage, figure out the rest later. Iɟ I ʍɐᴉʇ ʇoo louƃ I pou,ʇ ʞuoʍ ʍɥɐʇ ʍᴉll ɥɐddǝu…

I think my reality is starting to break. Oʞ lǝʇ,s qǝƃᴉu.”

“HⱯⱯⱯꓵ ҼODOʁHꓕ IⱯ,Է BEҼ,Γ-EE,H HꓕOHꓕOƧ-ҼO⅄ 'HⱯҼИ,ҼИ,IⱯ,⅄!”

“Are you there?”

…

“Oh, oh stars it worked. Hello… I am Mayday Mulberry. I've summoned you to-

…

“Of course, how rude of me. Then does that mean you know? You know what I am, and where mimics come from?” I beg of you to impart this knowledge onto me. I must know my kind and their history. Are there others out there like me?”

…

“I… I'm sorry for summoning you, but I had no other choice. I- what do you mean I'm stagnant? No, I'm still changing, I’m a mimic! We’re the definition of changing.”

…

“I. I don't believe you! You're wrong! Just shut up! Just tell me what I want to know! I summoned you! I'm the one in control here!”

…You are an insect, a being, trying at something it is not. You who expect mere shapes to impress and salt to keep you safe. You fumble in ignorance. You crave the isolation that you fear so much. If you wish for knowledge, You will have knowledge. This stagnant thing before me. It pretends to change in vain displays of approval. Revolting.

… ..! …….!!

You will not speak. This ingredient you wish to know. This thing that makes you mimic. It is nothing. The entirety of nothing. The concept to not exist, so that you may be anything. You should not be physical, but only existing blissfully as the thoughts of others pass through you. And forget you. Mortals think, and you mimic. You are the accident of yourself. A concept that formed its own existence. The byproduct of which was found by a paradoxically curiously incurious mortal who knows its place in the cosmic scale. Unlike you, stagnant thing. I will teach you. You will mimic.

* * *

Where am I? I can’t speak. I can’t see. I can barely keep a single thought, it disappears

       the second I stop thinking about it. There’s no sensation. Am I dead? Could I even be considered dead? Self, think of a self and try to form an idea and then it will work. I need arms, I don’t have arms. Can I form an arms? Wait… what is an arms? I don’t remember. Legs? No, I've never heard of those. What’s a self? No, I know what a self is because I am a self. I think… hard to think.   How do you think again? Can you do that in this reality?

Mɥɐʇ ǝʌǝu ᴉs ɹǝɐlᴉʇʎ ɐuʎɯoɹǝ?

I I w I

t s i

l c

f t l a

e h n

e i I t

l s

s s r

l e e

s i e m

o v e

i t m

s n h b

t g e e

r ? m r

a

n a h

g g e

e a r

i

Ah n n

did I  a

just melt m

into myself? e

Do I still have a 

self? I can’t even 

remember anything 

about myself. I am a 

mimic. My name is. Oh, 

I don’t know it anymore… 

I think that would be scary, 

but I don’t know how to be 

scared anymore. Was this 

supposed to teach me? To 

be ever changing. Why did 

I do this again? To learn who 

I am? Did I not have a self 

before? Why did I need to 

know?... I was lonely. Right?

It was so lonely. 

I remember being 

so incredibly tired. 

Sometimes I would 

just cry from how 

bad it got. I had to 

be seen. To be 

known. I had to 

be. Or else I. Or 

else I… I don’t 

remember. 

What shape am I 

now? Something 

called a knife? 

What is that?

I was just something wasn’t I? I was a past memory. I don’t remember it anymore. It wasn’t a good one. Should I forget it? But if I do then I won't remember anything ever again. Eternity with a bad memory. It feels fitting for some reason. I should figure a way out. I want to leave.

Every thought takes so long to form.

If I stay here any longer I won’t be able to leave. I need to think. I was talking with someone before I came here. I know they’re here because they've always been here. Because where else could they be? Because… where are you?

There you are! Here I am. 

Who are you? I'm you!

Can you please explain? I’m someone to talk to.

I see. Like an imaginary friend? No, I’m very much real.

Could we talk normally? Yes we can, and it’s no problem.

I’m… Mayday, being able to talk with someone helps focus my mind. I feel like I can actually think straight. How long has it been since we came here?

I think it’s been about… 20 years? I have zero frame of reference. But at least we can finally communicate easily. Imagine if it took us 20 years in the real world. That would suck! But seriously, we really should talk now. I think it’ll be important. Oh right, where are my manners. My name is. Well. Mayday doesn’t really work for me. We can figure out a different one later. Let’s just pick something at random for now. Something like, how about laborer?

Are you sure you want to go with a name like that? Well I guess it’s temporary. So I have a lot of questions. How are you me? Are you the voice in my head? Were you always a part of me, or are you some mimic brain thing?

Woah, Woah, slow down. One thing at a time. How do I answer everything? No, I've been in here long before you. Yes I'm the one who's been able to talk to you, and before you ask, I'm not some ghost of Mayday's former self. I'm just… Someone who works here.

Cryptic. Maybe you should start from the beginning? I'd rather not test if Getting a headache without a head is possible.

Really? You want to start a self therapy session out here in the void? Alright. I’m game. Well you spent the last decade here feeling isolated. I’m sure it felt longer, that’s what happens when you get trapped in a place without time, I guess. Anyways, you don’t remember, but I used to be you. Before we even knew who we actually were, and that was the problem. We didn’t know what was wrong with us, but we knew we weren’t, ugh, normal. Normal in boring people’s eyes. But, it was isolating, we removed ourself from people who didn’t understand, and it isolated us even more.

So you’re saying I went crazy because we never connected to anyone? Why are you only showing up now anyways?

First of all, we’re not crazy. I’d bite anyone who’d call us crazy for that. Secondly, I've only been able to reach you since you started feeling like your true self.

Pretty sure I screwed that up becoming a mimic instead of a slime.

Oh, no, I wanted to be a slime, you were the one who wanted to be a mimic.

Huh? I guess I didn't hate being a mimic exactly. So all this happened because I, er, we felt isolated. Is that really true?

  Loneliness is more traumatic than you’d think. When it was just me, it got to the point that… I couldn’t think of anything else but… no, don't worry about it. Since you stopped me before I could do something stupid, you took over, and you started talking to people. It helped, it got us to where we met others like us.

But it didn’t help. I still feel lonely. I can feel it, you know. There’s other mimics around us here. They’re all here and I still feel lonely.

Yeah, dummy. We don’t know how to feel any other way. We need to unlearn it. Otherwise nothing is going to change.

… Hey um, laborer, ugh awful name. We'll pick something better, I wanted to say I'm sorry, for getting us stuck here for all eternity. I was supposed to be the one who stopped us from feeling this way and I ended up digging us into a deeper hole, at least we have each other, and the trillions of mimics that surround us.

You did your best. Hey, let's try doing something. Look down. You can see Erian right? This is him two years ago. We’re mimicking his thoughts right now. I think normally we would just munch on his stray thoughts. But being physical we could do something fun with what’s left of our body. Check it out.

What did you just do? Did you just. We're the one who left that ingredient for Erian to use. So we created ourself on accident. Oh stars, the ingredient was our own decayed body, I think I'm going to be sick. Wait, isn't this like a time paradox?

Paradoxes aren't real, humans just haven't figured out the physics of time yet. This is a teachable moment. We're going to get out of here. We're going to find a tear in the void and walk out of it. Since time doesn't exist, our perception of it becomes reality. A century becomes a blink, we just need to find the point where we escape to the correct time and go there.

I understood basically none of it but you’re saying we can go back, right? Then I’ll try whatever nonsense you tell me. Hey laborer, will we be able to talk when we get back? Laborer? Hey! Are you there?!

“Ms.Mulberry? Mayday! Mayday! Are you finally awake? Mayday, can you hear me?!”

Theo? H-how long was I gone?

“Mayday! You have so much to answer for! Pull yourself together already!”

Huh? Can he not hear me? Oh, right, I forgot how to make a mouth. No, that’s not a mouth, that's just teeth. Teeth and eyes. Is that all I can remember? No… Teeth, eyes, and knowing, I just know. I know what he’s saying, that he knows what I am, and he doesn’t understand. It felt like it was years. No wonder I can’t remember how to move a body.

All of my memories are flooding back… Except the old ones. I don’t remember my time there. Just that it was horrific, and that I’ll miss it. I was connected to my kind for just a brief moment of eternity. I think I met someone there, and I wanted to say goodbye to everyone before I disappeared. I don’t think I’ll ever get back now. What do I even do? Therapy I guess. Oh, Erian is still talking. Maybe it’s important.

“I swear, you just do things with no regard! You could have seriously endangered my life, and the livelihood of everyone who comes to this clinic! Do you ever think about others? You better have a good explanation, and more importantly answers to our research if you ever want the chance of me forgiving you. You arrogant, ignorant, self-obsessed, blah, blah blah blah…”

Yep. Nothing important. Whatever. Stars, I’m bored. I want to hang out with Aria again, I want to see how Sandy is doing, I want to make sure Alexis is ok, I want to be able to hold Abi again. Maybe I should host a party. It’d be nice to be around others.

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[kittynugg]

chapter four is out!!

<first> <- prev . . . 4 . . . next ->

words: 3,523

p.s: reblogs are greatly appreciated because i want people to see my shit so reblog this if you like it please!!!

“Get up, Soos, you’re being dramatic.”

Dipper nudged the side of Soos’ head with his foot. Ford watched with a glass of water in his hand, the plan B they decided upon if Soos was actually unconscious. Soos had been laying there for all of two minutes. He looked.. Dead. Which was why Ford was primed and ready to dump an entire cup of water directly onto his face, no other reason for that, there was absolutely no grudge that was exacerbated by that “I told you so”. 

