#i just have animal facts in my back pocket now

[rigormortisorwhatever]

im going to use my autism superpowers to combine wild kratts and netflix carmen sandiego to make the ultimate “teaching kids about the world and its environment” show get ready

[sadesluvr]

TEETH.

Sergei Kravinoff might be a villian, and you a hero; but at the end of the day you're both animals.

A/N: First fic in a while so my bad if it sucks. You already know this movie was basically ass but we only watched it for ATJ anyway - I'm changing some of Kraven's character so he's similar to the comics/Spider-Man 2 game, so be sure to read the tags bc he’s a lil dark…

Word count: 2.3K

Tags: SMUT / DUB-CON / Spiderwoman! Reader / Breeding / Unprotected + rough sex

Kraven feared nothing. 

It simply wasn’t in his blood; not his staunchly machismo upbringing, nor in his DNA, quite literally having that of a lion. Fear made one weak. Fear made you less of a man. Fear was what killed his mother. 

If anything, fear was just another animal; ready to be captured, killed and conquered, ultimately destined to be draped across his chiselled body or mounted on a wall.  

You were simply no different. 

He never really understood why people were afraid of spiders, but he knew that they were a nuisance, having haunted him since he was a boy. Spiders weren’t savages like lions or bears, but they were sneaky; crawling around in the dark and waiting to strike, with a face so obscured that you’d never really know what you were looking at...what they were thinking.  

But now, with your mask off, he could see you clearly. Fear; clouding your eyes and consuming your lungs as you heaved, choking on the intensity of the emotion itself as your pupils darted between the beige, bloodied teeth on his necklace and a crossbow pointed right at your heart. 

“So, you’re the insect causing me all this trouble?” the man mused; legs crossed upon a desk as he eyed you. “I should’ve known.” 

“Should’ve known what? You know nothing about me.”  

“You’re a girl.” 

“Sexist, much.” 

He chuckled. 

“Far from it. My father, however, was quite the traditionalist. He would’ve done much worse by now.” 

There was a heavy silence as you swiped at your bottom lip. Much to your dismay, blood had begun to dry, and you were left with a salty, scratchy throat. Liquid, some of any kind, would’ve been appreciated, but you knew all too well that Kraven wasn’t one for showing mercy. Like all the villains you’d encountered, you’d had a push-pull relationship with the Hunter since the very beginning. He created a plan; you foiled it, sometimes you’d get your ass beat but the ending was almost always the same – with you safe from harm's way, and a bloodthirsty ego chipped away, but momentarily put to rest. 

On this occasion you’d slipped up, your Spidey-senses failing you and placing you right into harm's way, shipped into the back of a van and somehow escorted to a somewhat uncharacteristically lavish mansion.  

You'd always found Kraven to be a man of contradictions; whether he realised it or not. He was the best and worst of both worlds, a hunter with all the grit of someone who’d been fighting their entire life as a poverty-stricken rogue, and yet you’d come to learn that he was a Russian aristocrat, hence his rather extensive knowledge and unrelenting desire for control. Still, nothing took away from the fact that he was a brute, not even his strikingly good looks. 

“Just shoot me and be over it,” You continued, watching as he lowered his feet from atop the desk and strolled over to you.  “You didn’t need to drag me all the way here.” 

He looked even bigger than usual, but perhaps it was because you were perched uncomfortably on a chair, arms bound behind you as you craned your neck to look up at him. Your mind couldn’t - no, didn’t - want to fathom what he was thinking of you from this angle. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I care nothing about your secret. I just wanted to look you in the eye.” He mused, rummaging through his back pockets. Your breath hitched in your throat as he slid a knife from its sheath, finely carved and sharpened and lowered it to his side before pacing around you, stopping as his firm torso pressed up against the tip of your neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, you braced for your neck to be split open, only to be released from your bounds.  

Instinctively, you went to shoot some webs, hoping you could at least catapult yourself across the room, but he tightly grasped your wrists, steadying your arms in place.  

“I wouldn’t try anything if I were you,” he sneered. “These are antiques.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Get up,” he announced suddenly, almost dragging you to your feet. Hesitantly, you began to shuffle out of the room, overwhelmed by the seemingly endless walls and corridors, all framed in ivory and the finest mahogany. “Keep walking until I tell you to stop.” 

You continued down the hall, opting for a straight line. It seemed to be the correct way as once you passed into the threshold of a room that had a velvet chaise lounges and a dresser, he dropped his hands from their grip on your own, closing the door behind you. Oddly enough, you never heard the click of a latch. 

Without a word, he walked past you to open the drawer, rummaging through the contents. It utterly baffled you why you didn’t feel the urge to protest, or even fight. The entire ordeal was feeling more like a glorified house tour with a side of intimidation rather than a future crime scene. 

Was it because he was handsome? Wild? Filthy rich? Whatever happened to your values? Perhaps Jameson was right.  

Your thoughts were interrupted by the man placing something in the desk, curling his finger to beckon you towards him.  

“See this? This is what keeps me going,”he said, rolling a vial of florescent liquid in his fingertips.  “You and I are more alike than you think.” 

You scoffed, trying to ignore how close he was to you. He had an earthly musk that invaded your senses, sending tingles down your spine… and to your core. 

“I don’t need a drug to do what I do.” 

“Never mind the drug. It’s our blood that makes us strong.” 

You cocked a brow and he ignored your confused look. 

“You know, I’ve always hated spiders…” he began, rubbing his beard in contemplation.  “Too itchy; unpredictable. You never really know where they’re going to show up. If I ever saw one, I used to pop them like a zit.” 

There was a clear disgust in his words and vacant look in his eye that sunk you into a pit of fear for perhaps the first time since regaining your consciousness. You knew that it was just about you (surely), but perhaps a weird extension of your being; something bigger, far more innate than a girl in a spandex spider suit. 

“But then I realised that for their size, they’re deadly. Powerful, even. Recently I’ve wondered what it would look like if I harnessed it myself.” 

You swallowed, suddenly conscious of your dry throat once more. 

“A drop of blood usually does the trick.” 

He tutted. Perhaps you were being too fickle. 

“No, любимец [darling], not that way. I crave something more.” 

Your eyes darted to the lounge. Since when did Spider-Woman lack composure? Kraven’s impenetrable gaze followed your own, and he chuckled knowingly. 

“With your arachnid abilities and my strength, we could create something truly unique. Nature has its ways, you know.” 

“You’re sick,” you replied, your chin held high but your bottom lip wobbled. “I’ll never join you. What you do is immoral.” 

Kraven furrowed his brows. 

“You killed a man, and you talk about morality?” 

“He was a bad man.” 

“He was my brother.” 

The word humanised him a bit. The Chameleon wasn’t your most imposing foe, but he was still a challenge you’d been rather glad to conquer. It was all too often that you’d fallen into the trap of thinking that the world was black and white; good and bad, when occasionally it was grey. Kraven was allowed to grieve his brother, but at the end of the day they were both bad guys. 

Then why did he turn you on so much? 

“You don’t have to resist,” the man grinned, strolling towards you. He stopped, glancing down and reaching a hand up to cup the sides of your face, caressing your cheekbones and sides of your lip with his thumb, threatening to penetrate your mouth. “I’ve never been this close to you before…I can smell you.” 

You were both superhuman, but he had the thirst of a predator. Quite literally. Breath hitched in your throat as he angled his lips to your ear, whispering a few fatal words. 

“Give in, маленький паучок [little spider]. Your body yearns for me.” 

One large hand was wrapped around your neck as he kissed you, his wild beard scratching against your face as his other hand snaked down your suit, down to between your thighs. The latex did nothing to offer you safety, his callouses prodding at your wet slit and beginning to rub in small circles, oh-so internationally slow, making sure he pressed against the hood of your clit. 

He had you as soon as a small moan escaped your lips. It’d been a while since you’d been touched, let a alone by someone who was as well-travelled as The Hunter himself, and every kiss, nibble and squeeze was sending you into a deeper spiral of lust and guilt that you could barely fathom that you’d already made your way to the lounge. 

You pulled away as your calves collided with the frame, lips wet and parted as you glanced up at him – wholly helplessly. His hand remained firm on your face, angling his head as he smirked at your shielded demeanour, a far cry from the flashy superhero you’d been but an hour ago.  

“Kra—“ 

“Don’t call me that,” he said through gritted teeth. “Call me Sergei. I need to hear you say it.” 

The name rolled from your lips as a cry as he bunched the sides of your suit in his hands and tearing it apart, exposing your bare pussy and ass, with strands of fabric shaping your legs like a makeshift garter. He grinned, large hands frantically groping at your thighs and ass, spreading your cheeks apart and exposing your hot core to the cool air. 

“прекрасный.” [Gorgeous] he moaned, swatting at your ass before dipping his fingers inside you, rubbing your folds between his fingers as you coated him in your juices. Grasping your hands around his thick neck, you clung onto what you could as he explored your body, lowering you down onto the smooth velvet. 

It wasn’t long before he straddled you, holding your body down with his pelvis as he removed his jacket, giving you an eyeful of his crafted torso. Unsurprisingly, he had the body of a God, with a prominent v-line and happy trail pointing down to between his legs. Even through his heavy trousers you could make out his bulge, mounded and ready for you. 

You gasped in anticipation, watching as the man withdrew his cock from his briefs; red and girthy, with precum spilling from his tip. Skilfully, he spread your thighs, making sure they were safely by your sides (he’d seen how flexible you were, your ankles touching your ears was nothing) and lifting your lower back slightly off the cushions, pushing into you with a deep sigh. 

At first, his intrusion was a dull ache, but as he began to move his hips against your own you felt utterly fulfilled, moaning and writhing as he wasted no time in daggering your wanting pussy, making sure you felt every inch.  

“Sergei...” you cried, eyes fluttering shut as you flung your head back in pleasure. “Please...” 

“Say it again.” 

Words evaded you. 

The man grinned, flashing his canines as he tightened his grip, compelling him to fuck you harder. The whole ordeal was obscene; New York’s most treasured hero being bent into submission by the villain of the week, a scene so heinous that it was all the more endearing, and with every thrust you knew you wanted him more. Sergei didn’t care whether his combat boots scuffed the fine upholstery, or if his grip on your waist would leave a few bruises – he just wanted to own you. 

He huffed as his heavy balls slammed repeatedly against your crack, beginning to bottom out in you with every hit, so much so that it looked like you were conjoined.

Even through the strain in your legs you could tell you were close, knots in your stomach slowly beginning to unravel as your walls clenched around him, earning a delighted rumble from deep within his chest. 

You knew that he wasn’t one for talk, but you would’ve appreciated the warning that he was about to come. Every guy you’d been with tended to get sloppier, but he grew stronger, the literal animal in him taking over as he began to ramble and curse through gritted teeth in Russian.  

Sergei threw his head back as he held you down, hands pawing your breasts and strands of hair sprawled in a beautiful mess across his face as he came, ropes of hot white cum spilling into your pussy just as you dressed his cock in a silky sheen. Your chests heaved as you desperately tried to come down from your high, glancing down at your messy nether regions as his seed began to seep out of you.  

There was no going back. Nine months began now. 

Would it really be all that bad? 

It all went back to fear, really. In the back of his mind the thought of a spider still troubled Sergei, but at least he’d conquered it. Even if it was temporary. 

FIN. 

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’ve always been a pretty good liar. As an adult I’ve come to a moral place in which I don’t use that skill set unless it will explicitly benefit someone. But when I was a kid all bets were off.

I think tiny child me was doing their little autistic best but recognized that some situations would be best navigated by lying as telling the truth never netted positive results. Whether it was because my needs often went unmet or ignored, or because I didn’t see any reason not to lie if it would be more favorable, I’m not sure.

This is the story of my proudest lie. The best lie I ever did. A lie that looking back I still go, damn, I was eight.

Our story begins in second grade. I was eight. My school was having a book fair and I spent my small stipend on Gulliver’s Travels. No idea why. Lacking further funds I wandered the fair and came upon the greatest sight known to man. Frog erasers. They were so cute and I was extremely into animals of all kinds.

The whimsy. Who could have known they made erasers in such wonderful shapes? I mourned that I’d spent my money already, and played quietly with the little frogs in their bin. That’s when I was approached by a few other kids from my class.

I didn’t know most of them very well, but enough that it was civil when they asked me, “Are you going to buy those frogs?”

“I’d like to,” I admitted, “but I spent all my money.”

“Why don’t you steal them?”

“I thought about that, but I don’t have pockets.” Indeed, stealing had crossed my mind but it had been a brief temptation. I wasn’t even scandalized that the other girls suggested it.

“Caitlin has pockets,” the leader of the pack said. And indeed, Caitlin in her purple overalls did have pocket space for two frogs. So Caitlin and I became partners. My role in the escapade was just... wanting frogs and walking out with her. We stole two frogs, a yellow and a purple, and united by the misdeed we played together with them at recess despite not really being friendly prior.

After lunch I was called from class to the library. The principal herself was there waiting for me. She had a somber air, almost mournful that she needed to punish me. It was self evident to me that I was here for frog crimes. Caitlin had cracked and taken the fastest route to forgiveness- snitching on an accomplice. Despite the fact that my role was just: wanted frogs, I knew I was going to be in trouble.

Now, I could have told the truth. Pulled a Caitlin and ratted on the girl who told us to steal them. But clearly I’d still be in trouble for having gone along with the morally bereft plan. I was mad at Caitlin for telling but not enough to foist the onus back into her.

“Do you know why you’re here?” The principal asked kindly.

“Is it about the frogs?”

“Yes, Caitlin told us you stole the frogs.”

I quivered my lip and drew myself up indignantly. “I didn’t steal them!”

She blinked at my vehemence but since I looked near tears she carefully asked, “What happened?”

“I really wanted the frogs, but I didn’t have any money. So I asked the librarian if I could take them and bring the money tomorrow! But she was really busy and lots of people were talking to her, and she said yes! But maybe she was saying yes to someone else? And I thought it was to me but Caitlin didn’t, but I was going to bring money tomorrow!”

The principal. Was flummoxed. This was a situation in which I clearly thought I’d done no wrong, in which she couldn’t prove I had done anything wrong, and which the librarian would almost certainly not be able to weigh in. She regarded me not with suspicion but rather vaguely confused as to how to handle me.

I got off with a slight warning that I should pay for things before taking them, despite not having been the one to take things in the first place, and the frogs were confiscated.

I was vaguely worried they’d call my parents but years later when I admitted the story to my mom as an adult she laughed herself sick and said she’d never gotten a call.

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

Ellie Williams x Female Reader Headcannons

Only women can interact, sorry not sorry 😝

A/N: idk i got bored and just yapped (I use these for my fics btw, expect to see some of these being implemented).

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Fluff .☘︎ ݁˖

Keeps everything you give her. That includes gum and candy wrappers, unopened chocolates (it’s expired and probably molding), stuffed animals, tickets, and even pencils that she accidentally ended up breaking.

She keeps a box specifically for those things.

She’s definitely a hourder. Every little trinket she sees will be hers. On the ground or not, she’ll stuff it in her pockets, bring it home, and display it on her desk for you to see. Even though she tries to be nonchalant about it.

Loves when you cook, not because she can’t but because she claims that she food tastes a thousand times better when it’s made from your hands. Also because, apparently, your special ingredient is love.

Takes you out on museum dates so she can watch as you look up in curiosity at the display of skeletal remains of a dinosaur. She likes the fact that the two of you share interests, it gives her awkward-self something to talk about.

On the topic of awkward, the first time she’d ever had a conversation with you ended up becoming the most embarrassing thing she’d ever done in her life. Stuttering, pausing inbetween sentences, or just straight up forgetting what she was talking about pretty much sums it all up.

Stuffs her mouth with the sweets you bought. Next thing you know, the whole box is gone.

This woman YELLS when she’s on the game. Cursing every sentence turns into rage quitting and shutting off her console. Afterwards, she’ll immediately come to lay ontop of you and burry her face away into the crook of your neck; patiently leting you work your magic on easing her up.

Tells you that matching is childish but secretly ADORES the idea (Mainly so everyone knows you’re hers). You want matching pajamas? Done, she’s bought the two of you five pairs. Wanna get matching keychains? Ellie will handpick every trinket you like from her collection and grunt through the process of hand-making a one in a million keychain for the two of you.

She wears it everyday.

After her hard work she expects you to take care of her sore and achy fingers with extra love and attention. She’s talkin’ kiss the pain away and smother her with cuddles. Even spoil her with chocolates.

Loves when you call her baby. That special nickname gets her going; it might as well as be her motivation to wake up.

Likes being babied… (She’s not proud of it.)

Finds your weirdness endearing because she’s never been comfortable enough to openly be herself; dorky and cringe. She’d rather be nonchalant and act all tough, even though you see right through her act.

Makes dad jokes.

LOVESSS to hold your hand whenever the two of you are out. Small things like resting your head on her shoulder, giving her arm a squeeze, or even staring at her for a moment too long can get her red.

NSFW ༉‧₊˚.

She’ll memorize ever inch of your body during sex and use it as a reference for her drawings.

Her journal is now full of all the different poses the two of you had tried out.

Every little thing you do gets her giddy: squirming your hips, biting your lip, tugging at her hair, or even moaning her name, those are all the things that get her wet. Drenched even.

PS: she’ll get extra wet if you run your fingers to the back of her neck and hold onto her from there— you can ever grip at her hair and she’ll end up whining for more attention. (Even though YOU’RE the one getting strapped down.)

Likes to have you on your back with your legs spread so she can see just how good she’s doing you.

Loses her shit whenever you praise her. Whether it’s when she’s being ate out or when she’s pounding into you, she’s most likely to cum from just watching and hearing you.

Holds your hands in almost every position because that’s her silent way of showing you how mushy you make her. Also because she likes the idea that you’re still paying attention to her rather than the strap she has around her hip.

Loves how you taste. She could have you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if she could.

Fav combo: fingering + oral. She swears it gets you (s)creaming.

[wosofutbolfan]

I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar

Alexia Putellas x Explorer!R

8.5k Fluff, Fun, Minor Angst

Hi Guys,

This is pt4. in the 'I Would Climb Every Mountain With You" otherwise known as Explorer!R Universe. TW: description of killing an animal.

Highly recommend you read those 3 first, as this is entrenched in lore. Pt 1 can be found here.

It's developed from an ask I received from @karsonromanoff so thank you so much for the idea! I hope I did it justice and I'm sorry for the delay and the words. ha.

This is the first time I've written since my dad died. I'm not being emo or heavy about it but I am asking to please, be kind. I know there's nice people out there but often they're drowned out by the loud haters.

So throw us a comment, like or reblog if you enjoyed. I'm just trying to get back into something that brought me joy. I know I enjoyed writing it.

Also, may be weird for a fic about a spanish gay footballer, but you probably need a good working knowledge of Bear Grylls to understand 80% of this. ha.

As has become tradition, here's the song running though my head when writing! Yes, my music taste remains to be that of someone born in 1962. God love Helen Reddy.

“Vamos Ale! I don’t like to make Miguel wait…” you shout from the kitchen, bag resting on the countertop as you try to fix your bracelet with your left hand,

“Deja de preocuparte, a él no le importa, I will be one minute…” you head called back from the bedroom where your wife had been getting dressed for 2 hours now.

Yes.

Your wife.

Sometimes you couldn’t believe it.

Sometimes the weight of the band on your finger catches you by surprise and you’d remember.

Sometimes Alexia would place her hand on your bare thigh and you could feel the cool metal on your skin and you’d remember.

Sometimes you’d get called “Mrs Putellas” at a school talk, or at the Doctors, and you’d remember.

It felt so natural that sometimes you’d forget that you weren’t always Alexia's wife.

But now you are. And had been for almost 6 months. And married life couldn’t have suited you more.

Your wedding ring was your new favourite accessory, you never took it off.

In a fire you would save Alexia and your ring.

Maybe even your ring first.

It was embossed with the imprint of grass that Alexia has been collecting from each pitch of each game she had played in since you had met. The intricate design brought tears to your eyes as soon as you saw it. Made even worse by the inscription “’cause you are my goal”. 

You would be embarrassed if Alexia hadn’t cried like a toddler when you presented her with the ring you had made for her, which had rock from each of the 7 peaks you had scaled, as well as a granule of sand from the Dead Sea set within it. Integrated into the metal, visible but smooth to the touch. 

The inscription 'every mountain high, every valley low' on the inside of the band.

You knew you’d done good and you knew your Ale well enough to anticipate the absolute mess she would be when presented with it, ensuring you had a pocket full of tissues for the inevitable waterfall.

You weren’t wrong.

You had to assure a passing couple on the trail you had chosen that she was fine, not having a medical incident and you were definitely not mid break-up but in fact exchanging wedding bands early because you knew your fiance well enough she didn’t need her teammates to witness this much of her soft side.

Though you tried, they still saw enough on your wedding day to tease her for the last 6 months with no sign of slowing down.

