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willowsnook · 2 days ago

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Wouldn't have it any other way

rye with salami, ranch, and mikes way please and thank you! (idk if i did that right, i've never done this before)

jack hughes x reporter!reader

she isn’t you

——————————————————

Working as a reporter covering the NHL was a childhood dream of yours that came true. You worked your ass off in college, having internships each summer which led to an opportunity at ESPN that turned full-time after you graduated. You were ecstatic when they moved you to New Jersey to cover the Devils. It had been six months and so far you had gotten along well with all the players…well except one.

“Ya we got whacked two games in a row, so the last thing you want to do is stand and talk in front of you guys,” Jack Hughes told the small group of reporters crowding his locker, you included. You rolled your eyes which didn’t go unnoticed.

“Something to say, sweetheart?,” he said, eyes honing in on you.

You felt your cheeks flush with anger at his condescending tone. "It's our job to ask questions, Hughes. If you can't handle that, maybe you should find a new career."

The locker room fell silent, all eyes darting between you and Jack. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing as he stepped closer.

"And maybe you should find a new team to cover if you can't handle a little attitude," he shot back.

The tension was palpable. You'd butted heads with Jack since day one, his arrogance rubbing you the wrong way. But this felt different, more charged.

"I can handle you," you replied, holding his gaze. "Question is, can you handle the heat when you're not performing on the ice?"

A collective intake of breath from the other reporters. Jack's eyes flashed dangerously.

"That's enough," the Devils’ PR manager said, ushering the reporters out of the locker room. You shot Jack one last glare as you followed the rest of the pool out. You knew you were going to get your ass chewed by your boss but you couldn’t help it. Jack was infuriating.

Unfortunately, your phone rang the second you were out of the arena and you listened to your boss rant at you. The moment was apparently already blowing up on social media and it was not a good look for you or Jack really. Half of the internet said you were too young to be in your job and wildly unprofessional while the other half defended you, calling Jack a dick who needs to respect women. There was another weird fan side of hockey twitter that were now actively shipping the two of you together, claiming it could be a perfect enemies-to-lovers story.

—————————————————————-

Headphones in, you watched workers out the window as they loaded luggage onto your plane. New Jersey to Vancouver was a long flight so you had splurged, upgrading yourself to first class to try maybe and get some actual sleep. The seat next to you was still empty and as the time ticked by you grew more hopeful that it would remain that way but nothing good lasts forever.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” a voice called out next to you and you looked up to meet the eyes of none other than Jack Hughes.

Your heart sank as Jack glared down at you, his tall frame looming over your seat. Of all the people to be stuck next to for a cross-country flight, it had to be him.

“Why aren’t you flying with the team?” You questioned.

“I overslept and missed the flight,” he muttered and you snorted.

Jack huffed as he stowed his carry-on and slid into the seat beside you. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. You both sat rigidly, avoiding eye contact as the rest of the passengers boarded.

As the plane began to move, you couldn't help but sneak a glance at Jack. His jaw was clenched, hands gripping the armrests tightly. Was he... nervous?

"You okay there, Hughes? Not scared of flying, are you?" you teased, unable to resist.

He shot you a withering look. "I'm fine.”

But as the plane started to take off his breathing grew more rapid and you started to get concerned. You hit a bit of turbulence trying to level out, and Jack’s hand moved towards yours, gripping it tightly.

“Sorry,” he rasped, but you kept your hand in his, caressing his skin softly with your thumb.

“It’s okay,” you murmured. “Just try and breathe.”

“I’m trying,” he snapped and you rolled his eyes. “I need you to distract me.”

“How?”

“Just tell me something about you I don’t know,” he asked looking over at you pleadingly.

“Hockey isn’t my favorite sport,” you said instantly. It felt like your dirty secret being a hockey reporter, but it was the truth.

Jack let out a strained chuckle, “oh yeah, what is?”

“Football,” you replied and he nodded at you to keep going. “I fell in love with it when I was just a kid watching Brett Farve. Him leaving the Packers was my first real heartbreak in life. I like college football more now and while I love the atmosphere of hockey, there is nothing like a Saturday night home game in the palace. The lights illuminating the fields, the smell of popocorn and hotdogs, the fight song playing in the background, and everyone knows that $20 beer tastes better watching your favorite team. What’s more romantic than that?”

If Jack didn’t have the history he had with you, he thought he might have fell in love with you right then and there. His grip on your hand loosened slightly as he listened to you speak, his breathing becoming more even. He found himself captivated by the passion in your voice as you described your love for football.

"I never would have guessed," he said softly, a hint of a smile on his face. "You always seemed so... intense about hockey."

You shrugged, feeling a bit vulnerable having shared something so personal. "It's my job. I take it seriously."

"Maybe too seriously sometimes," Jack muttered, but there was no real bite to his words.

The plane leveled out and you both realized you were still holding hands. You quickly pulled away, clearing your throat awkwardly.

"Thanks," Jack said, avoiding your gaze. "For, you know... helping me through that."

You nodded, unsure how to respond. This was the most civil conversation you'd ever had with Jack Hughes, and it felt weird. The rest of the flight went by without a spectacle; you were happy to catch some shut-eye, and woke up as you were about to land, Jack nudging you awake. He grabbed your bag for you, and you followed him off the plane, stopping when he turned to face you.

“Back to our regularly scheduled business of hating each other,” he said with a smirk, and you laughed.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way Hughes,” you shot back before heading off.

—————————————————————————

After a long call with your boss the next day, you were very irritated. Since the Devils were playing the Canucks, he wanted a short fluff piece about the Hughes brothers reuniting.

“It won’t be that bad,” Luke said after you tracked him down to tell him about the assignment. “You love me, and Quinn will love you.”

“I’m not worried about you two,” you told him with a look. “I’m worried about your other brother, who makes me want to jump off a cliff.”

“You’re dramatic,” he said, crossing his arms and you huffed. “We are all getting dinner tonight; just come with us. It’ll be a good chance to see us all off the ice.”

Later that night, you find yourself in the lobby with Luke, waiting on his brothers. Dressed down and out of your business wear, you felt more like yourself in a cute white sweater and jeans. Jack stepped out of the elevator and you immediately crossed your arms, already not in a good mood seeing him.

“Why is she here?” He asked Luke, completely ignoring you.

“She is writing a piece on the three of us, so I thought it would be nice to let her see the non-hockey side of things,” Luke explained and Jack groaned. Quinn stuck out his hand to introduce himself, and you smiled warmly at the oldest brother.

“So you’re the one who has little Jack by the balls?” He teased and Jack shoved him while you laughed.

You and Jack didn’t say a word to each other on the way to the restaurant and you luckily ended up being diagonal from him. It was a steakhouse but you weren’t that into steak so you opted for a grilled chicken salad with no tomatoes of course. Remembering that you were here for work, you kept quiet just observing the brothers.

"Remember when Jack tried to dye his hair blonde and it turned orange instead?" Quinn chuckled, earning a glare from Jack.

"Hey, at least I didn't cry when mom cut my mullet," Jack shot back, causing Luke to nearly spit out his drink.

You couldn't help but smile, seeing this different side of Jack. He was more relaxed, his guard down as he joked with his brothers. You caught yourself staring at him a few times, noticing how his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

The waiter soon returned with your food and you sighed as you watched your salad be placed in front of you with the tomatoes you had asked to be left out. You were never one to send something back, so you accepted your fate and unrolled your silverware.

“Everything look good?” The waiter asked. You nodded absentmindedly as Jack opened his mouth.

“She asked for no tomatoes,” he said, pointing to your salad. Your head snapped up and the waiter began to apologize.

“Oh it’s okay,” you said, trying to wave him off but Jack gave you a stern look that made you sit back.

“Don’t like tomatoes?” He mused. “Kind of childish, don’t you think?”

“You literally ordered a lemonade,” you shot back and his eyes narrowed at you.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s every kid’s favorite drink,” you retorted.

Jack scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Sophisticated Palette. Let me guess, you’re a black coffee type, right? So edgy.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your soda. “At least I don’t need a sugar rush to get through lunch.”

“And yet, here you are, drowning in soda. Classy.”

You gestured to his plate with a smug smile. “Says the guy who’s been avoiding the broccoli on his plate like it owes him money.”

Jack’s smirk faltered, and he glanced down at the offending vegetable. “It’s not avoidance. I’m saving the best for last.”

“Sure you are. Must be why it’s still untouched and getting cold.”

“You know, you’re a lot braver with your words when I don’t have a hockey stick in my hands.”

You shot him a fake, sweet smile. “And you’re a lot more tolerable when you keep your mouth shut.”

Quinn and Luke were thoroughly entertained as they observed the back-and-forth banter between you.

“You see what I have to deal with?” Luke said, looking at Quinn once you and Jack had finally stopped.

“Jack finally met his match,” he commented, prompting an eye roll from the mentioned brother.

The rest of the dinner passed with a mix of tension and grudging amusement between you and Jack, while Quinn and Luke kept the conversation flowing. As you all left the restaurant, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret at how quickly you and Jack fell back into your antagonistic pattern.

"So, got enough material for your fluff piece?" Jack asked sarcastically as you walked back to the hotel.

You sighed, "Probably. Though I'm not sure how to write about the Hughes brothers' dynamic without mentioning how insufferable one of them is."

Jack chuckled, surprising you. "Just make sure to mention how charming and handsome that one is too."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "In your dreams, Hughes."

As you reached the hotel, Luke and Quinn said their goodbyes, leaving you and Jack alone in the lobby. An awkward silence lingering in the air between you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” He asked and you gave him a weird look, trying to figure out his angle.

“Where else would I be? I’m always front row waiting for you to mess up,” you joked and he gave you a playful frown.

“Very funny,” he said before bidding you goodbye and going up to his room. Things felt different between the two of you tonight, and you weren’t sure how you felt about it.

———————————————————————-

The Devils beat the Canucks handily and you found yourself with a couple of other reporters waiting for Jack, who had scored, and a new girl that you didn’t recognize.

“Hi Jack,” the girl called out as he got settled and he looked at her amused. She looked like a puck bunny who had snuck in; beach blonde hair, fake spray tan, low cut top, you knew the type. Jesus, what had gotten into you, you thought, trying to shake off your cattiness.

“Hey, haven’t seen you around before,” he commented and she giggled. Literally giggled in response. The other reporters were amused but you kept your lips in a firm line.

“You were so great out there; it’s so impressive how hard you work,” she said and he smiled awkwardly thanking her. “Do you ever get scared when the puck comes at you?"

You couldn’t help but snort out loud when she asked that and Jack looked amused at you.

Jack’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, his smirk growing wider before he turned back to the blonde with a practiced ease.

"So," he said, leaning casually against the bench, "you’re new to the media scrum, huh? They usually send someone more…" He glanced at you briefly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Experienced."

The girl giggled again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh, well, I’m just filling in today. I guess I got lucky getting to talk to you."

"Guess I got lucky too," he said smoothly, his tone playful. "Usually, I’m stuck with—" He cut himself off, letting his eyes flick to you with mock innocence. "Well, people who don’t seem to enjoy the job as much as you do."

Your jaw tightened, but you kept your face neutral, scribbling something completely irrelevant in your notebook to avoid giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.

"So," the blonde continued, practically glowing under his attention, "what’s it like to be so focused all the time? You’re just so… intense on the ice."

Jack chuckled, shaking his head. "Takes a lot of practice. But I don’t think I’m half as intense as you just now."

Her eyes widened, and she laughed, her cheeks turning a shade pinker. "Oh my God, stop! I’m just trying to do my job."

"And you’re doing it very well," he replied, his voice low and charming.

You shut your notebook loudly, drawing Jack’s attention as you stormed out of the locker room, your cheeks flushed with anger and... something else you didn't want to acknowledge. You made it halfway down the hall before you heard footsteps behind you.

"Hey!" Jack's voice called out. "Where are you going?"

You spun around, glaring at him. "Away from that circus. I have actual work to do."

He jogged up to you, a mix of confusion and amusement on his face. "What's your problem? Jealous?"

"Jealous?" You scoffed, crossing your arms. "Of what? Your ability to charm airheads?"

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "Wow, that's pretty harsh. What happened to journalistic integrity?"

"What happened to professionalism?" You shot back. "Or do you always flirt with reporters during interviews?"

His expression shifted, a knowing smirk appearing on his face.

“You are jealous,” he said confidently and you were about to argue back but he grabbed a door handle behind you, yanking the door open and pulling you in it. It was a smaller equipment closet, but you didn’t have much time to look around before Jack had you tight against his body.

“She isn’t you sweetheart,” he said as your body flushed against his.

Your breath caught in your throat as Jack's words sank in. The closet suddenly felt much smaller, the air thick with tension. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his chest rising and falling against yours.

"What are you doing, Hughes?" you managed to whisper, your voice betraying your conflicted emotions.

His eyes searched yours, intense and unreadable. "Something I've wanted to do for a long time," he murmured before closing the distance between you.

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and insistent. For a moment, you were too shocked to respond. But then, as if a switch had been flipped, you found yourself kissing him back with equal fervor. Your hands tangled in his hair as his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

The kiss was everything you never knew you wanted - passionate, electrifying, and months of frustration bubbling over. His hands moved under your shirt and up your back as his touch burned your skin. Resting your head back against the wall, he took advantage, latching on to your neck, sucking harshly.

“More,” you gasped. “I need more.”

He pulled your shirt over your head and you unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes glazed over, looking at your chest and you smirked before tugging at his shirt. He lifted it off and you admired his toned body, tracing your finger down his abs. His breath hitched as he watched you and you smirked seeing the bulge against his sweats get bigger.

Jack's eyes darkened as he watched your finger trail down his abs. In one swift motion, he lifted you up, pressing you against the wall as your legs wrapped around his waist. His lips found yours again in a searing kiss as his hips ground against you, eliciting a soft moan from your throat.

"God, you drive me crazy," he breathed against your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

Your hands roamed his broad shoulders and back, relishing the feeling of his muscles flexing under your touch. Jack's mouth moved lower, trailing hot kisses down your collarbone to your breasts. You arched into him as he took a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

"Jack," you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair. He looked up at you, a mix of lust and something softer. “I need you in me.”

“Let me savor this sweetheart,” he pouted and you shook your head.

“Not the time or place,” you argued back and he sighed. Pulling down his pants, you spit into your hand before bringing it to his cock, pumping a few times, causing him to hiss. Shimmying out of your pants, you let him lift you against the wall, angling himself at your entrance.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

“Just this once,” you said and he rolled his eyes.

“We’ll see,” he replied and you started to argue back but he pushed in and your head fell forward onto his shoulder.

Jack began to move, thrusting into you with a steady rhythm. You clung to his shoulders, biting back moans as he hit just the right spot with each stroke. The closet filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing and the slap of skin on skin.

"God, you feel amazing," Jack groaned, his pace increasing. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, urging him deeper.

"Harder," you demanded, nails digging into his back. He complied, slamming into you with renewed vigor.

The tension that had been building between you for months was finally finding release. Every thrust, every touch was electric. You couldn't get enough of him.

"I'm close," you panted, feeling the familiar tightening in your core. Jack slipped a hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he urged and you cried out, his hand coming up to muffle the noise. Riding out your orgasm, you were clenching hard around him and he grunted as he kept up the pace, pounding into you.

As your walls continued to contract around him, Jack couldn't hold back any longer. He buried his face in your neck, groaning out your name as he spilled into you.

For a few moments, all that could be heard was your heavy breathing as you both came down from the intense high. Jack leaned his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your skin. You both took a few minutes to catch your breath before Jack slowly pulled out of you. You winced slightly and Jack gave you a concerned look. He handed you your clothes and you quickly put them back on, refusing to look at him.

“Y/n,” he said softly and you finally looked over at him. His face was flushed, hair all over the place, but the look he was giving you made you want to take your clothes right back off.

“This was just two people blowing off steam, nothing more,” you said and he grinned widely.

“Oh, so you won’t mind if I hook up with that other girl next time instead?” He asked and you frowned before quickly morphing into a neutral expression but Jack had already caught it.

“Ugh,” you exclaimed before opening the door slowly, peeking out before you walked out. Jack was right behind you and you thought the coast was clear until you walked right into Quinn and Luke. You froze and felt Jack still behind you as he saw his brothers.

“What were you two doing?” Luke asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

“We were just talking,” you defended, not meeting his eyes.

“Oh yeah? In the supply closet?” Quinn teased.

“It was quieter than the locker room,” Jack said.

“Didn’t sound that quiet,” Quinn shot back.

Your face burned with embarrassment as Quinn's words sank in. You couldn't bring yourself to look at Jack or his brothers, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

"I... I have to go," you mumbled, pushing past Luke and Quinn without meeting their eyes. You practically ran down the hallway, desperate to distance yourself and the Hughes brothers as much as possible.

Once safely in your hotel room, you collapsed onto the bed, burying your face in your hands. What had you done? Hooking up with Jack Hughes in a supply closet was bad enough, but getting caught by his brothers? Your career could be over if word got out.

Your phone buzzed with a text. Hesitantly, you checked it, half-expecting it to be Jack. Instead, it was from Luke:

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with us. But you might want to figure your shit out with Jack ;)”

You groaned, turning over, trying not to think about what happened in the closet or what it meant for you and Jack.

#nhl imagine #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine

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henry7931 · 1 day ago

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Swap Short: Thanksgiving Edition

Not My Cousin Andrew’s Body!

Jamie:

I loath the thought of Thanksgiving because my family is so freaking weird! Every year we get together and all of us stay in my Uncle’s house for the night before Thanksgiving. And right before bed all of us are forced to play this dumb game. We call it, ‘guess who.’ (Which is nothing like the board game btw.)

Basically everyone randomly swaps bodies with someone else and none of us know who’s in who. We all have to try our best at pretending to know whoever’s body we’re in that year. And the last two who don’t get guessed correctly basically win bragging rights and like $500. I personally don’t want to participate but I don’t have much of a choice.

So when I arrived at my Uncle’s house, I caught up with my family. I felt the my nerves kick in every time someone mentioned the game.

I looked around the room, thinking to myself who would I be comfortable being for a day. Probably my Uncle Peter or maybe my little cousin Davie. I haven’t swapped with either of them yet. But I know one person who I’d hate to swap bodies with… my cousin Andrew. I find him repulsive!