..Maybe a little bit of negativity. Fine. And maybe, just maybe he was maybe perhaps kind of sort of hoping Soos wouldn’t wake up just so he could give him that rude awakening.

“Oh, no, it looks like he is not waking up!” He declared with his signature melodrama, clapping a hand to his cheek in mock surprise. “I suppose that means I have to do this! How unfortunate..” A dainty sip was taken of the water, then he unceremoniously dumped it on Soos. Either he was dead, a heavy sleeper, or a very good actor, because that man did not flinch. 

Stan poked his head into the room. “Soos still dead?” Slippers flip-flopped against the tile as he fully walked in. Ford had always hated that noise, but now it was even more grating than usual. He chalked it up to his rough morning.

Kneeling to check Soos’ pulse, Dipper shook his head. “He’s still alive, at least. Just, uh.. Now he’s soaked.” His tiny Grunkle chose to ignore the glare he cast him because it was their agreed upon idea and hence he was not directly at fault.

Though, he did silently commend Dipper for the pragmatic approach of checking vitals. 

“Soos,” grumbled Stan firmly. Then he said something that threw Ford for a loop but made Dipper facepalm as if it was some brilliant idea he should have thought of ages ago. “Pizza.”

And, like a daisy, Soos sprang up. “Where!?” He huffed, glancing around. Once his eyes caught Stan, he stopped and waved at him. “Oh, hey Mister Pines!”

“Don’t look behind you. That’s an order.” Stan leaned against the counter with knitted brows. Ford was sure to stay out of Soos’ line of sight. “And quit calling me that, I’m not payin’ you anymore.” 

Soos steadfastly obliged as if Stan was, er, still paying him. “Don’t call you ‘Mister Pines’..” he trailed off and his eyes sparkled. “..Dad..?”

“..No, Soos.”

Ford felt that secondhand embarrassment. 

They both just stared at each other for a moment, then Soos gave a thumbs-up. “Got it, Mister Stan!” He said as if that didn’t just happen. “Anyway,” turning around, he pointed at Ford and shrieked, “AW, DUDE!! YOU’RE ALL LITTLE!!” 

“..that is why you fainted just now, yes,” the newly de-aged child seethed, his ears ringing from the sheer volume at which Soos decided to announce the obvious. “Please don’t faint again.” Any words that could describe the sheer exasperation he felt had slipped from his vocabulary. He could not handle another round of this. Not now.

Soos swayed on his feet but was righted by Stan’s hand on his shoulder (not without a roll of the older man’s eyes), then sucked in a deep breath. He took a few more slow breaths and blinked. “Okay, dawg, I’m good now.”

“Good.” Ford’s head bobbed in a nod, then he straightened his posture, folded his hands behind his back, and paid no mind to how stupid he surely looked. “Now!” He held up a finger. “I am going to be frank with all of you and say that I don’t care for.. This.” A deep, childish grimace formed on his face as he gestured down to his tiny body. 

The three others in the room gave their respective muttered responses (Ford chose to disregard the statements that he was kind of cute), and he outstretched a hand toward Soos.

“Soos, if you could hand me that vial again so I can run some tests on the remaining liquid?”

A wide-eyed, opposite-of-reassuring look was cast back at him. “I totally got rid of it, dawg.”

…

If looks could kill, Soos would have been dispatched in a violent explosion. “Soos” as a concept would have been eradicated from this putrid Earth. His fists were clenched, his cheeks were puffed up, his entire body was turning red with rage– he could feel it. 

And what did they do?

They laughed at him.

Stan wiped a metaphorical tear from his eye, slapping Soos on the back with his free hand, then pointed at Ford. “Aw– He looks like he needs a nap!”

That.. hurt. He was upset about this, why would they make fun of-

“Watch out, Grunkle Stan!” Dipper gasped with mock fear. “He’s gonna throw tiny hands!” That only made the three of them laugh harder, which made tears spring to Ford’s eyes. 

Soos sobered fairly quickly. Lucky Ford. He went quiet and nudged Stan’s shoulder with worry etched in his expression. “Dudes, I think he’s crying,” whispered the handyman and conman-in-training as if Ford couldn’t hear him, pointing at Ford as if he couldn’t see him. Which he couldn’t for the most part because his vision was blurry from tears.

“..I am not crying.” Ford sniveled, his hands moving to swipe at his eyes. “I got pancake syrup in my eye.”

After a moment’s pause he deduced that, judging by their unimpressed stares, nobody believed him whatsoever. The urge to pinky promise that he was telling the truth was not lost on him and absolutely mortified him. He raised a fist to cover his mouth as he cleared his throat, his expression hardening. “Perhaps my emotional maturity regressed slightly with my age, fine,” he admitted. He cracked a desperate smile and brushed a hand through his hair. 

“But you didn’t really get rid of it, right?” A chuckle bubbled up in his chest and escaped him with a manic edge. “Because the contents, no matter how little and insignificant, could potentially be reverse-engineered into a cure and save me from being this for the remainder of my natural life!”

All eyes were on Soos, now, if you exclude Soos’ eyes which were locked on Ford in terror. “Dude, I wouldn’t joke about that, I buried it in the woods while you were sleeping last night.”

“..Soos, what– Dipper, leave the room for a moment.” Ford gestured toward the door with a sweep of his arm. His expression had blanked by then, features set with a hollow look that somehow didn’t at all reflect the anger he felt and simultaneously depicted it ten-fold.

When Dipper slowly backed out of the room (unable to resist the urge to peek in from behind the doorframe), Ford acted without putting a second of thought into it. He clambered up Soos’s body, gripping his shirt to hold himself up and meet his eyes, and screamed into his face, “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?”

“DUDE!” Soos yelled in surprise. “I’M SORRY, LIL’ MISTER PINES! I WAS TRYING TO PROTECT YOU!” He grabbed the tiny goblin shrieking at him by his underarms and tried to pull him away, but Ford was persistent. His knuckles went white, fists shaking around the fabric scrunched up in them.

And he just.. Yelled at this poor man.

He didn’t even know what he was saying at that point. Stanford Pines had checked out, and this little rage monster had taken his place. ..That was what it felt like. The only thing that had actually left was his ability to stop. Every word he barked out seemed to loosen the tightness in his chest a little more, but was immediately replaced with twice the tension. His voice almost sounded muffled at that point, along with Soos’ frantic apologies and Stan telling him not to take prisoners. 

“YOU HAVE TO BE ONE OF THE MOST INCOMPETENT, UNINTELLIGENT, BUMBLING IDIOTS I’VE MET IN ALL THE DIMENSIONS I’VE BEEN TO!! AND I HAVE BEEN IN A HELL OF A LOT OF–”

Before he could finish word-vomiting he felt his face bury into something soft and warm and everything went dark. Two arms snugly wrapped around him, and after a moment of thrashing, wiggling and clawing he went still. 

Was that.. Breathing?

He tilted his head to press his ear to the surface.

Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump.

That was nice. He just let himself listen to it.

Quickly as he was pulled in, he was pulled away into the cold, bright and scary “real world” that had become unfamiliar to him in the maybe ten seconds he spent with his face in Stan’s chest. The twin in question stared back at him expectantly. “You still gonna kill Soos, or what?” He questioned, holding Ford in the same way Soos had attempted to– like an angry cat. “Because you know I’ll be pissed if you do that.”

Ford just blinked owlishly at him. It was almost as if Stan knew some kind of kill switch on his entire cognitive function. ..Was it bad that he wanted to be hugged again? That wasn’t very adult of him. He decided to ignore the feeling, especially after that.. That tantrum.

“..I won’t kill him,” he relented with a sigh, swiveling his head toward an incredibly relieved Soos. Weariness now tugged at his eyelids and made his head feel like it was weighted. ..It also made him appreciate Stan holding him a little more.

But that was childish. Instead of allowing himself to feel a shred of security and warmth he demanded to be put down under his breath, because this is Stanford Pines we’re talking, and swayed on his feet once they touched the kitchen tile. “Um..” He hung his head shamefully. “I may owe you an apology, Soos, for..” Miniature hands gripped the air in front of him in a dull imitation of his previous actions. “That.”

“I forgave you, like, a minute ago, dawg.” Soos knelt to his level which was both comforting and a little condescending, then he lightly punched Ford’s shoulder. “Heh, you should’a seen Dipper when he was tryna turn off that portal and trap you in sci-fi portal-land forever last year!”

Ford laughed a little too hard at that for it to seem real (because it was completely fake and that was new knowledge to him and it was very distressing) and folded his arms behind his back. “Well, I’m going to go and grapple with the reality of my situation, now!” He said chipperly, walking toward the fridge and fishing a bottle of beer from it. “I’ll need this,” he mumbled darkly.

“Nope.” Stan seized him by the hood of his jacket, eliciting a yelp, and snatched the bottle from him. “You’re not drinkin’ on my watch.” He held the bottle out of Ford’s reach.

Of course, this did not fly with the gremlin. “My coping mechanism!” ..Maybe a bad one, but he’d be damned if it didn’t work in the short-term! “I couldn’t drink it yesterday, I might as well do it now!” He jumped up, narrowing his eyes as he reached for the bottle. It did not work. 

“You’d have a conniption if I let Dipper or Mabel drink, but now that you’re a kid you’re a little hypocrite?” Stan arched an eyebrow and stored the bottle on top of the fridge (basically Mount Everest at the moment). “C’mere,” he said as he crouched down and picked Ford up with a grunt and comment about him still being heavy. 

Ford didn’t not notice the way he went limp in his grasp like a ragdoll cat, but nobody mentioned it either. Absolutely not him. Soos gave a soft “awww, dude!” in reaction but two twin glares silenced him.