Though right now your wife's behaviour was nothing but unexpected. You had agreed to attend one of Alexia's events this evening. Since getting married you had felt more of a duty to attend and make up for the years you’d left her carrying her own handbag whilst you trotted over mountains on the other side of the world. 

She insisted that you didn’t have to. Like she always did. You weren’t one for the fancy dresses and the flashing cameras. But you saw the gleam of hope in her eyes as she insisted she would be fine on her own.

You couldn’t let that sparkle dim.

Also you had to set off for a camp in a few days and you had gotten seriously stuck in the honeymoon phase meaning that an evening without your wife by your side wasn’t something you could stomach.

Not that you would admit to being so clingy.

But it wasn’t like Ale to take so long to get ready, neither of you being particularly fussy, usually she would throw on some light makeup, smack your bum whilst you ate nutella off a knife under the hob light, procrastinating getting ready until she dragged you and dropped you into the ensuite, steal a kiss and a spray of perfume, and wait for you whilst watching old football clips in the living room.

But now, as you still struggled to attach the clasp of your bracelet and you had one eye on the poor Barca driver, Miguel, waiting in your driveway, you started to grow frustrated at your wife's sudden vanity.

You smelt her perfume invading your senses as you felt her arms envelope you from behind, moving your uncoordinated left hand away and easily attaching the clasp of your bracelet for you, pressing a kiss to your neck as she did so.

“Finalmente… Let’s g-...” you spoke as you turned in her embrace, finally taking in her attire which stopped you in your tracks.

“Boobs”

You had suddenly turned into a 14 year old boy and you couldn’t explain it.

You had seen your wife naked hundreds of times.

Hundreds of fantastic times.

But here she stood looking, regal. Her hair falling lightly over her face, her dark sparkly dress with wide shoulders and only what you could describe as a boob portal you had been rendered speechless. Mouth gaping open like a fish.

“...Amor?...” you heard the delight in her voice. “Are you listening to me… my eyes are up here.” she jokingly clicked her fingers in front of your face which took you out of your breast-inspired trance.

“Ale you are so beautiful” you looked deeply into her eyes but you didn’t miss the blush rising from her neck. And you meant it. She was. Wow. 

“Do you like it?” she asked, shyly, “You don’t think it’s too much? It’s just the first event we’ve gone to together since we got married and I wanted to…”

You interrupt her but pressing a kiss to her lips, and, well, if you slipped a little tongue in there then fine. She was your wife after all.

“What? Show the world what they're missing out on? I am so proud to stand by your side, my love.” you whispered into her lips, as you toyed with her wedding band. 

You couldn’t help yourself…”and your boobs are fantastic.” 

She barked out a laugh as you leaned back into where you left off, but she took a step back, her heel clicking against the tile floor, to which you let out an annoyed grumble.

“Oi Oi, Mi Amor. What about poor Miguel, he is waiting, Si?” she teased.

“He doesn’t care… Cálla y bésame.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You took a deep breath and leaned back on your chair at the round table you found yourself at. Alexia had been pulled from your side which she had stuck to like glue all evening,  to go and present the final award of the evening which she had just done, very sexily if you do say so yourself. All confident and boob-y.

You smiled, imagining her now making small talk backstage, eyes bored but a smile plastered on her face as she tried to make her way back to your table.

Your other table-mates seemed to take the opportunity of the break in the ceremony to raid the free bar put on by the charity. Which seemed very uncharitable of them. But, as you toyed with the rim of your glass, who were you to judge?

Stomach full from a mediocre-mass produced meal and head happily fuzzy from the bubbles you had consumed you found yourself oddly satisfied as you sat here. In this conference room-turned auditorium in the middle of Barcelona, here, loudly and proudly as Alexia's wife.

Mrs Putellas.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, you felt weirdly grown-up. With your wife, your house, and your business. You blinked and missed yourself becoming so settled and for once in your life you weren’t terrified of the idea.

You saw the glint in Alexia's eye. When Irene and her wife would come round for dinner and bring their kid. She’d surrender all hostess duties and sit on the living room floor, crawling around at the beck and call of whatever imaginary game the 5 year old insisted on. You’d seen her perfect her lion roar in that very spot. It probably matched the glint in yours when you were grocery shopping and a child being pushed in a trolley would go past shoving cookies into the trolley without their Mother seeing.

Maybe, you thought, maybe it was time…

“It is you! I am so sorry to interrupt. I had to come over to introduce myself. I am such a fan…”

You glanced around, expecting Alexia to be standing over your shoulder and smiling politely at the person who had approached your table to meet her… but you were met with blank space and then you engaged your silly brain and realised the person was speaking English and looking at you and…

Oh My God.

It’s Bear Grylls.

“Oh My God. You’re Bear Grylls.” 

You let out. 

Stupidly.

Standing and thrusting your hand out like an idiot to your legitimate childhood hero.

You and your brother would watch his series for hours as children. Sat cross-legged 2 inches from the TV on your living room floor, eating up every second of his adventures. Your mum had to stop you from eating a woodlouse once in your garden because you’d seen him eat a cricket in the Amazon the evening before. Your brother smacked upside the head for trying to drink a cup of his own wee for the same reason.

Now you were a well-seasoned adventurer yourself you knew that all of that was for theatricks. 

You had spent more than 7 weeks wandering the Amazon yourself once, and not one drop of urine passed your lips. Not one 8 legged insect had you gulped down in one.

But still.

Hero.

He took your hand graciously, as you both sat back down you prepared to barrage him with questions but before you could he jumped right in…

“I have been wanting to meet you for years. But my team said you had disappeared off to Spain and couldn’t be tracked down. Please, I've been desperate to know. .. Tell me all about summiting Orjas del Salado…”

So you told him, and you asked him about his adventures, and you chatted for what could have been hours, sharing stories and advice with Bear-fucking-Grylls.

He blushed as you pointed out his for-TV tricks and you thanked him for being a portal into the wider world from your living room.

At some point you felt Alexia return, a strong hand on your shoulder. You paused your monologue about Patagonia and giddily took her hand in yours, introducing them to each other. 

Polite pleasantries exchanged you could tell she had legitimately no idea what was going on or who this middle-aged English guy at your table was, but judging from your excited eyes, she didn’t need to interrupt.

It didn’t take too long for someone from his team to pull him away for an interview with the charity. But as you stood to say your goodbyes he made an offer, “You know, me and the production company are making a special about survival in the Alps… I would love for you to be a guest star.”

You stood there like a gaping fish for a moment. “Really?” you asked, in wonder, your 7 year old self spinning around in glee in your chest. Alexia smiling up at you from her chair at the joy in your voice.

“Of course! I would be honored, it’s especially about how to survive in an Avalanche situation. Obviously, with what happened in Nepal…you are an expert in that fie…”

At that point, Alexia stopped her polite silence she had been maintaining whilst you had your moment with your childhood hero. And abruptly stood, clutching your hand hard in both of hers, stern look on her face.

“No.”

From the look on his face you gathered that this successful upper-middle class white English man had not been told no too often, and a beat of silence followed which Alexia was more than happy to fill.

“Sorry Señor Oso. She doesn’t do snow now. Thank you for the offer though.”

She said it with such finality that even you didn’t think to question it. Her mis-translation brought a smile to your face. Her hands still encompassed yours, her eyes didn’t leave his face. As though daring him to rebuff her.

He looked at you as though to confirm she could answer for you. Of course she could. But you knew this refusal wasn’t just about you, but about her also. You knew the anxiety it would cause her for you to put yourself in that situation wasn’t worth anything on this planet.

Nevermind the trauma it would dredge up for you. So obviously, you agreed.

“Sorry Mr Grylls. Not my rodeo anymore. I’ve got some contacts though who you could work with” you politely confirmed your refusal and felt Alexias hands lessen their grip on yours in relief.

“No, no, of course. Sorry. But no. I would really love for you to be involved in the series. We have an episode about promoting women in outdoor pursuits. It's still on the drawing board, but if you are interested I’ll get our people to liaise with each other!”

“That sounds amazing but… I don’t have any people for you to…”

“Don’t be silly Mi Amor” Alexia interrupts again, hand still in yours and the other expertly reaching into her clutch and pushing a card into his outstretched hand… “We have people. Please, Oso, be in touch.”

Smiling vaguely and confusedly at your wife, still clearly mildly terrified of her, he takes the card as he's dragged away by his handler. He's probably still in hearing distance as you squeal in glee and throw yourself into your wife's arms, making her spin with the momentum.

“Ale, Ale, Ale!!! Do you know who that was….” you exclaim.

She can’t help but laugh aloud at your antics, soft look on her face as she lifts you lightly off the ground to stop your spin.

“Si Mi Amor, ese era el hombre oso de la televisión. Tu favorito.” she replies with a smile on her face, speaking softly, somehow, in the middle of this event where she was the guest star, making you feel as though you were the only person in the universe.

“No.” you corrected “..eres mi favorito.” You sealed your words with a light kiss to her lips, chaste but warm.

“Ah, Si. And you have had some wine. You always get soft after wine.” she lightly rolls her eyes with affection at your gushing over her.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes as you pull her into a soft sway, your childhood hero quickly forgotten now you’re in the company of your wife.

Though the giddiness in your bones from your encounter remains.

“Si the wine.” you agree moving your lips close to her ear as you whisper, breath dancing against her cheek, your hand moves to her chest and you feel her breath falter at your closeness,

“but also your boobs.” and you quickly poke her exposed chest between her breasts before she can stop you, and you move away from her pulling her behind you as you rush off to the bar.

“Amor!” she cackles.

“Vamos Ale! A La Barra!”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Estoy Muerta.”

You grumble in complaint into the chest of the warm and moving pillow that you had clearly settled on in the night.

“Shh Ale.”

“Me estoy muriendo y a mi esposa no le importa.”

“You are not dying Ale. You are hungover and over 30”, you mumble in reply, moving away from resting on her chest, the heat becoming too much for your own fuzzy brain.

“Explain to me how that is different.” she doesn’t take kindly to your light chuckle in reply, as you move your hand to cover your eyes from the sunlight starting to bleed through the curtains.

You peek an eye open and see the remnants of your previous night strewn across the bedroom floor.

You take in the glorious dress of your wifes thrown across your chest of drawers. You recall unzipping it with your mouth after making very good use of the boob portal. Much to Alexia's delight.

You had probably taken it a little bit too far at the bar. Your giddiness let your binge-drinking brit out a little too much.

You had a flash of memory at dancing on a table at a dive bar in the town centre, before being brought down by Alba who you had called and demanded come and dance the night away.

Meanwhile Alexia had been in the corner trying to drunkenly explain to Mapi a set of complicated tactics that they should try out at an additional training session in the morning.

“I thought you had scheduled extra training today Ale” you teased after taking in her pasty complexion as you rolled over and settled back down onto your, cooler, side of the bed.

“I hate you.” she replied, quite seriously, as she moulded herself against your back, taking your hand in hers and burying her face into the back of your neck.

“Of course you do, dear, it feels like it.” you tease again, wiggling yourself and making her grumble again.

You rest there for a few moments, before you’re dragged onto your back again and pulled into Alexia's embrace as she moves you around like her own personal teddy bear.

You go with the flow, quite used to your wife's clingy nature, especially when she didn't feel well.

But your silence doesn’t last two minutes before she rolls you over again, now onto your back, “Oh bloody hell, where are we going now.” you mumble, as she rests her head on your chest this time, nuzzling into your breasts.

“me estoy poniendo cómodo.” she mutters into your bosom, “allá. ahora estoy cómodo”. You run your hands through her hair, smiling down at your wife who is practically purring at the attention.

“Bebé…”, you make a noise of affirmation.

“Will you…” you know what she wants, and you know she must be feeling bad if she’s asking for attention.

“Si, my love. voy a trenzar tu cabello. One big plait or lots of little ones?”. 

“The tingly ones por favor” she mumbles into your chest. Your heart expands at her adorableness, never quite learning the English for ‘french plait’ they became known as the ‘tingly ones’ in your household, because of the feeling she would get as you plaited her wet hair after a game, hands working through her scalp. 

It brings a smile to your face and you can see the lovesick smile on hers where it is squished against your chest.

You start to section out her hair as she lies still, your ministrations slowly putting her to sleep, working methodically in the quiet morning.

Moving strand over strand in intricate braids, lightly tugging her scalp and undoing when it's not perfect and redoing, giving her an extra scratch to the soft skin behind her ear when you get there, knowing it's her most sensitive spot. Receiving a sleepy purr in satisfaction as your reward.

You hear the animals from the national park outside, feel the sun starting to warm the room around you. Her chest rising and falling against yours hypnotising you further into the moment. You’ve got grand plans, brunch and a walk along the beach in your mind, maybe a lazy afternoon swim, hold on no. Maybe a lazy afternoon skinny dip. Yeah.

That sounds good.

You’ve almost finished tying off the last plait when you are startled back into the moment by the buzzing of your wifes phone on the bedslide table.

You fight back a smile at the groan that is emitted from your fully grown-pro-athlete-wife.  It resembled that of a teenager who’d been asked to clean their room or no dessert. When she doesn’t go to make a move you nudge her shoulder.

“Ale. Ale, your phone."

“No.”

“Yes."

“No."

“C'mon Ale.” you reach across and pick the phone up. “It could be important. It could be your secret wife wondering where you are.”

She rolls off you at your tease, throwing you a glare that resembles more of an angry kitten than anything, “It could not be, she knows where I am. I snuck out whilst you were dancing on the tables in that last bar to make plans for dinner.”

“Ah, Si of course. My mistake.”

She surges up and gives you a completely unnecessary chaste kiss, as though even the joke is too much and she has to confirm she’s kidding. The phone has stopped vibrating against the bedside table and the silence that settles over you both is welcome.

“How are you so okay? I feel like I have been run over by a truck.” she states as she rubs her face, finally sitting up to start the day.

“You are old.

“I am 2 months older than you.”

“Two, very long, months my darling.” you tap her cheek lightly as you move to get out of bed, throwing on one of her oversized t-shirts you find on the floor.

“Seria, how?” she asks again, now sprawling across the space you have vacated.

“I am English. I once did a vodka shot through my eyeball in the park. I was 14.” you state, plainley, eyebrow raised in challenge as she just looks at you, open mouthed.

“Ojalá no hubiera preguntado.” she mutters, as her phone starts to ring again.

“Ale, phone.” you say, just to annoy her.

“¡lo sé!” you hear thrown at you, as you head downstairs to set some food out for Billy-the-Goat, and make a coffee for your dying wife.

Soon after, you feel her presence behind you as you stir her coffee, turning as you feel her hands wrap around your waist and presenting her coffee and she takes it from you as though it's a ballon d’or. She takes a sip before she presses a kiss to your head.

“That was my agent.”

Your heart drops, and you can’t help the petulant whine that leaves your lips.

“No, Ale! I wanted to spend the day together. Try that new brunch place Alba told us about. Have a swim, just be together. Whatever brand needs you can wait. Tell them no, please” you finish your little monologue with a pout, and you feel a childish frustration rise as a laugh teases against her lips.  You don’t get very far when a kiss is pressed against your lips.

“Well that sounds like the perfect hangover cure Mi Amor. Do you not want me to tell you what it is before I tell them no though?” there's something in her taunt, a glint in the eye that makes you think twice as your mouth already wraps around the refusal.

You take a moment too long apparently, and she takes things into her own hands as she clutches her coffee happily and spins around, “I’ll tell them no! Don’t worry Mi Amor…” teasing lilt in her tone. Whatever the news is, it has pulled her from her hangover.

You wait a beat

Another.

“Fine, What is it!” you groan out in defeat, hands raised to the sky, Alexias t-shirt riding high on your thighs as you raise your arms.

Your wife turns and is distracted momentarily by the flesh on display. Before you cough and she remembers what she's supposed to be doing. Coy smile on her face returning.

“That was my agent…” you huff out at her drawing out the anticipation. “Or should I say our agent.” your brow furrows in confusion as she continues… “she has been contacted by a muy interesado oso.”

Realisation starts to dawn on you, memories of the previous night flashing in your mind and you can’t help the grin that forms.

“Si, Mi Amor. It turns out he really meant it. She said they were willing to offer anything to get you on. She’s getting the details now and will contact us again after our day together today to see if you are interested”.

“I am interested!” you exclaim with glee, Alexia throwing her head back in laughter.

“I know Amor, but let's let them sell it to you. You need the details. Though… I am sure it is no more dangerous than ojos de vodka.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hola, love!” you shout into your empty hallway, hands full of groceries, you shuck off your trainers, hearing them thump against the wall as you struggle into the kitchen.

Tonight was the premiere of “Man Vs Woman” , the special episode of your and Bear's adventure. After the offer was made you met with the TV production company via Zoom to go through ideas.

You pretended you didn’t know Alexia was standing just outside the door to your study, listening and clearly deciding if she thought it was too dangerous or not. At least that's what you deduced from her interrupting with a cup of tea every time a particularly hairy idea was mentioned.  

When you brought this up with her you pretended you didn't see her blush creeping up from her neck. Because you’re her wife and it was the wifely thing to do.

The concept was a really cool one. You were excited from the start. The idea was that you and Bear would both be dropped in an inhospitable environment with a map and a knife and nothing else. Neither of you would be told what type of environment but you had assurances in your contract that it wouldn’t involve snow. You had 28 days to get to the muster point. Whoever got there first won.

Simple.

Convincing Alexia it was really cool. Less simple.

“Amor what if there are animals!”

“I know how to avoid dangerous animals. And there will be a medical team on standby,”

“What if you fall and cut yourself on your knife."

“What if you get tackled and break your leg?”

“That's different. What if you lose your map and can’t find your way out and you have to live out there forever”

“I will always find my way back to you.”

“What If-”

“Ale.”

You stopped her rambling with a kiss and when you pulled away you looked deeply in her eyes.

“Que pasa I miss you too much?” eyes wide and vulnerable.

There we go. Her real source of anxiety.

You had spent more time apart than most couples but since you scaled down your travels you had fallen into a sweet domesticity you could admit was a struggle to pull yourself from. 28 days plus the week before to get to the location is longer than you’d like. But it was an adventure of a lifetime. Maybe… maybe your last adventure? The thoughts had been creeping in more and more recently.

Of early mornings chasing more than sunrises, maybe rising due to a baby's babble instead?

You’d made sure that Alexia really knew how much you’d miss her the night before you flew out. On reflection maybe you should have rested your muscles a little more before such a physically demanding month but. Be serious. Look who your wife was. 

You are not God's strongest soldier.

So, off you had gone. Competing against your childhood hero for all of womanhood. And you couldn’t lie. You loved it.

Being blindfolded and dropped in an unknown location was exhilarating. Learning the land as you went, with only a map and a knife in hand it was one of the biggest challenges of your life.

The team had made good on their promise and the tropical rainforest you were in couldn’t be further from a snowy mountain range.

You’d refused to let anything slip to Alexia in the 3 months you’d been back. Lips tightly sealed no matter what she tried. You wanted her to be surprised and watch it in real time with you. In all the games you'd attended since you had to deal with an injured Mapi yapping your ear off whilst you tried to concentrate on the game, probing for hints about if you won, what you won, where you were, if you wrestled a snake, how big was the snake you’d wrestled.

“Maria stop with the snake!” you’d finally snapped during the tense quarter final of the Queen's cup.

Which had worked.

For all of two seconds.

“What did the snake taste like?”

You’d originally planned to go home to England with Alexia to watch the premier with your family. But then a schedule mess-up in the league had meant that Ale had to play in a rescheduled game the day after the premier. It just didn’t work for her to come to England.

She insisted you still go, but you refused. You wanted to watch her game. And you knew she’d need you when the show was on. Even if she didn’t know that yet.

You started to unpack your groceries mindlessly, you’d picked some great snacks for the evenings viewing, you suddenly were hit with how suspiciously peaceful your house was, though, you were sure you’d seen Alexia's car in the drive.

“Ale! Love!, ¡Estoy en casa! Come help me unpack!” You shouted into your empty kitchen, back turned to your living room, you had a few hours before the show was on air, “I got that ice-cream you like! I know it gives you a tummy ache sometimes but don’t worry, I'll rub your tummy how you like afte…”

“Amor!”

You turned around at the panic in her voice, “Wha–”

“SURPRISE!”

Ale stood in your living area, face reddening, surrounded by her closest Barca teammates as well as Mario, his ever pregnant wife and his kids, your mum and brother as well as Eli and Alba. Everyone comically in paper party hats and some lop-sided bunting was up above your couch,

“HOPE YOU BEAT THE BEAR SNAKE!” it read, and you immediately knew who was on the decoration committee.

You jumped in surprise, dropping the ice cream and immediately ran into your mum's open arms, “Mum! You’re here!” you squealed into her neck, hiding the tears that had appeared in her presence.

“I am, love. Alexia literally wouldn’t let us refuse the flight. She pretended she didn’t understand English when we tried to at least pay for it. And you know I have a 265 day streak on duolingo but my accent must need work because she didn’t understand my Spanish.”