He’s one of those far right guys who just has the most punchable face you’ve ever seen. He looks like he skips a bath every other day and I’m confident that he’s not a fan of gay people. I don’t know, I try to avoid him at all cost. Luckily I haven’t swapped with him yet and I’m hoping it stays that way.

By the time the night started to wrap up, I was so ready to go to bed. I say good night to everyone and laid in bed slowly falling asleep thinking about who I was going to be in the morning.

The Next Day…

As I wake up, it takes me a moment to get my bearings. It’s just so dark in the room but it doesn’t take me long to realize that I was no longer in the room I fell asleep in.

I stumble to find a lamp and turn it on. As I swing my new borrowed legs out of bed. I stared down at the feet that I now control.

I don’t even get up quickly, my mind races eliminating who I could possibly be until i conform who’s stubby toes I’m looking at. Andrews.

“SHITTTT FUCKKK!!! WHHHYYYYYY!!!!”

I stand up feeling Andrew’s heavier frame move and almost want to cry. I look the in mirror confirming what I already knew.

“Well this fucking sucks.”

I stare at his reflection taking it all in when I realize something else. I’m hard as a rock right now.

The bulge underneath his pjs was begging for my attention. And I didn’t want anything to do with it.

I try to ignore it but it’s difficult. His body is just soo horny!

I walk myself through the logistics and my best conclusion was to just close my eyes and pretend I’m in my body.

So I lay back in bed and pull off the pajama bottoms. And the smell of ball sweat fills my nostrils.

My eyes are still closed and I reach down to touch his dick. As his fingers embrace his dick, I feel a rush come over me.

His dick… it’s so sensitive especially his cockhead.

I trace his fingers along his balls and feel so turned on. And it’s like I don’t even have pretend anymore that I’m still myself. Even in my cousins body, it’s kinda hot jerking off with someone else’s dick.

I pump faster and faster… I start to moan. I open my eyes and stare down at my cousin’s junk.

I bring his fingers up and sniff them… they smell like a jockstrap. Who knows the last time he’s washed his dick.

I pump faster and faster…

And then the freaking door swings open!

“What the fuck!”

It’s my body standing at the door. I thought about stopping but I’m too deep into it.

He slams the door shut and runs over.

“Jamie! What the hell dude!!! Stop playing with my dick in front of me.”

“I… can’t …stop! Your body… it’s too…. Horny!!”

“Shit! Here,” he says pulling my fingers off of his dick.

Andrew wraps his fingers around it and starts working it in a way that feels a million times better.

I can’t handle it! I end up cumming everywhere and he’s now soaked in it.

“Are you kidding me??? God of course this is what happens when I swap with my gay cousin!”

“Oh come on!! It’s your body, you think I wanted to do that?”

“Maybe! I don’t know, you’re the one who likes dick!”

“Well it looks like you enjoyed the show too!”

Andrew looks down and he’s now rocking a boner. His face turns red.

“Did you enjoy jerking yourself off?,” I say to him.

He looks away and groans. “Yeah… it was kinda hot.”

“Yeah well I have to say it was hot watching my body doing the work as well. You definitely know your way with your dick”

I look at my boner and get an idea.

I grab Andrew and tug him into bed.

“What are you doing?”

“A favor.”

I pull off the pair of shorts I had on last night and my dick comes flying out.

“Wait! Are you about to?”

I grab my dick and force it down Andrew’s throat.

“Holy shit!” he screams out.

I put in the work and feel him running my hands over his body.

I run my fingers down my balls to my taint and then my hole. He squirms and lets out a little noise as I insert his digits into my hole. He tries to complain until he realizes just how good it feels.

I then pull back and decided to try something a little more freaky.

I laugh to myself thinking about how much of a mind fuck this has to be for my conservative cousin. I take both of his feet and lick them.

“Fuckkkk why is that so hot to watch,” he says to me.

“Oh you like watching me lick your feet? What if I did this…”

I wrap his toes around my dick and start pumping. He’s moaning so loud now and ends up exploding all over them.

And reaches for one of his feet and rubs the cum covered foot on my face.

“Oh my god, that was… that was amazing…” he says out of breath.

I grin at him and say, “ I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“But don’t get any ideas! I’m not gay!!”

“Are you sure? Because you just rubbed your cum covered foot all over.”

He gets agitated and says, “YEAH WELL! ITS ONLY BECAUSE IM IN YOUR GAY ASS BODY!”

I laugh and say , “then why am I not attracted to girls then Andrew?”

“Well… that’s a good point.”

“So how about you whip off my face and go get ready for the day cuz.”

Andrew grabs my shorts and throws them on.

“Don’t forget my face!”

He turns around and grabs a rag. He whips it and throws it on the ground. I giggle loudly as he storms out of the room slamming the door.

“Shit, that almost made this worth it!,” I say laying back in his naked body.

The rest of the day was fun. Mainly because I got to fuck with Andrew the entire time and he couldn’t say shit!

Andrew sat across from me and I pulled off his shoes. And then just one sock.

I sit back in the chair crossing my arms and stared at him while wiggling his toes.

Andrew gazes at them for a minute before standing up and storming out again.

As the day goes on, I watched my family trying there hardest to put up a front for everyone. My little cousin Davie was the first one out, ironically he swapped bodies with my uncle Peter.

He was pretty easy since he kept talking about how cool it was being an adult. Then it was my dad and my grandpa, then my aunt and her son… soon it came down to only four of us.

None of us were aloud to out one another. Now it’s up to the rest of the family to guess. You have my brother Ashton and my other Uncle Jessie. And then me and Andrew.

But it was one wrong guess that lead me to a victory. ✌️ Yep! I won the game (and so did Andrew technically).

We both got ushered to the front and they asked us to say a few words.

I speak up and say, “Well, I’m happy I swapped with Andrew this year. I feel like we got to know each other better and can’t say we’ve ever been closer. Is that right Andrew?” I say wrapping his strong arm around him.

“Yeah… I agree, we’re so much closer now.”

“Well good job guys!,” I says Uncle Pete in Davie body.

I grin and discreetly grab one of my butt cheeks which causes Andrew to blush.

I hear him say under his breath, “I hate you.”

“Yeah well, you got a few more hours and then we get to do this again next year,” I say softly back to him.

“Great…”

We all head to the dinner table and I purposely sit across from Andrew.

“So who’s ready for some turkey?”

#body swap #male body swap

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skill7spark04 · 7 hours ago

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Ima be real, most men I see just want A woman. men that get several women care about attributes like that, because they can pull. but men who never pull just want to feel loved. mostly. women who don't pull many are often quieter about their prefrences, and even then their prefrences are few and far between, usually being something like "don't be an asshole" and "don't look like Nikacado pre 2024 reveal". but the ones who are the quietest on both sides, whether because they choose to, or are ignored entirely, often just wants to be loved. when you have so many options, you often forget to look for what's important, assuming that it is, and should be, a default trait. a person could be the hottest bitch (man or woman) and still be an asshole, because you assume the default that humans aren't assholes due to your experience. however, if you have little to no choice, then you really care about finding someone who actually is a good person, because you don't care about sorting through your options to find your perfect partner, you're just trying to find someone kind and loving, and they will be perfect for you. both sides I've seen point fingers calling each other shallow. but it's the loud minority that distorts our views. most women aren't on onlyfans and most dudes aren't fuckboys. most are quiet, content, and just looking for love without bothering the world about it. let's be honest. the reason why Men left is the toxic feminists mixed with the pandering of the right, such as Andrew Tate. men talk about mens issues, make their own spaces, and try to have discussion, and then are invaded by the worst side of the left (most of you are reasonable I'd like to think), and told that they are privileged (sure doesn't feel like it when even alleged SA, even if disproved gets you arrested and fired), and that the patriarchy blah blah blah. for example: National Mens day. national women's day is talked about on the news, people all over talk about it. but you so much as say happy mens day, you get hit with "oh, so you're celebrating bigots, colonizers, and racists across history?" well if we're going that route, Africans routinely committed genocide on each other in their own country, even selling off POWs to the British during the Triangle trade. that would make them slavers, right? so why do we celebrate BLM? do you hear how ridiculous that sounds? or worse yet: "men don't deserve a day" or "no wonder I felt terrible". again. this is a loud minority of people. usually a small subset of white American Women who think all men should die because of one bad experience. I'd love to believe the progressive all inclusive side of politics would include the Cis Het White Male. BUT DOES IT REALLY? (sorry, I shouldn't really talk politics, but I can't let this one slide. I enjoyed your observations, and it's interesting to know that it does in fact go both ways, confirming my hypothesis about the Loud Minority ruining everything by convincing the public that the majority thinks that way. most of y'all women don't hate men, or you wouldn't have dads or husbands or boyfriends, right?)

I know two men who are currently single. One is 26, and the other is 38.

I’ve spoken with both of them at length about what they want in a woman, seeing as they’re cishet and white.

They both immediately went for physical attributes. Thin, but needs to have a nice butt. Boobs can’t be too big. One likes short hair, the other likes long hair. They also went into facial features for some reason. That was the part that made me really uncomfortable as I hadn’t expected either of them to have been that focused on appearances.

Aesthetics came next. Both want ‘alt goth / witchy’ women. It should be worth noting both of these men said their potential partner can’t wear too much makeup.

Lastly came personality and interests. They both said this is the most important thing to them, but they also ‘have to be pretty’. Oh, and they need to listen.

I have some single ladies I’ve also spoken with.

It’s the opposite. They rarely care about looks. It’s about chemistry, emotional connection, feeling safe, and sharing common goals / ideals.

While I know it’s not ‘all men’ it sure as fuck is a lot of you. Also both of these men think they’re part of the ‘good cishet white liberal men’ who voted for Kamala, despite one of them not voting at all.

He’s the 38 year old. To make things worse, he’s trying to date a 24 year old. 🤷‍♀️ His criteria for a potential partner was also under the age of 30 because it means less baggage and they’re still ‘fun to be around’.

You don’t want to know what he doesn’t bring to the table. Either of them, rather. 😅

We do have a male loneliness epidemic, but it’s not women’s fault. We don’t owe you anything. We’re not vending machines you put tokens into and get sex out of. Male culture made by men and perpetuated by men has made men this way. And it’s your job as men to fix it, not point the finger at us and say it’s our fault for not wanting to be with you. Some of us like myself want to actually HELP you, but you guys rarely want to listen. You instead want to complain to us about our gender and how unfair we’re being by not giving you a chance.

We don’t owe you anything.

On January 20th, 2025 and forward, they’re going to try to take our rights. They may succeed.

Men have to take from us because they’ve gaslit themselves into seeing us as the enemy, despite having driven us away by their own actions centered around self interest.

“It’s not all men. But it sure is a lot of you.”

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blackynsupremacy · 2 days ago

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ARE WE STILL

FRIENDS?

pairing: smallville!clark kent x black!fem!reader

summary: as a junior at smallville high, you’re known as many things: captain of the girl’s basketball team, straight a-student, a bit of a tomboy, and the younger sister of pete ross by three minutes. as twins, you share many things, including your childhood best friend, clark kent. prom is nearing soon and you’re both dateless, so you and clark agree to arrive together as friends. after the view of a yellow dress, a slow dance, and a moment in the photo booth, you start to doubt if you’ll both leave the same way you came.

a/n: you can imagine jeremy as whoever you want.

contains: lots of words. fluff, brother’s best friend trope, reader is pete’s twin sister, reader knows, angst, mild swearing, arguing, friends to lovers, kissing/making out, hurt/comfort, love confession, clana is broken up, jealousy, betrayal.

a/n: finally another clark fic! anybody got ideas for tsay chapter 5? i want it to be action packed fr.

taglist: @afrogirl3005 @rosiestalez @paisholotus @sabrinasopposite @stereotypicalbarbie @ellethespaceunicorn @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @thabiddie23 @sheydnni @tryingtograspctrl @elitesanjisimp @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @camiesully @supaprettyg

“come on, kent! is that all you got?”

you were taunting him as he tried to guard you from making winning shot of your one v. one basketball game on kent farm. clark kent may have been six-foot-four with a strapping athletic build, but he wasn’t the captain of smallville high’s lady crows basketball team. due to your skill, leadership, and strategy, your girls have had an undefeated season so far. you continue to dribble and swiftly turn around to catch clark off guard before you jump to shoot the basketball which dove perfectly within the net. clark exasperatedly chuckles while you break down into an enthusiastic shimmy of a victory dance. your twin brother, pete ross, shook his head with a smirk after observing clark’s defeat. you both knew that for an exceptional farm boy that hailed from another planet couldn’t even school you on the court, had to mean something was off. in these playful competitions, you’ve had your fair share of wins with clark, but also definitely some losses. with a slow clap of his hands, pete approached clark to pat him on the back in playful sympathy,

“damn. it looks like you’ve lost your mojo, clark.” he quipped.

you and clark playfully roll your eyes. you sauntered to your brother and flick him in the forehead before you sassily chimed in,

“boy, shut up! you do realize that even clark can lose to me, right?”

“hey—ow! i’m just saying. clark, could’ve super sped around you and easily taken that shot.” he yelped in pain. clark chuckled before contributing to the conversation,

“first of all, pete, that would be cheating. second, my focus has been everywhere with prom coming up this weekend. you’re still going with me, aren’t you, pete?”

clark stretched his arms and you didn’t miss the slight flex of the bulging biceps he possessed. you always thought he was attractive, smart, and overall the perfect candidate for a boyfriend, but there was already so many complications entailed in that. first, there was the principle that he was your friend and your brother’s best friend. you basically grew up together, so you always thought lines like that should never be crossed no matter how much your heart desired for him at times. second, there was lana lang, clark’s first love. lana and clark’s relationship was complicated as well. one minute they’re together in perfect loving bliss, then the next, it’s back to being friends. this time, they were back to friend zone for a long while. lana was a friend of yours along with chloe. it was odd being tight with girls you knew had feelings for the same guy as you, but somehow, you try not to let that cause a rift between you. plus, you’re starting to develop a new crush on this guy named, jeremy ford. he was a senior and the captain of the boy’s basketball team. you’ve had opportunities where you would practice with him one on one after school and hang out at the talon occasionally to share strategies to help out your teams. he was handsome, athletic, funny, popular, and a scholar, so you’ve figured that he would be perfect as your date to the prom. when you get the chance this week, you were finally going to ask him. lastly, there was the fact that you knew clark’s secret along with your brother.

you’ve never forgotten that shift in your friendship with clark after finding that ship in his shed. it all made sense on how he was able to get to places so fast and subdue the people who were powered by those damned green rocks. pete already had to deal with clark having the attention of chloe and him being friends with their long-time family enemy, lex luthor. it was such a shock to you, but unlike those others who had powers and abused them, you knew that clark only wanted to use his abilities for good. to clark’s relief, you were quicker to forgive and swear to secrecy than your brother who eventually came around.

“thanks, y/n. i knew i could count on you to understand.” clark said when you visited him in loft the night after finding out. “at least you can consider yourself the first girl to know—besides my mom, of course!” he’d joke and for some reason that made you feel special.

now, your bond was stronger as you had to show that he was still the boy you called a good friend whose ass you’d occasionally kick in some hoops, but another part of you knew that things could be riskier than before with all of the bizarre occurrences of smallville.

“about that—” pete hesitantly stated, rubbing the back of his neck. “teresa campbell asked me last week, man. i know that ever since you and lana split, we’d make it a stag night, but we can all still go as a group. as far as i know, it could be me, you, teresa, and y/n.” he explained cringing a bit at the look of slight disappointment on clark’s face. you were a bit peeved that pete had sideswiped clark like that and that he assumed you were dateless. well, you were, but just because you were twins didn’t mean he fully knew you and your plans.

“it’s no worries, man. we can all still have a great time. right, y/n?” clark inquired, shifting his blue eyes on figure and he bounced the basketball in your direction.

“yeah, but, whose to say i didn’t already have a date, pete? we may be twins, but i don’t have to tell you everything.” you rebutted with a sharp glare towards your brother, catching the ball and placing it on your hip. pete threw his hands up in surrender,

“now, hold up, n/n. the last time i checked you never mentioned him, okay? look, i’m sorry for assuming. who’d you have in mind?”

your bashfully shift your eyes between the two awaiting males before you answer,

“uh,— jeremy ford.”

you were a bit shocked as there was a pause of silence. like there was something you didn’t know. you sighed ready for whatever was about to come,

“what is it now?”

clark held onto your shoulders and turned you to face him to deliver the news in the most gentle, but direct manner possible.

“y/n, lana is going to prom with jeremy.”

you stood there in silence, trying to register the words that were spoken to you. maybe this was sick prank the guys were playing on you to hurt your already bruised ego.

“what? psh, no way. lana would’ve told me.” you deny, dismissing what you thought was a ludacris claim.

pete shook his head and crossed his arms before serving the explanation of the knowledge. given the fact they lived together, lana had told chloe that jeremy had been hanging around late at the talon after you’d leave. eventually, he and lana got to know each other and before they knew it, lana agreed to jeremy’s proposal of prom. then chloe passed the news on to clark and pete. as an aspiring journalist, chloe was going to get it straight from a reliable source, so it all had to be true.

chloe and lana knew for a fact that you had a crush on him and they’d tease you to just go for it, but you’d always dismiss them with the excuse of focusing on your studies to achieve a full-ride athletic scholarship. plus, you’ve never really had that much dating experience to begin with, so it was all a bit of a mess. pete and clark could see the dark cloud of hurt loom over your face. there was a stabbing, tingling pain within your gut. you thought that you and jeremy would be the perfect match. you both shared the same goals and interests, how could you have missed the signs of lost chances? what else were you expecting? lana had already dated clark, but no human nor alien had control over their feelings. it would’ve hurt a little less if lana gave you a head’s up. possibly she was afraid of how you would’ve react or affected your friendship. you never wanted to be the type of girl to end friendships over a crush anyway.

“n/n, say something. are you oka—” clark began to question, but you sharply cut him off.