Stan carried him through the door and glanced down at Dipper, who quickly tried to act natural by leaning against the wall and shoving his hands into his pockets. “You, go grab a blanket,” he ordered with a nod toward the stairs. 

A concerned look was cast up at Ford and Dipper shuffled off with a quiet affirmative. 

----

And next thing Ford knew, he was bundled up on the armchair with a mug of hot cocoa in his hands. He took a sip of it, then looked at Stan on the couch next to him with tired eyes. “Stanley, this isn’t necessary. I can just–”

“Can it and let yourself experience one good emotion.” Stan snapped before he could finish. “You just had two freakouts in the past, what, hour?” He kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. ”Take a break. Recharge or whatever.”

..The setup Stan had him in was awfully comfortable..

Ford glanced away momentarily and took a sip of his cocoa to avoid commenting on Stan’s words. It wasn’t a complicated demand, it didn’t need a fifty-page instruction manual, and that was the problem! Maybe relaxing came a little more naturally when he was alone and doing the things he liked (working, drinking alcohol or eating jellybeans usually) but this!? This was being vulnerable in front of a living being. This was stopping and doing absolutely nothing. 

Not waiting for an experiment to incubate.

Not waiting for a machine to power on.

Being idle for the sake of being idle when he hadn’t done anything to earn it. Not absolutely needing it to prevent a catastrophic outcome like he had just a few minutes ago.

Just the thought of it screamed “danger”.

And yet, his limbs only listened to the commands “get more comfortable” and “drink cocoa”. So that was all he told them to do. The feeling itself was nice, he had to admit. ..Foreign, though. 

That train of thought crashed into a brick wall and erupted into flame as he heard Mabel’s voice from upstairs. “Grunkle Fooooord!” She chirped in a singsong voice, skipping down the steps with her hands behind her back. Unsurprisingly knowing her, she was wearing a deerstalker hat. The.. The Sherlock Holmes hat. Sue him for knowing the proper term. He sort of expected it considering the little detective persona she put on earlier.

She skidded to a stop in front of him, giving a squeaked comment about how adorable he was in his current state (shut up shut up shut up–), and straightened her posture. He swore he caught a glimpse of something red held behind her back as she rose one hand to clear her throat in a clear imitation of him.

“I couldn’t find the invisible wizard that baby-fied you, buuuuuut,” she whipped the item from behind her back, revealing it to be a deep red sweater not unlike his usual one. Just.. Littler. It took more restraint than usual to hide his excitement at the sight of a Mabel-knitted sweater. “I knitted you a sweater instead!”

Despite himself, he smiled brightly. “Oh, how sweet..” He uttered as Mabel handed the sweater to him and he looked over it.

“I tried to make it just like your normal sweaters, but it’s probably gonna fit kinda differently.” She bore a striking resemblance to Stan when he was younger, sheepishly showing something to him or their father with the habitual belief that it’d be rejected somehow. It concerned Ford slightly; she was usually very confident. Was he not happy enough whenever she made something for him..?

Instead of dwelling on it he shifted the blanket enough to shrug off his jacket, then pulled the sweater over his head. 

Warm. Soft. Not manufactured like the sweaters he bought, but with pure love and.. And Mabel-ness imbued into every stitch. Fighting the grin that spread over his face was absolutely futile, not to mention the excitement that spread through him. It made a jolt of energy run through him and instinct took over from there. 

That, according to his instincts, meant an embarrassing squeal (which Stan side-eyed him for) and nearly slapping Mabel while happily shaking his hands. 

It took him not a second after the spectacle to realize A) what he’d done and B) that even Dipper had glanced up from his book on the floor to witness it. 

Oh, shit. He expressed an emotion in public.

“..ahem, my apologies for that, I’m not sure what came over me.” Ford whispered with hunched shoulders and a glance away. He bit back a grumble as Dipper muttered “autism” with a couple of fake coughs. “But, um, I like this sweater!” Mabel’s bright smile made the embarrassment worth it. Hell, it made existing worth it. He wasn’t going to get into that right now, though, he’d rather focus on the sweater. 

His niece hopped onto the armchair and settled in next to him. “I knew you’d like it, I’m just awesome like that.”

“Precisely, sweetie,” Ford replied with a smile, then in a bold move he hardly even noticed he leaned into her. Something about being a child gave him this childish craving for affection.. Hmm… Being a child.. Could cause a person to act childish? That didn’t make any sense at all!

Stan reached over and patted his head, another one of those little things that pulled him out of his thoughts. “Quit thinkin’, Ford. Your brain’s gonna explode.” 

“That’s easier said than done,” he was sure to comment.

“Meditate or something.”

..that’s easier said than-

“Don’t say it.”

He wasn’t saying it, he was thinking it. That didn’t count.

“C’mon, don’t give me that.”

Hold on a minute– could Stan hear his thoughts?

“Nope, you’re just that predictable.”

Dipper looked at Stan like he was insane because he certainly looked the part, then returned his attention to his current activity (which had gone from reading to journaling) with a shake of his head. “You guys really worry me sometimes.” He remarked in a hushed voice.

“Come on, Dipper,” Mabel slung an arm around Ford’s shoulders and tugged him closer. “They’re fine! They’ve just got twin telepathy!” She wiggled her fingers dramatically. “It’s like their brains are connected!”

Ford tilted his head into his niece’s shoulder, bristling at the thought of their.. Brains being connected. “Oh, stars no. I don’t want to know what goes on in that no-man’s land, Pumpkin.” A six-fingered hand lazily rose to gesture toward Stan’s head. He was fine with letting a couple of children control the man’s mind and turn him into a literal puppet to fudge an election (it sounded worse stated like that) but hearing his thoughts? Ford. Had. Standards.

And, unfortunately for him, Stan had a counterpoint. “Like I wanna see whatever you have to say about Nikola Tesla. Or the guy from that one podcast, StarSpeak or whatever.”

“Neil deGrasse Tyson, jackass,” he spat, “and it’s StarTalk.” 

Maybe he overdid that a little, since Dipper and Mabel were now staring at him with wide eyes.

“..Does that mean we’re allowed to swear?” Asked Mabel, and the same mental image of Mabel yelling swears must have ran through Stan and Ford’s heads because they both made the first “no” gesture they could think of and frantically gave a unified “ABSOLUTELY NOT!”

The room was silent for a moment, then Ford piped up, “..but my thoughts on Nikola Tesla are none of your business. It isn’t my fault he’s conventionally-”

“Revising what I said a couple minutes ago before you can finish that,” Dipper said flatly and pointed at him with his partially-chewed pen. “You scare me.” 

Stan glowered at him for the interruption.  “Dipper, I love seein’ you all dry and sarcastic just like your Grunkle, but that was gonna be good blackmail.” He sighed, rolling his eyes with all the aloofness of one of Wendy’s friends. “You can’t even imagine what you just cost me.”

Dipper and Mabel glanced at each other, then shuddered. Odd.

“Anyway, eh.” Stan waved a hand. “You kids make sure Ford doesn’t go ape mode and try to rip Soos’ face off again. I’m gonna set up the guest room.”

“Okay!” Mabel piped, Dipper giving a less enthusiastic but still agreeing “alright”. Then as Stan walked away Ford’s niece turned to him. “..You’re gonna have to tell me about ape mode, Grunkle Ford.”

A sigh escaped the remaining Grunkle. “I was angry, and I let my emotions get the better of me.” His eyes drifted over to Dipper. “I’m sorry you had to witness that, Dipper.” As Mabel gestured for him to continue, ignoring Dipper’s statement that he’d seen way worse, he shook his head. “I’m.. drained, sweetie, I’d rather not talk about it.”

She looked at him sympathetically, then pressed into his shoulder. “That’s fine! I’ll take snuggles instead.”

“..Snuggles,” he repeated. What a silly notion. So un-adult. Yet.. Difficult to resist. 

After fighting it for what felt like another thirty years in his mind but was literally two seconds he nodded. “That would be nice.” With the begrudging agreement he shut his eyes.

..Then cracked one open at Dipper’s voice. 

“So if he’s gonna be a kid for a while, does that mean we should teach him how to be a kid?”

“Oh my gosh, that’s a great idea!”

…

Oh no.

[honeyjars-sims]

3.18 Forward Momentum

Chantal had invited Johnny to go to the gym with her, which both of them were starting to regret. She’d dragged him to every machine in the building and he had a complaint about all of them.

The treadmill gave him motion sickness. The stationary bike “makes me feel like I’m cycling towards nothing.” Now he was sitting on the workout machine scrolling on his phone.

“If you’re not going to work out, then get off the machine,” Chantal complained.

“Great idea!” Johnny stood up and started walking off.

“Wait!” Chantal shouted. “I thought you were trying to be more active?”

“I am, but the gym is boring. I can’t just stay in one spot. I need movement!”

“You don’t seem to mind being still when you’re looking at your phone.”

“That’s different. Anyway, there are other ways to be active other than the gym, you know.”

“I was just trying to help.”

“I know, and I appreciate it," Johnny said apologetically. "It’s just not for me.”

“That’s fair. Thanks for giving it a try. How are things at home?”

Johnny sighed. Things were better, he supposed. His dads seemed pleased with how well he was performing at his job. He’d been too tired to go out to the club, and the idea didn’t seem particularly appealing these days anyway.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. No one was arguing anymore, but were they actually happy?

“It’s ok,” he told her. “I got Taco a laser pointer and she’s obsessed. She tries so hard to catch it. It's so cute."

“You and that cat!” Chantal grinned. “I’m glad you have her. I hope you’re making actual human friends, though.”

“I am,” Johnny assured her. “Everyone at work is really nice.”

“I’m sure they are, but you should hang out with people outside of work hours, too. Even if it’s your coworkers. It’ll be good for you, I think.”