You pulled yourself from her neck with a wet laugh and transferred yourself into your wifes open and familiar strong arms. “Aleeee” you whined. She knew you meant thank you. And I love you. And you mean the world to me. But you were too British to do that infront of people.

“You need to stop pretending you don’t speak English when you don’t like what you hear.” you muttered without malice after placing a kiss below her ear.

“I know amor. I love you too. And your family needed to be here for your big moment! You couldn’t miss this with them because of me. And then also. Mapi happened and now we’re having a viewing party! There's a cake!”

“And Ice Cream Ale! Don’t worry, I’ve saved it! Though we don’t want your barriga to hu-” Mapi stands the space you'd just vacated holding up the abandoned and slightly battered carton of ice cream. She's stopped from her gleeful teasing by Ingrid covering her entire face with one big palm.

“We wanted to be here to support you.” Ingrid interrupted her girlfriend, addressing you kindly.

“We all did!” you hear from Alba in the back, already tucking into the buffet set up on the coffee table, paper hat skew-whiff on her head. You have never felt so loved. It was perfect.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, when are you going to tell her you’re ready for them?”

You are brought out of your daydream by Ingrid sidling up to you and addressing you with her familiar soft lilt.

“Huh?”

She doesn’t reply vocally, just nods her head towards your wife, who is currently having a very intense game of 2v2 in your garden with 2 of Marios youngest and Mapi.

The kids little legs making them toddle around after the small ball adorably, Mapi and Ale giving soft touches they would easily catch up with.

You can’t help but laugh out loud as Ale takes Mapi by surprise and takes a shot against her hard, the ball catching her bare thigh in a manner which must have left a sting much to the small Spaniard's disdain.

Her and the two kids start to chase Alexia around the garden, dramatically tackling her as she suddenly becomes some sort of football monster, rolling around and blowing raspberries on their stomachs as Mapi cheers her toddler army on from the sidelines.

You feel another knock against your arm, dislodging your hand which is supporting your head as you lean over the breakfast bar facing the garden. Lovesick looks clearly on your face, going off Ingrid's coy smile.

“You know, barn. Kids. Munchkins…”

“Yeah, Yeah I get it Ingrid…” you steal another look outside at your more-often-than-not-stern wife getting grass stains on her comfy shorts for the entertainment of your best friends' kids, suddenly you feel like being really really honest. You turn to Ingrid with a shy smile of your own, “soon.”

Her face lights up, teeth on display unable to disguise her smile. “Yeah?” she asks, before turning to look towards the garden, “Me too.”

You smile to yourself and drop your head onto the dark haired girl's shoulder, you both taking a moment to watch your partners play with the kids. The moment is ruined by your mum mussing up your hair on her way past,

“Come on Love, we need to wrangle these last-minute spaniards, it starts in 10 minutes!”

She had a point to be fair. A very chaotic 8 minutes later you practically push Eli into her seat on the couch after she tries to get another plate full of food for Mario’s wife, “¡Está llena de Eli! ella esta embarazada no tiene hambre!” you cheekily remind her, your wife looking up at you from her place on the floor with tender eyes.

“And you…” you turn your attention towards her as you make your way to your seat, “get up here.” you demand, patting the empty space next to you.

“I’m bueno down here Mi Amor, me and Bruno can watch from down here.” she insists. the 4 year old of Marios nestled on her stomach, her arms wrapped around his sleeping form where he attached himself to her after being forced back inside.

You hesitate for a moment, not watching to make a scene or be too needy in front of all your closest family and friends, but you knew that Ale would need to be within touching distance of you in the next hour. 

You’re about to make your peace with it when Mario glaces your way. You and Mario have worked together for years. Years before you met Ale and the girls.

You’ve battled more than just bears together. Weeks spent isolated in the mountains. And a bond like that means that you can communicate with just a look.

With just that glance he’s up and pulling his toddler into his own burley arms. Bruno remaining in his deep sleep through the change.

“I’ve got el monstruo Ale. Go sit with your wife."

She doesn’t need any more direction, the small interaction is subtle and missed by everyone, except your brother who sends you an exaggerated puppy dog look.

“Fuck off” you throw at him, finger in the air, quickly grabbed by Alexia, “Hey, I thought you wanted me to sit here!” she teases, sending your brother a wink.

“Stop ganging up on me…!” you’re about to protest further before you’re shushed by Mapi, of all people, sitting on the floor between Ingrid's legs who sits on the couch above her. “It's about to start!”

She has a point, a familiar British accent fills the living room, Spanish subtitles appearing on the bottom of the screen for the Spanish contingent. Bear’s voice is as dramatic as ever, long sweeping scenes fill the screen of intense jungle, a crocodile and an action shot of a snake thrown in for good measure.

“Serpiente!” Mapi shouts, pointing at the screen, before Ingrid hushes her and pulls her back against her legs. 

           “We all know by now that humans are masters of the jungle. But the unanswered question remains. Is it the King, or Queen of the Jungle? Find out tonight in Man V Woman.”

The title fills the screen with a dramatic crescendo of music. Your friends and family whooping as though it's the champions league final. Alexia barely contains her excitement next to you. You had been steadfast in your refusal to tell anyone the outcome.

The next shot is a recognisable one, the sound of trees being hacked with a machete accompanies a close up of a muddy puddle set deep in the jungle, until the water is disturbed by a ever-familiar battered boot stomping in the puddle, blaugrana laces pulled tight, as proudly as ever.

This prompts another wild round of jeering from the crowd around you as the camera pans out and reveals your full profile as Alexia places a loving kiss onto your shoulder, “That's my wife!” she shouts, proudly, making you laugh. 

Bear's voice over continues as you pull Alexia's hand into yours, half pulling her on top of you, she gives you a peculiar look, this being more PDA than you would usually allow in front of your English family, but she goes with it, too full of pride to be worried otherwise.

As the voiceover continues, highlights of your career flash across the screen to introduce you to the audience.

Mountains in Peru, Arctic Explorations, Treks across Siberia, all flash across the screen, mixed in with childhood pictures your mum must have supplied painting a picture of your career so far and your expertise in your career.

The music turns more dramatic as you shift uncomfortably, being the only one to realise in the room what's about to happen.

A picture of you smiling with Arjan at the peak of Everest, ice picks raised proudly in the air. You feel Alexia stiffen on your lap, ever so subtly. Stock footage of snow hurling down a mountain as Bear describes the avalanche you got trapped in.

He gives out stats and figures to heighten the drama… “your chance of survival drops 3% every minute you are trapped after the first 15 minutes… being trapped for 2 days… our guest star did the unthinkable…”

The room is bathed in a white light as the screen changes. Camera shaky and audio changing to the shouts and heavy breaths of whoever the body worn camera is strapped too. “Yahām̐, Yahām̐, she is here!”

The camera catches Arjan digging desperately, it's clear now the camera is strapped to a rescuer on the slopes of Everest, the TV production company having access to the footage through a sister company who were filming a documentary about altitude rescue at the time.

It shakes as the man helps dig, grunts of exertion as the spade digs desperately. A flash of colour and your snow suit is revealed, face pressed up against the rock you had found shelter near.

Arjan clears snow from your face desperately and puts his head close to yours, “She’s breathing!” he pulls you up and your hand, satellite phone frozen in place, falls from the side of your ghostly white face as the camera fades out.

The whole segment couldn’t have lasted more than 32 seconds. But it had felt like time had slowed. You could feel from her placement on you that Alexia hadn’t taken a breath. Her eyes remained wide as she stared at the screen.

There was a heaviness in the room around you. 

The voiceover continued, explaining the challenge to the audience but the silence continued. Eli glances at her daughter worriedly, every few seconds.

Just as you thought the tension couldn’t get any more intense… “That's what Alexia looks like when she visits England for Christmas and mum won’t let us put the heating on.” your brother jokes, awkwardly, a crooked smile on his boyish face. 

The room is silent, your mum hiding a smile behind a hand only you notice. He goes to speak again, probably to apologise when-

Alexias' laugh shocks even you, bubbling up from deep within her chest. She closes her eyes, a stray tear escaping at the pressure. Laugh still rumbling deep in her chest, slowly the room joins in, as though they’ve been given permission, and soon your in a choir of laughing spectators, your brother blushing deep red at the attention.

“Thank you” you mouth to him across the room, as you wrap your hands around your wife, whos body still shakes with the odd giggle.

He tips an imaginary hat at you in return.

Because he is an idiot.

The challenge begins, unhelpfully, with you throwing yourself out of a helicopter into the rainforest, “Oh Dios Mio” she mumbles, heard subtly under Mapis, “Cool!”.

You press your lips against her shoulder again and mutter into her skin; “I am here, I am warm, I am Safe.” Like a mantra, you feel her nod and grip your hand tighter.

The thing about being in the environment completely opposite to an avalanche inducing mountain range, was that it was hot. Hot and wet. The camera follows both you and Bear as you struggle through the elements seperatly, deciding when to camp down and preserve energy and when to try to gain more miles.

Bear goes hard, and Mapi looks up at you aghast as you decide to build a shelter and bunker down for seven days straight. The heat zapping any energy you had.

“What are you doing! It's a race!” she exclaims, to which you laugh and zip your mouth closed with your fingers, cocking an eyebrow at her as she eagerly looks back towards the TV like a small child.

You spend two days collecting water and, seemingly, according to Mapi, wasting time cutting palm leaves and collecting bark to make twine. Meanwhile Bear is hacking down trees, making spears out of sticks and rock and throwing himself at seemingly anything that would give him a bit of protein on the move.

You’ve ridden yourself of most of your clothing due to the heat. Smothering yourself in mud from the riverbank you were camped next to, you explain to the camera its sun-cream qualities and how it’s safer than clothing as it also protects you from dehydration. 

All the while you weave and weave and weave your leaves together, quietly, assuredly.

You explain to the camera; “I am a master weaver. My wife likes it when I plait her hair. Alot. She’s cute. Sorry Ale.” you wink at the camera as your wife groans on your lap and  her teammates start to tease her, “Amor! Why!”

“Now. Let's see how this works!”  you grin and pull up a large basket to the camera.

The screen shows you scantily dressed, boots safely on a rock in the background, in the river, moving twigs into position to make a run for the fish to swim directly into your basket.

You explain the contraception, set some bait and say your goodnights to the camera, crossing your fingers for a full basket in the morning.

Cheerful music begins as the camera fades back into your campfire, fish on a stick roasting and cooking heavenly, your muddied but smiling face coming into view.

“Bear can eat his roaches and drink his wee. I’ll be here with my fish buffet!” You joke, under your shelter, camera panning to tens of fish in your basket waiting to be smoked.

The next scene shows Bear explaining the protein benefits and the unusual flavours of a witchetty grub as he struggles against the rainstorm. 

The music begins to ramp up. Graphics on the screen showing both of your progress. Bear has made much more progress than you. But struggling physically. He’s developed a terrible case of trench foot but was still making steady progress with his machete.

You chose to travel up the river. Walking along its bed you are able to make more direct progress, but it’s more energy draining wading through water. You have, however, had a relatively strong diet over the last 3 weeks.

You’re sitting on the river bed, tending to your basket of smoked fish you’re carrying with you for energy when you suddenly remain completely stock still. Dramatic music begins. Your head raises subtly and then out of nowhere.

“Serpentine!”

A snake strikes at you from the shallows, clearly after your basket, or you, or whatever it can get its fangs in. You react quickly, crouching down to your knees, keeping a low centre of gravity to keep your balance as your right hand reaches into the shallows.

You and the snake strike at the same time, and you throw yourself to the side as you bash a jagged rock against its head.

The next scene shows you taking a mouthful of grilled snake; “Tastes like chicken!” you joke at the camera. Before popping a piece of charred snake skin into your mouth.

You feel Alexia shudder in your arms.

"I'm never kissing you again" she lies.

Mapi slowly turns around, mouth agape, gobsmacked look on her face. “Snake!” she whispers, in disbelief. “You beat a snake!” You can’t help but laugh and lean over to turn her head back to the TV.

“Told you you’d find everything out tonta.”

The map on screen shows the last day of the challenge, Bear's voice over explaining distances to the muster points, as well as geographical challenges. The screen swaps quickly between the two of you, running, climbing and swimming to where you both believed the finish line to be.

You were making good progress, as was Bear.

A close up of a Brazilian flag on the edge of a waterfall.

A close up of you throwing yourself into the river.

Bear gripping a cliff edge and heaving himself up. The camera shows the bottom of the flag pole as he pulls himself up. The camera pans up. And the flagpole is bare.

The screen changes to you.

Standing, still relatively scantily clad in your battered boots, your hiking shorts cut down to short-shorts and thin vest muddied and holey, fish blood staining your arms,holding the flag proudly up in one arm.

The room around you erupts. “She did it!” “¡Jefe de la Jungla!!!!” “I always knew!”, “She killed a snake!”. You find yourself at the bottom of a pile of bodies as Alexia's teammates celebrate in the way they know how. Which is apparently to throw themselves at you in a pile up.

“That's my wife!” Alexia chants proudly from within the pile, laughing gleefully, all earlier angst forgotten.

The screen goes blank, and the image shows you and Bear embracing, laughing as the voiceover continues; “... at least this time. It's a Queen of the jungle… or should I say. La Reina de la Jungla.” Bear quips, as Alexia groans, forever hating her nickname, and the screen cuts to black.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s hours later, many more plates of food, celebration toasts and questions from Mapi about the snake later. That you're finally in the quiet of your bedroom in your wife's arms.

Your mum and brother are set up in the spare rooms and you have all got plans to meet up with the Alexias family at the game tomorrow before going out for a meal.

Your head is settled on her chest as she plays on her phone above you, struggling to calm down from the evening's events, and as usual, struggling to sleep before a game.  You play with her wedding ring on her spare hand. Feeling the cool metal beneath against her warm skin.

You feel her swipe furiously through her phone, getting more agitated as time passes, grumbles that are not-quite words emitting from her chest.

“Hey. Love.” you sit up and pull her phone away. “What's the matter?”

“Nothing.” she replies, bottom lip out in a pout, pulling her phone back into her hand.

“It’s not nothing. Tell me.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Alexia.” you sigh, “We aren't doing this.. What's got you so…” you look down onto her phone and see. Yourself? It's her tiktok open and you see an edit of the show being played over… “Hot Stuff? Ale. What's this?” you glance at the comments section and see a selection from seemingly anon accounts;  

‘I have never understood Alexia more’, ‘I wonder who calls who capi.’ ,‘Capi, your wife's thighs are bigger than yours’.

“Nothing!” she grabs her phone back from your grip… you arch an eyebrow at her which crumbles her resolve in 3…2…

“Fine! It's all over my TikTok.  The comments about you. The fans have made these edits. Of you! All, wet and… muscley and… nearly undressed.”

“And you…don’t… like me wet, and muscled and… naked? Cause, love, I have evidenced otherwis…”

“Shut up! Of course I do but you're mine!”

Oh. Realisation dawns on you and you can’t help but smile.

“Don’t laugh!” she grumbles. “You’re jealous….” you tease in a sing-song voice. “I am not jealous!” she insists, “It's just… tu eres mio! And these people are all looking at you”.

“I am,” you agree, with a smile. “But, love. Try being married to Alexia Putellas. Maybe you’ll keep your shirt on at games now.” you tease, making her smile and roll her eyes.

Eyes softening as you pull her phone from her grip and plug it in for her. Settling back into her chest, nuzzling against the warm skin you find there.

“I am so proud of you.” she whispers into the now dark room, placing a kiss on your head. The moment became more serious and tender.

“I love you” you reply, softly, the moment feels weighted, and you’re not sure what makes you do it. Maybe it's the adrenaline of the evening, having completed your life's ambition, or maybe it's the wine you drank.

Though, really, you know it's because of the images of your lanky wife curling herself onto the rug in the living room because Bruno had decided she was the world's best pillow again. But you can’t stop yourself.

“Ale. I want to have kids with you.”

Her hand stops its movement in your hair and she rushes over to turn the bedside lamp back on.

“Que?” she breathes out. Hands finding their place softly on your cheeks, a look of urgency in her eyes.

“I want us to have kids. Me and you. I want that with you. Is that something you’re ready for?” you whisper, eyes looking deeply into hers.

“En serio?” she asks, as though she's afraid of the answer.

You nod in response. Moving your hand to wipe away the tears that have appeared on her cheeks.

“Sí, Mi Amor. Quiero eso contigo. Mucho.”

You're both smiling too much to kiss, but you make a good go of it anyway. And as you bury yourself into your wife's arms. Hands roaming and adrenaline of a decision made rushing through your body you can't help but think.

This is the beginning of the biggest adventure of your life. 

[not-neverland06]

big bad wolf

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

a/n: inspired by the fact that Hugh Jackman thought wolverines were just a type of wolf and no one corrected him. Rusty because I haven’t written smut in a while so you guys aren’t allowed to talk any shit. Plus, I’m too much of a wimp to be like extremely explicit, but these prompts ( one, two, three) together were too good to pass up. 

SMUT 18+ (my slight monsterfucker tendencies might shine through in this one)

Summary: Logan's told you a million times not to take the path through the woods. You never listen, of course. Now there's a monster on your tail and you're all alone. (part of my Halloween Palooza)

You never should have taken this path. You knew it was going to happen, Logan had warned you, and you still didn’t listen. Now, you’re in the middle of the woods, completely turned around and on the verge of tears. God, why do you never listen?

You put your groceries down and pull out your phone. Through the thick spread of leaves, you get minimal moonlight. You’re surrounded by shifting shadows and rustling undergrowth. Everywhere you turn is a monster waiting to leap out at you. 

When you were little you were petrified of the dark. You hated the shapes you saw lurking within it. You’d outgrown that as an adult, but now, you can barely breathe as your eyes dart all around. The childish fear is returned with a vengeance and you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack. 

You flip open your phone, squatting on the ground and trying to conserve your body's warmth. The temperature must have dropped twenty degrees since you left the house. Of course, Logan had told you to bring a jacket too. Did you listen? No. 

You were only going out to get some chips and dip, you really didn’t think it would take so long. But then you’d got caught up talking to one of your friends and before you knew it, it was pitch black outside. You should have just called Logan at the store, asked him for a ride. Now, you’re staring down at the flickering screen of your flip phone and about to sob as you see the bars disappearing. 

“No fucking service, of course,” you hiss and shove the phone back in your pocket. The battery’s nearly dead anyway. You doubt it would have lasted long enough for a phone call. You run a stressed hand over your face, trying to calm your breathing down. 

You’re trying to trick yourself into thinking that everything’s okay. That the shadows are just shadows and you’re scared. Then you hear it. 

It’s a low noise, something out of your worst nightmares. There’s an immediate spike of adrenaline as an inhuman growl echoes through the night air. You swear you can feel it inside your chest. It rumbles through the animal, bursts through clenched fangs, and makes the hair on your neck stand on end. 

You glance over your shoulder, mouth parted in a silent scream. You don’t see anything, you can’t. You just barely make out the branches shifting nearby before you’re leaping to your feet. You almost call out, see whose there, but that feels like the last move every bimbo makes in a horror movie. 

So, you do something arguably worse. You abandon your groceries and purse and bolt. Immediately you can hear its pounding footsteps chasing after you. You do scream now, there’s no point in swallowing it down. It’s like the terror is ripping through you, making you stumble over every branch and rock in your path. 

You know it's faster than you. You can hear how easily its keeping up its stride behind you. This feels like a game to it. It's just teasing you, dangling freedom in front of its prey before it closes its drooling maw around your neck. 

You trip over an enlarged root and go flying forward. Rocks scrape across your arm and you let out a short shriek of pain. The flesh tears easily on the sharp points and the metallic scent of your blood fills the air. It comes to a sudden stop a few feet away from you. There are no thoughts in your head besides the voice screaming at you to RUN!

It tells you to keep running. If you stop it will catch you and it will kill you. This is no longer a product of your imagination. This is real and it is hungry for you. You scramble to your feet, boots slipping along the muddy forest floor. You dig your fingers into the earth, feel the dirt slide under your nails, and launch yourself forward. You nearly flip your feet over your head but you manage to keep yourself steady. 

You can’t hear the steps behind you. The beat of your heart pounds through your head, drives you forward, and discombobulates you all the same. Blood rushes so quickly beneath your skin that you can feel your vessels swelling with the warmth of your terror-fueled adrenaline. 

You’ve never felt so inferior before, like a rabbit desperately trying to escape the hungry jaws of a wolf. Your legs are moving faster than they ever have, you’re bounding, racing, leaping through the forest. You move through it like you were born in it, anything to escape whatever was following you. 

You no longer remember the way home or what home is. You can only focus on right now. You don’t notice the dark shape running alongside you, or how easily it keeps pace. Not until it’s barreling into your side and you go slamming into the ground again. Your head nearly bounces against a rock but something slides underneath it, stopping the impact at the last second. 