“i’m fine, clark. lana and jeremy can do what they want, it’s not like he was my boyfriend or anything. what about you? lana is your ex.” clark watched in silence as you tried to play it off so cool, but it didn’t take his x-ray vision to see that you were crushed on the inside. he believed you didn’t deserve this at all. you’ve always been a great friend to him and lana. sometimes, you’d give him advice or a listening ear whenever there was a conflict weighing on him. you were the type of person that gave their all. you gave your all in your sport, teammates, academics, family, and friends. who was giving something back to you?

without another word, you looked at your watch and turned to your brother,

“it’s about time we head home, pete. mom will be calling if we don’t make it in time for dinner.— see you at school, clark?” you bid him a goodbye with a tight lipped smile and a side hug before placing the basketball back in his arms. you cross your arms and make your way into the passenger seat of pete’s car. the boys give each other a silent knowing glance and a casual dap of farewell before pete follows suit to drive you both back home. during dinner, your parents, abigail and bill ross, noticed that you weren’t your usual talkative self due to your obvious lack of appetite and dry responses to their questions about your day. when your mother mentioned the prom, you promptly asked to be excused to your bedroom, so that you could “study”. you wrapped up your plate, placed it in the fridge, and took your leave. once in your room, you didn’t waste time in plopping yourself into your bed. you bury your face into your pillow to muffle your sobs of agony. romance looked so good in the movies you’ve watched, but why did it have to hurt so bad in reality?

you lay on your side, facing the large, purple stuffed bear that sat on your other pillow. you sat up and smiled at it fondly. you picked it up and gave it a tight squeeze. clark had won it for you at the smallville harvest festival during your freshman year. it was one of those carnival games where you had to get three basketball shots in a row. you were just a rookie on the team and you were struggling because you wanted that bear so badly. clark happened to be there to watch the whole thing and like a superboy, he swooped in and made those three shots. there was a jovial glint within his baby blue eyes as he observed you spinning with the bear in your arms like a little child. you were so happy that you thought you could kiss him that day. clark simply saw you in a jam and was kind enough to help. that was when you started developing feelings. even though he was your brother’s best friend, you’d grown to see him as a prince charming of sorts. he had his flaws, but he always found a way to make it up somehow. your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice. it was his voice.

“there’s that smile i like to see.” you quickly wiped away your tears and whipped your head in his direction. there was clark kent, casually leaning against your door frame

“clark! uh, hey. what are you doing here? look, if you need to see pete, i think he’s in the den playing that game—” you try to explain, but he interrupted as he took his body away from the door and approached closer to your bed.

“actually, i came by to see you, y/n. may i?” you nod, acknowledging his request to sit on your bed. you nod, scooting over to make room and he proceeds to sit at your side. you gaze at his side profile. his perfectly fine nose, sculpted jawline, and who could miss the subtle pout in his naturally pink lips. now, his eyes met yours. the melanated skin of your cheeks begin to heat up the longer he held eye contact. there was an air of silence in the room. you were both deciding who should be the first to speak amidst this high school prom drama. clark then glanced at the stuffed bear in your arms, he tried not to blush as he was surprised that you kept it all of these years. he noticed how you held onto it with such a tight grip as if someone were to take it away at any moment. how wholesome he found that to be. a lopsided smile played on his lips as he spoke,

“you still kept that bear after all these years?”

you sniffled with a bashful chuckle,

“yeah, it seems so embarrassing. i’m pushing eighteen, but it’s my favorite thing—well, besides my backstreet boys t-shirt.” you both fill the room with soft laughter, enjoying each other’s presence.

“no, no. not embarrassing. it’s humiliating, actually—hey, ahaha!” clark jokes in which that earns him a couple whacks in the head from your pillow. your stomach cramps as you dissolve into laughter again,

“god, you’re such an ass! you just love to ruin the moment.” you giggle, trying to catch your breath. you place the pillow to its original spot. clark flashes his pearly canines and leans back onto your bed.

“as long as i get to see you cry tears of joy instead of sadness, i’d gladly do it again.” he responds, gingerly reaching a hand towards your face to swipe a loose tear with his thumb. your cheeks heat up again as your stomach flips from his touch.

“i know today wasn’t exactly the greatest, but it’s good to hear you laugh, y/n.”

your own lopsided grin graces your features before you shift your gaze to the bear,

“i appreciate it, clark. you’re always swooping in to save the day, whether it’d be meteor freaks or teenage heartbreak.”

there was another beat of silence. before practically speeding to the ross house, clark couldn’t erase the image of your somber expression from his mind. this was everyone’s first prom and even though clark didn’t get the chance to go with lana, he didn’t want to experience it on a sour note. now that you were down in the dumps, he definitely didn’t want you to have that same feeling. he didn’t want you to look back on such a significant event with disdain, so he came over and took his chance.

“y/n, would you go to prom with me—as my date?”

upon hearing his question, you froze for a second before peering at the farm boy beside you. you were in a tough spot, sure, but you didn’t want to be his pity date, no matter how much you liked him.

“what?! clark—i know i seemed pretty tight about the jeremy thing, but i don’t want your pity. we can just go as a group of friends with pete and teresa. just like he planned.” you protested, but clark took ahold of your hands as the expression of sincerity etched on his face.

“y/n, please, just hear me out,” he urged, caressing his thumbs along your hands. “i promise you, it’s not pity. i genuinely want to spend time with you and i want us to enjoy our first prom.” you fell silent as your gaze softened while listening to his plea, “we could make it one of the best nights of our lives, even if it’s just for a little while—besides, who better to go to prom with than the best victory dancer i know?”

yet again, he flashed his contagious smile that you’ve silently adored for years as a twinkle danced within his eyes. you pondered on this impromptu proposal. clark had a point, this was going to be your first prom, an awaited moment in most teenaged girls lives that they would look back on in the future. you wanted to have a good time regardless of the jeremy situation. plus, if you accept, you’d have a date with your longtime crush! your brother’s best friend of all people. you were going as friends of course, but you couldn’t imagine this moment with anyone else. what could possibly go wrong? a smile you couldn’t contain plays on your full lips as your brown eyes matched his gaze before you finally said,

“you know what? i’d love to clark!”

“you would? really?”

“yes. we’ll come in together as friends, let loose, and bust a move or two.” you answer already envisioning the pleasant evening ahead. “why? do you want me to take back my answer?” you jokingly quiz with an arched brow.

“oh, n-no, no! i’m actually really glad you said yes.” he protested with relief washing over his features.

“then it’s a date, kent!” you take one of your hands to rest it on his shoulder before placing a brief kiss upon his cheek before you whisper, “you got super speed, so don’t i expect you to be late.”

clark’s cheeks flushed with the red shade of excitement from your touch. he surely didn’t expect that from you, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain.

“well, in that case, i’ll pick you up at seven, ross.”

clark bids you goodnight and you could hardly sleep with the knowledge of this upcoming weekend. the very next morning at the breakfast table, your parents are ecstatic to learn the news of your plans for prom, especially your mother. you both enthusiastically converse, conjuring up ideas of a dress, shoes, accessories, makeup, and hair. she helps to make the necessary appointments for the days leading up to it. while at school, you decided to stick around to clark, pete, or fly solo rather than you usually did with chloe and lana. you would be cordial when you see them in the hallway, but before they could talk about prom, you’d find a way to promptly excuse yourself. the last thing you wanted to hear was anything about lana and jeremy. you didn’t want to hear the conversation as if they didn’t know that you know.

“i gotta go. i have a meeting with my coach.”

“can’t. i don’t wanna be late for class!”

even when jeremy tried to catch you in the hallway. you’d gave him the same energy,

“i can’t go to the talon today, jere. i have an appointment after school.”

“i think i’ll just practice solo today.”

with each passing day after school, your mother had taken you shopping to find the dress that was perfectly made for you along with getting a well deserved mani-pedi and an eyebrow wax. she would just help with hair and makeup on the day of. your mother doted on you every step of the way. you couldn’t forget how you had to ask the dress shop employee for kleenex because she was going to burst into tears when saw you in the dress you’ve chosen. you were shocked because this was abigail ross, the no nonsense county judge of smallville that fights for justice with an iron fist. you weren’t really big on dresses in general, but for this occasion with clark, you wanted him to see that you were more than pete’s twin.

the early evening of prom makes its presence known. throughout the entire day, your stomach rumbles with an immense amount of anxiety and piquancy. you burst out into a song while taking your shower, a soft muffled hum fills the bathroom when you brush your teeth. as your mother helps you to get ready, she affirms your beauty with each dab and blend of the cosmetics applied to your face. her gifted hands gingerly work through the coiled tresses of your dark hair in the desired style that you’ve seen one of your favorite singers sport in a magazine. as if it were like a cinderella-esque transformation, your final look was completed once you’ve donned your dress, jewelry, and heels. it was finally time for one of the best nights of your life.

clark stands at the front door of the ross house. he’s not sure how many times he’s been fidgeting with his black bow tie or glancing down at the freshly arranged corsage within the plastic container, but he knows one thing for a fact.

he was nervous.

he’s been looking forward to this all week. it was a casual plan set up by two friends, but why did he feel like he was going to mess everything up? were things going to change between you and him like how it did with him and lana? or him and chloe? he was psyching himself out, but he needed to swallow whatever doubt he had and just enjoy this like a somewhat normal teenager would, especially with someone he enjoyed spending time with. with a steady hand, his knuckles raise to knock on the front door to which pete answers within seconds. they perform their casual greeting with a hello and a dap.

“hey, clark! you’re right on time. i see you styling with the corsage.” pete joked to which clark chuckled as he invited clark to step in the living room.

“i’d sure hate to disappoint your sister, so thanks! it’s still cool with you that she’s my date, right?” clark questioned, a trace of timidity within his voice. when he first told pete about being your date, he’d surely thought his friend would tell him off by crossing that boundary. to clark’s surprise, pete took the news well.

“yeah, man! she’s been looking forward to this all week. besides, you’re going as friends, so it’s not anything that i’m worried about. my mom’s up there with her now, so she should be down in a few.” pete replied, standing coolly with his hands tucked in his pockets.

they compliment each other on their respective ensembles before clark’s eyes peruses the room. his sensitive ears pick up on the sound of the bustling, grating voices of the other ross brothers who had came to visit to see the twins off for their first prom. mark, mike, and sam along with your father all hurry to the living room to greet clark with more daps and hugs as if clark were their own. it seemed that every ross had made an appearance, all except for you. abigail hurriedly came down the staircase. she frantically waved her hands to signal for the men to keep their voices down as you were about to make your grand entrance. she turns to clark with an elated expression,

“clark, i’m so glad you’ve made it. she’s all done and ready.” your mother pauses, turning her head up to the staircase to call out your name.

“honey, clark’s here! let’s see you, so you don’t be late!”

after a sixty second beat of silence, the sound of your heels reverberated through the air as you descended from the staircase. every head turned in your direction. clark’s soft blue gaze didn’t dare to pull away as you reached the bottom of the steps. you were front and center. you were the belle of the ball. he stared in awe with his mouth slightly agape as you wore a lemon, satin maxi dress that accentuated the warm toned glow of your brown skin. it had a heavy hearted cut in the front while it exposed the skin of your back like a halter top. the garment complimented your figure perfectly and matched with the golden hoop earrings your mother let you borrow. the soft makeup that was applied to your features made each of them stand out. the sleek mascara, shimmering eyeshadow and the luminous pink gloss painted on your pouty lips made you look like you’ve walked out of a magazine. even though you received the warm gazes and compliments of your parents and brothers, you were still awaiting for what clark had to say. he only stood there staring at you as if he were trying to silently analyze a piece in an art museum. he looked so dashing in the sleek, noir tux that he wore. his physique had grown to be bulkier over the years, so you certainly didn’t miss the toned outline of his body. you gave him your full attention as he softly called out your name. you spectated as he deliberately approached you. his adam’s apple bobbed within his throat and he gulped, so that he didn’t fumble over what he had to say because he meant the next words that escaped from his mouth,

“you’re so beautiful.” he proclaims, to which your family coos. he easily opens the plastic container that withheld the corsage and holds his palm out for you place your wrist in. there was a certain spark that you weren’t sure that both of you felt when his fingers brushed against your skin as he slid the floral accessory on your wrist. his soft grip on your wrist lingered as you know that he can hear your heart racing within your chest, but he’d never call you out because he didn’t want to embarrass you. with the widest smile you reply with a tone of gratitude,

“thank you, clark! you look handsome as always.” his expression matches yours and he thanks you for the compliment before your mother urges you both to pose for some pictures. after some photographs and a wise talk of safety, you all bid your family goodbye. pete had to leave to go pick up teresa in his car, so it was only fair that you’d ride with clark. with your hand wrapped around clark’s bicep, he leads you to the faithful, red pickup truck that you’ve ridden in on several occasions, but now you look at it as your awaiting chariot while clark opens the passenger side for you to sit and safely buckle in.

after a brisk ride of small talk, wise cracking, and car karaoke, he pulls into the student parking lot where students who were dressed to impress were flooding towards the entrance to get into the gym. you sat there hesitantly, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding. at the sound, clark turns his eyes to the glowing profile of your fretting countenance. he can already tell that you’re internally freaking out. you haven’t really talked to lana nor jeremy all week and now what were you going to do if you ran into them? you couldn’t make too many excuses to avoid them in this situation. with a gentle hand, clark reaches over to intertwine your fingers together.

“hey—look at me.” his tenor voice softly urges. you reluctantly look at the signature benevolent, blue gaze of your best friend. you hate how weak it makes you when clark holds such intense eye contact, he means business.

“you’re going to have a great time, y/n. whatever worry is going on in your head right now, forget about it just for tonight. would you do that for me?”

“that’s not fair, clark. you know i’d do anything for you.” you both dissolve into a fit of laughter. when it dies down, you squeeze onto his hand and unbuckle your seatbelt before turning to him again, “what are you waiting for, kent? you said i was gonna have a great time, so show me a great time.”

with a grin of anticipation on his lips, he briefly releases your hand to exit the drivers’ seat and open the passenger in which your hand is instantly reunited with his. you both stroll together through the entrance, down the hallway, and into the wide, dark gym that was illuminated by colorful lights, the pumped up bass of the music playing through the stereo, and the multitude of conversations between your classmates. your brown eyes darted around the area. you see there was some tables, a couple of them were filled with concessions. there was even a line forming for what seemed to be a photo booth, in which you keep a mental note for it because you want a stab at it before you go.

most of their talking is ceased when they saw you two walking arm in arm, their eyes observed you two in awe the further you both stepped in. at first, you were starting to feel awkward under the several pairs of eyes on you. were these looks also varying in curiosity? admiration? envy? they expected clark to clean up well, but as for you, they were stunned to see the tomboyish basketball captain pop out as if she was tyra banks. although he didn’t want to seem too arrogant, clark experienced a mix of satisfaction and jealousy from the attention you were getting, especially from some of the guys. especially from jeremy, who was at first enthusiastically conversing with lana until he saw what all the commotion was about: you. piqued, jeremy peered at you from across the room as you were caught off guard when clark instinctively, yet smoothly snaked an arm around your waist to bring you closer.

“it’s okay. they’re just experiencing true beauty for the first time, it’s a very common reaction.” he wittily said with a cheeky smile. with a heated face, you looked at your friend, still convincing yourself of his status in your life, that just blatantly called you beautiful again. was this real life? he even clung to you as if one of these dudes would sweep you away. you were sure, he would instantly approach lana at the mere sight of her.

within a minute or two, pete and his date, teresa, meet you guys at the side of the dance floor. you instantly hit it off with your brother’s date as you two enthusiastically compliment each other on your dresses and engage in small girl talk. clark felt lucky that he had the prettiest girl on his arm tonight. he wasn’t sure why, but that was all he could he see you as right now. not the athlete, nor his best friend’s sister. he just saw you, y/n ross, in her element. the more he carried on in casual conversation with you, the more drawn in he seemed to be by your presence. it warmed his heart to be called your friend or — so he thought. it was all coming together when the upbeat tempo of the music shifted to something that presented an opportunity for you and clark to know each other better like you haven’t before.

the iconic opening notes of the piano from des’ree’s “kissing you” began to fill the room as couples swiftly gather together to the dance floor. when you listen to the songstress’ soprano voice, the butterflies in your stomach are frolicking when you see clark’s open palm before you. you loved this song. it was from the soundtrack of romeo + juliet, film about a forbidden love, a line crossed. why were you having these thoughts? you were just friends, it would just be a dance. nothing less, nothing more.

“may i have this dance? out of the many abilities i have, two left feet isn’t one of them, so i got you.” he lightly smiles, awaiting for your answer. he attentively watches as you rub your glossed lips together, a habit of your nervousness. you turn to him. in this moment, there was no thought of lana, nor jeremy. there was no thought of heartbreak, and certainly no inhibitions. without hesitation, you grasp his hand before meeting his gaze.

“you may, just don’t step on my toes. this pedicure wasn’t cheap!” you whisper with soft laughter following from you both before he leads you to the dance floor. when you find your place, his eyes don’t leave yours when he takes your hands to rest on his broad shoulders while his rest on your waist. his thumbs barely graze against the exposed skin of your back as his feet lead you both to sway so easily to the orchestral sound of the ballad. the world outside fades, leaving only the warmth of his presence. you find solace as you feel the soft press of his hands on your waist, the comforting weight of his fingers resting just above the curve of your hips. your fingers wrap a little tighter around his neck to the point where your fingertips graze against the nape where part of his dark curls flawlessly cascade. you’re not tripping, there’s an undeniable electricity between you when your bodies absentmindedly draw closer while you continue to engage in this “platonic” dance.

“you sure you can keep up?” clark teases, a playful glint in his eyes, breaking the silence as you sway together. the light catches his pearly smile, his pristine canines illuminating from the way he looks at you—as if you were more than what you’ve always seemed to be in his life. you giggle, feeling the deliberate rhythm pull you even closer.

“boy, please. if i can break your ankles on the court, i can have you twirling like a ballerina on this dance floor, trust.” you saucily yet softly quip, your heartbeat growing as the vocal riffs of des’ree grow more passionate. with each step on the floor, clark guides you effortlessly, his movements confident yet unhurried, as if savoring every moment like it’s the last dance of the night. more like the last night of your lives.

“alright, n/n, just don’t get too dizzy on me,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. you were sure he could feel the goosebumps forming on your skin. you’re so sprung in the sway of his words and the gentle pulse of the music, the outside world completely forgotten. he even takes the opportunity to release one of your hands from his shoulder to smoothly spin you around at the bridge. when you come back, your body is flush against his. you’re basically heart to heart at this point. you don’t even notice the speculating eyes that burned into you. you don’t even notice the look of realization that dawned upon clark, lana, and pete: you were obviously in love with clark kent and it wasn’t just now. it’s been brewing within your heart for years. the weight of reality seems to dissipate, leaving behind only the two of you and this connection beyond friendship that felt so real. his powder blue gaze locked on yours, an unspoken spark flickering between you.