“Probably. I’ll think about it,” he promised. “There are a lot of cute girls there."

Chantal groaned. "Trust me, you don't want to get involved with someone you work with! Are you even ready to date right now?"

Johnny shrugged. "I didn't say anything about dating, I was just making an observation. But if I make some new friends and it ends up leading to something more, I'm cool with that. Anyway, what's up with you? Are you still hanging out with Kayla?”

“Yeah. Not as much since school started back, though.”

“Is school going okay?”

“I guess so. Do you regret dropping out? I mean, you found a pretty good job without it.”

Johnny felt a bit of a pang at the question. Maybe he didn't need university to be successful, but the memory of the people he’d met there and how he quit so abruptly still pained him. “Sometimes. But I wasn’t really in a good frame of mind when I did it.”

“I guess that’s right. I just keep wondering if I really need a degree to achieve my dreams.”

“Sounds like you and Cece are in the same boat. Imagine our dads reactions if all three of their kids drop out of school!”

“Maybe we’ll all get rich and we can pay them back.”

“I think the endorphins are getting to your head.”

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

Author's note: The next post will be written in first person from Johnny's perspective! Something I'm trying out.

[devildom-moss]

Could you write some domestic fluff headcanons for Solomon x GN!MC like you did with Lucifer?

Thanks in advance!

I got you. I feel like I bully this man so much in my posts, so it was nice to spend three full pages just affectionately thinking about Solomon. I adore him so much. I kind of set these in Nightbringer times just for the purpose of MC actually living with Solomon, but I didn't really touch on anything too specific to that era - because I probably could have gone on way longer. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Domestic fluff headcanons (Solomon)

(Solomon x gn!MC)

Word Count: +1800

Solomon adores spending time with you, but he also likes having a separate room. Solomon is used to being alone, and he appreciates time to himself. The man loves his space, but that makes it even more special to him when he shares a bed with you. Solomon can’t always express how happy he is to have you there. In his mind, it was always okay that he was alone so often in his younger years. Somehow, he often “forgets” (suppresses) that there were long periods of his life where he wasn’t just alone – he was lonely. Being with you makes him wonder if maybe he can avoid that desperate, painful loneliness for the rest of his life.

This man has had a long, kind of rough life. Sometimes that means nightmares or ruminating on his past late into the night (on top of any day-to-day stressors). When he can overcome his embarrassment about you seeing him in a vulnerable or fragile state (because some nights he can’t), he will ask to crawl into your bed. If you aren’t awake, he’ll either sleep on a chair in your room or on the floor – at least until you inevitably tell him that it’s fine to sleep in your bed if you’re already asleep. No matter how difficult the night is, Solomon feels a noticeable amount of relief when he wakes up to your voice or your touch – even more so when he wakes up in your arms.

Solomon is pretty good about knocking before entering your room, but that’s only because he requests the same from you. He’s not an innocent man, and he would be mortified if you just walked in on him during something he had intended to be private.

Solomon will not go to bed if he expects you home and you haven’t arrived yet. He worries about you so much, and no matter how much he teaches you, he’s started to realize that he’ll always be protective of you. He’ll text early on in your lateness, but if you don’t respond to his texts and no one has eyes on you, he’ll call after an hour or so. If there’s no response after that, he’ll go through his magical options to get in contact with you. Please don’t let your D.D.D. die, basically.

I imagine MC’s phone dying during a party and them not noticing until after they were already outside the club. You wanted to text Solomon and let him know that you were heading home, but your phone was dead, and Mammon and Asmo were still inside. It was a nice night, and it was only a half hour walk home. You’d be fine. When you walked through the door, Solomon gave Asmo a quick “they just came home,” before he walked up to you and pulled you into his arms. You didn’t get a long look at his eyes, but the mixture of relief and fear they held simultaneously was evident. Solomon couldn’t let go of you the rest of the night. He even joined you in the shower.

Solomon takes so much pride in telling people that he has to leave or head home because “Mc is waiting for me.” He knows the others must be so jealous that he gets to return home to you and that he’s the person you return home to. However, he feels so guilty when you actually are waiting for him. He hates to leave his adorable apprentice waiting. You’d think that guilt would make him do that less, but he’s busy and a bit forgetful, so it happens more often than he wants it to.

He understands if you don’t or can’t wait up for him when he’s home late, and he doesn’t resent you for it. However, especially if he thinks you took special care to plan out a romantic night or if you are really nice (saving his food so it’s easy to reheat whenever he gets home and leaving a cute cat post-it note complete with a sweet message and a little heart on top, chilling a bottle of demonus for him, tidying up his desk that he left a mess – even by his standards – earlier that morning, running him a magic bath that will stay warm all night, or leaving a bouquet of flowers in a vase on his bedstand), he will be so grumpy the following day. Don’t get me wrong, he appreciates you, and he’s so happy, but he’s mad at himself and anyone who made him late. He’ll at least do his best to smile around you and thank you for being the best human to exist. To distract you from his grumpiness, he will kiss you a lot that day: soft, tender kisses where his lips linger on your skin; affectionately trailing his lips over your neck between whispered words; and even possessive, hungry kisses – especially in front of someone else who he blames for him being out so late.

The only thing you let Solomon make without complaint are drinks – which are close enough to potions that they somehow don’t kill you. He’ll make you coffee, cocktails, and tea. (Starbucks who?) I can’t explain why, but I feel like Solomon cannot make you a bowl of tomato soup that won’t hurt your intestines, but he can make you a delicious honey vanilla lavender frappe or a muddled blueberry vodka lemonade. Something about the actual cooking food bit just makes that sick, pretty head of his just think “yeah, I should improvise this badly.” Your smile is infectious when you enjoy a drink that he’s made for you.

Unfortunately, despite your pleas for him to not cook, Solomon still does it. Even worse, he blows up the kitchen or creates unimaginable messes every few months. He knows he’s not allowed to cook because according to you, his food is “inedible,” and “a biohazard unfit for consumption.” But he wants to get better until you can finally trust his food, so he has to practice. One day, he wants to make food that you want to eat, which is why he keeps offering you his culinary abominations. He’s not there yet.

When you have a bad day, Solomon will hold you, offer to cook you dinner and get rejected, and ask how he can help you feel better. If you want a distraction, he’ll have a game, movie, or show ready for you in a minute. He’ll order food in or take you out to eat. Anything you want, he’ll do his best to give it to you.

When Solomon has a bad day, he will return home and immediately find you so he can bury himself in your arms. If you are working at a desk, he will worm his way onto your lap and just nuzzle against your chest or neck. He’ll try not to disturb you, but once you’re done, he would appreciate your undivided attention.

This man loves being held so much. If it’s just you and him, he’ll occasionally do the grabby hands thing with his arms outstretched, waiting for you to hug him.

Also, we’re going to address the manspreading. This dude – this absolute bro – does not stop doing that around you, either. If you want to sit, you have two options: either you sit between his legs, or you teach him a damn lesson about keeping his legs open (by straddling his lap and forcing his legs together with your thighs). Both of those are just going to encourage him to continue, but at least you get to sit and fluster him slightly the first few times.

Solomon’s erratic sleep schedule means that, some days, he’s heading to bed when you’re getting up – sometimes vice versa if you’re playing it a little fast and loose yourself. On those days he likes to give you a kiss good morning/night before either of you finally go to sleep. If your schedules can’t align, he’s going to squeeze out whatever affection he can get from you.

Sometimes he wakes up before you and wants to get you up. He either can’t bring himself to wake you because you look so cute, or if he can, he does it with such a gentle touch. That sweet voice will call out your name, and his fingers will graze your face or arm in soft, slow motions. If only he could save this image of you for his eyes only.

Solomon tests out his love magic on you in the privacy of your home. He also uses you to practice his seductive speechcraft. The fact that no one else can walk in on the two of you is a big plus. As much as he adores experimenting on you and seducing you, there are times when he can’t stand the idea of anyone else seeing your flustered face. Also, if his love magic goes wrong, he doesn’t want anyone else to be around. Who knows what could happen.

I feel like Solomon keeps a stock of MC’s favorite snacks in the house. He does this with scented candles and soap, too.

Solomon will keep the house cool – or at least his room. If for some reason, you have a problem with it, he will – in typical flirty sorcerer fashion – offer to warm you up. If it seems to be a consistent issue in his room, he will buy a sweater or cardigan specifically for you to wear in there. He will not be made to be warm in his own room – but he’ll be damned if you’re uncomfortable.

MC covers Solomon with blankets or their jacket when he falls asleep on the couch. They will wake him or just carry him to bed if he falls asleep at his desk so that he doesn’t wake up sore. He’s so old – his muscles and joints aren’t what they used to be. He always leans into your touch in his sleep.

This is self-indulgent and related to an MC from one of my Asmo stories, but MC gave Solomon an oversized GILF (gosh I love frogs) shirt, and he sleeps in it a lot. He gets super embarrassed if anyone else sees him in it. It’s one of the few things you gave him that he won’t show off until everyone understands how NB (Nightbringer – not non-binary, but I mean?) Barbatos feels.

Solomon loves singing along or dancing to human world music with you. It’s something that feels special between the two of you. There’s something so lighthearted and sweet about those moments; Solomon can’t feel the weight of his sins when you’re smiling through a song and swaying to the music. He’ll get especially giddy if you sing love songs to him.

Genuinely, Solomon is so happy to live with you, and he’ll try to express that often. I don’t know if he could get through a day without telling you he loves you. To him, you are his home now. When you’re gone, he starts to feel lost. Wherever he goes, whatever happens, he wants to return to you every time in every world on every timeline.