Something rough grips at your face. You’re still blind, blood rushing so hard beneath your skin, you’re practically blind with panic. You bite down, taste flesh, and hold on until blood rushes into your mouth. The metallic tang of it is like poison against your tongue but you don’t let go. 

“Release!” He orders you like a dog. His voice is so thick with anger and hunger that you barely recognize it. But something clicks in your head and you unlock your jaw from his palm. “The fuck have I told you about taking this path?” Again, his voice is so thick with volatile rage that you barely register it. 

“Sorry,” you sob out, shoving at his chest and scrambling to sit up. But he keeps you pinned to the ground, one hand clamped tightly around your neck and the other pushing down against your stomach. You can feel something hard against your thigh but you pay it no mind, still struggling to catch your breath. 

You take in deep, heaving, gasps of air and the moon shifts overhead. It gives you just enough light to see Logan clearly now. You nearly choke at the sight of his face. His lips are peeled back, sharpened points of teeth causing blood to bead along his lower lips. His beard seems scruffier than normal and there’s a golden glow to his eyes. 

“What the fuck?” You stutter out, glaring up at him. You’ve seen him angry before. But you’ve never seen him quite so animalistic. “Logan?” You whisper his name hesitantly and it only makes him look more pissed off. You shrink back, though there’s not far to go with him holding you like this. 

His hips shift down and you bite down on your lip so a pathetic whimper doesn’t escape you. His head tilts curiously, gaze raking over your heaving chest and then down to the too-short shorts you’d put on earlier. 

He gives you a look of astonished disbelief, “You fuckin’ kidding me?” 

The hand on your stomach drifts down to the waistband of your shorts. Your eyes widen when you realize what he’s trying to do. “Logan, wait-” Too late. He rips the shorts down your legs and his eyes widen. The sneer of his lips finally melts away as he sees the clear wet spot in the middle of your underwear. 

You don’t even get a chance to defend yourself before he’s gripping your hips and flipping you over. Your hands struggle for purchase on the slippery rock in front of you. You try and glance back at him, but he buries a hand in your hair, tugging harshly, and forcing your face forward. 

“Logan, please,” you whine, thoroughly humiliated as he sits behind you, silently examining your battered form. You’d tripped more than you thought while you’d been running from him. The adrenaline has just barely waned enough for you to feel the bruises forming. But he has no sympathy for your plight, if anything your tears seem to egg him on. 

“What have I told you about taking this path?” You bite your tongue, a sudden refusal to answer raging forth. He’s got you half-naked on your hands and knees after chasing you through the woods. You shouldn’t have to be scolded like an imbecile on top of that. 

He leans over you, the weight of his body pushing forward, your arms strain to keep you both up. You grit your teeth, still keeping your mouth clamped shut. He chuckles, the noise so low you feel it rattling through you rather than hear it. “I could hear you.”

His hand drifts down your bicep, wraps around your front, and rests over your breasts. “Could hear how fast your heart was beating. It’s still about to come out of your chest.” You suck in a sharp breath, keeping yourself from arching into his touch.

His nose lingers against the side of your head, dipping towards your neck and inhaling deeply. Your face wrinkles in confusion as he practically smells you. “I can smell how terrified you were.” His hand suddenly jerks your head back and you can’t help but yelp. There’s a smirk on his lips as he finally gets a noise from you. 

You can feel the desire practically dripping down your thighs at this point. All you can think about is how powerful he is. How hungry he is for you. You want him to devour you, completely wreck you. 

He releases you and without his support, you slump forward, neck bowing awkwardly. You try and right yourself but one of his hands grips your neck so tight you can feel the blood rushing up into your face. He pins you there and the only warning you have of what he’s about to do is the sound of his belt buckle coming undone. 

He thrusts into you and your jaw drops. You inhale the dirt beneath you and it tastes remarkably like blood. He pushes your cheek further into the ground and you grunt as tiny little pebbles have their taste of your flesh. 

Had you not been so wet, you doubt you would have enjoyed a second of this. But, because his chasing you down like something feral made you more aroused than you have been in months, you let out a pathetic moan beneath him. It borders on the thin line between pain and pleasure. But each rough thrust inside you blurs the line until they’re indiscernible from one another. 

Your fists curl up, mud sticking in the lines of your palm as he takes you like you’re nothing more than a toy. You shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like how used you feel. But you relish it. Relish in how crazy you make him, to the point that he’d lose his mind and use you like this. 

He’s like a fucking animal. Taking what he wants from you with no concern or care to whether you like it or not. He’s panting and grunting behind you, you don’t understand the insults spewing from his mouth because there’s blood rushing in your ears and you feel like you might pass out. 

The adrenaline and residual terror from earlier are building into one explosive moment inside you. Your fingers tremble with it, your limbs burn from the volatile feeling and you can’t help the noises being forced out of you.  It doesn’t take much longer for you to combust. 

Pleasure rushes through you, makes you numb to the world around you. A dulled tickling feeling rushes through every part of you. Your arms go limp and he’s quick to wrap a hand around your waist, keeping you upright. He presses into your lower back, arching it until he’s hitting the spot inside you that causes aftershocks of painful pleasure. 

Your core throbs as you pulse around him. Sucking him deeper until his hips come to an erratic stop and he spills inside you. You keep your forehead pressed to the cool earth beneath you. You never actually managed to catch your breath before and now it just feels like you’re five seconds away from hyperventilating. 

A soothing hand runs up and down your spine, he curls around you and helps you to sit up. His voice is a low whisper, “You alright?”

You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath and giving him a shaky nod. He laughs and pulls you to stand up. Your legs were limp from running earlier, now they’re practically boneless. He keeps you propped against him and pulls your shorts back up. 

He buttons his jeans and straightens. His eyes narrow as he glares down at you. He cups your chin, tilting your head to examine the scratches on your cheeks and tutting at you. His fingers tighten to the point of pain and he jerks your face up to meet his eyes. “You gonna come down this path again?”

After that, yes. You completely would. He sees the look on your face and rolls his eyes. He leans down, tossing you over his shoulder and groaning. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“You like it,” you taunt, tugging at his shirt for balance. 

He shakes his head but you know he’s smiling. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Same time next week?” You tease as he goes back for your groceries and purse. 

“Don’t push it,” he snaps. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡ 

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross  ♡ 

[eomayas]

smoke break • jjk

pairings: non-idol!jungkook x f!reader

genre: fluff

synopsis: you accompany jungkook as he takes a smoke break.

warnings: smoking (jungkook)

a/n: been in my drafts for months so i decided to bite the bullet and finish it

following jungkook outside, you suck in a sharp breath at the biting, chilly air and wrap your arms around your midsection. the silk tanktop you put on for tonight feels like a bad idea despite the fact that you have a coat on, every inch of exposed skin arising with goosebumps. you marvel at how he manages the cold air in just a tshirt, not a a single raised hair on his tattooed forearms.

jungkook rounds the corner of the bar and stands in the designated smoking area, a singular dim light illuminating the side of the building. he pulls out his pack of cigarettes and puts one between his lips, letting it dangle out the side so he can pull out his lighter and shove the carton back into his pocket. glancing over at you at the sound of your teeth lightly chattering, the corner of his lip twitches before he asks, “cold?”

“it’s fine,” you lie. you don’t know why you do, but you do it. jungkook chuckles, the smirk on his face spreading as he cups his hands around the end of the cigarette and sparks his lighter. you watch him in mild awe, the steady pounding of your heartbeat slowly increasing as he drops his hands and takes a drag of the cigarette. jungkook tips his head back and blows the smoke upward and away from you, eyes closing for a brief moment.

you quickly divert your eyes when his gaze lands on you. it’s dark so he doesn’t see the way you flush, heat spreading across your cheeks and down your neck. you’ve only been seeing jungkook for less than three months, your relationship still new and not completely defined, and you still get nervous around him. he knows he has that affect on you and takes advantage of it; like right now, he lets his gaze linger on you a beat longer before smirking to himself and lightly shaking his head.

outstretching his leg, he gently taps you on the shin with the toe of his shoe, grabbing your attention. he blows the cigarette smoke up and away from you, eyes following it until it disappears into the night. “you said you had something to tell me?” he questions, a single eyebrow raised.

you wrack your brain for what you wanted to tell him earlier, mildly distracted by his mere presence, before gasping once you remember. “oh! you remember that one lady i work with—the one who i work next to? well, she got fired,” you say, quickly falling into the story.

jungkook is attentive as you talk, his full attention placed on you. he nods along with your story, only interjecting to ask questions when he feels necessary. for the most part, he just lets you talk, smiling at you fondly when you get really into your story and become much more animated than you normally are.

meeting his eye, you trip over your words and lose your place. “and she… she…” you blank, blinking at him stupidly while he just tilts his head to the side like a little puppy, waiting for you to go on. “she… sorry, i lost my train of thought.”

jungkook smirks at you and blows smoke out of the corner of his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. a small chill runs over your body, making you shiver irregardless of the fact that you have on a jacket. you’re convinced he likes making and watching you sweat; he wordlessly observes you for a few seconds, nothing but a smirk on his face and a cigarette dangling between his lips. “she was yelling in the lobby,” he offers, taking a pull from his cigarette.

it takes a moment for your brain to reroute and find its way back to that part of the story. “oh, yeah! so she was yelling, and our boss…” you get back into your story, breaking eye contact with jungkook for a brief moment in order to remember what came next.

jungkook watches you with a small smile on his face. each time you look at him, you quickly blink him out of your vision because it makes you blush, and by the third time you’re unable to take it anymore. “what?” you ask, face flushing in the moonlight.

shaking his head, he says, “nothing,” and flicks the ash off the end of the cigarette. it’s nearly a stub, shorter than his pinky. you look at him, lips parted, as he blows the last bit of smoke out of his lips and up into the night air. “it’s cute.” he murmurs, flicking his cigarette onto the concrete and stubbing it out with his toe.

“hmm? what is?”

“you,” jungkook replies, cupping his hands around his mouth and blowing his warm breath into them. his eyes never leave yours, and you’re positive he can see your blush despite the darkness of the night, because he smiles at you for real this time—teeth and all—as he rubs his hands together to bring warmth into them.

“whatever,” you mumble, but you’re smiling as you avert your eyes to a dirty poster tacked onto the brick wall behind him. jungkook chuckles and lightly pinches your cheek between the knuckles of his pointer and middle finger. you fake frown up at him, but crack a smile when he calls you cute again. “okay, enough.” you please, batting his hand away from your face.

“see: cute,” this earns him an eye roll, and you a kiss on the cheek since he rarely ever kisses you after he’s had a cigarette. “let’s go back inside.”

jungkook grabs your hand and leads you around the side of the building back into the bar, and you have the realization that you never got to the end or your story.

[enkvyu]

8:12am — gojo satoru ;

your sneeze cuts off your sentence and you sigh, apologising into the phone. “sorry, i really don’t think i can carry out the mission.”

you can imagine yaga rubbing his temples on the other side of the line. “just worry about getting better. we can always have someone else fill your absence.”

“thanks, yaga. i’m really sorry for this.”

“don’t worry about it. take care.”

you end the call and sniffle, shoving your hand and phone deep into your pockets to try and conserve heat. the sniffle does little to clear your nose so you do it again, inhaling harder. by the end of it, your airways are no clearer than before.

a doorbell interrupts your suffering and you need to clamp your mouth shut to stop from groaning. dragging your feet behind you, you painfully walk over to your door. when you peer through the peephole, you’re met with a bright blue eyeball peeking through lifted black fabric.

“what the fuck.” you pull open the door. “gojo?”

your colleague stands on the other side, adorned in his typical work uniform with a white bag of something hanging off his arm. “you took so long to open the door i thought you might have died!”

“don’t sound too upset.” you roll your eyes.

gojo pauses and leans in, causing you to take a step back. his face falls into something you’ll call the equivalent to serious considering that you were talking about gojo, and he tilts his head to study you further. “is that a new makeup look? can’t say it flatters your features.”

you growl and it sounds sickly. “i’m not! i’m—” you shake your head as a migraine threatens your sanity. “doesn’t matter, what are you here for?”

“we work together! do i need a reason to come over and hang out?”

“at eight in the morning? yeah, you kind of do.”

“it almost sounds like you don’t want me here.”

“what gave it away?” you say, drily. of course, either gojo doesn’t get the nuance behind your words or he finds pleasure in testing you because he keeps bothering you with his presence.

“my feelings are hurt.” he sulks.

"i don't give a fuck about your feelings."

gojo's eyebrows shoot up. "wow, are you mad at me?"

you shake your head, sighing. “no, i'm not."

"right? after all, i haven't even done anything."

when he doesn't elaborate and the conversation dies, you ask, "was that everything?"

“why do you want me gone so fast? are you hiding something in there?”

you open your mouth to retort when a pulsing pain in your head cuts you off; the migraine was here. you groan, rubbing your temple as gojo’s voice zones in and out. “listen gojo, i am way too sick to banter with you right now. if it’s nothing important, can you talk to me another day?”

“you’re sick? how bad?”

you try to give him patience. “bad.”

gojo hums thoughtfully. “well it’s lucky for you that i’m super great at taking care of sick people.”

you stare at him. “you? really?”

“yeah! i’m incredible at it.”

you level with him a stare before slowly closing the door, intending to shut him out. his foot comes in a blur, holding it in place and you huff.

“you don’t believe me?” he says, looking the part of a wounded animal.

“if i say i do, will you leave me alone?”

gojo tuts, shaking his head. “this won’t do, we can’t have you believe in a false truth. i’m crazy good at taking care of people, i’ll prove it to you now!”

“no, that’s okay gojo, i don’t need your help— and you’re already inside. great.” the door closes behind you with a soft click as you stumble to your living room. “just stay out of the way, okay? and for god’s sake, keep quiet.”

"it'll be like i'm not even here. i promise."

"i don't believe in your promises." you grumble, stomping over to the bathroom. you notice, notice very clearly in fact, that the tall white-haired man follows after you. you stop at the entrance, looking back at him. "are you seriously following me to the bathroom?”

"i was going to stand guard outside!"

"i don't need you to. all i need is for you to leave." you hiss, entering the bathroom and slamming the door in his face. when you come out, he's still standing there, guarding.

you scrunch your nose up at him but leave anyway. he wasn't worth it, you remind yourself.

you make it to your next destination safely, thanks to your new and improved guard dog. checking out the fridge in your kitchen, you realise there was nothing to pop in the microwave and eat whilst wallowing in self-pity.

you do the next best thing and place a pot over your gas stove. bending over, you turn the small knob and watch as the blue flame arises. you let go of the knob, and the flame dies.

this was not something you needed right now but the emptiness of your stomach is all too prominent. so you try again, bending over and rotating the knob over the small fire symbol and watching as the stove flares up. carefully, you release the knob. the flame dies again.

“you okay?”

you grit your teeth into a smile. “yes, gojo. i think i might be better if you could stop looking over my shoulder.”

“the stove does not like you.” he ignores, side stepping to try himself. and because he’s so irritatingly perfect in every way, the blue flame rises and stays when he lets go.

gojo turns to you with a bright smile.

you sniffle and nod. “thank you.”

“what are you making?”

rummaging through your pantry, you remove a packet of instant noodles. the bright red icon on the packaging causes gojo to raise his eyebrow.

“super spicy?”

“i can’t feel anything in my nose right now. i’m thinking of flushing it out with something else.” you go to fill the pot with water but he stops you. “what?”

“you’re sick, you shouldn’t be eating something like that.”

“do you have a better idea?” you ask. “this is all i have in the house right now.”

gojo grins. he lets the white bag he was still holding onto slip down from his arm to his hand and he opens the two handles with enthusiasm. because it was so contagious, you can’t help but feel excited, peering into the bag.

you blanch. “is that medicine, creamed corn and one single egg?”

“yes!”

“that isn’t a meal either, gojo.” you think again, flickering your gaze up to his eyes. “but that’s sweet, thank you. i’ll take the pills after.”

you start to move around but he stops you with his arm. “didn’t i say i was here to take care of you? i’ve got this, just go over and relax on the couch.”

“the last thing i’ll be doing is relaxing if you’re in the kitchen.” your migraine disagrees so you eventually nod, shuffling away. casting one last glance, you point at him. “don’t start a fire.”

he gives you a cheerful wave and you stumble to your couch. you fall into its cushions and exhale, deeply.

time passes in a blur as your illness takes a hold of you, digging its finger into your brain and shaking it, displacing your cerebral spinal fluid. with your face deep within a pillow, you almost miss the scent of smoke.

almost.

you spring yourself up on your arms and dart back into the kitchen, almost running into a wall. coughing, you fan away a puff of smoke as you enter, finding the culprit wishing a tune and stirring something in a pot.

"gojo?" you choke.

gojo spins around and you find that he'd somehow pulled out the "kiss the chef" pink apron shoko gifted you on your birthday which you had immediately hid. it fits him terribly, straining to cover his torso. "you're up! why are you up?"

you cough again, stepping closer. "can't you see past that blindfold? you're starting a fire! i'm surpised my smoke alarm hasn't gone off!"

you reach over and turn the exhaust fan on, something he hadn't even done, and squint through the fog to look at what he was making.

"what is that?"

"it's soup! i heard soup is good for you when you're sick."

you look between the lump of black coal in the pot and gojo's smiling face. "soup has water in it."

"i know, i added that! it just all disappeared." gojo stirs the pot, and you're no longer sure what exactly, he was stirring. "i even added the pills you wanted to take so it'll be easier."

you wordlessly reach down and turn off the gas stove.

he lets you. "thanks, i was just about to plate this."

gojo begins manoeuvring your kitchen with a familiarity you weren't sure how he obtained. he opens the overhead pantry and takes out a bowl, pulls out the utensils from its respective drawer, and uses your favourite spatula to transfer the black lump of something.

he places the bowl in front of you. "here you go."

you stare at it for so long, you start seeing black. eventually, you begin registering the item. "wait a minute, is this a cursed object? did you infuse your cursed energy into this?"

gojo has that stupid grin on his face, the one that he uses when he knows he's in the right. "it is! this should make you better in no time. i used to give this to megumi all the time when he was sick."

"but it looks so..."

gojo digs through his pockets, pulling something out and hiding it in his fist. he holds it out to you. "if you're good and eat it, i'll give you this."

"what is it?"

"it's a secret." gojo says. "c'mon, be a good girl and take your medicine."

you huff, pulling your gaze away from his hand and towards the black lump. it looks edible, maybe if you squint at it, and it didn't seem all too big. you could probably get it down in two big bites. so with the determination of a seasoned warrior, you square your shoulders and break off a chunk, throwing it into your mouth.

your face immediately scrunches up as the taste hits you.

gojo coos at you from the side. "you're almost done."

you glare at him through tears, gulping the substance down when you're able to, and stuff the remaining bit into your mouth.

when it's travelling down your oesophagus, you thrust the bowl back into gojo's hands. "you better give me that thing in your hand."

gojo places his fist in your hands and opens it. a single candy stares up at you. "it's strawberry flavour, your favourite."

you murmur curses at him under your breath, something about him treating you like a child, but take the candy anyway. when you pop it in your mouth, the sweetness is almost enough to make you forget the taste of the cursed object. gojo's sweet smile fills in those absences as he gestures you to follow him.

perhaps the cursed object gets to you, or gojo’s presence has wormed its way into being comforting because you find yourself following.

"where are we going?" you ask as he leads you around your own home.

"to bed. the medicine will only work if your parasympathetic nervous system is working and considering who you are, you'll never know true relaxation if you're awake."

"hey." you sniffle indignantly. "i know how to have fun and experience leisure."

he hums but doesn't answer, leading you into your room. thinking that a nap would indeed do you good, you start to pull off the shirt you were wearing and wriggle out of your pants. perhaps the sickness had done more to you than you realised, because you forget gojo's presence, whipping your head to find him still standing at your door, his back to you.

"i didn't see anything." he says, immediately.

you grumble, throwing yourself into your bed and sliding under the covers. only then does gojo turn to you.

"you're really docile when you're sick."

"i'll put my foot in your mouth."

gojo laughs, turning around to head out when you call his name.

"are you leaving?"

he smiles, peering over his shoulder. "miss me already? i'll be back, i promise."

"i don't believe in your promises." you say again, but let him go, sleep taking over you. you slip in and out of consciousness as the fever reaches its peak, time slipping away from your knowledge.

every now and then, you hear footsteps, and the sound of a chair being dragged across the floor. one time, you open your eyes and find gojo standing over you, a towel in his hands. "good morning."

you mumble out something that even you couldn't understand, and slip into another fever-induced sleep.

the next time you open your eyes, you're relatively more lucid. you sit up slightly and something wet falls off your forehead. you catch the towel in your hands.

gojo looks up from his spot in your chair, placed beside your bed. "you're up again. here, hand me that."

you wordlessly pass it over to him and he replenishes it in the basin he'd placed on your bedside table. you say without thinking, "maybe you really are good at taking care of sick people."

gojo grins, lightly pushing you to lay down again. "i told you so. you're alot less of a handful than megumi was."

the warmth of the towel soothes you and you close your eyes against the sensation. you hear gojo flicking through a book in his hands, and the sound of paper against fingers lolls you into another comfortable slumber. a nagging thought tickles the back of your mind and with effort, you peer up at him.

when you mumble something incoherent, gojo looks over at you. “what?”