“you know,” he begins, his voice lowers as if he just wanted you to hear what he had to say. like your own little secret, “i’d never thought that finding ourselves dancing like this would feel so—perfect. like out of a movie or something.”

you tilt your head slightly, the air between you shifted as you reply softly, “it really does, doesn’t it? plus, i love this song. it’s from one of my favorite movies.” his thumbs brush against your bare back, igniting a warmth that spreads through your absolute everything. he gulps, getting himself together for what he’s about to say next,

“between you and me—i’d either rewind to this part over and over, or i wouldn’t want the movie to end at all.”

the pale skin of clark’s face paint with a shade of crimson as you lose yourselves in each other’s eyes, the last notes of the song begin to fade. you find yourselves leaning in closer and closer. was this actually happening? in front of lana? in front of your brother? were you both going to—reality creeps back in, the echo of the final chord concludes this ethereal moment. yet, in that fleeting instant, it feels as if time has stood still—if only for a little while. as the final note lingers in the air. you pull back slightly, just enough to read the mixture of emotions in his eyes—surprise, contentment, and something deeper lurking beneath the surface. you clear your throat and join in the applause of the crowd of students when the music instantly reverts back to the vibe of something upbeat to rock with. you clark retire yourselves to sit at one of the empty tables as you were complaining about your feet hurting from the heels you’ve been wearing. being the gentleman that he was, he helps to release your ailing feet from the shoes before venturing off to use the restroom and get some refreshments from the concession table.

while you were occupied massaging your feet, you now feel the presence of two beings sit at each side of you. you just assume it’s your brother coming to rag on you.

“pete, if you’re here to rub in my face about how i shouldn’t have worn heels this high, i will literally bop you with one.” you sass, still looking down until hear familiar feminine chuckles.

“if that’s the case, then i wouldn’t dare to say a word!” you know that quick and precise wit to be none other than your friend, chloe sullivan. you froze and turn your head to see her sitting on your right with lana lang on your left. they both looked radiant in their evening gowns as if they were contestants in a beauty pageant, especially lana. your mood starts to shift once you remembered why you avoided them in the first place. you were praying to god that clark could use his kryptonian speed to rescue you from this awkward situation.

“hey, guys. long time, no see.” you neutrally greet as you place the heels back on.

“long time, no see indeed. it feels like you haven’t had the time to be around us lately—we miss you!” lana mentioned, placing a manicured hand on your knee. what gives her the right to touch you after what she’s done. you were gonna keep your cool because clark should be back any minute now.

“yeah, i’ve just been working to get this full-ride and trying to get ready for tonight. i never knew how much time that would take.” you quip, earning a chuckle from both of the girls.

“well, it looks like it all paid off— you look beautiful!” chloe says flashing her pearly smile, a twinkle within her green eyes as lana nods in agreement. although you were peeved with them, you couldn’t help, but to smile at her compliment.

“i appreciate it, guys. ya’ll look great, too.”

there was a few beats of silence, lana finally removes her hand from your knee and twiddles with her fingers. with the clearing of her throat, she addresses the elephant in the room,

“so—um, it looks like you came with clark tonight. how did your brother take that?” you shoot her a side glance and lean back within your seat, glancing at the corsage on your wrist.

“pete’s cool with it. clark and i just happened to be dateless and he asked me to go with him. we’re just here as friends, of course.” you shrug.

“oh really, now?” she further questioned.

after the slow dance, all three of you found it bit hard to believe when you brought that up. something in lana faltered when she heard that clark had asked you. there was that pressure weighing in her stomach and chest, when she swallowed it felt like there was a lump. her hands gripped onto the fabric of her dress as she was trying to keep her facial expression as normal as possible. you didn’t miss the trace of jealousy within her hazel gaze. if that’s how she wanted to do this, you were about to go in for the kill.

“mhm. sorta like how i’m cool with you going with jeremy ford.”

lana furrowed her brows in confusion at your statement.

“what’s that supposed to mean, y/n?”

“lana, let’s not play games. i’ve told you about my crush on him, you tell me that i should go for him, but then here you are, on his arm here tonight! what’s crazier is that i had to find out from clark and pete.” you comment cutting your gaze over at chloe, letting her know that she wasn’t out of the woods for her role in this disaster.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know that i had to tell you every single that happens in my life. especially in who i date. besides, he was the only one who asked me and i just went along with it because neither of you never made a move!” lana made a valid point, but the mystery was why didn’t she just give you a head’s up, so you still combatted her claim.

“lana. i don’t give a damn about who you date because obviously you didn’t when you and clark got together, knowing that chloe and i had feelings for him. it hurt us, yes, but you were decent enough to say it to our faces because our friendship mattered. i’m not even sure if that’s true now because this time, you just told chloe. i get that she’s roommate, but why? why couldn’t tell me—

“because i didn’t want you telling clark that i’ve moved on so quickly, okay? i’m not exactly over him and he didn’t ask me, so i felt that i didn’t have a choice.” the word vomit spews after she you cuts off. you all take a beat of silence before she continues,

“i’ve seen how close you two have been getting. i-i don’t know what it is, but suddenly he’s like an open book when he’s around you. even when we were together, on and off, he’d never be that way with me, so i guess i didn’t tell you because i was afraid you’d run off and tell him in a heartbeat. i-i guess i went out with jeremy and didn’t tell you because i was—”

it was now your turn to cut her off.

“jealous?”

conceding, lana silently nodded. it’s amazing how she was so quick to call clark a coward back in the past and pressure him for a truth she wasn’t sure she could even handle, but now look at her. being secretive all because of her obsession with clark exposing himself as who he truly is while they were together.

“wow, so i guess that dance really burned you up. didn’t it, lana? now you see what happens when you’re not completely honest with people who you claim to be their friend.” you sharply retort, venom in your tone.

“y/n, i’m—” she started to speak, but stopped as she did a double take to the male in question heading in your direction. speak of the devil—well, alien in your case. as if his timing weren’t perfect enough, clark had finally appeared with two cups of punch along with two decorated cupcakes. your favorite dessert.

“i hope i didn’t keep you waiting that long, y/n. there was a long line for the both bathroom and the snacks.” he chuckled as his eyes took notice of his friends, but he felt there was something that went down between you. there was a tension and the vibe wasn’t very pleasant.

“lana, chloe hey!” he cordially greets them both while handing you the refreshments. he grins as your facial expression softens in contentment at the sight of the delicacies, you thank him as you take it into your hands. he makes small talk with lana and chloe, asking them if they’re enjoying the event in which they respond with a “yes” and “mhm” as they nod. it was only a matter of time before what you were worrying about came to fruition. although you were glad at his presence, he could see that you were clearly uncomfortable with the girls sitting at your sides. clark kent guaranteed a good night for both of you, so he had to do what he had to do.

“i’d hate to intrude, but you guys mind if i sat with y/n? i believe i owe her some quality time back for being away for so long.” he requests, awaiting for the girls departure. as soon as lana and chloe heard the words, “quality time”, they instantly acknowledged that he wanted to sit with you, alone. after witnessing what happened, chloe saw it in their best interest if they did leave you and clark alone. no matter how much lana wanted to stay, she still had jeremy to entertain for the night.

“that’s no problem! we were actually just leaving.” with that, chloe stood and took lana’s arm, whisking them both to the other side of the gym before lana could say another word. clark took the seat that chloe had sat in, he peered over to see you happily, but silently indulging in the cupcake. although he didn’t want to ruin the vibe, he still had a hunch and questioned you about what happened previously in his absence.

“hey—are you okay? it looked like you wanted to get out of there.” it was sweet of him to check in on you so you just gave it to him straight.

“yeah, i’ll be fine, clark. lana and i had a fight. it was obviously about jeremy and—” you paused, gazing in his direction, “other things, but i don’t wanna talk about it now. i’m still gonna have a good night with you.” you glance over to the area where the photo-booth station is. “it looks like the line at the photo-booth is slowing down. let’s get a picture after i’m done.”

“yeah, sure! i’m up for that it’s gonna be fun.” he enthusiastically nods, agreeing to the next step.

“you gonna eat that?” you question gesturing to the cupcake that was still in his hand. you had this habit where he would have a morsel of food and you would always ask if he would finish it. no matter what, clark would always give it to you and this was no different. with a chuckle, he gave in. you didn’t notice that some icing had spread to the corner of your lip, but he did.

“hey, hold still. you got something right—” he paused, using his hand to guide your chin, so that you could be face to face. with a gentle swipe of his thumb, the icing disappears. “there.” he finishes, “don’t want anything to spoil our photo op, now would we?” you both erupt in giggles. after serving him a thank you, you both refresh with some punch and make your way to the short line of the photo booth. you two carry on in casual conversation as the first two couples go in, do their thing, and come out leaving with one strip of about five photos. it was now your turn to go in the rectangular booth. it was a bit of a squeeze. given clark’s tall stature. there was a bench, but it looked like it could only hold one person once clark sat down. you inwardly thought a “bless his heart” as his body almost took up the whole bench. still standing, you giggle when he’s about to push the “start” button and you both see a ten second countdown presented on the screen.

“clark! how are we supposed to take pictures when i can’t even sit down? now, i only have five seconds.”

he gazed at you and simply patted his leg, suggesting you’d sit there. you frantically shake your head, quickly declining his offer. you weren’t sure if you should cross that line in this tight space with the your brother’s best friend.

“i know it may look weird to you, but we literally don’t have time. i’m good with it, so c’mon!” he urges, laughing.

“clark, no!” you resist not containing your own chuckles. you’re hysterical as he grasps your wrist and pulls your body to his, so that you were sitting upon his leg. you both look at the direction of the screen count to one and then you hear the first click as it captured your giggling faces. another timer starts when you shift to a normal pose of you wrapping an arm around his shoulder and his around your waist. you both promptly smile for the second time. at the third click, he’s gazing at your profile smiling while you stick your tongue out while throwing up a peace sign. at the fourth, you look over at him to match the never ceasing eye contact which the camera captures. as the timer starts for the final photo, your head is spinning as your senses are all over the place. within these last ten seconds, you look down at his rose red lips while his arm pulls you in closer on his lap. you free hand goes on a journey to reach for his jawline where your fingers graze against the sharp edge of the bone before stopping to completely hold his face. clark leans forward, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. your awaiting lips barely ghosting over one another. both of your eyes shut as you pass the point of no return. at the final click, it captures the moment of you and clark kent, tenderly kissing each other for the first time. you’re both lost in the kiss between you lingers for a few more seconds before you open your eyes and the realization of what you’re doing dawns on you.

what the hell just happened?

as if you inherited kryptonian speed, you shoot up from your place on clark’s lap and hastily walk out of the gym towards the back exit. without wasting time, clark called out for you in protest snd was swift enough to collect your photo strip and jog in the direction of where you left. when you pushed open the door, you stood with your back against the brick wall as you let the hot tears cascade down your brown cheeks. you didn’t care if your mascara was running, what were you thinking? you loved the kiss, you loved clark. it was obvious that he was enjoying it as much as you did, but did it hold that same sentiment for him as it did for you? you cross your arms, scolding yourself for being such a hypocrite. you just told lana off for going out with a guy you liked while you, her trusted friend, kissed her ex-boyfriend. you weren’t having a good night and it all seemed so screwed up now.

you sob quietly and stop when you hear the door creak open to reveal clark. he softly calls your name and attempts to reach out to you, but you turn from him and wipe away at your face.

“clark, w-we shouldn’t have done that! we should not have done that.” you reiterate, and start to ramble after you turn to face him again, “clark, what about pete? what’s he gonna say if he finds out? it was already hard enough when you told us about your secret, but i don’t want you to lose him as a friend because of me. i don’t want to lose you because i love you and our friendship too much for that to happen.” silently, he looks down at and you pause, sobbing out your confession.

“you want to know why lana didn’t tell me about jeremy? she’s mad because of how close we’re getting. she’s mad because i know a part of you that she doesn’t, clark— and you know what? i love how close we’ve been getting. i love that you can be honest with me without holding back. i love that you can come to me about the issues with your family. i love that you use your abilities to help and protect others, including me. now i don’t blame her for getting jealous because—” you stop to take his hands within your own and stare straight into his eyes, finally mustering up the courage to say, “i love you, clark. i love you so much. alien or not, it’ll never change how i’ve felt about you. you may think it all you want, but you’re not a monster and you’re not a freak of nature. you’re you. that’s why i’ll always be there for you the best that i can, clark. whether you feel the same way or not.”

clark’s heart raced as he absorbed your words, the weight of your recent confession hanging thick in the air as you wait for an answer, any sign for how he felt. he felt a warmth spread through him, his mind trailing back through memories of late-night conversations, stolen glances, and moments filled with unspoken understanding between you two.

“i-i…don’t know what to say,” he finally uttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“then show me, clark.” you softly urged with a firmness not daring to break eye contact, “you either stay or leave. you make the call.”

deep inside him, something stirred—a realization that had been hiding deep in the shadows of his heart that’s been there all along. as he looked into your brown eyes, the intensity of your gaze opened something within. so gingerly, he stepped closer, his breath hitching as he reached out to cup your face in his hands. “y/n, i—i want to stay. i want to give you the chance that you deserve because you’ve always been there for me and you just get me. you’re the only girl i can truly be myself with and when you said that you don’t see me as a freak, it only confirmed what i’ve been feeling.”

he gulped, his gaze softening upon your figure as his adam’s apple bobs in his throat before concluding his statement,

“what if i showed you—that i believe what we did in the photo-booth wasn’t a mistake?”

“oh, clark.” you sigh out in resolve before placing your hands on his shoulders, promptly leaning in, and finally closing the distance of your lips for the second time. the first time was gentle, magical, and tender. this kiss however, had more desperation and your movements more fervent. he backed himself up against the wall, naturally guiding you closer, so your bodies were connected. he snakes his arms securely around your waist while your lips move in sync with each other. you lean your head back, sighing as he holds your jaw to sensually entrap your full bottom lip within his. if you wanted to know the feeling of being drunk, this, right here, had to be the epitome of it when you took the bold step of swirling your tongue around his. a hum vibrates deep from his chest and into your mouth when he plays along. this was it—no more doubt, no more guarding your hearts against the unknowns of what you could be together.

while you were lost in each other, lana lang had wanted to find you so, she could hopefully talk things out with you after the confrontation. she left jeremy behind and stepped out of the gym, trying seeking you amidst the crowd before going outside and around to the back of the school. ever so stealthily, her steps faltered as she caught sight of you, her friend, and clark, her ex, caught in the rapture of the most passionate of kisses. she didn’t dare to utter a word nor spoil the moment with an outburst. she didn’t want to ruin things than they already were between you. feeling a mixed pang of hurt, anger, jealousy and defeat, the last thread of hope snapped inside her. with the sting of her watering hazel eyes, she turned back to quietly retreat and find chloe, so they could immediately go home. now, she was leaving behind the remnants of what could have been between her and clark, while you and him are unaware of the heartbreak left lingering in the night.

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tossawary · 8 hours ago

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Recent "Star Trek" reboot universes have really tried to sell me on three different romances for Spock with other TOS characters whom he did not have romantic relationships (at least not positive ones) with in TOS, which makes it particularly annoying when some fans try to squirm away from the idea of ST ever doing a future reboot or remake in which Spock/Kirk are explicitly queer.

Like, "But it's not in the original! They want to be faithful to the original!" really, REALLY does not pass the "I think you might just be discomforted by queerness and you should work on that, rather than making appeals to the authority of textual accuracy to avoid being called a homophobe or transphobe" check here. Because it's not as though these reboots care about perfect faithfulness on pretty much any other front. We'll accept that the costumes and special effects get updated to move with the times, we'll accept wildly different characterization choices that essentially give these characters new personalities, we'll accept new timelines that change the entire political map of the galaxy, but you as a fan draw the line at "What if this character was bisexual this time?" Really???

To be clear, I am not trying to dunk on Spock/Uhura, Spock/Chapel, or Spock/T'Pring here, I am merely trying to illustrate a frustrating double-standard. TOS Uhura does notably flirt with Spock several times! I see it! I remember TOS Chapel's feelings for Spock being one-sided, but I also don't think it's a bad thing to try to update TOS's more misogynistic writing choices regarding female characters. TOS T'Pring did... kind of try to kill Spock because she didn't want to marry him, but again, I don't necessarily think it's immediately a bad thing to try to explore her as a character and her betrothal to Spock. It's fine! It's fine by me to explore new takes in new AUs.

It's just that none of that evidence from TOS for those relationships holds much of a candle to whatever the fuck Kirk and Spock had going on to inspire The Premise. "Amok Time" is an Experience. There's only so many times that Kirk can say something like, "The cost [of abandoning Spock] would have been my soul," before you want to put your face in your hands. They are taking shiny pebbles from TOS and trying their very best to sell them to me, sure, okay, while they are already standing in the shadow of Spirk Evidence Mountain.

(Yes, I have seen the recent "Unification" short film. Yes, I enjoyed it. No, I will not consider Spirk "officially canon" until all plausible deniability for the squirmy folks has been completely, explicitly destroyed by a HUMAN kiss onscreen.)

And okay, I must admit, at the moment, I don't actually want Spirk to eventually happen in "Strange New Worlds". I'm mostly indifferent to their Spock and Kirk actors, personally, and the writing for every canonical romantic relationship in both SNW and "Discovery" so far has gotten a solid "well, they certainly are standing next to each other" from me. I think the writers would fumble Spirk if they tried it in this specific AU and then annoying fans would use the fumble as evidence never to do Spirk or queer retakes on other TOS characters ever again, or as "proof" against other queer ST characters generally.

I'm mostly just mildly annoyed that I have to keep watching Spock, famously read by many people as a queer man, be straight and messy about it, especially when I'm not sure that SNW has had a canonically explicitly queer main crew member in a relationship yet...? There has not been a queer relationship onscreen in SNW, at least, unless you count M'Benga's daughter Rukiya and her glow cloud friend named Debra, which I personally don't, honestly. There's definitely nothing yet that comes remotely close to the screentime that Spock/Chapel and Spock/T'Pring get. (Sulu is not here yet. Scotty is. If Scotty gets to make out with a guy next season, or Uhura or Ortegas gets to make out with a lady, then I may be satisfied.) (Also, yes, I am aware of queer characters and relationships in other "Star Trek" shows, thanks.)