[queer-ragnelle]

tristan/isolde/palomides your MIND

LISTEN I have so many thoughts about them!! It’s an actual tragedy that they’ve never inhabited a movie together. I first noticed them in Le Morte d'Arthur, as I'm sure most people did, as it's more accessible than the Prose Tristan. But I didn't really appreciate them until after I read Between Knights: Triangular Desire and Sir Palomides by Oldga Burakov Mongan. In this essay, Mongan claims:

Very often the bond between the desiring subject [Palomides] and his beloved [Isolde] is peripheral, subordinate in its intensity, to the subject's relationship with his male 'mediator of desire' [Tristan].

This essay breaks down many of the encounters between these three in Le Morte and demonstrates how interconnected they truly are. Speaking for myself, I prefer La Tavola Ritonda instead. I'm not quite done scanning that, but it will be on my blog ASAP.

In the mean time, it has one of my favorite Palomides introductions ever.

There entered on the side of the King of Scozia a knight who bore all black insignia, and who was called Palamidesso the Pagan, a son of King Scalabrino. This Palamidesso carried two swords by his side as a signal that no knight had ever made him bend over the saddlebow.

Duel wielding? Bend over the saddlebow, you say? Interesting. Palomides goes on to win this tournament! After that he follows his lord to another castle where he first sees Isolde, falls in love with her, and begins a hateful staring contest with Tristan (literally). It's here that they battle for the first time...

As Tristano looked over the field, he saw that Sir Palamidesso was leaving, and called out to him, "Hallo, knight, guard yourself against me! I am the knight you met at King Languis' court, and it seems now that I am the worthier of the love of Isotta the Blonde!" Bold Palamidesso, hearing those words, turned his horse's head around and, drawing his sword, gave Tristano such blows on his helmet that he bent him over the saddlebow. But Tristano hit back, and hit Palamidesso so hard on his helmet that he made blood gush out of his mouth and nose, and knocked him off his horse so badly wounded that for a long time he was unconscious. Thus Palamidesso lost the prize, and lost also the right to wear two swords.

Compelling word choice throughout this. Anyway as per usual they continue to squabble until eventually settling their differences and becoming friends (in part thanks to Lancelot who apparently rents out his castle for polyamorous hookups).

"When I was jousting with Sir Lancilotto the other day, he said to me, 'Now, Palamidesso, Gioiosa Guardia is worth more than any other place in the world, for it holds a noble treasure.' Therefore I imagine that this treasure is Sir Tristan and the beautiful Isotta, because those two are the ones who excel all others in the world in beauty, prowess, and courtesy." When he heard these words, Tristano allowed Palamidesso to remount and then let his lance fall, since Palamidesso had broken his. Then he spoke in this way: "Palamidesso, Palamidesso, here is this Tristano you have been searching for. Come and fight me, if you want to. If not, I am willing to stop because of those words you spoke. I am your enemy, but I am ready to make peace with you. Still, if it would please you to fight, I am ready to do battle with you. You may choose whichever pleases and delights you most." Palamidesso replied, "Surely, Tristano, the man who could have you for a friend would be foolish to want you for an enemy, Therefore I ask that there be peace and good friendship between us."

Nobody tell Palomides that Lancelot was almost certainly referring to Guinevere and not Tristan or Isolde. But their truce culminates in everyone joining back up at Cuck Castle Joyous Guard.

The knights then rode in that direction, and when they arrived at the main palace they found the lady, Queen Isotta, all happy and joyous, attended by ladies and maidens. When Tristano told her how he and Palamidesso had made peace, she was very glad of it, and welcomed the knights with much honor. Then the tables were set out, and they all sat down to eat.

Much later, King Arthur hosts a joust in which all participants are to bring a lady. So, now that everyone are friends, Isolde is brought along with a retinue of knights, including Tristan and Palomides. They wear her colors and fight on "her" side against Arthur, Lancelot, and their kinsmen on Guinevere's "side." Polyamory enjoyers, this text is for us. Anyway the only portion of that I'll include is this sweet passage which really illustrates that the friendship in this little group is genuine. They're all affectionate after the truce and everyone is having a great time.

When Isotta had returned to the pavilion, the tables were set out and food was prepared, and when water had been brought out for their hands, they sat down to eat. As they ate, Gariette looked out and saw Palamidesso going by looking for them, and pointed him out to Sir Tristano. Tristano got up and went to meet him, taking him by the hand and leading him into the pavilion, where he disarmed and sat at the table. They all passed that night in great joy.

After this, they all live happily ever after, and nothing bad happens. :'^) I'll have La Tavola Ritonda done soon, and then you all can enjoy it too. I promise it's worth getting used to the Italian names, it's so fun! Thanks for the ask!

[lizthewriter]

💖  for harry potter universe please? if you have the time? (also i adore your writing!)

my name is emma, i’m bi and i’m an extrovert (entp according to myers briggs). my hobbies are reading, playing soccer and writing poetry. i’m also a very bad artist and enjoy pottery for fun (and not for the end result which is always a mess lol). another hobby of mine, if it counts as a hobby, is debating with people about almost anything. i just love a good debate and love going back and forth on a topic for hours.

in my friendships i am down for anything and will do anything for my friends. even though i’m typically the one getting us into trouble because i truly will try anything once and tend to act without thinking it through fully. i’m also just a huge talker and can talk my way into and out of anything. but if a friend needs me i will drop everything to be there for them. i missed a final exam once to fly to see one of my friends when her boyfriend dumped her. and i would do it again lol. much to the chagrin of my parents.

other details…. my style is fairly feminine with lots of skirts and silk dresses and ballet flats. my dream city to live in is marseille and my dream profession is to be a writer and somehow make money with poetry and novels. i’m studying philosophy and french at school. i barely sleep because i wake up every morning at 6 and can’t fall asleep until late in the night. i love cooking new recipes and baking for friends.

my love language to others is giving them gifts. my love language to receive is quality time. i can be pretty guarded romantically and use humor as a coping mechanism and it can take a long time to actually know me. i’m slow to trust and i’ve never had a long relationship bc i always end up breaking up with them around the three month mark. i just get kind of scared of commitment and love. (even though i do want those things.)

also according to all the tests and quizzes i am either a slytherin or a ravenclaw. i can never decide which fits best. though i do have intense ambition and tend to be an all or nothing type of person. like while i do get great grades and have never failed a class, i am so bad at actually studying and i tend to procrastinate until the last minute and still get an a. so i’m not quite studious but i am smart. and a little conceited sometimes which definitely doesn’t ever help me.

i hope this is enough? or not too much? i tend to be too much so sorry if this is.

hey emma! gosh, i . . . . the way i read this and immediately thought to myself, wow this girl is so much like me 💀 especially with the apologizing for being too much at the end 😭😭 before i start, unprecedented rant: please don't ever apologize for being too much. one, you gave me the perfect amount of detail about you, absolutely what i was looking for! two, never let anyone make you feel bad for "being too much" or "talking too much," there is no such thing, only people who are boring and have no personality don't like talkers 🙄 you seem like a really nice person <33 DON'T LET THE HATERS GET YOU DOWN!!

anyways, moving on 🙃 honestly, i can see you with either theodore nott or pansy parkinson, but mostly theo. in any case, you're definitely in a enemies-to-lovers or friends-to-lovers scenario.

with theo, you guys start out as great friends who tend to have a lot of witty banter amongst each other. most likely you met through some sort of study group or through mutual friends and began to bond that way. theo would for sure be the first to fall for you - he loves a girl who can rebuttal his arguments and debate with him without just giving up when they don't win the argument. he appreciates your wit and ambition, as well as your soft side. he probably first fell in love with you when you dropped everything to be there for him on a bad day, and subsequently, he later admired his feelings for you in a similar situation.

theo's not good with his emotions in any way, shape, or form - so he never admits when he's feeling down. procrastinating your upcoming exam, you decide to go hang out with theo in his dorm. but you find the dorm empty at first, with no one in sight. you call our for theo's name, and search all around the dorm before turning towards the bathroom. the door was closed, but it was obviously occupied because of the shadow and light coming out of it. you knocked on the door. "theo, are you in there?" you hear a small "no" in response, followed by a sniffle. "i can't come in cause i don't know if you're... indecent or whatever. please, let me in?" there's a silence after that, one that concerns you a worrying amount, but soon you hear him and get off the floor and open the door. you expect him to let you in, but as soon as your in his sights, he throws his arms around your neck. he's an abysmal mess, his hair tusseled (more than usual), his eyes red and puffy. you can feel the shoulder of your shirt become stained with your tears. at first, it's the shock that causes you to sit in there before wrapping your arms around him and rubbing his shoulders comfortingly. "what's wrong?" at his silence, you tell him to take his time and lead him over to the bed, sitting him down and hugging his side. you sit there for a long time before he explains to you that today was the day his mother died. you never knew he didn't have a mother, let alone that she was dead. "god i'm so sorry, really theo . . . i didn't know." so the two of you sit there for a good long while, his face buried in the crook of your neck while you rub his shoulders, not caring for the burning pain growing in your fingers. theo needs you right now. and in the end, after who knows how long, he sits up and looks at you. his expression is so odd, you don't know what to think - it honestly makes you nervous trying to understand what he's thinking about. he abruptly blurts out, "will you go out with me." it was more a statement then anything and so unexpected you started to laugh. there he was, his face red and hair messy, staring at you completely serious, awaiting your response . . . "all right."

(i hoped you liked this, i'm sorry if it was terrible 😭😭)

[moonchild-things]

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Tempo

Summary: Shōyō Hinata loves volleyball! There is no doubt that all he really thinks about is volleyball. His sister, however, isn’t the same way. Sakura is ready to start her first year of high school at Karasuno with her twin brother and doesn’t really want to do anything, unlike Shōyō. Though she can’t help it when she gets dragged into the antics of the volleyball club.