“i said.” you lick your lips and try again. “what did you come here for? you never told me.”

he gives you a slight smile and reaches over, adjusting the towel. “you said you were sick. i wanted to check up on you.”

“but—”

“you can’t fall asleep if you keep talking.” he reprimands. “shall i sing you a lullaby so you can sleep quicker? megumi never lets me.”

even before you can reply, he starts beatboxing and you realised in your sick state that it was the intro to twinkle twinkle little star.

regardless, having gotten an answer, you close your eyes again and let the sleep drag you under. vaguely, you realise gojo must have arrived at your apartment immediately after you had informed yaga that you were sick, stopping only to grab the ingredients to his cursed object cure. you'd have to thank him when you wake up, if you remember.

with a soft exhale, you slip away, gojo's rendition of twinkle twinkle little star your escort.

guess who is sick. guess who is sick studying anatomy. guess who is sick studying anatomy and with a gas stove that is out to get her. the answer may shock you!

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (9/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Finding an outfit is harder that it seams. Especially when your roommate can't really help you, because he's at his other apartment.

Warnings: fluff, angst (whoops), mentions of cheating (not Charles), mentions of smut (oral, fingering, p in v), angry Charles, text messages

Word Count: 3.6k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: here it is friends. did my absolute best and honestly, I'm sweating so hard. I chose the name for Charles ex bc it’s the name of the girl my best friend absolutely despises. and this is not a Charlotte hate acc. hope you like it still. feedback is appreciated!

The weather app on your phone is of relatively little help. 

Charles had said that you were going out to dinner around eight o'clock in the evening, and according to the app, it should still be fifteen degrees then, even though it's December. While he had said that "it doesn't matter what you wear," but if you were going to be spending more time with him soon, and by extension his friends, you would want to make a good first impression. 

Not that your first impression on Charles was particularly good. 

Since you promised Charles that he could sleep in his bed tonight, you try to keep the mess of clothes to a minimum. Instead of pulling each piece of clothing out of the closet and then tossing it into the nearest corner because it doesn't match what you had in mind, you put things neatly folded back in their place. 

After your roommate left the apartment, you started cleaning up your room so it wouldn't be too embarrassing if Charles stayed there tonight. After all, he doesn't need to see your underwear or the little stuffed animal turtle that sleeps in bed with you. Generally things that maybe old friends know about you, but definitely not the roommate you've been living with for two days.

The roommate who is no help to you when it comes to choosing clothes for tonight. Since he hasn't told you which restaurant it is, you don't know exactly what the dress code looks like, which is why you're now standing in front of the closet at a loss. 

In Monaco, when it comes to restaurant choice, anything is possible. You could dine at Le Louis XV, the most expensive restaurant in Monte-Carlo, or Jack Monaco, which is significantly cheaper, but you have a direct view of the harbor with the oversized and expensive yachts.

Secretly, you hope it won't be too expensive tonight. Joris would pay you back the rent soon, but you're still unemployed and unfortunately can't live quite as carefree Charles, who apparently has enough money at his disposal to have not one, but two apartments in Monaco. 

A fact that you would never blame him for. 

When you can't find anything that would theoretically go with any restaurant visit, you drop onto the bed, annoyed. It can't be that hard to find something, right? You fish your cell phone out of the pocket of your sweater and start typing. 

Briefly, you consider actually sending the message, but alas, you're so desperate that you feel you have no choice. You hit send and are about to throw the phone across the room as if you've just confessed to your school crush that you like him. 

But Charles isn't your school crush. He's your roommate and first and foremost your friend, which is why you just drop the phone on the bed next to you. 

You sit up and narrow your eyes as you go through the clothes in the open closet. Somewhere in there is a pair of dark gray, straight-cut jeans that match the white blouse you carefully hung back on the hanger a few minutes ago. 

And sure enough. After a few minutes of rummaging around in the clothes, you find the jeans and as you hold them up next to the blouse, you're relatively pleased with the choice. There should also be shoes floating around somewhere that should go with them. But at least this is a good start. 

Satisfied, you clean up the rest of the room. Since Charles has not invited you to dinner, but also to a club, you will certainly be home late, so you decide to make up Charles' bed. Your bedding disappears into the hall closet after you take Charles' things out. As you bring them into the bedroom and spread them out on the bed, you find yourself briefly considering pressing your face into the pillow. For sure, Charles smells attached to it. 

But before you can do that, your cell phone vibrates. It's a message from Charles. 

Your heart skips a beat. Do friends give each other compliments like that? You glance from your phone to Charles' pillow, then to your outfit for tonight. You bite the inside of your cheek and start typing. 

You plug your phone into the charging cord as you head toward the bathroom to shower and get ready for the evening, so you don't see the two messages Charles sends you.

-

The Ferrari feels different somehow. After Charles sat in your old Renault yesterday, the expensive Ferrari feels strange under him. Not wrong, but different. Like something is missing. 

He feels the stares on him as he steers the car through the streets of Monaco. The gray Ferrari attracts attention, with its red and white stripes and the number 16 on the side. But not just because the 488 Pista Spider is a beautiful car. 

But because people know who owns the car.

The fact that you don't know that Charles is the Charles Leclerc is refreshing for him, but the guilty conscience gnaws at him. He should tell you that he drives in Formula 1, because after all, you would be dragged into the limelight by him, should people find out that you are friends and, above all, that you live together. Before that happens, he should at least give you the opportunity to get out of it. 

But Charles is too selfish for that. 

Even though you've only known each other for a short time, Charles enjoys your company too much to mess it up. You're so normal, so kind, without asking for anything in return like most want him to do. You're just you. And by God, he's never felt better than in his short time with you. 

He expertly steers the Ferrari into a parking garage entrance, where he has to type a pin into the designated keypad next to him before the barrier. The barrier opens so that he can drive a few meters further, where a metal gate awaits him, where he also has to enter a pin - a different one. Only then does he reach the parking lot that rightfully belongs to him. 

It has been some time since he has been here. After driving the last race of the season in Abu Dhabi about three weeks ago and becoming vice world champion, he had stayed on site for a short time to soak up some sun and recover from the stress before flying back to Maranello with his team for a final briefing and to discuss the upcoming season. But even that only lasted a few days. He could have been back in Monaco by now. 

But he didn't want to. 

He knew exactly what was waiting for him here. A conversation he wanted to delay as long as possible. He didn't stay away from Monaco for so long for no reason, and he wondered if he hadn't returned too soon. But he can't, first, avoid this conversation, and second, stay away from his home. He loves it here too much for that. Just like other things he'd rather not think about right now. 

In the elevator, he puts his key in the designated hole and then presses the button with the number of the floor where his apartment is located. Just a few weeks ago, he thought that if he entered this building again, his heart would be beating wildly in his chest or his palms would be sweaty, but he is not even nervous. 

He knows what's waiting for him behind the elevator door. And he's ready to wrap things up.

Charles enters the apartment as he has thousands of times before. And just like hundreds of times before, he hears the sound of footsteps on the floor moving quickly in his direction. But never before has he felt this indifference to those footsteps. 

"Charles?" A woman comes out of the room where the living room is located and rushes toward him with her arms outstretched. When she reaches him, she wraps her arms around his torso to hold him close, but Charles puts his hands on her shoulders and gently but firmly pushes her away. "Charles, I'm so sorry. What I did is inexcusable and I will-"

"'You won't do anything,'" he interrupts her, wishing he could jump in the shower to wash her touch off him. "I'm just here to get some things. And to ask you to stop calling." He walks past her down the hall and into the room where his clothes are. 

"And I told you I would do everything I could to make this right between us," the woman says as she follows him. She places herself in the doorway with her arms crossed as he packs some of his clothes into a large gym bag. "I'm not ready to give up on us yet, Charles. I love you."

Charles can't stop the laughter that escapes him. After stuffing several pairs of socks into his side pocket, he turns to her and puts a hand on his hip. "You gave us up when you fucked that guy, Annika. And dare you to talk about love. You don't even know what that is."

As his phone vibrates in his pocket, he fishes it out. A message from Y/N. He doesn't even notice that a small smile creeps onto his face at that. 

But she does. "Who's that? Do you have a new one already?" 

Charles quickly types a reply and presses send before turning back to his clothes. "No," he says coldly. "And even if it were, it wouldn't be any of your business."

"Of course it's my business!" Annika almost screeches as she takes a few steps toward him. "I'm your girlfriend, after all!"

"You," Charles zips up the bag and stands in front of her, "are the absolute last person I want anything to do with." He pushes past her into the hallway, where he drops the bag on the floor to go into the bedroom, where some odds and ends are waiting for him to take as well.

Annika follows him like a dog follows its master. "And why do you let me stay here then?"

"Because I'm nice."

"You're not that nice. We both know that."

Charles looks at the picture frames sitting on the windowsill. Among them is a picture of him and his father when Charles was little and went karting. It's a fond memory that he certainly doesn't want to leave here with her. "I've changed."

In disbelief, Annika laughs. "Never. In the two years we were together, I asked you so many times for things that should have been natural for a relationship, but what came from you? Nothing." Now it's her turn to put her hands on her hips. "You're so focused on your job that you don't notice what's going on around you! If you had paid more attention to me, then-"

"Then what? Then you wouldn't have slept with that idiot? Then we would have been happy forever? Peace and happiness?" Charles takes some pictures out of the frames and carefully lays them on top of each other so they don't scratch. He would leave the frames here, after all, they were gifts from Annika. And he definitely doesn't want to keep them. "Grow up, Annika. You knew what you were getting into from the start."

"But not that I have to share you with the whole world." Slowly, she walks toward him and as she stands in front of him, she places her perfectly manicured hands against his chest. "You're all I've ever wanted, Charles. But you were never there. And even when you were there, your mind was always at work or somewhere else, but never with me."

She's not exactly wrong about that. The season had cost him quite a few nerves and he definitely hadn't been a good boyfriend, and maybe none of this would have happened if he had paid more attention to her. But that's definitely not a justification for what she did. Charles knows his worth. And that's exactly why he clasps Annika's wrists with his thumbs and forefingers to take her hands off him. 

"For not being a good boyfriend, I am truly sorry." He drops her hands. "But that's no reason to cheat. You and I are done." Charles leaves the bedroom and grabs his bag in the hallway before heading for the elevator door. 

"You're leaving? Just like that? Throwing away two years like they never happened?"

Again, his phone vibrates in his pocket. Another message from Y/N, making his heart skip a beat. He grins to himself and types a response that, under different circumstances, he might have thought twice about. But the quicker he replies, the quicker he's out of this place and back to you. 

"I'm not throwing it away, you already did." Charles puts his phone back in his pocket and presses the button to make the elevator come. "I'm letting you stay here because I know how bad I've been to you and that this year hasn't been so easy for you either. But if I need this place one day, for whatever reason, you're out of here. And I don't care where you end up. Find someplace to live. Move back in with your parents. But this," he points to the space between you, "is over. Forever."

Annika runs a hand through her hair, then crosses her arms in front of her chest. "Then I hope for your sake that you treat them better than you treat me."

The elevator door opens, but Charles doesn't move a bit. Instead, he looks at his ex-girlfriend, who stands before him with raised eyebrows. "Who do you mean?" 

"Do you think I'm that stupid? Or blind?" She points her finger at his pants pocket. "The person you just answered immediately."

"And what's so special about that?" he asks, confused. 

Annika takes a step toward him. "You always make everyone wait for you. You make your fans wait for good results, your friends wait for calls. You even make your mother wait for you, because I'm pretty sure she doesn't know you're home yet." Annika stops in front of him. "But whoever that is - that person has all your attention. She doesn't have to wait for you. Let me give you a hint along the way, Charlie."

"Don't call me that. And I don't need your help."

"And even if you did." Annika stretches her arm out, past him, so the elevator door doesn't close. "The fact that she doesn't have to wait for you is good. Don't make her wait for you, too. It's not fair to her. And not to you, either."

As he sits back in the Ferrari - the sports bag and pictures safely stowed in the trunk - he doesn't know what to do with himself. 

Charles made it clear to Annika that their relationship was over, and it had been overdue for at least a month. But what she said at the end stuck. 

He actually keeps everyone waiting, which is why he keeps blaming himself. He could have told his mother he was back in Monaco a long time ago, but somehow he didn't. He could have told you that he's not just Charles, but he didn't, and so he keeps you waiting for the truth that you know nothing about. 

Would you even want to be friends with him anymore if you knew who he was? Or would you want to be friends with him all the more? 

Never, he thinks to himself. That's not who you are. And he can say that even though you've only known each other for a short time. 

And even though you've only known each other for two days, you're all he can think about. He thinks about how you sat together on the grass and talked about his father. He thinks about how you cried at Cars. He thinks about how you flirted with him even though, in your opinion, it wasn't flirting (it was to him, of course; he wanted to know how to win you over for a reason). He thinks about how you told him about your ex-boyfriend and how he would love to beat him up. He thinks of you standing next to each other in the kitchen washing the dishes. 

He thinks of you standing in front of him dressed only in a towel. With bare shoulders and bare legs and that - if he would get the opportunity again - he would not hesitate to pull you into the bedroom and fuck you with his tongue, his fingers or his cock in such a way that he would ruin all other men for you.

Charles closes his eyes briefly to get the image of you on his mind, and then drives off. He would love to drive to the lookout and talk to his father about the situation, but somehow it doesn't feel right without you there. 

But he can't talk to you about it either, because it involves you, and although it would certainly be best, he doesn't have the heart to tell you the truth. Not because he doesn't trust you, but because he's afraid of losing you. 

He slaps his hand against his forehead. "Get a grip, damn it," he says to himself. The two of you haven't even touched, and he's thinking about how he'd take you on every surface in the small apartment. That's just not normal. 

And most of all, it's not fair. You confided in him about your ex-boyfriend because Charles is your friend. And your roommate. And that's what he needs to be to you. 

It wouldn't be fair for him to get into a relationship with you because one, you don't know who exactly he is, and two, he can never be what you need him to be. You need someone who is there for you, who takes time for you. Someone you can laugh and cry with. Not someone who is away most weeks of the year and can't even manage to call his own mother. 

You would always be waiting for him. And even though he doesn't want to agree with Annika, he has to. The whole thing is not fair to you. 

And so he deletes the last two messages he sent you, which you apparently haven't read yet, as he parks his Ferrari in an underground garage and walks the last few meters to your apartment. 

He decides that he is your friend. Only your friend. Because he has to be, and because he can't be anything else. Because you need a real friend, and not a relationship. 

Charles unlocks the apartment door and drops the gym bag to the floor beside him. 

"Charles?" Unlike Annika's voice, his heart starts to beat faster at yours and his palms start to sweat, so he quickly wipes them on his jeans. You come out of the bathroom dressed in dark gray jeans and a white blouse that accentuates your curves. As you stand in front of him, you turn once so he can check you out from all sides. In all his life, he's never seen anyone look so divine. "I'm sorry, I wasn't sure what to wear. I hope that's all right."

His smile is gentle and he hopes you don't notice how hard he has to swallow, and he would have loved to wrap you in his arms and never let you go. But his ex-girlfriend is still clinging to him, and before you touch each other properly for the first time, he wants her washed off.

It's not fair.

"It's okay," he says with a smile and goes to the fridge for a glass of orange juice. You stop by the apartment door next to the gym bag, but don't ask where the stuff is from. And for that, he's very grateful. "I'm just going to jump in the shower and then we can go, okay?"

He doesn't wait for your answer as he pulls new clothes out of his suitcase, walks into the bathroom, undresses, and stands under the hot stream of water. Even now, he keeps you waiting, which further solidifies his decision to keep your relationship purely platonic. While he's shampooing his hair, he makes a deal with himself that he'll do whatever it takes to make this friendship work. Even if that means suppressing his feelings. 

As he leaves the bathroom freshly showered and ready to go, you sit on the couch. He's looking at you, thinking about what Annika said, what he'd like to do with you, and all the things he could lose. And all of that just isn't fair. 

"I'm sorry you had to wait for me," he says softly, reaching for your car key that's on the dining room table. It feels better in his hand than the one from the Ferrari. So familiar. Like the key will fulfill everything he's ever wanted. 

"It's okay," you reply, getting up from the couch. You take a few steps toward him and smile at him, and his heart melts. "I'm fine with waiting."

the messages Charles deleted -

next part

[celli-ohs]

I Can't, I Have Rehearsal

pairing: socially awkward!park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

synopsis: What happens when you get seated right next to the most handsome boy in your entire grade? Well you thought it'd be a great excuse to get to know him better, but the guy won't even talk to you! After a mishap in the science lab, you come to find out that Park Sunghoon, the cold-hearted prince of EN High, isn't in fact rude, he's just afraid of women.

before you read: character profiles

warnings: language, cooties, wild subplot, loser enhypen

word count: 2.03k

taglist (open):

note: part 1 of my and scene! series, loosely based off en-drama.

Log 2: Tuesday - March 5th, 2024

“I can’t believe you almost fainted,” Sunoo looks concerned as the six of them are again walking to school.

“I know, good thing I had that choco pie in my pocket,” Jaeyun smiles. “Thanks,” Sunghoon nudges his arm.

“I can’t believe you ate nothing all day and thought you wouldn’t faint.” Jongseong scoffs. “I always knew you were stupid, but that’s something Riki would do, not you.”

“I can hear you, you know?” Riki frowns. 

“Good, maybe that’ll get you to eat your goddamn vegetables next time.”

Riki opens his mouth to argue back, but Jungwon suddenly hisses.

“He’s back! Do something!” The younger boy’s eyes are wide as they catch sight of Heeseung randomly following the group.

Jungwon pushes not Jongseong, but Jaeyun, who stumbles as he approaches Heeseung. 

“Hey man,” He calls out awkwardly. 

“Oh! Jaeyun! Look, I brought this to show you!” As Heeseung digs into his bag, Sunghoon notices Jaeyun’s demeanor change from stiff to relaxed. 

Whatever Heeseung pulls out, it makes Jaeyun gasp. “Naur way!” He exclaims excitedly. 

“Damn, I thought he’d have more balls than Jongseong, guess I was wrong.” Jungwon pouts. 

In turn, Jongseong glares at the younger boy.

“You try telling him no! Look him in the eyes- his big, round, doe eyes that shine like he’s constantly on the verge of tears. You won’t be able to, trust me.” Jongseong spits. 

Jungwon rolls his eyes. “Jeez, fine whatever, I’ll just make Riki do it next time.”

Riki holds his hands up in defense. “No can do.”

“What? He’s got you too?!” 

“You just don’t get it Jungwon, that’s a homie right there, even if he’s a little weird and obsessed with an animated furry.” Riki shakes his head.

“Why are you talking like that? You need to stop hanging out with Riki C, he’s rubbing off on you.” Sunoo sneers.

“Riki C is cool! Unlike you.” Riki argues. Sunoo just rolls his eyes. 

“Hey,” Sunghoon finally speaks up. “Do any of you want to join the calligraphy club?”

“Pfft…”

“Fuck all of you.” Sunghoon groans, walking faster. As he walks away, he hears Riki cackling.

“Dude!” Jongseong calls out. “You know I've got baseball after, they’re really strict too, they wouldn’t let me.”

“I would love to ditch taekwondo to do nothing for you, but they all kinda suck so they need me there.” Jungwon sighs. 

Sunghoon turns around to his friends with a desperate look of pleading. “Sunoo?”

“I’m trying out for the theater club, sorry Sunghoon,” Sunoo gives him a sad smile. 

Sunghoon didn't even wait for Riki to answer, the boy was still laughing, wiping away fake tears.

“I asked Jaeyun yesterday, he said he can’t since he’s the new soccer vice-captain.” He mumbles as he slows down to allow his friends to catch up.

“You know, girls aren’t that bad. I mean what happened to you- that was years ago, you were seven.” Sunoo reminds him.

Sunghoon ignores him, waving him off. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

“Yo Sunghoon!” Riki runs over, throwing an arm over his shoulder. 

“Get off of me.” Riki doesn’t move as Sunghoon tries to shove him off. 

“Why don’t you try asking Heeseung?”

Heeseung? Now that could actually be a great idea in disguise.

A loser like Heeseung could drive you to resign from the calligraphy club, and allow Sunghoon to keep the club and old library.

He spins around, joining Heeseung and Jaeyun. 

“-totally come over and we can build a set-“

“Hey Heeseung, I have a question.” Sunghoon clears his throat. The older boy looks up at him curiously (he really did have big eyes).

“Sure, what’s up?”

Nervously, Sunghoon wavers.

“Would you- uh like to join the calligraphy club with me?”

Silence…

“Oh,” Heeseung wears an odd expression, one Sunghoon would later recognize as pity. 