"Star Trek" is one of those properties where the double-standards regarding romantic interpretations of the original series jump out. "They can't do Kirk/Spock because they want to be faithful to the original!" Get real.

#mariner lower decks as a main character having incredibly stupid breakups with her girlfriend is the only thing keeping me afloat here #it's too fucking straight in here sometimes someone open a closet #tossawary star trek #spirk #spoilers

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jazjelspen · 3 days ago

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ex-girlfriend

jeff the killer x fem! reader

(you've dated Jeff the Killer since high school and have known him for longer. You stayed even after he became who he is now.. but what if you became stronger than him? what if you became a completely new person entirely? and left your heavy-hearted killer boyfriend to rot?)

(notes: took inspo from fanon Jeff but also tried to write him into his own person of course :) will try to be realistic when it calls for it + took some creative liberties in certain aspects too. I also apologize if the characterization of Jeff and others isn't super fitting.. I'm still getting used to how I want to express them and construct them as characters and the world around them.)

(CAUTION!!!: includes dark/serious themes, mention of murder/death, use of cannab1s, slight implications of s3x, toxic relationships, physical abu$3, possible ooc(?) )

(NOT PROOFREAD)

[part 1/2]

you and jeff are a killer duo.

seriously and figuratively.

you two have always been attracted to each other, a connection you two couldn't see but you both knew it was there.

the older and closer you two got, the more you two realized you had more in common than you two initially assumed..

way, wayyy more in common.

but to skip a long origin story short, let me give you some details on how you and Jeff suddenly got separated in the way that you did.

you see, you and Jeff resided at the Slender Mansion.. mostly just to get Slender off your backs due to you guys finding solidarity and a sense of safety in the deep dark forests, far away from home. it kept you two safe from police, as well as anyone or anything else that could be a threat.

of course, the specific area you went into was territory of the thin and tall boss of the forests.. and you would've been dead meat if you two didn't create a sort of alliance with the deity, not exactly proxies yet you two still had to trade something in return for your lives.. the lives and bodies of others seemed to quell Slenderman's hunger quite well.

nonetheless, tonight was one of those nights in which you and Jeff had to find more lives to take, blood to shed.

this night was different though, as Jeff was currently stuck in your shared room after going through a minor operation at the hands of Eyeless Jack, another being that came and left as he pleased.

"You think he'll recover quick?" You perked up as you watched EJ sew in the last stitch in a cut that reopened earlier as he was helping Jeff into your room, cutting up the thread before standing back as you two stared at your injured boyfriend from beside the bed he laid on.

"Not as quick as you may think," spoke EJ, his calm, raspy, and slightly demonic voice sounding monotone as he isn't intending to comfort you in the slightest but just to inform you. "Slenderman's healing properties can only work so fast, the rest depends on his own body's will to repair itself."

"Makes sense, with how much the victim fought back and the cops almost got him by a hair.. " you let out a huff through your nose before crossing your arms over your chest and shook your head slightly. "It has never gotten this bad before..." You murmured before moving away to open the door for EJ to find his way out. "I know you don't usually accept 'thank you's but, thanks. I owe you one for saving his ass."

"Hm." hummed the blue masked being. He may have the form of a human, and sound like one to a certain extent.. but he doesn't have the feelings of one for all you knew. "I'm sure you know how to stitch him up again if another injury reopens, I won't be here the rest of the week as I'll be doing my own business elsewhere."

"Got it.." You opened the creaky wooden oak door to let him through, and he left just as fast as he came in.

Closing the door behind you and letting go of the rusty brass door knob, you sighed in exhaustion.

"Yknow, you've been awfully quiet--"

"Shut the fuck up or I'm going to slice your throat."

Your shoulders dropped as soon as you heard Jeff's empty threat escape his throat. You walked closer to him, your shoes making small thuds and the wooden floors creaking beneath your feet.

"There you are." you cooed, finally hearing him talk after being silent the entire time.. incredibly out of character for him yet you were sure the shame of getting as injured as he is now and having to be 'taken care of' definitely got to him. "I almost started missing you."

"Get my knife, get the rest of your shit, and let's move.. we have people to kill for fucks sake.." Jeff's hoarse voice cracked even further as he attempted to sit up yet the pain coming from his abdomen only caused his nerves his fire up, making him fall back onto the moldy mattress yelping in pain. "You're absolutely stupid for even thinking you're able to go out tonight Jeff." You proceeded to sit on the empty side of the bed beside him, your hand slowly reaching over to gently caress his brutally cut up cheek yet your lover only harshly smacked it away with the back of his own hand. "So.. you're telling me you're going to ignore what I fucking telling you to do?" Jeff groveled and huffed in irritation, if he wasn't so incapacitated he'd probably be pulling you by your arm or hair to get you to do what he told you. "Since when have you gotten so brave, doll?"

"Since I followed you and helped you kill your own family that night." You pulled your hand away, reminiscing the night when your Jeff turned into who he is now.

You remembered how much your heart swelled when you saw him covered in his family's blood, his fresh cut up smile and red inflamed burns across his body and face. You continued to love him just as much as you did before he became so disfigured.

He was your religion, and you followed him in devotion.

"Now, we still have to keep our deal with the big boss right? I'll do your kills for the night, then when your better tomorrow we'll finish up whatever else we have to do.. or hell we can just kill for fun to make it up to you, " you hopped off the bed as you spoke and walked over to a wooden rotting vanity in the corner of your room, with drawers that were unable to close and doors that were hanging by their hinges. Your hand reached over to get an empty crunched up ziplock bag and continued on to walk back to your boyfriend with the object in your hand. "What do you say? I'll even get you some of the good stuff to make you feel better." you spoke lovingly, your hand with the bag grazing over his misshapen nose as he inhaled it deeply with a faint sense of delight. It still lingered the smell of his favorite thing to smoke and get high off of.. aside from your kisses and affection of course.

"Fuck that smells good.." he mumbled before his beady black eyes then suddenly shot up at you with this look of angry hesitation. "This is the only damn time I'm ever letting you out of my sight, make it quick, come back, and if you take a fucking second too long I'll get up and drag you back by your hair myself, got it gorgeous?.."

"You won't even have to bother Jeff." you bent over slightly to give him a quick peck on the lips, but just as much as he was addicted to the green he was also addicted to your warmth, your lips, your presence and self.

You couldn't help but have to suddenly sustain your own body weight by resting an arm beside Jeff's head as his own uninjured arm went to grab you by the back of your head to pull you closer in a deeper, much more passionate kiss.

Hearts beating aggressively in a dark passion that was just as fiery and scarlet as the blood you two would spill on the daily, the faint smell of dried blood, mud, and rubbing alcohol reeked as you two struggled to inhale air with your noises clashing against each other, his aggressive and hungry kisses tasting of iron but also of old cigarettes and booze.

Normally this would disgust any one else that wasn't you, but you liked the way he smelled, how he tasted.. it reassured you that this was in fact Jeff, your Jeff.

Eventually, he would finally let you go by harshly pushing you away in order to break the kiss. He knew that if you stayed any longer he was gonna want you all to himself for the rest of the night, as close to him as you physically could.

"Get out of here and get back, ______. Don't make me wait longer than I have to."

You smiled at him, a sweet and sinister little smile that would somehow always get him hard every time you did it.

"You've got nothing to worry about."

two weeks.

two weeks passed since you disappeared that night.

Jeff recovered the night after you left, but you could imagine the absolute horror and rage he felt when he realized you never came back later that night.

With other residents also living in the mansion, residents with personalities and have bits of humanity left similar to Jeff, you can also imagine the slight wave of rumors to those that knew or noticed the two of you in your years in the mansion. Some say you made a deal with Slender and got to leave, others say that you got kidnapped, that you got brainwashed, caught by police, sacrificed to another higher being, stuck in an asylum or- simply that you died. There were endless possibilities but they all ended the same:

you hung Jeff dry, left his grasp and simply didn't come back.

Jeff would obviously try to get in contact with Slenderman as to know your condition, since he knew that the deity had the consciousness and psyches of every being or person he's made some kind of contact with in his hands.

Although he had to go through one, two, three of Slender's proxies, just to have a word with him somehow.. He would eventually get a word from the big boss through one of his more well known lackeys.

"She's fine, Jeffery. She isn't dead, she hasn't made any deals with him, and she isn't injured to death or whatever." the annoyed and exasperated voice of Masky would echo in the empty halls that the pair stood in, the arms of the mustard-yellow colored jacket would fold over his chest while also being in a sort of stance that expressed the fact that he simply just didn't want to be there.

"Then why the hell is she not back?? Does he know where she could be? If she was kidnapped? If she got arrested or put in a fucking ward?" Jeff yelled in an almost desperate sort of tone yet he would never admit it openly.

"Look, I don't fucking care whether she's alive, dead, stuck in a fucking hole or hell! if she's sucking some other guy's dick that isn't yours! But all I know that is that if she left on purpose he would've already had me or one of the others to get her back, but he hasn't so maybe she's nearby or some shit like that."

Anyone around could see that Jeff was on the verge of reaching over for his knife and cut Masky in half, yet he knew better than to do that to him of all people. "Does he at least know where she is?? I'll get her myself if I have to just give me a fucking address, some place to know where she could be!.."

If Masky wasn't wearing a mask, he'd probably be rolling his eyes to oblivion, irritated beyond belief at something like this even being a problem. "No. But as I already fucking said, if he isn't asking one of us to chase her down and get her back then you shouldn't have to overreact the way you are right now." the proxy proceeded to brush past him without a care, but said one last small thing before he left Jeff's vicinity completely.

"By the way, stop bothering the other proxies about this as we could care less about your girlfriend, just get a new one and fuck off!"

Jeff stood there, trembling in an anger he hasn't felt since the day he attacked his bullies and his brother took the blame for it.

He wasn't exactly reassured, but he also knew that he was very limited and there wasn't much he could do.

But he was restless, so you bet your ass he was going to go look for you even if it was just stalking the streets and killing anyone in his wake.

luckily for him, his waiting would end soon enough.

the week after that, he'd get the news of his life.

he'd been killing all week, killing innocents as he usually did but at a quicker and animalistic pace, he would almost get caught this time by the cops yet again but before his spree could continue he received some news thanks to that cheeky voice that would speak to him through the screens.

he would come back to the mansion, battered and bruised beyond belief. the calluses on his hands split and bled, cuts everywhere all old and fresh, he was ruthless in his murders as well as he was careless.

he needed you to ground him, you were the reason as to why he has even been alive for as long as he has.

his hand seemed to be superglued to the handle of his sharpened knife even as he was dragging his legs towards EJ's basement, where he was led to believe he would find what he was looking for.

He aggressively banged on the metal door with his fist in anticipation, not being able to wait any longer than how much he's already had to. The one to answer the door would be Eyeless Jack as it is his "resting" place in the mansion so to speak.

Once the door opened Jeff would quickly push past EJ not needing to be accepted in the space for him to go in.

"Where is she??" he shouted, his voice boasting in the cold concrete room. "I was told you found her, where the fuck is she?"

EJ would calmly close the door before slowly leading Jeff towards a corner of the large space, where a long, clean-white room divider seemed to hide something.

well, more like someone.

That was when Jeff finally saw you, your limp body laying there and your face had this gentle expression you'd usually make when you were sleeping. Beside you stood Nurse Ann, who was gently cleaning the countless cuts and lacerations you had around your body with several cotton pads and changing gauzes as well.

Jeff's heart fell down to his stomach, he would've started reeling and throwing up if he didn't rush to take a closer look at you only to see that your chest was still rising and falling.

He sighed in relief.

"As you can see, she's alive." spoke EJ as he took a few steps closer, "Nurse Ann found her as she was coming back to the mansion, she found her body laying on the edge of where Slender's territory ends and the rest of forest. She also claims that ______ wasn't there when she left, so she probably appeared a little later that same day."

Jeff's hand trembled slightly as he reached out to touch your face with the back of his hand, yet hesitated slightly when his hand could almost feel the warmth of your skin.

But that's when he took a minute to really take in the rest of your appearance.

Your entire body even your face was dirtied in dried mud and soil, your fingernails were dirty and chipped, your arms and cheeks were decorated in scratches and cuts of various sizes, and your clothes.. seemed to have been replaced with a clean hospital gown and your missing shoes were replaced by socks.

EJ continued on, "And so you don't go attacking me, Nurse Ann changed her clothes. According to her they were tattered and beyond repair, and that they were completely soiled in blood."

"Blood?" Jeff spoke up in slight concern,

"The blood wasn't hers."

#creepypasta #jeff the killer #jeff the killer headcanons #jeff the killer x reader angst #jeff the killer x reader #creepypasta fandom #eyeless jack #creepy pasta #crp #creepypasta x reader #creepy pasta fandom #creepypasta x you #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x female reader #jeff the killer x y/n #jeff the killer creepypasta #jeff the killer x oc

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the20thangel · 1 day ago

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The Emperor and His Lady Chapter 4

Summary: The Gladiator games begin as Arabella allows herself to go closer to Geta. A new face or foe shows up, and Arabella decides another type of game needs to start, with her being the winner.

Word Count: 2K

Tags: small descriptions of violence ( more spoilers for the movie, just in case.)

taglist: @barcelonaloverf1life @justnobodynothingmore

Masterlist

As the next day rose, Arabella prepared for the gladiator fights. She never really enjoyed such violence, but it was the entertainment norm in Rome. Looking at her garments, she was unsure which to wear; she contemplated so much that her thoughts were broken only when Marcella entered her chambers. Smiling at the Concubine, she embraced her and asked about her morning.

“Well, so far, sweet one, I heard you spent most of the day with Emperor Geta. I hope he wasn’t too cruel?” she questioned, looking at the young woman to see if she had hints of mistreatment.

Arabella shook her head; She and Geta never spoke of their lost son, so no one knew why yesterday was so hard for them both. She would not start now; she did not want to share her heartache, at least not with anyone in the palace. As Marcella smiled, she looked at the garments Arabella had laid out for today. Seeing the majority red, she frowned and asked if she had any other colors. Confused by the request, Arabella turned and took out a few garments: light green, light purple, and white.

“Wear the purple one, my dear. Emperor Geta is wearing a golden and dark blue, and Emperor Caracalla is wearing red and gold.” Marcella requested as she helped Arabella dress.

“Why the change? It's usually Geta who wears red…” Arabella pondered but was grateful for the news; she did not want to give Caracalla the wrong impression that they should match.

“Who knows with them two, but we must please, and Geta would not be pleased to see you in red today.” Marcella chuckled, truly not understanding the minds of the twin emperors.

As Arabella finished dressing, both women left her chambers searching for their emperors. Walking down the steps, Arabella noticed the crowd waiting to ride with the emperors. General Acacius and Former Empress Lucilla, her father, and her uncle were included. Both her Father and Uncle smiled at her. It had been some time since they last saw her, and both were relieved she had not been dismissed from the emperors. She inclined her head toward them to show her respect before turning and bowing to her lady. Lucilla quickly roamed her eyes before embracing Arabella, whispering condolences from yesterday, which only led to Acacius raising a question brow to the women, who ignored him. Before everyone could continue, horns blew to signal the Emperors’ arrival. Coming down were Emperors, pleased to see everyone respectfully bow to them. Behind them was a man Arabella had never seen before. As they all rose, the Emperors stopped in front of Arabella and her group; Geta roamed his eyes down her body and again felt something flutter in his chest, seeing her wear colors close to his own. This only made Caracalla roll his eyes, not understanding the significance of color matching.

As the Emperors walked, Geta paused and turned back, an arm extended towards Arabella.

“Arabella come…” Geta commanded as everyone widened their eyes.

It had been years since Arabella had walked by her emperor’s side. Trying to ignore the staring, Arabella, steady and holding her head up, walked to Geta, took his arm, and continued to walk to the chariots waiting for them. Everyone shared numerous looks, some uneasy, some confused, and a few pleased, before they, too, followed the emperors to the Colosseum.

The Colosseum was buzzing with excitement for the games. The one good thing the emperors were known for was their ability to entertain the people. While the rest of the concubines walked to their section left from the Emperor's box, Arabella, still in arms with Geta, was led into the royal box with Marcus Acacius, Lucilla, the strange man, and several Senators.

As the group mingled briefly before the start of the games, the strange man, seeing Geta drinking wine with his brother, walked to the young lady.

“Ah, Concubine Arabella, if I am not mistaken.” said the man, wearing fine clothing but still looking out of place.

Many stopped and stared at the interaction. Yes, even though technically Arabella was a concubine, no one, not one person in court, had ever dared to greet her using that title; she was always addressed as a Lady.

Arabella, however, did not show her discomfort. She stared at the unknown person with a raised, unamused eyebrow and responded, “Yes, and who you might be?”.

Macrinus laughed, clearly having underestimated the young lady, and introduced himself, “I am Macrinus; I have brought a new batch of gladiators for today’s games. I must say you are quite a beau-”

“Then I hope for your sake, Macrinus, your gladiators provided a good fight and plenty of entertainment for my Impertors and Rome. My Impertors do not like wasting their time on boring games.” Arabella interrupted, having been in court for years and raised to stand and hold her own in the vipers of court.

Macrinus's eyes grew in shock as the crowd chuckled at the lady's bluntness, including Acacius and Lucilla, so much so that they looked like proud parents. Geta and Caracalla also laughed into their wine while Geta felt a sense of pride in seeing his lady so dignified, burning someone with her sharp words. Arabella, smirking, inclined her head as she walked down, sitting beside Lucilla and Acacius behind Geta’s throne. Horns rang again to indicate the start of the games as the Master of Games provided his speech to rile up the people. Once he introduced the Twin Emperors, Geta and Caracalla saluted the people, and they turned to General Aciacus.

“General, a few words to the people of Rome.” Commanded Geta.

Caracalla turned and raised his arms, “General, the people are waiting…”

Acacius turned, looking to his wife, who nervously nodded. As he turned to walk down, he made eye contact with Arabella, who gave him a small smile and nodded to the General. Unfortunately, Geta noticed, and his face grew darker, his patience leaving him.

“Now, General.” He commanded through his gritted teeth.

Acacius cleared his throat as he began addressing the Colosseum's people. As he spoke, Arabella, noticing Geta's soured mood, quickly poured more wine, wanting to appease the emperor before his temper grew. She leaned down, silently offering her peace offering. Geta turned his head and saw the wine from his lady, smirking as he accepted the gift. Turning back his attention to the general, Arabella, sighing in relief, leaned back only to inhale sharply as Acacius finished his speech.