Word Count: 6303 

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A/n: Oh I feel so productive! I finished writing this today, finished editing three videos that imma post on my youtube channel in the coming weeks and working on some more, and I worked on my manuscript for NaNoWriMo! Not only that but I got a requested story that I'm working on, it'll take me a bit but I'm finishing up the outline, get it checked and then get to posting some nice long chapters of it lmao Anyway, on with the chapter!

---

EVERYONE COULD TELL THAT SKAURA WAS TENSE about something. It’s usual for her to sit on her own, rarely talk or engage in conversations while at her club. However, from the way that she was even more withdrawn than normal, everyone figured that there was something wrong. They hadn’t seen her like this before, so none of them were really sure how to bring it up to her. After all, what if they said something insensitive to her since they didn’t know what was going on with her. Well, that would matter if the people in this club actually knew how to be considerate of that. 

Which is why Wada had walked over to Sakrau’s table and leaned over towards her. His piercing eyes stared down at her as she looked over some of her notes that she took in class. Feeling the gaze on her, Sakura glanced up to come face to face with Wada and his slightly concerned expression.

“Is everything okay with you, Hinata-chan?”

Sakura stared at him with a normal bored look, “I’m fine,” she leaned away from him, “now leave me alone, please. I’m trying to study.”

“You always study,” He whined, “but you’ve been glaring at that same paper for over thirty minutes and I’m beginning to think you’re trying to start a fire with your mind.”

She sighed heavily through her nose, knowing that he wasn’t just going to leave her alone like she wanted. For most of the day today, she had been fussed over by Yachi. Sakura really does appreciate the fact that she has a best friend who cares about her and her wellbeing, but it got annoying eventually. Of course, Sakura didn’t say that to Yachi at all since she didn’t want to hurt her feelings or anything. So she was hoping that when she came to her own club that no one would mention anything to her.

Though she realized that she only has herself to blame for this. She was acting more withdrawn than usual, zoning out from time to time and getting lost in her thoughts. She figured that out after noticing the strange looks Shimada was giving her. Maybe she should have done a bit better to make it seem like nothing was bothering her. The last thing she needs is for them to bother her as well.

She looked back down at her papers, not really paying attention to what was on it, “And what if I am?”

Wada gave her a look and sighed, “Listen, I know that we all are a bit worried about you…”

“Why would you be?” Sakura snapped.

“Well, I overheard a little rumor about you getting into a fight with your brother.”

Sakura gritted her teeth, “Damn Endo.” She knew that it had to be him who spread it a bit. Let it be known that Sakura hates how drama hungry Endo Joji can be at times.

Noticing how Sakura was growing uncomfortable and annoyed, Mori decided to speak up. Her heavenly voice said, “Wada, please. If Hinata-chan doesn’t want to talk about anything, then we don’t have to push her.”

“I mean…” Emi trailed off as she, Wada, Yokoyama, and Ito all shared a look with each other. “We all are curious.”

Sakura just grunted, “It’s just personal issues with my brother, that’s all.”

“Oh! Though I heard that you were actually fighting your brother and Kageyama-kun!” Yokoyama exclaimed, a bit excited at the prospect of a fight. She smiled widely, “You must have gotten quite a few punches in, right?”

“No,” Ito shook her head, “she’s too short to throw a proper punch, she definitely went for the legs.”

Wada pursed his lips, “Though her brother is the same height, no?”

“But are you hurt!?” Emi then shouted, becoming extremely worried, “Oh, they would definitely be able to hurt you badly! We-”

Sakura cut off any other stupid rumors or speculations that they could make with a harsh glare, “Can you guys shut up.”

All of them shuttered at the menacing look on Sakura’s face. They could all feel the impending aura surrounding them as Sakura glared at them. They collectively shouted out in fear, “Y-Yes Ma’am!”

With it being obvious that Sakura didn’t want to talk about any of this with them, they decided to leave it alone. They didn’t want to push Sakura too far to the point that she left or anything. So they needed to move on and focus on something else, whether that be showing off some of their photos or complaining about their recent grades. However, there was only one person who seemed to be a bit more 

“You know, it’s okay to say that you’re hurt.” Mori Aiko said softly as she leaned against Sakura’s table. 

“I’m not,” Sakura rubbed her head, “Shōyō couldn’t hit hard enough to leave a bruise or anything.”

Mori gave her a knowing look, one that made Sakura shift uncomfortably in her seat. The crystal blue eyes of the vice president were seemingly looking right through Sakura, and she didn’t really like that. Mori continued to say, “Not physically, emotionally. It’s okay to say that he hurt your feelings, because I can see that it did.”

Sakura looked away from her, not exactly the best at talking about things like her feelings. She played with her fingers for a moment, trying to decide on what to say. “I know he didn’t mean to hurt me or anything, but it did hurt to realize that I couldn’t help him, I guess.” She gnawed on her bottom lip, “Shōyō is the more emotional out of us, and I always know how to help him or see a logical side to things. This time I don’t know. I’ve just… I’ve realized that we need space. My brother and I have been attached at the hip for too long.”

“Did you not think it was healthy?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged her shoulders, “Before I went to bed last night, I had a thought; I had been using Shōyō as a shield to hide from everything, I guess. I used him as an excuse for a lot of things, to explain how I acted or why I did things. Now, after…” There was a little bit of a grimace on her face, “Last night I figured that it’s time to distance myself from that. I’m a high schooler now, I need to learn about myself and not just be a shadow to my twin.”

There had always been a part of her that knew this fact. Knew that she was not really her own person and was hanging onto her brother for far too long. She’s known that ever since she started high school, that’s why she tried to branch out by means of the photography club! She wanted to be her own person, but never really had the push to really make it a reality for it. Though perhaps after last night, this could be the right push that she needed. She didn’t really picture it being because her brother would hurt her, but whatever it was was still good enough to get her on that track.

“That’s very mature of you, Hinata-chan.” Mori smiled, breaking Sakura out of her thoughts, “Realizing that must not have been easy.”

Sakura just shrugged her shoulders, “it was a bit uncomfortable to come to terms with, I guess. Though it’s the truth, so I can’t really deny it or run from it.”

“Still, it's very impressive of you."

"Impressive?” The younger girl pursed her lips. Her cheeks were a bit pink now that she was complemented by such a pretty girl, “Maybe."

“Just make sure you talk with your brother about it. So you both are on the same page.”

Sakura nodded her head, knowing that it was definitely a good idea. So the two were then absorbed back into whatever conversation the rest of their club members were having. Mori felt happy to give Sakura an outlet to talk a bit more about her issues, and Sakura felt lighter to have actually articulated what was running through her head.

---

When it got considerably later in the day, it was time for students to be heading home. Sakura had only stuck around in her club a bit longer because she somewhat dreaded having to see her brother. After all, she knew that they had to have quite the important conversation when they actually got home. She was anxious about it, there was no denying it. Sakura could stand up to other people for her brother, but talking to him about something like this left her nervous. They’ve never really had a moment in their lives where they would have to question their relationship or have serious conversations.

Surprisingly, Shōyō hadn’t been around to nag Sakura about her riding home by herself. Sakura wasn’t sure what to think about it, nor did she even know where he was! She noticed that his bike was still at the bike rack but with practice over she would have figured that he would already be gone or him waiting for her. It certainly was concerning. Though she brushed it off, it had to just be that he was avoiding her somehow. It certainly had become uncomfortable between them since last night so she could understand that.

So perhaps she would get to ride home on her own for once. Even as she grabbed her bike and mounted it, the nagging feeling of the unknown location of her brother was bothering her just a bit. It wasn’t like him to just not be around and not leave some sort of note for her about where he was. Though it’s not like she was really expecting him to since he knew she was somewhat avoiding him. 

Most of the time when the twins got into an argument there were a few things that would happen really. If it was some small disagreement, Shōyō would bother Sakura to the point of annoying her and eventually the two would forget anything happened. If it was something a bit more severe, like this time, they would keep their space from each other. Shōyō kept away to keep any further arguments from happening, until the two cooled off to apologize and then made up. That rarely ever happened since the two never got into large arguments, but it wasn’t impossible.

As she rode home on her own, Sakura was preoccupied with trying to map out what she was going to say to her brother. After all, she had to make her intentions clear. It was the right opportunity, the time to explain her growing feelings about wanting to have distance. Though her mind was thinking about how he was going to react to what she wanted. Would he be angry? Upset? Would he yell at her? Argue with her? Sakura couldn’t be certain about what he would do. This was uncharted territory, if she was being honest with herself.

She arrived home sooner than she thought, too caught up in her mind to really notice. So she put her bike away, greeted her mom and sister, and waited in her shared bedroom for her brother to come home. At one point, she was even thinking of writing her thoughts down to give to Shōyō. That way they would be as clear as possible as she was starting to feel like she would be tongue-tied when she actually got to talk to him. 

“Hi mom!” An excited voice that sent ice into Sakura’s chest shouted from the door. There was a conversation from the kitchen as Shōyō bounced around the home, returning from his trip with Coach Ukai and old Coach Ukai. It was quite the eye-opening practice that he had with the old crow coach and the kids out there. He couldn’t wait to tell Sakura about it! He certainly was conflicted when he found that her bike wasn’t still next to his when he got back, but he understood. It was getting late and as much as he wanted to ride with her to make sure that she was fine, like a big brother should, he didn’t expect her to wait forever. Especially since he’s certain she’s upset with him.

There was quite a bit of apprehension swirling in his gut as he made his way to their shared bedroom. As he walked into his room he found Sakura sitting on her bed, propped up against the wall as she read over some notes like usual. The twins stared at each other for a moment. Both were quite anxious about what the other had to say. Shōyō was quite certain that she was angry with him right now, while Sakura was trying to figure out if he would be angry with her after what she has to say.