“Sorry, I’m trying out for the basketball club this year. Calligraphy is kinda not my thing.”

Riki’s laughter echoed through Sunghoon’s skull all morning.

Sunghoon’s busy scribbling down notes in his workbook when you tap the side of his desk with your pencil. 

“Hey, Sunghoon,” You whisper. He freezes (because for some weird reason he still believes that if he doesn’t move, you won’t see him).

“Sunghoon,” You try again. 

Okay, so you can see him. He clears his throat, and slightly, slightly tilts his head towards your direction.

“What time are we meeting tomorrow?” You whisper. 

As soon as possible and as little as possible.

“Right after school. Thirty minutes.” He grunts.

“Only thirty minutes?! How about an hour?” You try to barter with him. An hour?! He can’t be alone with you for an hour.

“Thirty minutes isn’t enough time to learn calligraphy.” You explain quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see your hand as it grips your pencil. They look so much smaller and fragile than his own.

“Fine, an hour,” He concedes. He guess he did need to teach you the basics. He’d probably breeze through it in a couple of minutes, then let you do whatever.

“Cool, thanks.” You finally lean back into your seat, giving the boy some space. 

“-partnered up with the person beside you for the chemistry lab later today. Don’t forget to wear goggles and an apron.” Ms. Hong announces. The word partnered catches Sunghoon’s ear.

“Looks like we’re partners for chemistry too,” You say, sounding enthusiastic. “Are you any good?” 

Sunghoon doesn’t respond, because he can’t believe his fate.

“Are you a psychopath?” Riki asks Sunghoon as he eats his lunch. 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, it's gross.” Jongseong moves to smack his arm.

Riki ignores him, dodging his attack. “Like how the hell do you hate your seatmate, she’s hot!”

Sunghoon finally looks up from his plate to give Riki a nasty glare. 

“I don’t hate her. I just- did you just call her hot?” He’s a bit bewildered as all eyes fall on the youngest in the group. 

“What? I got curious, okay? I took a peek in his class when I went on a bathroom break earlier.” Riki explains. “And you cannot blame me for thinking she’s pretty, she is! Jaeyun, you've seen her!” He huffs, pointing to the other boy opposite him. 

“I mean yeah,” Jaeyun looks embarrassed as he admits this. For some reason, this has Sunghoon’s cheeks heating up.

“I don’t hate her, I just find it hard to talk to her.” Sunghoon explains. 

“Have you ever even tried talking to her though?” Sunoo points out. “Wait- actually, have you ever tried looking at her?” 

The table quiets as all the attention is now on Sunghoon. 

“I have! Remember I told you guys we made eye contact?!” He defends himself. 

“Okay but did you get a good look at her? What’s her hair color?” Jungwon asks suspiciously. 

Sunghoon purses his lips, squinting as he fishes through his memory. Unfortunately for him, the moment you two locked eyes was so traumatic for him, he practically deleted it from his brain. 

“...Bla-rown?” His friends all sigh, rolling their eyes.

“You’ve gotta get over your weird fear of women, it’s not like they’re all going to disappear one day.” Jongseong shakes his head. 

“Are you gay?” Heeseung pokes in. (When the hell did he get here?!)

“No, I’m not gay.” Sunghoon groans. “And I know I need to get over it, but it’s kinda hard when you know every single girl at school hates your guts.”

There’s an odd silence that overtakes the table, something Sunghoon doesn’t notice because of how distraught he is.

“Does he not know-” "Shhh!" Jongseong quickly shushes Heeseung. 

“We’re afraid it’ll get to his head, we haven’t figured out a way to tell him yet.” He mumbles under his breath. Heeseung nods cautiously.

Jaeyun awkwardly chuckles, patting Sunghoon’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay man, baby steps, maybe try looking at her back or something today.” The others nod in agreement, giving small encouraging words.

“Or maybe just stop being a pussy and-” “RIKI!”

Chemistry lab couldn’t come any sooner.

Sunghoon stands awkwardly to the side as you put on your goggles. When you turn to look at him, his eyes shift to the floor. 

“How do I look?” You ask.

He shrugs, putting his goggles on as well. He was genuinely trying to look in your direction, it was just hard to undo all the training his brain had adapted to. 

But Sunghoon knew he had to do at least one thing today: learn your hair color. That was his challenge he’d set up for himself (after becoming embarrassed at lunch).

He had to be able to do at least that. Hearing his friends and their concerns about him had Sunghoon reevaluating his life choices. Jongseong was right, he couldn’t avoid women forever.

And it’s not like he actually hated women… believe it or not Sunghoon has had a crush on a girl before, after his incident he might add. (It did not help that she rejected him and that kind of worsened his fear… but that’s beside the point.)

So as you’re busy going over what equipment you two need, Sunghoon is trying to work up the courage to turn his head around.

“I’m gonna be right back, we’re missing a beaker,” You tell him, stepping away to find your chemistry teacher. Once you’re gone, Sunghoon makes eye contact with Jaeyun, who is staring straight at him, not hiding his disappointment at all.

Go talk to her! His eyes read. Sunghoon shakes his head aggressively. 

You’re unbelievable! Jaeyun throws his hands into the air, sighing as he turns around back to his own table.

“I found us an extra beaker,” You sneak up on him, Sunghoon jumps at the sound of your voice. You don’t seem to notice him acting weirder than normal and continue to do your work.

After returning to your seat, you begin to lead the two of you through the procedure: measuring all the liquids out, writing down numbers, heating up substances on the bunsen burner. 

And Sunghoon quietly follows your directions, allowing you to hand him certain beakers and graduated cylinders that need to be weighed and recording data you call out.

In reality, he’s hyping himself up in his mind, trying to force himself to look up just enough to get a good look at your head. He begins to tune you out, much too worried about himself to focus on the class.

But maybe he was too distracted, - because it’s not until you’re less than a centimeter away from him, leaning over the table to grab a test tube does he notice the little distance between the two of you.

Suddenly his brain implodes, and in an attempt to save himself, Sunghoon leaps back. Only for him to trip on his own chair and land right on his ass, bringing his seat down with him.

You gasp, quickly pulling his chair away as Sunghoon begins to feel the pain from his fall.

“Are you okay? Here, let me help you up-”

Sunghoon flinches when you reach out to him, eyes wide as your delicate fingers try to grab ahold of him. 

“Sunghoon,” You scoff, sweeping your hair out of your face as you bend down, hand still open for him. “You act like I’ve got cooties or something,” You joke, laughing to yourself. 

But Sunghoon doesn’t laugh, he’s frozen, stiff with fear that you of all people have found him out. You stop laughing.

“Oh my god, do you actually think I have cooties?” You come to the realization, mumbling to yourself. 

This would be the second time (new record as Jungwon would say) Sunghoon meets your eyes. And just like he’d suspected you’re revolted by him. 

Not able to take the pain and humiliation, Sunghoon scrambles up and runs right out of the classroom. 

“Sunghoon! Wait!” You call out to him, but nothing could stop him from the immense feeling of shame as he ran off to hide.

He might not ever be able to return to school again, snatching Riki’s dream of being the resident high school dropout, but at least Sunghoon can say he now knows the color of your hair.

Maybe... he didn't get a good look.

Log 1: Monday - March 4th, 2024 | Log 3: Wednesday - March 6th, 2024

I Can't, I Have Rehearsal masterlist | and scene! series masterlist | kpop masterlist

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[sunnys-out]

My Little Darling | Alessia Russo

A/N: Hey y'all sorry this took a while but work got busy and didn't get a chance to work on anything. My French is rusty so please be kind.

I still remember how you told me how you would always be there for me

Warnings: language, injury

Word count: 2298

Alessia and I had met at our first team meeting at UNC and it seemed that all the international students just gravitated together. The other girls got a kick out of the French accent that came out when I introduced myself in English to the rest of the team.

I was desperate for friends, as were the other international girls, so I found myself getting close with the English players, Lotte Wubben-Moy and Alessia Russo, who was half Italian too as I came to find out. I loved them even though they did poke fun at the fact that France didn’t make it to the U-17 World Cup…joked that we would’ve met sooner. 

It was nice experiencing America with them and I found myself enjoying the little moments with the both of them, especially Alessia. I wouldn’t dare ruin a friendship that early, I mean why would she even be attracted to me…we had just met a month ago at that point in time.

A little quirk of mine is that I gave people nicknames, usually some animal but in French that reminded me of my teammates. Lotte, I fondly called, hibou or owl. You got to admit it when she is all focused and everything when she is at the defensive line her eyes narrow like a little owl. 

I hadn’t given one to Alessia only calling her Less, Lessie, Ali, or just simply Russo. She noticed, of course, pushing when the three of us were having a movie night at my dorm room.

“Why don’t I have a nickname?” Alessia poked my shoulder as we had just put on a random comedy on Netflix to watch. We were procrastinating on essays we had to all write for the same class but hey it was due in a week so we had time.

I furrow my eyebrows with confusion, “What? You have a nickname, I call you Less, Lessie, sometimes Ali…”  I poke her back “Soooo, technically you have more than one”

Alessia let out a huff as she got comfortable and laid her head on my shoulder as Lotte also got comfortable on the other side of me.

“No, I meant a french nickname, like Lotte has one…do you not like me?” Alessia pouted as she looked up to me feigning sadness.

I roll my eyes and look at Lotte on the other side of me, “Ma petite hibou, can you believe her? She thinks I don’t like her…as if we are not watching a movie in my dormitory”. This earned a laugh from the other English girl. 

Alessia lifted her head and pushed my shoulder, “See, you call her “Your little owl”, when can I get a cute nickname like that?”

Lotte raised her head, “wait, is that what that means? You calling me an owl?” I completely ignored her.

“Less, it just hasn’t come to me yet…but you keep yapping about it…I’ll call you canard, which is duck by the way”. A laugh escaped me before I finished the sentence as Alessia gave up and leaned her head back on my shoulder as we continued to watch the movie.

______________________________________________________________

Love is weird…yeah, I would say so. When I was Alessia there was a calmness that I couldn’t compare with Lotte. Don’t get me wrong I love ma petit hibou, but Alessia was different.

She’s driven and she always had this look in her eyes that only held a certain softness when she was looking at me.

She was there for me when I got my call-up for the French U-20 team just how our coaches had predicted.

Lotte couldn’t make it to our regular weekly movie night in my dorm but encouraged Alessia and I to “not do it because of her”.

We had finished the movie an hour ago and now were on some random episode of Stranger things. Alessia had migrated from leaning her head on my shoulder, as she always did, to laying her head on my lap, my finger gently combing her hair without a care in the world.

It was soothing and then my phone began vibrating in my pocket.

“Allo?, oui c’est elle. Oui…ah Merci, oui merci pour l'opportunité, c’est un honneur pour moi! Oui merci, …alors…. quoi…quoi, merci…au revoir”  (hello?, yes this is she, yes...ah thank you, yes thank you for the opportunity, it's an honor for me. Yes thank you...so...yes..yes...thank you.. goodbye)

Alessia had rolled over to look up at me and giggled, “so I only got ‘thank you’ from all that…who was that?”

I couldn’t stop smiling, “I got called up for the French U-20 team! Can you believe that?”

Alessia immediately got up and with a smile grabbed both sides of my face, “That’s amazing and of course I fucking believe that!”

All thoughts I had in that moment disappeared, I mean how could I even think when my whole world was in front of me. Alessia’s laugh broke me from my trance.

“Well, now I got to get called up for England, then we’ll be rivals..isn’t that absolutely wild” one of her thumbs now gently caressing my cheek.

I lean into her caress, “Alessia, what are you thinking about?” 

She tilts her head, as if she was observing my face to see how I will react.

“I’m thinking of how proud I am of you, really I am…and um..of…how much I want to kiss you right now”.

Alessia laughs as she feels my cheeks heat up in hands and my eyes widen.

“Well can I?” She asks as she pulls me closer.

With only a nod from me, Alessia brings her soft lips to mine. I had dreamed of doing that for so long that again my mind was empty yet filled with everything.

As she pulled back, her forehead resting against mine she whispered,

“No matter what happens…whatever this becomes, I’ll always be there for you” her fingers threading my hair as she continued to look at me.

“Ma petit chou, that’s your nickname…my little darling…no matter what happens you will always be that” I said quietly as I brought her in for another kiss.

24 August 2018

With another thud to the ground and frustrated groan, I swatted away any hands that attempted to assist me as I got up for probably the fourth time that game, not getting any cards given to the players knocking me down including once from Alessia. She gave me a gentle sorry as she helped me up even though I turned her down initially. I wanted to play against England in the final but it seems we both found ourselves fighting for 3rd place. Alessia and I hadn’t texted since the competition started and maybe only had a phone call here and there. The only time I saw her in person was right there in the tunnel before the start of the game. 

We were losing 1-0 and we were desperately trying to equalize, which meant I was pushing more up the field than usual. 

I was frustrated…justifiably…so I pushed even harder. I just did not expect to be taken down in the box. I lay face down gasping for any sort of air to return to me after the impact. Groaning also at the sting and sharp soreness near my right knee. The whistle from the referee signaling a penalty for my fall returned me to reality.

“Hey, you alright?” I heard muffled and a gentle touch to my face that I immediately recognized as Alessia. Her tone worried as she grabbed my hand. 

“Hey, hey, baby…I’m here ok? I’m here” I felt her hand gently holding mine as I finally was able to breathe slowly.

“Merde, elle saigne, médecin! (Shit, she’s bleeding, medic!)” I heard one of my teammates yell.

As the medics approached to wrap up my knee from the scrape, I felt Alessia’s hand leave mine. 

The penalty went in and we equalized. The energy was back but it didn’t end the way we wanted. Penalty shoot outs were never my favorite. Mine went in and Alessia’s didn’t but it didn’t matter what I did because we lost in the end.

I remained sitting on the field feeling disappointed that I couldn’t have done more to at least get 3rd place.

I felt a familiar weight on my shoulder and a gentle hand grab mine.

“Hey..” Alessia said quietly as she heard the sniffle come from me.

“Hey…ma petit chou” I look at her with a sad smile, tears threatening to fall as I leaned my head on hers.

“I’m so proud of you, you know?” she said interlacing her fingers with mine.

I only nod as the tears fall, “go celebrate, I’ll be ok” 

Alessia laughed a little as she shook her head, “no, I told you, I’d be there for you…even now…they can celebrate without me”. 

Media reported the pictures of Alessia and I on the field as a showing of support between two UNC teammates…Lotte would tease us upon our return and would yell “what a lovely showing between teammates” whenever Alessia and I would hold hands. 

______________________________________________________________________________

I was called up to the senior French team in 2019 and was able to play in my first World Cup. Alessia and Lotte watched from afar still participating in our university team while I was away. 

After the loss against the US eliminating us from the World Cup, I returned to ma petit chou who was waiting in my apartment with a cozy blanket and warm chocolate chip cookies from McDonald’s all set up for me. I wasn’t one to immediately tear up at a sight but the moment I entered the dimly lit apartment I couldn’t hold back.

Alessia loves deeply is what I came to discover and being close to the person she loved was important to her. It was important for me too. We both agreed that we wanted to keep our relationship to ourselves and not really post about it. We played together and lost together. I was there for her injury and she was there for mine. Which is why is was so hard to leave her.

2020 was filled with uncertainty especially because of COVID. Alessia and I were planning on leaving UNC along with Lotte to pursue a career back in Europe. Alessia went to Man United and Lotte went to Aresenal leaving me to go to Lyon. 

I won’t say that we didn’t try the distance but it became too much for us especially with our budding careers in our respecting countries. We stopped the relationship with a promise of keeping in touch whenever we could…we didn’t. 

A secret relationship remained a secret to the fans and the general public. We were former university teammates just liking each other's posts and commenting a blue heart every so often. It never went past that. The 2022 Euros came and went…an awkward “congratulations on the Euro win” was sent, read and not replied to. I mean I wouldn’t have… so I don’t blame her since the last message between us was from 2020. 

______________________________________________________________

I never handled injuries well…I isolated myself and Alessia was always there to accompany me. Since we separated, I hadn’t had a serious injury until 2023.

I knew I should’ve rested during after starting in every game in the group stages…I should’ve listened to my teammates but I didn’t want a repeat of 2019 with Australia. 

Sometimes you just know…as soon as I hit the ground in the latter part of the second half…I knew it was THAT tear. I laid there as the tears fell as the pain set in, desperately trying to find a hand to hold but only finding grass…

I don’t remember being put on the stretcher or anything that was said to me…nothing was familiar to me. They confirmed that it was a tear and I would be heading out back to Lyon to get the surgery and recover there. It didn’t matter really, we ended up losing in penalties…funny how history repeats itself…only difference was Alessia wasn’t there. 

______________________________________________________________

I remained in my hotel room, turning away any of my teammates who tried to stay with me…I just wanted to be alone…

I saw the result of the England/Colombia game and went through my phone until I found her number. It went straight to voicemail…

“Hey ma petit chou, congratulations on the win and getting a goal…I-uh…miss you a lot especially now. I don’t know if you saw but its an ACL tear and I’m cooped up in my hotel room…I still remember how you told me how you would always be there for me and-”

I choke back the tears threatening to fall but the pause was telling enough. “I just really need to hear you right now, so give me a call back because I do miss you and I can’t do this without you.” 

I end the call, immediately regretting my decision. I close my eyes hoping that the pain medication would kick in and I dont know how long I was out before I heard someone enter my hotel room.

I groan at the source of the noise

 “Go away” I wave my hand to whomever entered.

I stop immediately once I hear her small laugh.

“Well, I can’t possibly eat these cookies all on my own now can I?” I open my eyes and see Alessia with a small box of cookies. My face softened and my arms beckoned her to come to me. 

She gently held me like she always had and caressed my cheek wiping away the tears that had begun to fall

 “Hey…I’m here now” is all she whispered…oh how I missed my little darling. 

[littlestardude]

⏤͟͟͞͞☆Dating Kenny HCS|| Reader x Kenny McCormick

✰ - SFW & NSFW - ✰

Plot: Just sum HCS!

Note: I love Kenny McCormick so fucking much he's so pookie smookie, also first post yippee!

TW: Drugs, death bcs of drugs (its Kenny he comes back-), incest ment (concerning rats), smut HCS at the end

Gender: AFAB Gen neutral

✰ - SFW - ✰

FLIRTS NONSTOP. all day every day, he just doesn't fucking stop. But the moment you flirt back.

Bro is dead, 6 feet under, giggling and kicking his feet

Has trouble falling asleep and sometimes you'll wake up and he'll be just staring at you

"Kenny what the fuck are you doing... "

"You're so pretty... Can I not stare at my partner in the middle of the night!? :(("

Demands you cuddle him to sleep

Did I mention touchy?

Yea

Super fucking touchy

Literally has to be touching you all the time as if you we're his phone in his pocket or he'll freak out

Actually learned the value of life once you stepped in. He's died only once.

Why you ask? In his words

"I can NOT just say no to free drugs"

Drugs in question were something called... Crazy 8...basically 8 fucking drugs mixed together.

Yea he wasn't gonna survive.

Now you have to keep an eye on him, and tell him to just stick with weed

Oh yeah weed

Bro is toasted most of the time.

AND reeks of weed 24/7

Anytime you smell weed the first thought that pops into your head is, "where's Kenny? "

Basically weed is a comforting smell to you now 💀

Asked you to get high with him

You were reluctant at first but then you tried it... Let's just say it's a common occurrence now

You think he's flirty when he's sober? When he's high omfg.

Compliments like crazy, and can actually take compliments back when he's high

You adore high Kenny because he literally turns into the silliest mf alive

Super duper touchy when you're both high, like on top of each other the whole time

Piercings out the wazoo

Tattoos to come...

You let him shower at your place so he actually became CLEAN once you started dating.

Like his hair is actually touchable now, and not greasy

He's still a rat boy tho, and does dirty rat boy things

Actually HAS rats

You came over one time and he introduced you to his ratty children

"This is Frankie, and Frankie Jr, and Frankie Jr Jr, and that's Maggy, and Rosie and- FRANKLIN JR GET OFF YOUR SISTER RIGHT NOW! >:("

"Um, Ken... I don't know how to tell you this but rats dont care about incest..."

Almost cried, "it's like medieval Spain all over again... "

You pat his back, "it never gets easier... " you sighed dramatically

Loves animals, you guys wanna get a dog and cat together!