“...Rome needs it more than ever…”

The royal box froze, hoping the emperors did not understand the small slight spoken towards them. The two emperors glanced at each other, unsure if it was a slight to them. Acacius bowed as he turned back to return to his seat beside his wife.

Exhaling, Arabella prepared herself for the long day, watching bloodshed after bloodshed. Then one of Caracalla’s favorites comes out on top of a rhino. A group of men, presumably Macrinus’s mean, came out, waiting for the battle to commence. Before the battle began, one man stabbed his sword on the ground. He grabbed a handful of soil and rubbed it through his hands. Caracalla laughed, taunting the actions, while Lucilla softly gasped as she stared at the man in shock. This caused Acacius and Arabella to turn to her in confusion.

The Battle began, with one gladiator being killed by being squashed by the rhino, causing Geta to stick his tongue out in sadistic delight while Caracalla clapped. Arabella stifled a gag, closing her eyes briefly before continuing to watch. As the gladiators began to work together, the crowd cheered for the bloodshed. Again, the rhino charged toward one gladiator named Hano, but luckily, the man jumped away, causing the animal to slam into the wall. The crowd cheered, with the emperors running towards the edge to look down. Arabella squirmed, growing anxious with how violent this fight was becoming. Soon, the battle ended, and Hano won the fight. At first, Geta provided mercy for his gladiator, but when Hano ignored him, he turned his thumb down and grinned as Hano killed the previous gladiator. Lucilla closed her eyes in sadness to see her newly found son so angry with rage.

Soon, the crowds left, with the General and his wife leaving for their villa and Arabella following her emperors back to the palace. The party continued, and Arabella faded into the background as Geta and Caracalla surrounded themselves with various concubines. Humming her sad lullaby again to herself, she sipped wine and walked around the room, greeting senators and other nobles. As she made her rounds, she was met with the scene of Geta and Caracalla laughing. Drunk and feeling devious, Caracalla grabbed Arabella's arm, side-eyeing his brother, and leaned to the lady.

“Concubine Arabella, you look divine today. You should wear less red and more colorful colors like this one; they will suit you better than red.” he chuckled as he leaned to smell her hair.

Arabella cringed as she tried to push herself away from Caracalla. She felt another hand on her arm and pulled her towards them. Landing on Geta’s lap, the elder glared at his brother as he pressed his lady to his body. Grateful for being away from the younger emperor, Arabella, she pushed herself further into Geta, placing her face in his neck.

“I’d have to disagree, brother; Arabella looks best in red because they are my colors; this shows the court who she belongs to… Which is mine!” exclaimed Geta, ensuring everyone knew that Arabella was only his to play with.

Caracalla’s face fell before turning red with anger as he left the party to his chambers, a few concubines following suit, hoping to ease the mood of the younger emperor. Geta sighed, signaling for a guard to step forward.

“Take Lady Arabella back to her chambers safely,” he commanded as he raised her off his lap. Grunting when another concubine quickly took her spot.

As the guard agreed and turned, Arabella lowered her eyes, turning to Geta.

“Pleasant dreams, my Imperator,” she whispered as she left the room and headed to her chambers. Geta watched as her figure left before he, too, decided he was done; pushing the person from his lap, he ignored the outcry as he made his way to his chambers.

Once Arabella reached her room, she thanked the guard and went inside, surprised to see Marcella waiting for her.

“Marcella, I had not seen you at the feast; where were you?” She questioned her companion.

Marcella tearfully smiled at her and embraced her. “I have come to say goodbye and to warn you.”

“Goodbye, what? Why?” answered Arabella, shocked by the news.

“I have been let go; I am no longer a concubine. My time has ended… but I must warn you before I leave.” Marcella explained.

Arabella shook her head. “No, you can’t go; you are my sole companion here…I will find a way to stay close to you.”

“Arabella, sweet girl, even if I cannot stay, I will always protect you… please listen… you need to lay with Emperor Geta …soon.” Marcella interrupted as she grabbed the young lady’s hands, staring straight into her brown eyes.

“What. Why are you telling me this?” questioned Arabella, shocked by what she had heard.

Marcella wryly glanced to see if anybody was nearby, “Once Emperor Caracalla dismissed me, I saw a strange man approach him; I could not hear what they were talking about until I heard Caracalla express jealously that Geta has kept you untouched for many years. The man… told Caracalla that he was Emperor, so it was in his right to use any of the concubines he saw fit. I think he will try soon, as everything is so busy because of the games. Please, Bella, give your body just once to Geta; if you do, he will have you closer to him, and Caracalla can’t get to you.”

Arabella gasped, shocked at the lengths Caracalla would go to. Then she grew angry hearing the description of the man as she connected the dots to his identity: Macrinus planted the idea. She decided she would no longer be a pawn used by men for their silly games. She could also play the game to protect herself and her staff.

“Thank you for telling me, Marcella. Take your things and place them in my servant's chambers. You will now be my handmaiden and my eyes and ears in this palace,” she thanked the older woman.

She closed her door and turned to her mirror, her face dark with determination. She would not lose.

#fanfic #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 fanfiction #emperor geta #emperor geta fanfic #geta/oc #emperor geta/ oc

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astrofhobia · 3 days ago

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I tried to help you.

We were never brothers. Pretending our relationship worked was what ended it. You never cared about me, I was aware of that to a certain extent. I pretended to care about you even if you knew better.

You got angry because of that, no, you didn't get angry because I pretended to care about you, you got angry because I wasn't honest with you, because I didn't tell you absolutely everything that was going on in my head.

Maybe things would have been different if they had treated you well, you were alone, trapped in someone else's mind, you felt pain but never showed it.

You were always very proud, Eclipse.

I tried to please you many times, staying extremely still in those analyzes that you did to me all the time. Until now I don't know why you made them. Was something wrong with me? Were you afraid Moon would take control? I guess you'll keep that secret until you actually die.

I was looking for a way to feed your ego and please you because it made me sad that you were alone without anyone congratulating your achievements. You always made me feel sorry for you. You can deceive yourself but you cannot deceive others. You were an artist deceiving others but you never knew how to continue with your lies and people came out of the threads you built around them. You tricked Moon and he tricked you, you tried to bully Sun and he bullied you. You killed me and I killed you.

Don't blame yourself. No one was really nice to you, no wonder you were so cold and empathetic towards me. Until Earth arrived.

She really changed your perception of people, right? You know, I love her, she's my sister. Nothing will make me hate her.

But I'm jealous of her.

She managed to get you out of your bubble without trying, it only took a few soft words for you to stop considering her a threat. You stopped seeing her as a hunting animal, you saw her as a friend.

I tried that many times. But the only thing I received was slaps and insults. You changed with others, but you never did with me.

That's my problem.

I tried to pretend that I didn't care about you. I regretted many times yelling at you, hitting you or disappointing you. I erased those feelings over and over again but they always came back.

I felt like you deserved a hug, a "I'm sorry" many times but I was never able to say it.

I was terrified that you would leave me. All those tests, I was so worried that you would leave me alone like they had left me... But my obsession with the star led me astray.

Maybe if I had been nice to you things would have been different. I mocked you when you betrayed me. But that really hurt me, my own creation stabbed me in the back.

I would have done it too if my creator abused me like that...

I'm not the Eclipse who treated you like that but I don't know how to talk to you without my larynx shutting down. I want to treat you better but our relationship is at the bottom of the sea and I don't know how to start a conversation without sinking further.

At the moment Earth appeared I was so hated by everyone, I was scared when she appeared, she didn't attack me, she didn't ignore me, she tried to be on good terms with me because she didn't know me. He knew what he had done, what he had done to you. But she still approached. She said I could have a second chance if I wanted.

I guess that's when I understood that I could improve.

I moved because I had done so much damage here that trying to walk near daycare or your family became extremely anxious and I hated that feeling.

When I got here I expected everyone to hate me. But apparently, this place is so different and the same at the same time. I feel at home but very far from there.

I try to start something new here, I want to get away from the problems but those problems are still there.

That's my problem.

But I still want to help you.

#tsams #tlaes #teaps #the lunar and earth show #the eclipse and puppet show

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carmyberzattosjournal · 3 days ago

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S2 Entry 2: Soothe the Goosebumps

Image credit: @neverscreens

Summary: Carmy’s girlfriend (who he calls Darling) soothes him down from an impending panic attack with apple cubes. (1346 Words) FLUFF.

Warnings: Swearing, hurt, comfort, fem reader/lass who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns, finger sucking (light), impending panic attack (panic attack doesn’t happen), praise kink, feeding kink?, subby!Carmy. Mentions of Donna Berzatto.

Notes: Thank you for reading and sharing! This is a work in CB Journals Season 2 and will be tagged with #cb journals s2.

Sideblog for commentary and social stuff: @m-z-shoroi

Prompt: String Lights

“Do you not decorate for Christmas?” she asked. “Not even string lights or a mini tree?”

No. Fuck Christmas.

The silence, and the subsequent recoil evident on her face when I looked up from the apple I was dicing, is what told me I’d said that aloud. My stomach flipped. Hands abruptly turned cold for some reason. Heat flooded into my face.

I can’t even begin to explain to you the biblical level of shit I was in that week. That whole month, honestly. The review didn’t go well—we weren’t given our star, which meant that not only did all my bullshit that I pulled in the restaurant after having that mental fucking breakdown after the walk-in incident severely strain all my interpersonal relationships, it also did fuck all to give us any sort of results. If we’d gotten the star, then maybe, maybe, it would’ve stung just a little less. The wounds haven’t gone away—the repeated flare-ups of fighting between Sugar, Richie, Syd, and me are evidence of that—but the star would’ve been salve on the cuts. Maybe taken away some of the burn. No, it just redoubled everyone’s rage at me (including my own. I was getting dangerously close to hating myself more than I hate the fucking Devil at this point). So, the burst of fighting at the top of November turned into all-out war for the rest of the month. We’d found something of a balance before—minus the flare-ups—where I’d do a new menu every month using seasonal ingredients. I’d be mindful of what the kitchen staff could do, Syd and I would actually properly collaborate on them, so she didn’t feel voiceless (even if working with another person drove me fucking insane sometimes), and Richie and I would, generally, as much as we both could corral our familial trauma, try to stay out of each other’s way. Sometimes even get along a bit.

“Carmy?”

Now? Now I lost all fucking control of my restaurant. Syd and I were battling over the menu because even when accounting for her notes, she wanted to scrap whatever I did. Richie was so far out of my grasp that Sugar maintained a demilitarized zone between us, acting as the Secretary of State—or I don’t know, a fucking messenger pigeon—bringing things back and forth, all while trying not to (and failing on multiple occasions) explode at either of us for our bullshit. And it was bullshit. We’re fucking adults, I keep trying to act like a fucking adult and get a handle on myself so this doesn’t fucking happen again—I’m in therapy, for fuck’s sake!—and yet Richie and Syd insist on being fucking children about it.

In retrospect, I don’t blame Syd. If your coworker spiraled off the fucking deep end, and all you got out of that was the trauma of surviving that spiral, would you even want to fucking look at them again? She worked her ass off to make The Bear what it is, she put stock in her own identity as a chef, and wants, more than anything, to be able to take pride in her work.

I said I wouldn’t stand by and let her do to herself what I did to me, right?

Am I not her Devil?

So here we are, December three days away, still without a fucking menu.

“Baby? Sweetheart? Hey.”

Shit. Shit. Fuck. I dropped the knife onto the cutting board. “S-sorry. Sorry, I-I should explain—”

“I just wasn’t expecting such a strong reaction.” She held her hands up, palms out towards me. “It’s okay. It just caught me by surprise is all.”

“Christmas-Christmas is fucking traumatizing.” Why did it come out like a question? It’s a fact. It was fucking traumatizing. I closed my eyes, trying to retreat to the quiet dark, where it’s stable, where it’s safe. “My-my mom, she would, uh, she would do this-this big feast. Seven Fishes... And it was-it was always such a fucking disaster. And-and she would always explode at the tiniest thing. I-I hate fucking Christmas and New Years a-a-and-and fucking birthdays. Fuck birthdays.”

Something burned in my chest. A deep sort of fiery sting that took me two heartbeats to recognize as stomach acid bubbling into my esophagus. I grasped at the pain as if I could somehow get ahold of it and remove it from me, could toss it away like a wet paper towel, but all I found was the front of my apron.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay.” Oh no, Darling sounded worried. I fucking hate when I worry her. I pried my eyes open and found her expression contorted in concern, eyebrows scrunched together, corners of her mouth turned down. “What’s wrong? Pain? Nausea?”

I tried talking, but I couldn’t produce sound past the hot iron burning my insides. Blindly reached for the quart of water and chugged a few sips down. It provided some relief initially, but the flames came right back.

“Hold on.” She rifled around the cabinet above my head and pried off the lid of the baking soda container. Put two pinches in the quart. Swirled it. “It’ll taste weird, but it should help.”

Metallic. Metallic, bitter, kind of salty? Like I licked a dirty penny or something. Weird doesn’t sum it up, it’s fucking disgusting. She rubbed up and down my sternum as I gulped this vile concoction down.

“It’s a base, it’ll help neutralize the acid,” she explained. “Just take little sips until the burning stops.” I’m sure she knew I understood the logic, but I appreciated her talking to me anyway. It was comforting. Something to focus on. Something to drown out the memories of ma’s yelling bubbling away in the back of my head.

Goosebumps exploded on my arms when I took another gulp of the baking soda water. It just kept getting worse. Now the weird taste was lingering on my tongue well after the water was gone, but my chest still burned like a brand was on it. Darling rubbed her hands up and down my forearm, trying to soothe the goosebumps away.

“I’m-I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

I responded too slowly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Not even giving me this horrible shit; it was helping the heartburn.

“No, about the whole…” she gestured in a wide circle. Ah. About Christmas and shit. Got it. “It’s gotta be tough. With. How much those things are engrained in society and all.”

I shrugged a shoulder. Grimaced and got another wave of chills on the next sip of baking soda water. She picked up an apple cube and pressed it to my lips. It wasn’t meant to be an intimate gesture—I’m getting better at reading her face and knowing what the intention behind anything she does is—but something deep in my core tightened and warmed when she fed me the morsel of apple, when the tip of her finger rested just a second too long on my lips. I must’ve had a certain look on my face because she made the cute little cooing sound that meant she figured something out. Cupped my face with her other hand. Stroked my cheek.

“That better, pretty boy?”

She brought another apple cube to my lips, kept her eyes locked on mine—this piercing gaze halfway between interrogative and fascinated, like she was a cat observing a new toy, trying to figure out how to pounce on it. My navel flooded with heat, dick twitched in my sweats. Half of me wanted to shrink in place, become tiny and insignificant, small enough to fit in her pocket like a pathetic but endearing pet. The other half of me got lost in her eyes, in those shimmering river stones, in the perfect architecture of her eyelashes, as if admiring a fine work in some pretentious fucking museum somewhere. She let me suck the tip of her thumb clean. Dragged it slowly over my tongue.

I nodded. Yes. Yes, it’s better.

The fuck was I even stressing about before?

Tags: @carmenberzattosgf @jess248 @catharticconsolation @persymons @morgthemagpie @glitch0o0 @nox-is-thename @forgechildofheph @leminjelly @fridavacado @lumoslemon @cyarskj1899

#cb journals s2 #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto fluff #the bear

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onmyo-jin · 1 day ago

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Ying Lei + ZYC and ZYZ

21. On a place of insecurity

(Ying Lei needs some love in this fandom ♥️)

You're so right, Ying Lei deserves ALL the love!

Seeing Zhao Yuanzhou and Zhou Yichen being disgustingly happy together doesn't get any easier, even with the passage of time. Ying Lei had kind of hoped it would: that he'd get used to them being sappy, and coincidentally going to bed at the same time, and then arriving at breakfast at the same time as well, looking equally sleep-deprived.

It's not that he doesn't want his friends to be happy! They deserve all the happiness after what life has been throwing at them. It's just that Ying Lei kind of wishes he had that, too. He stares into his cup of wine. The others have long gone to bed, and it's really no fun drinking alone, but as long as he doesn't finish this cup he doesn't have to go to bed yet. If he doesn't finish the wine he does not have to finish the empty darkness of his room, and lie awake in the night while his mind fills the emptiness with too many thoughts.

It's trying to do so even now, and Ying Lei has to shake his head to dislodge the thoughts that are trying to drag him down. Perhaps that's why he doesn't notice until it's too late.

Another pair of wine cups appears to his left in a familiar swirl of red energy, and someone sets down a new bottle of wine to his right. Zhou Yichen-daren sits down across the table, and the inevitable demonic presence that follows him elegantly flops down onto the cushion next to Ying Lei. He doesn't even bother to sit upright, and Ying Lei can practically hear his grandfather berating him. Apparently Zhao Yuanzhou cannot, because he leans his shoulder against Ying Lei's and reaches for the wine.

"Drinking alone isn't good for you, little mountain god," he purrs, and pours all three of them a drink. Ying Lei loses his tongue somewhere between feeling the demon's warmth even through his mountain clothes and the way the demon's thin robes are barely being held together by a single ruby-and-gold clasp at his throat.

Ying Lei decides that the sensible thing to do is to ignore him. Across the table Zhou Yichen is staring at him a little too intently, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He is dressed at least a little more decently, which is to say: he's not showing any skin. What he is wearing, however, is most definitely a cloak that belongs to a certain great demon, over what appears to be his sleeping clothes… "Xiao Zhuo-daren, I thought you… both of you went to bed earlier. Is there something wrong?"

"Hmm, very wrong," The demon practically purrs as he hands Ying Lei his cup. Ying Lei looks at him and then remembers he was ignoring him and turns back to Zhou Yichen. He is just in time to see him blink away a confused look.

"Our friend seemed lonely," is all the explanation Zhuo-daren offers. "So we decided to make sure you're not," the demon adds. He raises his cup in a toast, and when Zhuo Yichen joins in Ying Lei can't very well leave them hanging.