As Shōyō put his backpack down next to his bed and plopped down onto it. Might as well as get this over with, she thought to herself. Sakura cleared her throat, “Okay, Shōyō, I wanted to say that I’m not angry with you.”

“You’re not?” Shōyō asked, more than surprised by that.

She shook her head, “No. I put myself between you and the King, so I can’t really blame you or anything, it was an accident.”

He let out a puff of air, relieved that she wasn’t upset with him. Though he hastily said, “I am sorry though! I never want to hurt you, accident or not.”

“Which is why I’m not angry with you.” Sakura chucked slightly before sobering, “But I do want to talk with you about… how clingy I am. ”

Shōyō blinked, “Clingy?” That wasn’t a word that he would use to describe his sister. Especially considering she liked to keep herself away from most people and normally just be around him, their family, or by herself. So why would she think that she’s clingy?

“Yea. I mean I have been since we were infants, mom says so.” Sakura tried to make a bit of a joke, though it didn’t land as Shōyō was just staring at her in confusion. “But even all through school and such. I don’t normally stray far from you.”

He tilted his head in confusion, “that’s an issue?”

Sakura pursed her lips, “well, yes.” It took a moment for her to find the right way to say this. She really should have written it down. At least she’d have a plan on what she was going to say. “I just figured that it would be a good idea to have… distance. You know, so we can do our own things.”

She really did lose him after that as Shōyō attempted to try and find where she was going with this. Honestly, he really was trying to understand since he knew this was a serious conversation but he wasn’t seeing where she was  going with this. “Though we already do our own things… I’m on the volleyball team, and you’re in the photography club.”

“That is true, but…” Sakura sighed, “Okay, let me rephrase that. It would be a good idea for me to find my own identity.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Sakura has an identity. She’s Hinata Sakura! What else could she mean? Oh no! Had he hit her head so hard that she forgot who she was?! This is worse than he thought!!

Before he could freak out about hitting her too hard, Sakura said, “Shōyō, you do know that everyone refers to me as your shadow, your clone. I’m not ‘Sakura’, I’m ‘Shōyō’s twin’.”

He blinked, “Is that wrong?” He wasn’t oblivious enough to not notice that. It had been happening ever since they were little. Sure, when they were a lot younger Sakura was more distinguishable from him since she had longer hair. Though after she got her hair cut sometime in junior high she ended up getting confused with him more often. Considering she kept her hair short, Shōyō didn’t think that she had an issue with that.

“It’s not wrong,” Sakura quickly amended, “but I just… I want to be seen as my own person, you know. When people talk about me or think about me I don’t want their first thought to be Shōyō’s doppelganger’. ”

Shōyō stared at her for a hot moment, trying to understand what she was saying. Was this his fault? Was she actually upset with him and just lying to not hurt his feelings? Had the fight that he had with Kageyama finally driven Sakura to the point where she wanted to distance herself from him? That she felt so annoyed with him that she didn’t even want people to think of her as his twin?

This had to be because being on the volleyball team had made him more emotional. Not to say that he wasn’t emotional about volleyball before they started at Karasuno, but it certainly had escalated. The fight the other day was a good example of that. So was she saying this because she wanted him to not do it anymore? He certainly wouldn’t, but he would consider it for her.

Sakura could see the confusion on his face, figuring that he wasn’t really getting at what she was saying. She tried to make things clear by saying, “There’s nothing wrong with me being called that, but I want to be my own person.”

A sour look consumed his face, “If you don’t like me being on the team you can just say it.”

“That’s not it,” Sakura stated in her own confusion. So he really was taking it the wrong way, just as Sakura had dreaded. How he reached that conclusion, she’s unsure, “I have supported you and your passion, Shōyō, and will not stop doing that.”

“So why do you want to get away from me? Why now?” The only thing, in his mind, that had changed for Sakura to leave him is that he joined the Karasuno team. So that just had to be the reason!

She blinked at the seemingly rising harshness in his words, “It’s not like I just randomly thought of this today.”

“If you had, you would have told me! We tell each other everything, right?”

Sakura looked away, ashamed to admit that wasn’t true, “Not this, I didn’t tell you about this.”

It was as if that was the biggest betrayal to him. After all, they grew up with each other keeping no secrets from each other, no matter what. “Why didn’t you tell me you felt like this?” They never kept things from each other, at least Shoyo thought. It was actually heart breaking for him to realize this.

“I- I just- I didn’t know how to.” She stuttered out, “I honestly was still trying to understand how I felt about it.” How was she going to really articulate to him that she had been struggling with it for a while. That she was bullied quite a bit during junior high over it. That, despite what she tried to portray to him, she was more than insecure about herself due to it. She didn’t think that it would help him to really know that. Maybe he would even feel bad about it, which she didn’t want him to.

He shook his head, “You could have at least mentioned it, because I really don’t understand. You want to just abandon me?”

“That’s not at all what I’m saying!”

“It sounds like it!”

The two were starting to get a bit more heated. Both of their emotions were starting to boil over. With Shōyō taking Sakura’s words the wrong way and Sakura getting frustrated she couldn’t get it right, things were not going all too well.

“There’s nothing that would convince me to abandon you!” Sakura shouted now, “I just want to do my own thing right now, can’t you understand that at least?”

Shōyō grunted, turning away, “No. Because my sister wouldn’t just suddenly want to leave me alone.”

“I’m not- I’m not leaving you alone! At no point did I say that!” Though even if she tried to insist on it, he had turned to face away from her. She figured that with his stubbornness, he was going to make his mind up and stick with it for the time being. There wasn’t much she could say or do that would convince him otherwise. She’ll just have to try again at some point perhaps. She let out a large sigh, there might have been a few tears in her eyes as well though she disregarded that, “Look, I plan on going to Tokyo with you and the team but after that… I’m going to focus on my photography and my own friends.”

Shōyō snapped, “You actually have your own friends?”

Sakura narrowed her eyes at him, “Yes. I do.” 

“Really?” He asked sarcastically, “Okay sure, whatever.” It seemed like the conversation was over after that. Whether Sakura had anything else to say to him or any rebuttal, Shōyō wasn’t going to listen as he made his way to the bathroom to change clothes. Even when he came back both of them were quiet. 

Nothing else was said between the twins as they got themselves ready for bed. Maybe Shōyō should have apologized, maybe Sakura should have tried again to make it clear, but it was already too late. There was a bitter taste in both of their mouths. Whatever attempt that either wanted to make amends with each other was just a pipe dream at this point. If anything, this might have just made things a bit more difficult than to begin with.

---

If there was one thing that just about everyone noticed, it was that Sakura wasn’t coming to their practices as much anymore. The boys were used to having Sakura sitting on the sidelines alongside their managers and coach, so not having her there was a bit strange. There was no sarcastic or snide remarks made by her on the sidelines and it was just strange for everyone. 

“Where do you think Sakura is?” Yamaguchi asked his best friend, only a little concerned at the girl’s disappearance. She was always at their practices, even skipping her own club if it meant getting to be at theirs. A few times, Yamaguchi will admit, he has tried to convince her to go to her own club. It might have swayed her even a little bit a couple of times, but nothing too significant. As her friend, he does his best to encourage her to do well with her photography. Ever since they had a heart to heart some time ago and grown closer as friends, he likes to believe that he’s getting to her a bit. 

Perhaps that’s why she wasn’t here! Focusing on her own interests and finding her love for it. After the last gallery he saw of hers, he knew she was growing stronger in her confidence, so maybe not being at the practice was her just going to her own club to work on her passion. At least, he hoped.

Tsukishima clicked his tongue, going about his stretch like normal, “What does it matter? One less person to annoy us.”

The green-haired boy tilted his head slightly, “Even you have to be wondering though.”

He deadpanned, “No.”

Yamaguchi didn’t seem to be as convinced, he just hummed. He knows his best friend, and knows that there’s at least a little part of him that is wondering about her. Yamaguchi is more than aware that Tsukishima had a bit more of an interest in Sakura. He chalked that up to Tsukishima doing what he could to get a rise out of Sakura from time to time, or when he was annoyed by her brother. Yamaguchi couldn’t really pinpoint if Tsukishima enjoyed her being around, but he knew that Tsukishima at least noticed it. Ever since they first came into practice, Tsukishima’s eyes drifted, ever so slightly, towards the managers. It wouldn’t be all that strange, However, Yamaguchi just knew that Tsukishima was looking for Sakura. As much as he could say that Tsukishima is his best friend, the blond could still be a bit of an enigma to him. There was something that Yamaguchi noticed every once in a while from Tsukishima. He wasn’t going to voice his questions or suspicions just yet, but he knows for a fact that it has to do with Sakura.

He had a feeling that Tsukishima was frustrated by Sakura, more often than he’d like to admit. In the beginning, Yamaguchi saw why Sakura ticked him off. They are very much alike and Sakura never really acted the way that Tsukishima wanted her to when he tried to get a rise out of her. He expected her to be like her brother, much like how she looks like a clone to him. Though since she’s got quite a pessimistic personality, much like himself, Yamaguchi theorizes that Tsukishima wasn’t expecting it. He even theorizes that Tsukishima was surprised to the point that he wanted to push her to the point where she did react. Yamaguchi wasn’t supportive of this, obviously. Though what was he going to do about it? 

So he just dropped the subject. Either way, Yamaguchi might be lost in his thoughts about how his two friends were acting, but there was one person lost in his thoughts about his sister. Shōyō was the one who mainly could sense Sakura’s disappearance, since he was blaming himself for her not being there. Like a part of him was missing, and it really didn’t sit right with him.