He loves you and adores you so much

He thinks you're the best person to ever come out of this cruel world, and he tells you that all the time

You also love him. So much. You think he's the prettiest, sweetest boy

You tell him that most of the time when you think he's asleep, he usually isn't because he loves hearing it

Back to the weed thing, LOVES when u guys order McDonald's when ur both high and have the munchies

Bro can throw down 2 big macs, 1 double quarter pounder, 20 piece chicken nuggets, and 2 orders of large fries and still be like

"I need something sweet... " 💀

Anytime you're out with your friends, Kenny's usually wearing his parka and you're the only one who can understand Kennish

Also holding hands the whole time

It took you awhile to get used to the fact you had a super clingy partner but you got used to it

You guys were able to get a place together eventually after high school

It's super shitty but it's home <3

You'll eventually upgrade after grueling work and endless shifts

But you definitely make time for each other

✰ - NSFW - ✰

(The fun begins *rubs hands evily together*)

SWITCH KENNY SUPREMACY!!! Literally does not mind either, as long as he's with you and he's naked? And you're naked? Bros chilling

Fucking loves oral, receiving and giving

First time he ate you out, you were on cloud mf 9, seeing stars n shit

He LOVES your thighs, like before he eats you out he just likes kissing and squeezing your thighs

HOWEVER. The first time you sucked him off. Omg, HIS thighs were MESMERIZING.

Something about boys thighs... Just seeing them pushed together, your fucking weakness.

His thighs are pale and ever so slightly plushy... Help me

KNOWS WHAT TO DO WITH HIS MF HANDS‼️

He grabs you and stimulates you in the best fucking spots

LOVES COCKWARMING. NEED I SAY LESS.

You guys will just be chilling watching a movie, and he'll just go like

"Babeeeee... " that's literally all he needs to say bcs you know what he wants.

After some time of just being on his dick it kinda hits you, "I'm on his cock, I could literally do what ever I want... " you think, evily

You'll shift your body around to where you're looking at him and he already knows what's coming, his hands are IMMEDIATELY on your hips

And you start slowly bouncing up and down

Doesn't take him long to start making noises

He's very vocal during sex, he sees no point in staying silent

Plus the first time he moaned super loud during sex you literally came on the spot.

Now he can't help but moan and whimper when you're on top of him because he knows you love it

AFTERCARE KINGG

Usually urges you two to take a shower after sex

Sometimes ends up into shower sex if the both of you still have the energy

You bought a shower stool so you both could fuck in the shower because one time he almost slipped and will NEVER live it down

"IT WAS SUPER SLIPPERY OKAY"

"You stepped on the soap babe... You almost went flying"

Yea a shower stool and those mats for the shower floor

[lovdlydaz]

❝ TOUCH ME WHERE YOU NEED TO, I CAN GIVE YOU MORE. ❞

loser!choi soobin x black!afab!reader

poor soobin, always been tortured and bullied at school just for being different and caring about his grades. but, need not worry, as you, his lovely best friend, show him things he would only ever dream about.

warnings: virgin!soobin, pervy!soobin, switch!reader, subby soobie, p in v, unprotected sex, m!masturbation, butt loads of praise, little tidbits of degradation, pet names, mommy kink, big dick soobin, js soobin being a little wimp enjoy

a/n: sorry for being so absent y'all, a lot has happened over these past months and i've been on and off in this community. i will try my hardest to get back in full swing since it is summer for me, but it isn't a promised guarantee. however, i will be writing more content for both k-pop and anime, since both are very prevalent in my headspace rn. but subby stupid loser soobin has been rotting in my mind for so long i just had to write about it, so please enjoy this as much as i most definitely did. love y'all, enjoy!!

it was never a quiet day in soobin's life, having to deal with all sorts of things from his work being shoved off his desk to food being thrown at him during lunch hours. this was his senior year of college and, by now, these childish adults should be over this phase right? but, sadly, since he had told people that he thought were his friends that he hadn't been laid ever in his life, they told the entire school and now every person that he comes in contact with either tries to seduce him or make fun of him because of this fact.

but not you, you were different.

soobin had always taken a liking to you, being his roommate and the one person that he could be himself with. he didn't have to make up a persona or have to be this way in order to be accepted, no, you liked and had in common some stuff that he liked, like anime and DnD. he was more than grateful that you didn't torment him like half of the school did, and that you were a pure soul that could do no wrong.

he followed you like a puppy ever since you two met, which you didn't mind but it sort of gave you scary dog privileges. every time you went to the store, he was right besides you with his headphones around his neck and hands in his pockets. no guys would try to mess with you since your 6'1 guy best friend looked like he could kill someone, but he would never.

he would wander off in parts of the store and come back with different manga/funko pops he would find of his favorite anime characters, begging you to buy them for him since he didn't have a stable job nor stable money. you were kind enough to buy it for him and watch him add it to his collection of funko pops on his shelf filled with manga and figurines and all sorts of other things. you watched as he happily organized his collection, giggling like a little girl as he stacked jujutsu kaisen volumes together like a jenga puzzle.

everything he did, you found adorable and innocent. however, he was far from it.

while you were asleep, he would crawl into your room and go through your dirty laundry, grabbing your freshly used underwear and crawling back to his room with them. he would hold them until his nose as he jerked off, moaning your name as he orgasmed right on them. of course he would wash them and put them back in your drawer without you noticing, but you never seemed to wake up despite all of that.

soobin never felt guilty about it either, since that was the closest thing to sex that he would ever get, that he thought of.

one day, you two were walking to the mall, your hair bouncing with your steps due to your letting your curls out in a controlled afro. he watched your smaller form move with your little pink skirt with your pink clothes and nice pink accessories. you had a bit of a bimbo aesthetic, not really so but you dressed in girly colors and girly clothes, never giving a care in the world what others had to say.

you were going to the store to go to a store that soobin specifically wanted to go to. it was a clothing store that also had some mangas in the back of them, but this time he didn't go for the mangas. instead, he wanted to go to the men's section to see what clothes he could get, since he had been wearing the same 5 hoodies ever since his freshman year. you went over with him of course, since you had fashion sense that he had no clue of what that even meant.

he looked at a shirt that had some cool little cartoon designs on it, along with some baggy jeans that had stars on them. he turned to you and held them out, your eyes lighting up and nodding at him for approval. "yes soobie! that fit is so hard," you giggled, soobin smiling at your excitement but he was heading to the changing room. you followed behind him, watching him as he went into the men's room.

he came out in the outfit and it looked so good on him, a little too good in fact. it had your eyes raise in shock and you biting your lip, his whole aesthetic was coming together nicely and it had you feeling things you thought you wouldn't feel for a while. especially for your best friend since freshman year, which was probably why and how these feelings developed overtime.

you chewed your lip as he walked up to you, holding his arms out and looking down at you. "you really do like it?" he asked, pushing his hair out of his face so he could see your face better. "y... yes! yes i do like it choi. it looks really good on you," you softly spoke, making him raise an eyebrow in confusion but he didn't think much of it. he just shrugged and went back to the changing room, getting his regular clothes on and taking the store clothes off.

after that, the whole day was filled with soobin using pinterest as his inspiration to find the coolest outfits that fit his aesthetic. you were happy he was finally starting to gain some confidence in his clothes, the outfits getting from baggy to tight to baggier to tighter. he had a good body so each outfit fit him perfectly, and you enjoyed the tighter outfits better than the baggy ones.

it was starting to get dark outside, so that was when you decided it was time to leave. you grabbed all of your shopping bags (you and soobin's), before the taller man stopped you. "oh y/n, you don't have to carry all the bags. let me do it," and he did. he grabbed all the bags out of your hands with no struggle, walking them to your car and putting them in the back. you smiled and followed after him, loving how kind he was towards you.

it was a nice drive home and you were enjoying his company, even though he was yapping to you about the newest episode of mha that had just came out that day. he had watched it before you two had left and it was plaguing his mind the whole time. he was so excited about it, even though he had the entire manga on his bookshelf that he read about 10 times in the span of 2 years. you didn't mind it however, since he was so cute when he was excited.

once you two got back to the dorms he took all the bags up the stairs and into your shared rooms, you right behind him and opening the door for him since his hands were very full. he walked in and dropped the bags down on the couch, turning around to see you closing the door behind him and locking it. he smiled as he made his way over to the kitchen, immediately going to the fridge since he was a bit hungry from all the escapades you both had went on.

you had decided to cook for the evening, letting him have time to grab all the bags and put them in your respective rooms. he realized how much you really spent on him and yourself, and he was just wondering how in the hell you had so much money. but, then he remembered that you did have a super rich family, and you were very smart so the school was paying you on a full academic scholarship. he was more than grateful though, so he would do something in order to make it up to you.

he would just have to think about it.

even though soobin was a loser and unemployed, he promised that he would still try to get you something special. just because you were his best friend didn't mean that he couldn't treat you nicely. so, he went to a store that you absolutely loved, a makeup store at that, and bought an item that you had wanted but it was out of stock when you both had went the other day. he also purchased a little bag with some stuffing paper, making it a nice little gift with a card inside.

he set it down on your bed when you were at class, since he didn't have class today. and since he didn't have class, he was going to cook for when you got home.

it took a lot of trials and tribulations in order to make a meal that he assumed would remind you of your home back in america, so it was a standard american meal. chicken tenders with fries and some fruit punch on the side. he made the chicken tenders from scratch and used some seasonings that you had brought from your home back there to use in the food. he knew that you were going to love this, and he was all the way right.

as soon as you got home your nose was hit with the wonderful scent of very good food in the kitchen, a smile on your face as you walked over to where the scent was originating from. you were pleasantly surprised to see choi soobin in the kitchen, wearing a tank top and shorts while cooking some more fries. you couldn't hold back your gratitude, going up to him and hugging him tightly.

"thanks soobie! you're the greatest person in the entire world," you beamed, making him 1. blush, 2. stutter over his words and 3. involuntarily gain a massive boner from the hug. he was very thankful for the baggy shorts however, and how he had tucked his cock in his pants to where it was barely noticeable. you did notice though, but you didn't speak about it.

the dinner was filled with laughter and gossip, you telling him about your girl drama while he ranted to you about his gaming prowess. it was a great dinner, and you were both very tuckered out by the time the sun fell.

going to your room you went to grab some clothes, putting your freshly done braids in your bonnet before going to the bathroom and closing the door. that gave soobin the advantage of going into your room and laying on your pillow. he could smell every bit of you, every single scent that lingered on you today was on the pillow and god did it make him hard as a rock.

he palmed himself through his shorts, groaning soft chants of your name and getting so caught up in it that he hadn't realized the shower had cut off, and you were now watching him with a towel wrapped around your body.

his glasses were fallen off his face at this point, tilted as he softly whimpered praise about how you smelled and how pretty you looked. he was so desperate for you that he couldn't stop himself from imagining how your pussy felt, how it smelled, how it tasted, everything about it. he wanted you so badly but he was too much of a pussy to ask you out, and too scared to lose the friendship that he had worked so hard to maintain.

you were his only friend, he couldn't lose one of the only people that understood how he was and why he was this way. he couldn't lose you, so that's why he only fantasized about you.

so, when he finally came back from his imagination his eyes traveled everywhere until they were met with yours. he jumped so hard he tumbled off the bed, quickly getting up and going to leave before you stopped him, despite you being much shorter and weaker than he was. he still let you stop him by standing in his way, giving him a fake disgusted expression even though you were dripping on your thighs right now.

"soobin, what the fuck?" you spat, making the pale boy look down in shame and fear. he knew that he was going to fuck this up, so small tears came into his eyes as the realization of what he had done and the punishment for it finally crawled into his mind. "y/n i— i'm so sorry... i'll leave if you want i... i'm sorry." he mumbled softly, trying to push past you but you didn't let him.

your hand traveled to his chin and you tilted it up, forcing him to look down at you, but in the eyes this time. you didn't say anything, but you just wiped his tears away and smiled sweetly at him. "soobie... don't cry. i'm not mad or disgusted at all, i'm just a little shocked is all," you admitted sincerely, making him raise an eyebrow in confusion. "why are you shocked?" he asked, making you chew on your lip and remove your hands from his face.

"well... i mean, this is one of the first times i've had a guy come into my room and sniff my pillows while moaning my name. so who wouldn't be a little shocked in this situation?" you giggled, making him loosen up a little bit. "yeah... you're right. so... you're not mad at all?" he softly questioned, making you shake your head. "no choi, i'm not mad at all," you reiterated, making him smile brightly at that.

however, you were pretty desperate as well, soaking between your legs and you were still very much naked underneath the towel. soobin also noticed how your voluptuous breasts were starting to poke through the towel, making them a lot more perky than he would normally see them. he could feel his cock throb at that, him gulping a little to keep the saliva from crawling out of his mouth. "though..." you trailed off, making him snap back to reality and realize that he was basically staring dead at your chest.

"it was pretty hot seeing you like that honestly... i know you've never had sex or a girlfriend before, so... i want to ask something of you," you got closer to him, standing on your tippy toes to try to be even with the man's face. "can i be your first?" you asked, not making a move until he said something. he lost his breath as soon as you asked that, mouth dry and heart threatening to pump straight out of his chest because of that revelation.

he needed a second to come down from cloud nine in order to answer you, so you let him. after a second though he nodded his head, you leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. his eyes widened in shock, he had never kissed a girl before, and this was like heaven on earth. he was so happy to be tasting your lips as his first time, and... you would be his first time for everything.

despite his avid use of the orange and black website that most pre-teens to bitchless adults go to for entertainment, he didn't have a fucking clue of what the hell he was doing. he just knew that you weren't letting go of the kiss, so he wouldn't either. that was until you did pull away, which had him chasing your lips desperately because he didn't want to let them go. he just wanted to be near you and be all over you, which he would in a while.

you giggled and got off your tippy toes, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the bed. you put yourself on the bed and laid down, beckoning him to come over to you. he did so in an instant, he was so obedient and it was turning you on even more. you grabbed his face and started to kiss him deeper, having him on top of you made this even better since you could feel all of him all over your body and feel the way he squirmed under your touch.

you could tell that he was very nervous, the way he couldn't even touch your body and how stiff he was in the kiss was a tell-tale sign of it all. so, you pulled away (much to his dismay) and placed a hand on his chubby bunny cheeks. "soobie, you don't have to be so tense with me. i know this is your first time being intimate with someone, but you have to trust me, okay baby?" you spoke in a compassionate tone, the pet name just slipping out. he obviously didn't object to that but it seriously caught him off guard, which made his cheeks redden with a small nod.

you smiled softly at him before sitting up, gently pushing him down so now his head was at the edge of your bed. you took the towel and sat up on your knees, slowly removing it and exposing your naked beautiful body. well, he saw it as beautiful, even though you had some chub around your hips and thighs, but he didn't mind that. in fact, it seemed to turn him on more. he saw every aspect of you as a goddess in his mind, a person who could do absolutely no wrong. he was so in love with you, and he was very happy that he was able to get his virginity taken by someone like you.

once the towel was off you threw it to the ground, crawling towards soobin and straddling his hips. you leaned down and started to softly kiss his neck, causing him to let out a shocked noise at the sudden feeling of your plump lips on his sensitive neck. quite frankly, everywhere on him was sensitive, despite how many sessions him and his right hand had late at night. maybe because it was you, he wasn't quite sure. he just wanted this feeling to continue.

you trailed your lips down to his covered chest, looking at him and basically asking with your eyes if you could take off his tank top. "can i?" which was followed by an immediate "yes mommy," which had you a little taken aback. once he realized what he had just said he sat up quick, knocking you back a little and forcing your ass straight onto his clothes cock. he bit back a groan as small tears gathered in his eyes, covering his face and hiding it with his large ass hands.

" 'm sorry y/n— i-i didn't mean to say that it just— it just slipped out," he was basically pleading with you not to leave, he wanted to lose his virginity to you, he wanted you to take him however you wanted him to. he was about to cry when you just chuckled and kissed his cheek, making him flush harder. "choi, it's okay. you don't have to be so scared to try things with me. if i don't like it, i'll tell you. if i do like it, then i'll also tell you. and i quite frankly love that name. you can keep calling me that if you're comfortable with it, because i sure am," you told him, making him nod his head and softly smile at you. "okay... mommy."

now that that was out of the way, you went to go remove his top and he let you, holding his arms up and the top coming straight off. he then decided to slip off his shorts and boxers, leaving you both completely naked under each other's gaze. he was so beautiful, sleeper-ish build with silky smooth skin that you wanted to ruin. he was so perfect... god he would be the perfect man.

your lips connected again and this time soobin immediately melted into it, relaxing himself as you went back to straddle his lap. your ass was right on his cock, softly rubbing against just to see how his face scrunched up with pleasure in the kiss, swallowing up all his sounds. he loved this, this was everything he could've ever dreamed of. he was about the fuck the girl of his dreams, the reality hitting him like a pleasant surprise. he couldn't hold back the dripping of pre-cum that was all over your ass by now, making him even more embarrassed than he was before. however, you thought it was hot, and you wanted him to cum deep inside you.

this time, he was the one to pull away, panting softly as he looked at you with those bright eyes of his. "please... m-mommy just— just use me, i need it so bad," he begged you with such a whiny voice, god it had you throbbing so hard. you both were needy for each other and it showed with every action you two made towards each other. so, you didn't keep him waiting for long.

"of course baby," you cooed, biting your lip before starting to get yourself situated. you put your hands on his shoulders and stood up on your knees, guiding yourself to be right above his aching cock. he gulped as you started to sink down on his ridiculously big cock. seriously, how in the hell did he keep such a monster like this in his pants? you struggled a little as you tried to sink down, realizing that you would need soobin's help in order to fully go down.

though, when you looked to ask him for help the man was so far good, eyes in a daze and mouth open and panting heavily. he looked hot as shit but you needed his assistance in trying to get yourself fully around his cock, so you put a hand on his cheek even with your trembling hand. "binnie... c—can you please help me? you're... way too big—" you strained out, feeling the pain starting to kick in despite your wetness. this man was fucking huge and he didn't even know it, but he would help you at any means necessary.

so, he grabbed your hips and, with a little jerk of his arms, slammed you right onto his cock. this motion caused you and him to both moan out in pleasure, you arching your back and soobin's eyes rolling to the back of his head. after you both came down you started to slowly move your hips, your wetness covering his area so sloppily it was exactly like a porn video. he was mesmerized by your body and how fluidly you could move, he was in a trance by your hips. so much so that he involuntarily thrusted his hips upwards, causing you to moan out in pleasure but causing him to quickly stop your hips, confusing you.

"w— what's wrong bin?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady but you were already close to your orgasm. "that didn't hurt? what i just did?" he asked, which just made you softly giggle. "no soobin, it didn't hurt at all. please do it again," you pleaded, making something in the man switch by your begging.

he grabbed you and slammed you onto the bed, pulling your hips forward and ramming deep inside you. meanwhile he had no clue what the hell he was doing, he was just trying to follow what porn had taught him. although, he could tell that you were enjoying it by the way your noises increased in volume, how more fidgety you were because of the immense amount of pleasure he was giving you. so, he continued with his unorganized pace, still moaning alongside you as he did so.

"b-bin— fuck baby 'm's'close—" you whined, making him speed up a little as well. "f-fuck... me too mommy, m-me too—" he whimpered alongside you, you pulling him down for a steamy wet kiss. this instantly had the man's hips stuttering, shoving himself as deep as he could right into your g-spot, his cum flowing against it which had you clenching around him as well. your noises were equally swallowed by each other, this being the most intense orgasm both of you have had in your lives.

after a few minutes you both came down from your highs, you looking at the man above you who was a wreck. his glasses were basically off of his face now, lips red and swollen from your kissing, pupils blown and dazed with a red face to top it all off. he was so sexy, but he was on the verge of passing out. so were you, since that orgasm took a lot out of you. so, you both decided it would be nice to just lay next to each other, but not before deciding something.

"u-uhm... y/n?" choi chirped, making you turn your head in his direction. "hm?" "what... are we now?" he sheepishly pondered, you reaching a hand out and massaging his face. "boyfriend and girlfriend silly," you smiled softly, while he grinned brightly. "really?" "mhm. now goodnight baby, see you in the morning." your drowsy voice stated before he held you in his arms, you easily falling asleep. however, he couldn't sleep, because his mind was racing with so many things that sleep didn't come until the early morning.

which wasn't a problem, since you both slept until 1pm that day.

© gg 2023. dividers were made by me. do not steal, use, or repost my work without my consent. reblogging/interaction is welcomed.

[izvmimi]

cw: set in both past and present. goofy but a bit of fluff. reader has a specified quirk. suggestive near the end.

Concentrate. Stop being impatient. You’re applying too little power, you won’t heal anything like that; you’re applying too much power, you’ll kill them! Slow down. Move more quickly, the sick and injured will keep coming. 

You bite your lip and pull your backpack closer to yourself as you think back to today’s lesson, both mentally and physically exhausted from the day before you. These internships are meant to push the limits of your Quirks, and you can imagine that all of your classmates are just as tired as you, but it’s hard for you to reconcile the fact that an old lady who keeps candy in her purse and smooches indiscriminately to heal injuries should be such a hardass to you. 

The tips of your fingers still tingle with the aftermath of transferring so much electricity towards them. Today, she had you try to practice transferring all of your energy from your toes to the palms of your hand and back, consecutively, and you still feel wobbly on your feet as you make your way home. It’s dark now and you’re a little lonely walking home alone, but your thoughts will keep your company as you walk through the streets. 