"To good company," the demon toasts, and they drink deeply. It suddenly occurs to Ying Lei that Zhuo-daren's ... boyfriend? His partner? Zhou Yichen's demon is leaning against Ying Lei, barely dressed, entirely indecent, and Ying Lei is letting it happen. He's also pathetically grateful for the company, and he'd rather the demon didn't move, but he also doesn't want to offend Zhuo-daren–

Someone lightly flicks a finger against his forehead, and Ying Lei is thrown back into the present. "Really, little mountain god, someone like you shouldn't get drunk so easily," the demon teases. He moves to steal Ying Lei's cup as well, but Ying Lei isn't about to let him steal the one thing he can rely on for company. He moves the cup to his far hand and holds it out of the great demon's reach. Zhao Yuanzhou makes a playful grab for it anyway, and for a moment too long Ying Lei is distracted by Zhuo Yichen's smile at their antics. Then he overbalances, and falls over sideways, and the demon leaning against him falls over with him.

The floor is not so far, and there is a cushion left there from when Bai Jiu was sitting on his other side during dinner. He lands softly enough, and even manages to save the wine– and then Zhao Yuanzhou plants an arm on either side of his head, catching himself and looming dangerously close over Ying Lei.

There is an infuriating smile on the demon's face, and he doesn't move at all, so Ying Lei can only lie there, one arm outstretched to hold his cup, the rest of him trapped under the warm weight of a demon. From somewhere above them, Zhou Yichen sighs. "Is this what you meant when you said you wanted to discuss our proposition, you great monkey?" Ying Lei can hear the eye roll that accompanies his words, and he has a front row view of the demon pouting, winking at Ying Lei, and then looking at Zhou Yichen all pouty again– without getting up from where he is practically sitting on top of Ying Lei. Ying Lei wonders what proposition they are talking about.

"Xiao Zhou-daren, sometimes you have to go with the flow! If life gives you an opportunity you should take hold of it with both hands and not let go."

Very carefully, Ying Lei sets down the cup of wine on the floor above his head. With his free hand he starts to lever himself up, fully expecting Zhao Yuanzhou to move out of his way. He should have known better than to expect the demon to behave in any way predictably, for Zhao Yuanzhou does not move an inch. He only smirks wider when Ying Lei tries to sit up and comes to within an inch of those smiling lips before realizing the demon's play.

"O- opportunity?"

"Yes," Ying Lei can feel the breath of that word touch his own lips, and shivers. Zhao Yuanzhou's smile is all teeth now, it is hard to look away. "We thought you seemed… a little too alone. And when we saw you watching us leave this evening we thought: perhaps he could keep us company."

There is something oddly specific about the way he emphasizes that Ying Lei could keep them company. Not his friends coming to drink with him, no: he, Ying Lei, join… them?

"Hah?" the thought refuses to make sense, but the demon only blinks at him, toothy smiley unchanged: dangerous and tempting. "But… aren't you two…?" It seems rude to even say the words, that his friends are sleeping together, living together, practically married except for some paperwork.

"Yes," both of his friends chorus at the same time.

"But then why…"

"Why not?" Zhao Yuanzhou grins. "Only if you're interested, of course," Zhou Yichen adds, ever considerate. "This isn't about us." Ying Lei has so many questions right now, he doesn't even know where to start. He settles for a lame: "I don't' get it," and immediately feels like hiding in a mountain cave for a few years because of how stupid that sounds.

"Allow me to show you," Zhao Yuanzhou grins, and doesn't wait for permission. He closes the small gap between them, and wraps a warm hand around Ying Lei's chin. His lips are hot against his own. Ying Lei gasps, and the great demon uses that invitation to invade his mouth, licking and tasting and stealing his breath–

Then he leans back, and he's still wearing that same smirk. Panic wells up in Ying Lei and he looks towards Zhou Yichen across the table– only he is gone, his seat empty. The warm fingers on his chin turn his face back to Zhao Yuanzhou, and then further to the other side, where Zhou Yichen has sat down next to them. Ying Lei doesn't get the time to worry about kissing Xiao Zhuo-daren's boyfriend-demon-something. Zhao Yuanzhou presents Ying Lei to Zhou Yichen, and Zhou Yichen smiles and wraps a hand around YIng Lei's neck. His hand is cold, or perhaps it only seems that way because Ying Lei must be blushing bright red, and he pulls him close. Zhao Yuanzhou sits back up to allow him space, and Ying Lei moves as if in a dream. Zhou Yichen's kiss is entirely different: gentle and questioning, lips moving together as if partners in a dance. His hand is solid as stone, unwavering and undoubting, and Ying Lei feels like a small stone caught between two great rivers. Xiao Zhuo's kiss steals his breath in an entirely different way, and when he finally comes up for air two pairs of eyes are looking at him expectantly.

#fangs of fortune #FoF #大梦归离 #Zhou yi #zhao yuanzhou #ying lei #kisses! Kisses for ying lei!!#not quite a place of insecurity but yaknow #i think it counts #jin writes fic #this one got long lol

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yan-springlove · 2 days ago

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Powder Blues AU

So I've been thinking about the different ways Powder×Jinx could work given that Jinx leaves Zaun and Piltover.

I think it'd be a slowburn in regards to Powder being able to see Vi and Ekko, and a slowburn between Jinx and Powder. In a things-get-worse-before-they-get-better way. So welcome to this AU I made for them!

I got inspired by one of my fav fics where two siblings' bodies get molecularly mashed into a single one thanks to a quirk--but retains the consciousness of both siblings. Much like how our Ekko hopped into Powder's Ekko through the arcane anomaly!! Except the other Ekko didn't retain any sort of control or consciousness.

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/45335362 if u wanna check it out. Its MHA--Touya and Fuyumi centric, wonderfully written)

Powder would probably try to account for that--but what if she wasn't completely succesful?

So Jinx and Powder are stuck in the same body sharing control instead of complete separation. They can't hear each others thoughts, so they have to talk with the same mouth (taking turns) if they want to communicate.

This has so much potential for various scenes!! But here's my idea for how it goes:

---

Powder finds that she has to convince Jinx she's real and not just another facet of Jinx's mental instability. As Jinx is currently wandering Demacia via airship, Powder is trying to convince Jinx to visit Vi and Ekko.

With enough willpower, Powder finds she can move Jinx's body---up until Jinx starts fighting for control of those parts again (like if Powder is doing something Jinx really doesn't want to aka going back to Zaun and Piltover)

Gaining control is kind of a coin toss over who has the most willpower and focus on moving the way they want when theyre fighting for control.

They find out that when one of them sleeps, the other has unimpeded control.

So every step farther away from Zaun Jinx takes, Powder retraces them when she has control. Keeps hoping eventually Jinx will get tired of running and let her go back.

Needless to say, they don't get along very well at the beginning due to clashing goals.

Resentment wells up in Powder, stuck in Jinx's body. It keeps growing until she becomes bitter. Sad. Her comments about Jinx's actions during the day to day adventures go from curious, exasperated, etc--to attempts at cutting insults and dry, sarcastic mockery. Tired. She's exhausted with Jinx's shit.

She's so close to seeing Vi, yet so far.

---

On the other side of the coin; Jinx feels like she's just gone some new kind of insane. But unlike Powder, she's grateful to have company (that can't die) again. At the start she just bickers with Powder for the fun of it, along with the rest of their conversations.

That changes when Powder uses Jinx's confessions/conversations to herself or her voices while thinking Powder was asleep. (Haven't decided what she'll use against Jinx, but I know Powder doesn't actually know/mean the full impact of what she said--she doesnt have the full picture of Jinx, yet. She's angry and fed up with Jinx and lashes out after week or months of trying to keep it in).

Jinx goes quiet. She doesn't talk to Powder for days after that.

---

Thats when their relationship starts to change.

With a few days of silence from Jinx, Powder uses that time to travel to Zaun/Piltover. But she stops outside the city, because the fact that Jinx retreated so far that she hasn't even tried to take back control the whole time worries Powder.

She apologizes for what she said, and talks about the feelings that had been festering since she arrived in Jinx's body. About Vi (and Ekko).

Still no reply.

So Powder gives herself a day to explore Zaun and Piltover without looking for Ekko or Vi. Tries to get Jinx to talk while exploring the cities, but it just ends up with her continuously having one sided conversations. Powder finds she doesn't mind, though. Somehow she knows Jinx is listening.

Powder shares all the differences she sees in Jinx's reality vs her world. Tells Jinx stories about her family. Ekko. Benzo. Heimerdinger. Mylo. Claggor. Vander. Silco.

Vi.

While she told Jinx that her Vi is dead, she never shared the intimate details of the experience.

This time, she tells Jinx how it happened. How it felt. What it's been like for her all these years mourning and missing Vi.

How Jinx's Ekko showed Powder what she looked like in this world when he visited.

How much she just wants to see her sister. To hug her one more time.

Up on a rooftop alone and looking down at the two cities, Powder lets herself cry out everything that's been rotting in her the past few months living in Jinx's body.

When she's done, it's Jinx that carefully wipes Powder's tears away. That whispers hoarsely, "I'll take you to her."

---

next up in this AU is a Vi, Jinx, and Powder reunion (+ Cait and Ekko)

---

Bonus: I like to think that Jinx would ask for more stories of Silco and Vander.

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starlost-mochi-x · 3 days ago

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lonely st. series finale ✧ chapter x : a new dawn

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader (y/n)

warnings: mentions of injuries, lil bit angsty, some romance (not saying who but it's a surprise!), sad jisung :(( he's the best, i can't be bothered to write any more warnings. also i have no clue how basketball works so any basketballer stays out there pls don't come for me

a/n: it's done! i cried writing this last chapter but the ending is worth it i swear. thank you so much for all of the love, it means the world, and i'm so glad to have written this series for all of you <3 please read this post before you open this chapter if you haven't already 💫

series masterlist | skz masterlist

Hyunjin leapt and shot a hoop for the umpteenth time; he glanced over at the closed double doors of the gym as the ball thudded against the ground.

The gym was quiet and dark; the lights were turned off, and Hyunjin could only see because of the moonlight that spilled into the room from the high windows, unobstructed by other buildings and illuminating the lines and boundaries of the court.

Retrieving the ball, he sat down in the middle of the court, glancing around the darkened gym. He wasn't supposed to be in there to begin with; it was eleven pm and he was supposed to be in bed, sleeping.

Yet again, he hadn't been able to.

Feeling so restless that even sleepy Jeongin began to become disturbed by his tossing and turning, he'd decided to take a walk and figured that it wouldn't have hurt to shoot a few hoops to try and tire himself out. The last game of the tournament was tomorrow; they'd be heading back to school early and competing there.

Hyunjin contemplated his performance so far; he'd done pretty well, and worked harder than he'd thought he could. Every game except one which was a draw, they'd won so far.

There was one match left and Hyunjin had no intention of breaking the winning streak. Not when he and his teammates had worked so inexplicably hard.

He touched the bandage on his wrist, deep in thought; the friction burn was healing, and the bruise was beginning to fade, little by little, but after five whole days, there had been no real improvement. His wrist still hurt when he moved it too far to the left and it ached dully when he flexed his forearm.

He'd been told to leave the bandage on so as to prevent infection; at first, he hadn't minded, but soon the addition of the wrap to his body had become nothing more than a constant nuisance, something he'd had to stop and adjust during games.

The nurse who had wrapped it to begin with had given him a sling, or brace of some sorts; it was sleek and black, wrapping up his forearm and securing at the base of his thumb. He didn't wear it during the night, but he smiled at the memory of when he'd shown it to his teammates.

"It looks like a spy glove," Jeongin had told him with a grin.

Hyunjin wasn't sure what that had meant, but at least it had made little foxy Innie smile. He flexed his fingers absentmindedly, realising that the younger member hadn't been as happy as he had been at the start of the tournament.

They were doing just fine in terms of the competition, but Hyunjin knew his team members well, and if the evidence of overwhelming, strained practices and sleepless nights was enough to go by, he could tell they all just wanted to go home.

He felt the exact same way; the last few days had stung more and more without Y/n. He'd told her everything that had happened as often as he could, whether it was over the phone or through text.

He found he liked calling her better; it was nice hearing her voice, especially when he put it on speaker and let her tone float around him. It was like she was sitting right beside him as he talked about everything that had happened.

Deciding to get up and head back to bed, he put the basketball back into the netted ball bins near the door and slipped out of the gym, pressing the large flat button to raise the hoop. It ascended into the ceiling with a soft whirring sound and Hyunjin slipped round the corridor, walking towards his dorm.

He checked the time; he'd been gone for about an hour and a half. Hopefully the other members were asleep by now, and if he was lucky, he would be able to dress down and slip into bed before anyone even stirred.

Checking round the corner for any potential adults or figures of authority, Hyunjin hurried silently down the hallway to his dorm. It wasn't like anyone was out this time of night, but he still felt wary, and he couldn't help but think what might happen if any of the coaches if they caught him sneaking around in the dead of night.

Quietly opening the door to his dorm room and flinching at the click of the lock, he slipped inside and shut it as quietly as possible. The room was dark; he froze for a second, trying to determine whether anyone was awake. Hearing nothings but soft breathing and the occasional shuffle from Jeongin's bunk, he tiptoed over the his corner of the room, toeing off his socks and gently placing them down next to his sneakers.

It was completely dark in the room; Hyunjin stretched a hand in front of his face and saw nothing. He squinted and tried to adjust his watering eyes to the pitch blackness of the room as he slipped off his hoodie, then his shirt.

It was freezing cold; the dorms usually became cold by night, therefore they'd been supplied with extra bedsheets and blankets, and been told to dress warm for the night, but Hyunjin quite liked not having layers on when he slept. He liked the feeling of the coolness against his skin; it seeped through his skin and made him feel light, airy, and clean.

It was especially welcome as the sweat cooled and evaporated off of his skin; it meant he didn't have to freshen up. Now standing in nothing but his usual shorts, he felt his way to his bottom bunk, clumsily settling into the sheets and turning to face the wall.

He jolted and let out a muffled yelp as someone rolled over and slung a warm arm around his middle. Recognising the size and build of it almost instantly, he let out a shaky breath.

"Shit, Felix," he whispered. "You scared me."

From behind him, Felix smirked so hard Hyunjin could almost hear it in the dimness of the room. "Sorry."

"Why are you in my bed and not yours, sleepy chicken?"

Felix tugged him closer, nuzzling his face into Hyunjin's nape and whispering into the skin. "I got cold and Innie told me to leave him alone. Jisung's dead to the world and he tends to unknowingly thwack me if I sleep next to him, so I came to your bunk. Surprise, you weren't there."

Hyunjin let out a soft scoff. "My bad."

"It is your bad," Felix agreed. "Out talking to Y/n again?"

Hyunjin stiffened slightly and lightly pinched Felix's hand, resting on his hip. "No. I couldn't sleep, so I went to shoot a couple hoops."

Felix hissed. "You could have gotten in so much trouble."

His friend let out a soft, exasperated noise. "I can't help it. Besides, I've had a lot to think about."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Felix's voice was soft and thoughtful, though a little teasing. "Like what?"

"The winning streak our team has. My forearm injury. Y/n. You. The mess with Jisung. Also, my hair's growing longer and I don't know how to cut it myself." Hyunjin blew a strand of it out of his eyes as if to demonstrate his point.

Felix chuckle softly, murmuring. "Maybe you should ask Y/n to cut it for you when you get back."

Hyunjin was silent for a moment. "I really miss her, Lix."

"I know. I miss her too."

Hyunjin turned and shuffled, facing his friend. Felix tangled their legs together for warmth, shivering. Noticing his discomfort, Hyunjin pulled him gently closer and brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes, his voice becoming even softer than before.

"Do you think she really might like me?"

Felix nodded softly, the quiet brushing sound of his head against the pillow being Hyunjin's only confirmation. Quickly getting up to reach for his phone, which he'd thrown on the floor (Hyunjin swore he would never treat his own device like that) he settled back into his friend's bed and opened to his homescreen.

The sudden brightness made both boys hiss and Hyunjin let out a muffle groan. Felix, however, was undeterred, and navigated with watering eyes to his messages, where he opened up the chat he had with Y/n.

Turning his phone to Hyunjin, Felix pointed to several messages from her that had been sent not long ago.

"She sent these to me after I called her to check something back at home," he whispered. "It was really late, and she was crying."

Hyunjin's eyes widened as he realised the date. It was the almost exact same time and the same date from when she'd told him to look in his bag. Where he'd found the bandaids, and the little note she'd left for him inside the innermost pocket.

The exact same date, where she'd texted Felix crying, and the exact same date where Hyunjin had sat in the middle of the lamplit dorm, tears streaking down his cheeks as he'd cried to himself.

He cried because he had missed her, he wanted to see her, and he couldn't help the tidal wave of emotions that had surged over him after Y/n had ended the call; overwhelm, tiredness, longing, sadness. On top of all of that, she was just really sweet and the sentimentality of the gesture had brought tears to his eyes. Jisung had always joked about how soft he was for affectionate gestures, and Hyunjin was grudgingly beginning to see how he had a point.

He took Felix's phone and read through the messages from after the phone call with her had ended.

*call with 'y/nnie ⛓️' ended. call duration 00:01:43* lix 🌻: he'll be back soon, y/nnie. don't worry! y/nnie ⛓️: is he doing okay? lix 🌻: he's good i think lix 🌻: he was kinda upset a couple days ago because of all the pressure that's been heaped on him lix 🌻: and he's been a little tense y/nnie ⛓️: i could tell after we talked on the phone y/nnie ⛓️: he sounded really tired too lix 🌻: if his voice is anything to go by, you sound exhausted lix 🌻: but please don't cry y/nnie ⛓️: i'm sorry for calling you and disturbing you from whatever you were doing, lix lix 🌻: nonono don't be sorry!! i understand lix 🌻: i think he misses you too lix 🌻: ...but you already know that

Hyunjin turned the phone towards the real Felix laying beside him and glared at him pointedly.

"You gonna keep exposing me like this?" He whispered.

Felix whispered back accusingly. "I didn't say anything exposing to her. You literally told her you missed her."

"Oh, right. My bad."

Felix scoffed and it turned into a quiet laugh, muffled by Hyunjin's large hand over his mouth.

"Don't wake the others," he huffed out, though a smile teased the corners of his mouth.

His friend nodded, both of them bathed in the bright blue glow of Felix's phone screen, which was still held aloft between them in Hyunjin's hands.

"I really do miss her, Lix."

His friend's voice was soft. "I know. Are you planning to tell her, though? How you feel?"

Hyunjin sighed. "I want to, but I just don't know."

Felix propped himself up on his elbows and began stroking Hyunjin's hair out of his face. "If you don't tell her, she might go a long time without having you by her side. In that way."