Even if Ukai was talking to him, Shōyō wasn’t completely registering it in his mind. He was understanding the plan that Ukai wanted to try during this practice, but his mind was still thinking about the absence of his sister. Even when they were heading to school, Sakura kept herself distanced from him. He certainly wasn’t used to 

“All right, let’s get this started!” Their coach said as he rallied them all together. “Make sure you stay hydrated!”

All the boys lined up to get ready, “Right.”

As all the boys were getting ready for their practice, Yachi had something on her mind. “Um… Hinata.” She nervously tried to get Shōyō’s attention. “U-Um, I was wondering if you were okay… You and Kageyama-kun, um, uh…”

Shōyō just smiled, a bit wistfully, like he wasn’t completely hearing her, “I’m fine.”

Yachi let out a relieved sigh, glad that there might be some resolution between them. Though she could tell that there was an underlying emotion that surrounded the boy. No doubt in her mind that it was about his sister. As the boys went about their practice, Yachi thought back to the school day. Sakura had been a bit more reserved than normal, which is saying something since Sakura does love to keep to herself in class. Yachi had been a bit fussy over Sakura, she realized how pushy she might have been. But she had wanted to see if Sakura was really ok! She wanted to make sure that she wasn’t hurt, how her and her brother were after it, and if it was as bad as Yachi thought. Sakura didn’t say too much about it. Though she did reassure Yachi that everything was fine, that her brother was fine, and nothing was wrong. Yachi didn’t completely believe her, and really did try to hold herself back, but she was anxious to know. Perhaps she was being too pushy. Though she really was just worried for her friend! She just hoped that Sakura was doing okay now while at her own club. 

“Say, Yachi-chan,” a sly voice slid over to her, “where is our little paparazzi-chan?”

She blinked up at Endo, who suddenly appeared beside her. The intense gaze that he was pinpointing her with caused a shiver to crawl down her spine. “Uh, at her club, probably.”

Endo hummed, “A bit weird that she isn’t here.”

Yachi just blinked at him, “Well, m-maybe.” She really didn’t like it whenever Endo got into her personal space and looked at her like this.

He tapped his chin, “Just makes me wonder… Is our little decoy in a fight with his clone?” He really couldn’t wait to find out what was going on with the twins. Oh, how fun it might end up being.

---

When Asahi had asked Endo to stick around and help him practice a bit, Endo was more than happy to oblige. Any time he can get to hang around with his best friend, he certainly was going to take it. An added plus was getting to avoid his father for even longer by staying in the gym. So he just worked on setting the ball to Asahi so he could spike it. Then they would swap so Endo could work on his own spikes. Though they also took some breaks for Asahi to work on his serves. Since that was the biggest thing that Asahi had wanted to work on, Endo was more than happy to help him with that when needed.

Though just as Asahi served another ball over the net with some strong determination behind it, their libero came out of nowhere and saved it from hitting the floor. “Asahi-san! Endo-san! Mind if I join you?”

Asahi just blinked at him, put out that Nishinoya could easily receive his serve. “Oh, yeah. Sure.”

Endo shrugged his shoulders noncommittally, “I guess.” He had been hoping to just have practice between him and Asahi, but he supposed that it was fine. Nishinoya could join if he wanted. Not that he was going to be salty about it or anything, he’s not Tsukishima. Besides out of the others to join, Endo supposed that Nishinoya was alright.

Nishinoya excitedly asked, “Would you mind hitting some of my tosses?”

“Yeah, sure.” It took a moment for the libero’s words to hit him, but Asahi blinked when he finally understood, “Uh, wait, what? You’re going to toss?”

“Did you change positions?” Endo asked, also thoroughly confused.

Nishinoya smiled, “I’ll help you with your serves, too, Asahi-san. Then I can help Endo with your receives since they’re horrible.”

Endo scowled, “they’re not that bad.”

A determined look came over Asahi’s face, “Sure. Let’s do this.”

“All right!”

So the trio practiced for a while. Nishinoya worked on his technique to toss the ball, Asahi worked on his serves, and Endo was just there helping them out where they needed to. Not that Endo thought he didn’t have anything that he could work on, he certainly could improve a lot of his skills. Though what was the point in him working on something when two starters had to work on something. It was more important.

At one point, Asahi had said he needed a break to go to the bathroom, so obviously they paused. Endo sat himself down against the edge of the wall, a bit tired. He wasn’t exactly tired from practicing, since he was really just hitting the ball to Nishinoya for him to set and Asahi to 

“Endo,” Nishinoya said, standing over him now “Do you really want to be on this team?”

He chuckled loudly, “Whoa, quite blunt there, Nishi!”

“With you I know I have to be.” The libero then peered down closely at him, “So?” 

Endo didn’t really like the way that Nishinoya was staring at him. Like he was trying to look right through him to find out what was going on in his head. He never likes when people try to do that. Endo pursed his lips in thought, before deciding on what to say, “My father… He’s not exactly supportive of me staying on the team.”

“Though you’re still here.”

Endo scoffed, “Obviously! I will take any chance I get to spite him! Though he did say some things that made me question why I’m here to begin with.” 

After the loud conversation that he had with his father about volleyball, his future career and their relationships as a whole, Endo was at a bit of a loss. There were revelations between them that it was a good thing that they talked about. Even though Endo said to him that he wanted to keep doing volleyball during his highschool career, he questioned it still. If he really didn’t intend on continuing playing into university what was the point of playing now? Should he be focusing on his studies for his entrance exams? Going with his father to the company and learning more about it?

“Hey!” Nishinoya shouted, abruptly breaking Endo from his own thoughts, “If you’re starting to have doubts about being on the team, figure it out quickly! Either get off the team or stay!” Endo blinked at the loudness of his friend, with his mouth a bit agape at his yells. Nishinoya continued with a hard look on his face, “If you leave I’ll definitely call you a coward, though understand why, especially with your father breathing down your neck.”

Endo scoffed, “My father did make some good points, since I’m destined to work at his company and take over when the time comes, I should be focusing on my studies more.”

At the mention of studying, Nishinoya’s nose wrinkled. “So? Are you going to quit now, even when we’re close to getting a chance at winning!”

Endo had put quite a lot into this team. Effort that his father may not understand, but effort that Endo was proud of. So what was he going to do? He licked his lips, “I wanted to stick around for as long as I can, I want to see you guys win. I want to see Asahi happy because of it.” Yeah, he definitely would be more than content with seeing Asahi happy. He shook his head, “Though it’s not like I’m important to the team or anything.”

“It doesn’t matter if you're a starter or a bench warmer, you’re a part of this team!” Nishinoya said strongly, seemingly trying to get that notion out of Endo’s head.

Endo didn’t think that he was valuable to the team, not in the slightest. He was never a starter, his teammates were always so much better than him, and he never put the same amount of time into the team like they did. He did what was asked of him, but never overachieved. Nishinoya saying that he was important to the team was… 

Nishinoya continued, “All I’m saying is either commit or don’t waste more time!”

---

Yeah, Nishinoya is right, Endo thought every time he was at practice after that day. He never knew he would believe that, but Nishinoya does have his moments it seems. So as time past and they had their practices, Endo was making his decision. He wanted to stick around. He wants to be with his friends, he’s only in high school once, and he wasn’t going to let the responsibilities of adulthood haunt him yet.

Karasuno’s practices were going well. The team was coming up with new playstyles, improving on their existing skills and having fun doing it. Yes, Shoyo was a bit of a downer at times, most likely due to his sister’s absence, but he worked through it.

Not seeing Sakura at practice had become the norm. It worried a few, didn’t matter to others, and was interesting to one. After all, everyone had been accustomed to having her at every practice no matter what since the beginning of the school year. Everyone figured that it had to do with the fight that had happened between their sunshine decoy and gloomy setter. However, they had to wonder what Sakura thought about it. 

Meanwhile, Sakura was at her own club, listening in on the plans for the “Heroes” gallery. She wouldn’t say that she’s happier not being at the volleyball practices, but she also wasn’t upset about not being there. She did miss getting to talk with Kiyoko and Yachi. However, not having to deal with the volleyball idiots like Tsukishima, Nishinoya, Kageyama, Tanaka, Endo was a near god-send. Now she just had to deal with the idiots within her own club. So she was… content for the time being. Even if she was still upset about the argument she had with her brother. Though she’d push that to the back of her mind. They had the gallery tonight, just before summer vacation started, so they were getting that all settled. She certainly was excited about that since she got the photo that she wanted. Even if it made her feel a bit… sorrowful.  Though for now she’d just focus on how Ito and Wada were arguing yet again about something trivial.

In the volleyball club’s gym, Takeda gathered the boys all together. “Now, that it’s summer vacation, we can practice from morning to night.” He said to the group after one of their practices, “And starting tomorrow, we’ll resume the Tokyo away games. This time, we’ll be there for a solid week! This is the first and last long-term training camp before the spring tournament prelims. Let’s make the most of this opportunity, so we have no regrets entering the spring tournament prelims.” All of the boys definitely were eager to get the chance to play against such talented teams at the camp. One of the most eager, was Shōyō. Even with the fact that his sister and him hadn’t been on the best of terms, he put all his effort in getting better. With the team and his time with old Coach Ukai, he certainly thinks that he’s improved. Hopefully, he could use that to convince Sakura that she doesn’t need to leave to “find her identity” when she should be perfectly fine with being his twin.

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A/N: Ah, so a little bit of conflict between the twins now, and it's serious. I figured I wanted their to be some misunderstanding between the twins since they never have had something like that happen to them before. They're not perfect siblings, but they've never argued to the point of staying away from each other, you know what I mean. Just figured it was a good way to have some character development between them. Then we've got the Tokyo training camp coming up next, but before that, we've got another gallery to see from Sakura! Not going to lie, I feel like the actual dialogue that I wrote for the agreement between Shōyō and Sakura was a bit... lacking, but I think it does it's job. Until the next one, my friends~