Joining the hero class late, you simply have to work harder, that’s all there is to it, you think. You don’t have the flashy quirks your peers do, no extreme power without blowback, no endless ice or fire or weapons, no explosions or gravity manipulation, no animals to come to your aid or ability to disappear and slip away. 

You have to be creative with your Quirk as best you can if you want to be of any use. 

You’re about 15 minutes away from your home by now and check your cell phone. There are messages from Momo where she’s trying her hardest to convince you that there’s some utility in makeup commercials for the greatest good, and you try to placate her as best you can as the good friend you are. Your friend from the support course has also sent you a wide-eyed orange cat emoji with the aim to check in since you’ve been quiet and you smile and send a signal that you’re alive with a tongue out emoji. You look at your screen for a few more seconds and don’t get an immediate reply but smile to yourself anyway before slipping your phone in your pocket.

As you turn past an alleyway, the sudden crashing sound of trash cans and body weight against concrete startles you enough that you jump. You have a few seconds to decide if you want to see what’s happening before you convince yourself it’s an animal, but you hear a groan, and before you can make it around the alleyway, there’s yet another thud. 

When you turn the corner, you’re surprised to see Midoriya, face smashed into the wall, nearly ten feet in the air. He falls too fast for you to reach him to try to break his fall, but it’s broken by a load of bundled trash, possibly more than you’ve ever seen not disposed of in your entire life. Dumbfounded, you watch him frown but he doesn’t seem hurt too badly (at least, not as badly as you’ve seen him self-inflict before) and he barely even realizes you’re there, before he’s back to his feet again, staring at the wall pensively, eyebrows knit together as he’s lost in thought. 

He’s in his hero suit, and you wonder how long he’s been out here. Feet pressed against the pavement again, he bends his knees and you see sparks fly before he’s about to jump again, and before he can move…

“Uh… Midoriya? What are you doing?” you finally announce yourself and he freezes still like a statue.

The sparks stop immediately as he turns to you, and his face is redder than a strawberry, jaw slack.

“Oh! Oh my God! I.. uh…”

You blink. Midoriya is always somewhat skittish around you, and you do admit that it’s probably because you’ve been prone to mess with him and give him nicknames, but you’ve never harbored any ill will against it. In fact, there’s a sort of fondness you have towards him, ever since the sports festival. He always manages to surprise you with his resourcefulness even if he’s the polar opposite of you ability-wise - all power, no self preservation.

Still, this isn’t the type of surprise you anticipated. 

Midoriya is still staring at you, mouth agape as he tries to come up with an explanation, not having realized that you’re no longer interested in whatever strangeness he imparts to you as long as he’s okay. All you can think about now is the fact that your head has started to pound, so watching him smash his face into the wall a second time might be the least of your concerns.

But you have to be curious in some way if you’re still standing here at 9 pm on a weekday.

“I-I’m trying to figure out my Quirk…” Izuku says through nervous laughter. You nod slowly, looking at and around him.

“Looking for the light in a dark alley, I see,” you murmur. He doesn’t laugh, instead grimacing. You scrunch your nose a bit at the smell, inescapable, trying to be kind enough not to say a word about it. “It’s super late,” you murmur, then tilt your head. “Are you going to go home soon?”

Maybe walking home with a classmate might be nice, it occurs to you.

Izuku’s green eyes light up for just a moment, then he frowns. 

“I can’t-” he sees you pout before you even realize you are doing so, “-but I can next time! I just have to…” his voice falters as you shift your weight from one side to another then shrug your shoulders. 

“No big deal.”

You turn on your heels, a little slighted but fine. He’s nice to talk to sometimes but you could call your mom or another friend perhaps for company. Izuku is annoying anyway, he’ll probably find a way to aggravate you before you make it home and you’ll regret even running into him. Perhaps.

“I’ll see you around then,” you offer, waving impassively behind you as you walk away.

“B-be safe!” he calls out as you take your first steps away, and you keep walking, the sparks of electricity he generates again as he goes back to whatever desperate move he’s working out putting the hairs of your neck slightly on edge, light catching your peripheral vision.

You turn to him, and take the scene in again. The boy with the Quirk that grants incredible power with a blowback he still can’t withstand. Perhaps truly, he’s not the opposite of you, but complementary. 

He has a look of determination to him, you note, as he squats slightly, then leaps again, soaring high to the point that it’s almost graceful -  but then he hits the wall once more. He tumbles again into bagged trash, and you sigh. 

You’re exhausted but not so exhausted that you can’t help.

“Midoriya, don’t jump again.”

As his head snaps back in your direction, he seems shocked that you’re still there and you wonder how he has such singular focus. Before he can react to you, you end up palming his entire face, pulsing the rest of your energy reserves quickly into the bruised tissues before retracting your arm.

Izuku’s eyes are wide when he looks at you, but you can tell you’ve succeeded because the redness and tiny scrapes on his face have already started to disappear, even if you can’t do anything about his bleeding nose.

You should have thought about this, you think as you wipe your hands on the side of your pants.

“T-thank you,” he mutters. 

You offer him a smile. Either way it’s a form of training.

“Of course. See you around, dino nuggets.”

—

“You know, that was the first time you healed me, ever.”

Izuku remembers that night so many years ago slightly differently than you do, it seems. He remembers being less uninterested in your presence than you impart to him as you recount it, and tells you his heart thumped so fast with embarrassment the moment he saw you he might as well have been having a heart attack, and focusing on his goal of figuring out OFA was the only thing that kept him from dying of mortification on the spot. Your crush finding you crashing into a wall then garbage repeatedly at nighttime in a dark alley isn’t exactly a chivalrous look, and looking so pitiful he earned an unsolicited heal wasn’t exactly the way he tried to woo you.

But all’s well that ends well, no?

You giggle, letting small pulses of your bioelectricity relax the muscles in his back with pinpoint precision. Your fingertips continue to dance gently along his skin until the tension dissipates completely, and he lets out a satisfied sigh as they move gently to his neck, then tap gently at his scalp. 

“I probably could have been just a little more respectful of your dignity, but I think even back then I was trying very hard to suppress any positive feelings for you,” you admit. There’s no point in pretending now that your tender relationship is clearer than crystal, blatant for the world to see.

“And how did that work out for you?” he retorts as your hands run through his hair lovingly. 

You smile to yourself, letting your torso press gently against his back. Izuku’s laying on his belly and you were straddling him prior to this, having decided to bless him with a special back massage as a treat. Your husband always does his best, and doing his best has taken a lot out of him in the past few recent days, so this is the least you can offer him and you’re glad to do so. Both of you have grown stronger, smarter, and better at using your Quirks for yourselves, for society and for each other. It’s only natural that you’ve learned a trick or two.

“Terrible,” you answer.

You smile as your face presses against his upper back, letting your hands run along the length of his arms, more soft pulses of electricity passing through his skin. He shudders against your body and your heart practically sings with affection. 

“Terrible?” he tries to sound annoyed but his voice comes out higher than usual, riddled with relief.

“Yeah, I had no intention to fall in love with you. A huge fail on my part, actually.”

He chuckles.

“I guess it’s true that there’s a lot to gain from failure then.”

You hate and love that he’s always so good at redirecting and softening any of your playful resistance. Your hands tighten gently around his wrists.

“Are you mocking me, Izuku?”

His laughter rumbles through his larger body, the vibration running through all parts of you as you stay pressed together.

“Maybe,” he replies, coyly. 

“You know, in this position, I could make sure you never get up again,” you say in a honeyed voice. “You have a vested interest in being nice to me,” you tease.

Izuku moves a little too fast for you to keep up at times, and this is one of those times. Before you realize, your positions have switched, and now he’s on top of you, so close his forehead is pressed to yours.

He kisses just above your eyebrows, your eyes closing automatically.

“I’m always nice to you,” he reminds you, his voice soft.

You smile as they open again and you look at him. He’s far from the awkward try-hard boy he once was, and you’re far from the sometimes standoffish, other times overly yet hesitantly invested girl you once were.

You’re invested in him with full intention, just as he’s invested in you.

“You’re right. Thank you for being so good to me,” you reply softly.

And you’ll always be good to him.

[grapejuicestyless]

It Killed You Just The Same

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: He loved her, he loved everything about her. More than her looks, but how gentle she was. But when given the choice between killing her or letting them kill her, he had no choice.

She wore long brown boots, ones with clunky buckles at her ankles. Long socks poked out of the tops, thick and white, matching the crisp white dress she wore, covered in eyelet fabric that fell no more than past her upper thighs.

She looked the closest you could get to a lamb, and Harry deemed she was just as sweet as one too. He noted the dirt on her knees, probably from kneeling on the ground to tend to the animals that scurried by, and the wheat in her hair.

It seemed the longer she was around, the more life came around. It was like even the most dim creatures knew how gentle she was, how much she could give them. Harry always loved that about her, how somehow, with all the cruelty spat at her, she always had more love to give. He decided she was better than most, motherly to anyone smaller than her, all the squirrels and kittens, the children and the wasps. It didn’t matter to her, her love was all the same, like a real life princess.

“Y/n/n!” Harry called out her name across the grassy field, and as she turned to him he swore all the air was stripped from him. He felt guilty for even going through with it, but her innocence was worth so much more than anything. He’d heard about how sometimes people will sit with their pets as they die, let them lay in their lap and comfort them through the darkness until the pain simmers out, make them think it’s not forever. Harry figured Y/n deserved that too.

“Harry!” She squealed, running over to him with a wife grin, her hands pulling at the ends of her dress even though the fabric was short enough to begin with. Her underwear peaked out from underneath. Harry usually would have scolded her playfully for being so forgetful, for nearly flashing the birds flying overhead, but he decided he couldn’t even fake being angry at her today.

Her hug felt like a blanket of warmth on his skin, her hair done in braids that fell down her back. He wished it had been down so he could have ran his hands through it one last time, but he stuck his nose as close to her scalp as he could and memorized her smell.

“I missed you.” She told him, giggling against his body. Her skin felt so soft in comparison to his, her clean cut cuticles and baby pink nails so beautiful in comparison to his calloused palms and bloody knuckles. He wondered how something so pure could have fallen into his lap at all.

He considered himself awfully lucky to have been given her, for her to have loved him like she did, because he was certain he loved her twice as hard, but now he saw it as a curse. His karma for all his bad doings. Because the world was cruel, and a man like him could never have a woman like Y/n. So it made him choose. He could take her, or the men who he tried so hard to keep her away from would have her.

“I missed you more baby, how was your day?” Harry asked, his words muffled by his lips pressing against the top of her head. Her smile spread against his neck where she kept her head buried.

The leather around his waist felt harsher than before, the very belt Y/n had helped alter for him, the holes punched in by an old screwdriver and a hammer that laid untouched in the junk drawer. In fact, it felt too tight now, a belt that was usually falling off of him, suffocating him until he felt purple.

He hoped the feeling of his hand rubbing her back distracted her mind from the feeling of his other pulling the knife from its pocket that hung on the side of the belt.

“It was awfully warm this morning so I spent most of the day leaving our extra jars outside with water for the animals. I swear I heard some chipmunks panting earlier today.” She joked, and a small laugh rumbled through my chest.

“I bet, baby. Thank goodness they have you to look after them.” He entertained, his arm raising to wrap around her back, the butt of the knife pressed into his palm, just barely touching the curve of her back.

“Honestly, Harry it has me thinking.” She spoke softly, practically mumbling now in the comfort of his touch. It seemed he always had that effect over her, lulling her into a state of vulnerability with him, baring everything for him to see.

His hand shifted, the cold edge creating a small gap between the eyelets in Y/n’s pretty white dress. Harry could only hum as his hand shook, the knife so close to her skin, he wondered if she could feel the coolness of it radiating onto her skin.

“I wanna be a mother.”

Her words hit him deep, but it was too late. Blood poured from where the handle lay, the blade hidden somewhere underneath her skin, stuck between the fabric of her dress. The delicate whiteness of it stained a deep satin, dripping in a line down the center of her back. But she didn’t move, she didn’t scream, she didn’t beg. She didn’t even gasp.

Her arms slowly wrapped around Harry tightly, her lips pressing against his skin tenderly.

“No, no, no.” He mumbled quickly, unwilling to believe he ever had the willpower to follow through. He tried to pull her from his body, willing whoever was watching over him to have the power to give him the gift of looking into her lovely eyes just one last time.

“No, please, darling.” He pleaded, pulling her off of him frantically. Her eyes were crinkled in the corners and her lips in a soft smile. She looked defeated, but not because of him, like her own body was giving out on her.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby. I had to, I had to save you, I’m sorry.”

He told her over and over again to make her understand, but he was a fool because it was all wasted breath. Of course she knew, she’d known it from the second it pierced her skin. Her lover was rough, cruel, violent, and vicious, but he was never mean, and he always was honest when he said he loved her.

“I love you.” She promised him in a thin gasp, her body lying against his in a final hug, and thats the way she went out. So fitting for such a loving woman to have gone out in the loving embrace of her lover, her soulmate. His hands drenched with the blood he never wanted to face, and his knife stuck in his back. He only realized as her heart stopped and her thinking ceased that the knife laid right where her heart would be just a few inches back.

But he had just missed it, in the end. He had missed her heart and he was glad he did. He only hoped as he sat in the dirt holding her in his lap like a wounded doe that in some other life, he was able to give her everything, and the birds that would shake him from his nightmares would have instead been their children he would never meet.

[morganski-19]

The One With the Chick and the Duck

When Steve opens the apartment door, Robin, very suspiciously, hides something behind her back. Music blaring through the apartment. Much louder than she normally likes to keep it.

“What did you do,” Steve sighs. Seeing right through whatever act she is trying to play right now.

Before she can even start to explain herself, Eddie opens the door. Forcing Steve off to the side. “Alright, so I was looking into supplies, and it looks like we need a heat lamp-. Oh, hey Steve.”

He quickly shuts his phone off and shoves it into his back pocket.

Steve nods, skeptically and a little pissed. He takes off his bag and sets it on the counter, crossing his arms to look at them. “What did you both do? Apparently.”

“Nothing,” Eddie tries to play off. Not successfully. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “Maybe because you came in saying you need a heat lamp, and now are acting weird. And the fact that Robin’s very clearly hiding something behind her back.” The song changes to something with a lot of bass, making the floor start to shake. “Could we turn down the music please, we’re going to get a noise complaint.”

Robin reaches out, very awkwardly, to grab her phone and turn down the music. One of her arms never leaving behind her, and her feet staying rigid in one spot.

With the music turned down, Steve can hear the gently chirping. “What the fuck is that?”

“Just must be part of the song or something,” Robin lies.

“Yeah, part of the song,” Eddie agrees.

Steve moves around the counter, coming closer to Robin. Slowly starting to walk around her. Robin spins in a circle, keeping her front to Steve’s. Steve jerks to the right, making Robin force to her left. The chirping getting slightly louder.

“Careful,” Eddie exclaims, concerned. “You’ll hurt them.”

“Them?” Steve says, surprised. “There’s more than one?”

Robin sighs, giving up. “Please don’t be mad.”

“Kinda late for that.”

She reveals what was hiding behind her back. A cardboard box filled with a small layer of straw. A small chick and a duckling sitting amongst it. Both of them now staring at Steve. Curious.

“Where’d you get those?”

“The pet store,” Robin fills in like it’s no question at all.

“A pet store that suddenly sells chickens and ducks,” Steve exclaims. “In the middle of the fucking city.”

Eddie is nervously rocking back and forth on his feet. “We might have gone a little out of our way. We saw an add on Instagram, and just went for it.”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “You are worse than my students sometimes. Is there a return policy?”

Eddie gasps. “You would make us return these gentle creatures? How dare you?”

“We are not people that can take care of these kinds of animals. Not here! They need a coop, and grass, and places to walk around. Not an apartment with fake wood flooring.”

Robin looks down into the box, reaching a finger out to gently pet the chick’s head. “But we could try. And then when they get unhappy, we could find a nice farm for them to live on. We could give them a better home than where they were.”

“I thought you said you got them at the pet store.”

“The pet store,” Eddie draws out, “might have been a bit misleading. Technically, we found them outside of the pet store. In a much worse cardboard box.”

Robin looks at Steve with wide eyes, almost pleading. “They were calling out to us, Steve. They were so sad.”

“So sad,” Eddie adds.

“And helpless.”

Eddie moves behind Robin, adding to the pleading. “So helpless.”

“What did you want us to do, leave them there?”

“In the cold? The rain? The snow?” Eddie accentuates each question in rising volume and dramatics.

“It’s August,” Steve questions.

“Doesn’t matter. They were abandoned so we graciously took them in. Now you are being mean and want us to give them away.”

Before Steve can get another word in, the door opens again. Argyle coming through with a happier than normal expression. “Guys, I’ve been thinking. How about Cheese and Quakers for their names?”

Robin and Eddie both gasp excitedly at the suggestion. Looking down that the animals with bright smiles.

“Great, now they have names.” Steve opens his phone and types a quick message. Nancy coming through the door quickly after.

“What’s this about a chick and a duck?” She asks before noticing the box in Robin’s hands. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Steve says. Very annoyed.

Jonathan shuts the door behind him. “You brought in strays again?” he questions toward Argyle.

“How’d you get here so fast?”

“Saw you leave with that look in your eye, and thought it was no good. So I followed you.”

“Sometimes I hate the fact that you know me so well.”

Jonathan crosses his arms. “I’m guessing they have names already, too? You were always the best at those.”

Argyle, very dramatically, moves to stand next to Robin. Gesturing to the box with his arms. “Meet Cheese and Quakers.”

“Don’t get attached,” Steve interrupts. “We’re returning them.”

Robin, Eddie, and Argyle all snarl in disgust.

“There is no place to return them, Steve,” Robin snaps. “We found them on the side of the road, remember.”

“Who leaves a random chick and duck on the side of the road,” Nancy questions. Still catching up on the whole ridiculous story.

“And why were the three of you together,” Jonathan continues the questions. “Without us.”

Eddie crosses his arms, rolling his eyes. “What? Three friends can’t hang out with each other without the rest of the group?”

“Wait a second.” Steve pulls out his phone and looks up an add on Facebook. “Was this the road you found them on?”

He shows them a flyer for discounted chicks and ducks located at a house on the edge of the city. Something about more eggs hatching than was necessary.

“We’ve been made,” Eddie not so subtlety whispers toward Robin and Argyle.

“How’d you know about that?” Robin asks, still trying to stick to their story.

Steve puts his phone away. Getting the energy of someone who’s about to prove a point. “I saw you looking at it last night. Didn’t think you would actually go through with it though.”

Robin gives a sad shrug. “They just looked to cute, and they were really cheap.”

“And then she might have sent it to me, and I might have encouraged it,” Eddie adds.

“And then they both sent it to me, and the plan was formed,” Argyle finishes.

Nancy asks to see Steve’s phone again. Looking at the flyer. “They’re nonrefundable. What’s the real harm in letting them keep them?”

Steve looks at Nancy betrayed. “I thought you would be on my side about this.”

“Look at them right now.”

Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan look at the three surrounding the box with the small animals. All looking half in love with the birds and saddened by the fact that they might have to give them up. Jonathan lets out a big sigh before moving to go stand by Argyle.

“I don’t see a real reason why they would have to give up the birds.”

The three of them look toward Jonathan with excitement.

He holds up a hand to lower that. “As long as you get them the proper equipment, feed them the proper food, and deal with the angry neighbors if that chicken turns out to be a rooster. All that shit.”

Nancy thinks for a second before walking over and standing next to Eddie. “I think it would be easier for all of us if we just let them keep them. There’s much less moping involved.”

Steve crosses his arms, betrayed by his friends. But he looks at the ones now connected with these birds, and feels himself start to crumble. There’s not much he would reject when it came to Robin. And she’s looking at him with those puppy eyes that he hates because of how much they manipulate him.

“Fine,” he concedes. They let out a small victorious shout. “But, you have to decide what apartment they stay in, and if you want to move them around. And more importantly, keep the birds out of my bedroom.”

“Those,” Eddie points at Steve, “are reasonable conditions. Welcome to the family Cheese and Quakers.”

This whole thing ends with all of them actually going to the pet store. After Robin and Eddie convince Nancy to help them with their research about what supplied they need. A list is made, and they get everything. Setting up a little enclosure for the birds with a heat lamp and a small amount of food. And some things that were probably meant for hamsters, but they thought would be cute.

Robin gets the first rotation, setting up the birds on the kitchen counter. They squeak happily until they fall asleep well into the night. Robin is staring at them lovingly while Steve is getting glass of water before bed.

“You seriously can’t hate something that looks so adorable,” Robin says to him, gesturing to the birds.

He has to admit, they are pretty cute when they are quiet. “I really hope that chick isn’t a rooster.”

“Yeah,” Robin winces. “We did not think about that before buying them.”

Note: Sorry for not posting one of these in a while. I took a short break in posting all together but needed time to think of ideas that weren't pure angst (or ones I did before in another fic). So, if any of you have some funny ideas, feel free to throw them in my asks. Even if it's just a one line joke, it'll give me the inspiration for something.

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