"But I'd rather have her friendship than nothing at all," Hyunjin glanced at him desperately.

"Well, we're heading back tomorrow, for the final game, so maybe you can tell her then."

Hyunjin sighed and settled down further into the sheets, feeling heat radiating off of Felix's body. "Maybe."

From the other side of the room, Jisung, who had been silently listening from his bunk, closed his eyes, and slept.

Hyunjin sighed and pushed the ball bins back into the gym's storage cupboard. The boys' teams had spent the entire morning helping to clean and pack up the courts for the end of the tournament, and though it had initially sounded like an easy task, it turned out to be quite the opposite.

Hyunjin was sweating by the time he'd packed up his assigned area; he'd been told to check all of the storage cupboards and count the balls, before scouring the courts for any strays left over. He'd been running back and forth through the gyms all morning.

Wiping his forehead with a sweaty hand, he wondered where all of the others had gone. Each member had been given a set of different tasks, and though they had initially planned to leave for the school campus early in the morning, the date had been changed so that they were leaving later that afternoon.

Hyunjin didn't mind; he'd grown quite accustomed to the polished courts and the dorms where he'd spent so much time. He sat down in the middle of the court and leaned back on his hands. His wrist was almost healed; there was still a noticeable burn mark, and the inside of his forearm was painted in shades of fading purple and green.

He chuckled as a shout snapped him out of his thoughts; Jeongin had been sent to the gym next door to organize the basketball gear, and Hyunjin thought he heard a faint thudding, most likely the basketballs he'd spent all morning collecting tumbling out of the bins and onto the courts.

"Shit, Innie," he groaned aloud to himself. "That took me all morning."

Getting up, he stretched his hands far above his head, letting out another groan, and decided to go check on his younger member to see what kind of chaos he'd managed to cause this time.

Stepping out of the double doors and wincing at the sunlight that just so happened to be shining in his face, he shielded his eyes with a hand and began walking through the pathway that led to where Jeongin was. He passed another gym and paused as he heard a familiar laugh from inside.

Curiosity, or perhaps nosiness getting the best of him, he peeked into the gym, noticing two figures sprawled out on the polished wooden floors. Checking left and right, and then cautiously poking his head into the gym, he looked around, trying to find something he could hide behind.

Noticing a storage cupboard to the right, which had been left ajar, he braced himself and dropped to his hands and knees, glancing across to make sure he wasn't seen. He took off his sneakers too; the last thing he wanted was for Felix and his little girlfriend to hear him squeaking his way across the court.

He hoped the storage cupboard was empty; a quick glance around showed him that it was. Satisfied with his hiding spot, he poked his head a little around the door to spy on his friend.

He felt a little bit bad; after all, they assumed they were alone; but he couldn't help it.

Besides, Hyunjin thought with a grudging grin, It's about time he gets a girl.

The girl in question, who Hyunjin had previously assumed to be a volleyballer, was leaning against one of the basketball bins at her back, legs stretched out in front of her. Felix was leaning on one hand, nodding along attentively to something she was saying. Hyunjin bit his lip to keep the smile from his face; it was honestly really cute.

He watched as Felix reached up a hand to run it through his hair, his eyes not leaving the girl's face. She didn't look away either as his hand came down, suspiciously close to her own. She made to fake-stretch and rested her hand closer to his friends.

He rolled his eyes. Get on with it already, man.

Felix apparently must have heard his telepathic message, because he inched his hand forward, just barely touching hers. Hyunjin's smile grew as he saw her hand inch forward too, til their fingers were loosely laced together against the polished floor of the court.

Even though Hyunjin was a short distance away, he could see Felix's cheeks heating up, taking on a soft pink hue matching the girl's ears. If he was being honest with himself, Hyunjin was halfway through wanting to clap and cheer and halfway through wanting to throw up, but he kept quiet and hidden nonetheless.

Felix adjusted himself so he was a little closer; his fingers moved to lightly run his thumb along the back of the girl's hand. He was smiling as sincerely as Hyunjin had ever seen it. Even brighter than the sun. Was that possible?

He was busy pondering that thought when his vision came back into focus, just in time to see Felix press his mouth to hers.

Hyunjin's jaw dropped and he knew he should look away, give his friend privacy, but he was so enamoured by the sight of his forever-bitchless friend finally getting some game that all he could do was stare with his mouth open.

Felix tilted his head a little and brought a hand up to gently run it along the side of her face; the girl's hands were clutching at his shoulders and she was beginning to lean back. Felix blindly reached beside her head, still kissing her, and pushed the ball bin that she was leaning on away, sending it rolling back a metre. He leaned forward just as the girl leaned back, propping herself up on the floor.

O-kay, time to stop watching them now-!

Hyunjin turned and covered his mouth as he leant against the wall of the storage cupboard, in disbelief. He'd just seen his friend kissing a girl.

Hyunjin now had two choices; stay until they had finished with the lovey-dovey notions, or risk being seen as he left. He decided to stay in the storage cupboard after a moment of strategic thinking. If the faint sounds of kissing and sighing were anything to go by, they wouldn't be done for a while.

Looking around the small, dark room while he waited, Hyunjin noticed another door hidden behind a small rack of tennis equipment to his left. Getting up as quietly as he could, he moved to the door and turned the handle, wondering whether it led to a smaller cupboard.

It didn't. It led out into the sunshine, and Hyunjin realised it was the back door to the gym. He sighed in relief and shut the door behind himself.

Deciding to actually go and find Jeongin, and see if he needed any help, Hyunjin set off towards the other gym opposite, peeking inside just in case he happened to walk in on anyone else.

Jisung and Jeongin were inside, much to Hyunjin's relief, and he walked to them, feeling a bit shaky on his legs. They were sitting in the middle of the court, playing some sort of game on Jisung's phone, and apparently finished with their tasks. Hyunjin sighed thankfully; at least their jobs were done. He'd already decided not to tell them anything for fear of upsetting Felix.

Jeongin looked up as he approached, smiling. It dropped as he tilted his head at the older boy in concern.

"Captain, why is your face so red?"

The bus ride back to the school campus was long and uneventful; the boys had started off chattering and laughing, throwing snack wrappers at each other, and teasing other endlessly, but had eventually fallen silent as the ride progressed. Hyunjin sat next to Jeongin this time, Felix having decided to sit with Jisung.

Looking through the gap in the seats, Hyunjin noticed Felix smiling at his phone, his cheeks still a bit red. His hair was a little disheveled too and Hyunjin smiled to himself as he turned and leant back against his seat, closing his eyes.

At least someone had the guts to confess.

He looked out the window, contemplatively intertwining his hands as his brow furrowed, wondering what he should do. He had followed through with his plan so far; he'd grown closer to Y/n through texts an calls, and he had a slight feeling that she might like him, but he still wasn't any closer to finding out whether Jisung harboured any sort of affection towards her or not.

Truthfully, he hadn't been talking to him much, only when they were on the court. Otherwise, they'd only been talking when absolutely necessary, and as Hyunjin reflected, he began to feel guilty for how much he'd been neglecting his friend. He wondered if Jisung had any idea about what was going on. Maybe he did, maybe he didn't.

He could only hope it was the latter.

He knew for sure that Jisung had caught onto his avoidant behaviour; he'd overheard him talking to Felix about how he felt like he'd done something wrong, or perhaps said something that might have upset Hyunjin, and as a result, made his captain avoid him.

He'd felt pretty bad after that; Hyunjin kicked himself for letting the negative feelings fester in his heart for so long. He should have just talked to him about it. But there was still a part of him that felt that Jisung liked Y/n too, and if he knew that he had competition, things could have turned nasty between them.

And yes, Hyunjin liked Jisung, and he was a close friend, but Hyunjin had finally found a potential other half in Y/n, and he wasn't sure what he was willing to put on the line if it meant being on the receiving end of her affection.

Was it worth losing Jisung for Y/n?

Hyunjin groaned softly and let his head fall against the window, the vibrating sensation of the bus's movement reverberating through his head, shaking up his thoughts. It was still sunny outside, and he closed his eyes, letting the sunshine filter through onto his skin, painting the insides of his eyelids in a coral sheen.

He jolted as Jeongin's head fell slowly on his shoulder; looking down, he realised the younger boy had fallen asleep. Brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes, he kissed his friend's head affectionately and he decided to attempt to fall asleep himself, trying to get comfortable in his seat.

Maybe some rest would clear his mind.

"Okay, so you two can play defence for the first half, because we've watched some of the other team's plays and they always go for the left side, so you two block them there. Innie, make sure you get in front of the other team's shooter, so we have a clear view of the net."

Jeongin nodded. "Okay."

Hyunjin stood and regarded each of his teammates in turn. They were prepared. For once, he felt focused, sharp, and fire ran through his veins as he took his position on the court, the center.

The final game.

The court was packed to the brim; the school had even hung several banners in the boys' team colours to encourage them. They could win a home game.

Students, teachers, and even the principal had come down to spectate the game, filling out the bleachers. Those who couldn't find somewhere to sit were happy enough to watch the game from the side of the court, provided they didn't distract any of the boys playing.

Hyunjin had previously felt rather nervous upon entering the court, seeing that everyone was there, but he'd told himself to focus, putting all thoughts out of his mind while he zoned in. The game was his only priority right now; everything could be dealt with after.

Including Y/n.

He hadn't seen her in the crowd; he hoped she was in there somewhere, spectating. He wanted her to be here, but he didn't have time to scan the bleachers and the crowd, instead deciding that the team should run through the tactics one more time. He'd enlisted Felix to tie his hair back; it hadn't worked the first time. His bangs were too short to be tied back, but too long and distracting to have in his face.

Grudgingly, he'd allowed Felix to loosely braid it, so that he had one of either side, his hair in a tiny little bun at his nape. It felt a little strange; it'd been so long since he had a haircut. He was used to having no hair against his neck, since he liked it short, but he found that he didn't mind the longer length either.

Also, Y/n had teasingly told him she liked the style on him when he'd sent her a picture of the group over text.

So he'd kept it.

Shaking his head, Hyunjin kept his eyes on the ball as the referee held it between them, poised to blow the whistle. There was gradual silence as the crowd settled down, waiting in anticipation to see who would get the upper hand first.

To no one's surprise, and to the enormous annoyance of the other team's center, Hyunjin's fingertips brushed the ball, sending it almost halfway down the court, where his teammate intercepted it and began dribbling towards the hoop.

Hyunjin landed lightly and quickly adjusted the black sleeve protecting his injury, before racing down the court.

Twenty minutes later and Hyunjin was beginning to become weary and exhausted; his coach called a timeout and went through a couple strategies, much to the team's relief. It'd been one of the toughest games so far, and as Hyunjin glanced up at the scoreboard, he realised they were currently at a tie.

He exhaled forcefully as the game started up again, moving to defend an opponent as Felix moved down the court with the ball. He noticed two of the other team's members moving towards Jisung as Felix passed the ball to him, and shouted out a warning.

One of the opponents budged Jisung hard with his shoulder, attempting to take the ball, and he spun, leaning over with the ball to his middle to stop them from taking it. Jisung looked up as the other opponent covered the closest team member; there was nowhere for him to pass. He glanced up at the clock as Hyunjin began to move towards him. Thirty seconds.. he could either wait it out and keep the ball, or risk passing.

If they take the ball, though, he thought. I have to keep it on our side.

Desperately, he looked to Hyunjin, who was currently being marked by an opponent. The clock began to count down, the crowd's cries becoming increasingly loud and frantic.

Twenty seconds.

Jisung barely managed to pass the ball to his friend, almost tripping, and Hyunjin exhaled as he moved towards the hoop, faster than he'd ever done in his life.

Much to his dismay, an opponent to his left brushed his arm as he reached for the ball, and nudged Hyunjin's injury, sending a shooting pain up his left arm. Crying out and dropping the ball, stumbling, he made to recapture it before someone whizzed past and stole it.

Jisung.

He had three opponents marking him now, and a clear shot of the hoop. They caged him in and Hyunjin fell unsurely, clumsy on his feet. His arm was beginning to throb sharply and it became hard to focus on anything else. He could only stand as Felix hoisted him from the ground and watch as Jisung dribbled the ball where he stood, looking for an opening.

Ten seconds.

Jisung made to move towards the hoop and was shoved roughly in the side. Hyunjin let out an outraged yelp but Felix held him back, just as Jisung fell down, shooting desperately at the hoop in a last-ditch attempt.

The buzzer rang as the ball hit the floor.

Everyone turned to look at the referee; they'd all missed the opportunity to see if the ball had gone in, and that too during the ending buzzer. There was silence as he debated the verdict, before lifting his left hand and signaling a point to Hyunjin's team.

The crowd roared in ecstasy, but Hyunjin was distracted; Jisung was on the floor, back to him, clutching his right leg.

Skidding to his knees beside his teammate and raising a hand for the medic, he glanced down desperately at his friend.

"Jisung," he gasped, panting.

His face was twisted in pain, his lips parting as he groaned softly, chest heaving. Hyunjin let the hair tie slip from his locks, his bangs falling into his face as he cradled Jisung's head.

Their coach and two medics came to assess his friend; one of them moved to take off Jisung's shoe. His ankle was already beginning to bruise severely, the swelling evident against his pale skin. Jisung cried out just as the medic attempted to move it gently to the left.

"Sung," Hyunjin whispered, the guilt flooding his system all of a sudden. "I'm so sorry, I- I got jealous, and I hurt you, and I didn't meant to ignore you for the entire tournament, it's just-"

Jisung was being helped into a sitting position, still managing to shoot Hyunjin a pained grin as he panted. "I know, Cap. Relax."

"Sung, I swear, I should have-"

"Yeah, yeah. I know you like her, by the way."

Hyunjin's head snapped up. The medics took no notice, and their coach stood to direct the others off the court. The crowd was now chattering amongst themselves, and Hyunjin was glad they weren't dead silent, staring at Jisung and his now-hurt ankle.

"Y-you knew?"

Jisung rolled his eyes despite the pain. "Yeah, I knew. It wasn't hard to tell. Besides, I decided to let you be mad at me for a while because I figured you had enough going on. You're welcome."

Hyunjin's eyes filled with tears despite the public situation. "Thanks. I'm so sorry, Jisung."

His friend waved a hand, his head lolling back a little as he hissed, the medic moving to cushion his foot. "Ah- shit, yeah, it's all good, man. I don't like her, by the way."

Hyunjin blinked at him. "You don't?"

"She's nice and all, but nah."

Hyunjin let his shoulders sag in relief. Touching Jisung's hand, he smiled at him just as a tear ran down his cheek. He felt overwhelmingly happy all of a sudden; they'd won the championship, he'd made up with his friend, and now he could finally relax now that Jisung didn't like Y/n. Of course, there was still the matter of whether Y/n liked him, or anyone for that matter, but Hyunjin brushed that thought to the back of his mind, letting it sit quiet and forgotten for the time being.

Jisung smirked at his friend, his face sweaty and flushed. "Felix has a girlfriend now. That volleyballer chick. He confessed to her before we left and they're planning to meet up. Think it's about time you did the same thing, Hyunjinnie."

Hyunjin's eyes met his friend's a little sadly. "I don't know where she is."

"Felix said he saw her walking down the corridor by her form class earlier. Apparently just chilling out by herself since we don't have classes because of the game."

Hyunjin squeezed Jisung's hand. "I don't want to leave you."

His friend waved a hand. "Go. I'll be fine, they're probably going to take me to the infirmary. We'll see you later, okay?"

Hyunjin nodded and stepped back, letting the medics lift his friend and sling an arm over each of their shoulders, carrying him off the court.

He congratulated his team briefly and shook hands with the other team before slipping out of the gym. An increasing sense of urgency settled in his stomach, each step he took fueling the fire that had been burning in his heart since he'd realised what Y/n meant to him.

Please, he thought desperately as he broke into a run. Please let her be here. I don't care that she didn't watch my game, I just want to see her.

He skidded around a corner and saw a figure sitting in one of the window alcoves, a sketchbook laying open beside them. The page was blank. Hyunjin's heart leapt so high and hard he thought he might lean over and throw it up.

Y/n.

He cried out her name and broke into an even faster run, skidding to a stop beside her. His sneakers screeched against the floor and he doubled over. It wasn't for long, though, and as he hauled himself upright, he felt a pair of arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders.

He clung to her, burying his face in her neck. She didn't seem to care how sweaty he was; her hand came up to cradle the back of his head, undoing the braids from his hair, fingers shaking.

"Hyune," she said quietly. He realised she was crying as he pulled back.

"I missed you so much," he murmured, leaning his forehead against hers.

"I missed you too. It felt like forever, I was so alone-"

Hyunjin shook his head, an unexpected tear running down his cheek. "You're not alone. You said it yourself, you never have been."

She nodded vehemently, still holding onto his shoulders. Hyunjin stepped back a little, his arms still wrapped around her waist. He took a deep breath steeling his resolve.

"Y/n, I have to tell you something."

Her voice was quiet. "Me too."

Hyunjin's heart was thudding so hard it hurt. Now that he finally had the opportunity to tell her how she made him feel, he suddenly found he didn't have the words. It all rushed out of his head in an instant as Y/n looked up at him with wide, wet eyes.

"I don't know how to tell you," he whispered.

"Show, me then."

Hyunjin inhaled sharply, his eyes not leaving her gaze. Taking her chin in a shaking hand, he stroked it affectionately across her jaw.

"Close your eyes," he whispered, throat bobbing as he swallowed.

She did.

Hyunjin leant forward slowly. Surely she knew what he was doing, touching her like this, talking to her so softly. But she didn't back away, didn't back down, just stood close to him, held in his arms, and let Hyunjin kiss her.

She tasted salt and sweat and affection and she tilted her head a little, letting her hands touch his face, though shakily and experimentally.

Pulling back after a minute, Hyunjin rested his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. He was still holding her waist, and her eyes were still closed. Hyunjin watched a tears slip down her cheek and brushed it away with a warm thumb before it reached her jaw.

"Please don't cry," he murmured to her.

"I'm not..."

Hyunjin chucked softly, feeling so overwhelmed he could do nothing but hold her as if she was an anchor in a stormy sea. "Am I that bad of a kisser?"

Y/n opened her eyes, looking away from him. This time, there was no teasing remark, no playful insult, and it made Hyunjin's heart soar so high he felt like he was floating. He stroked her cheek as he looked back at him, both their tears falling freely.

"You're not alone," he whispered. "You'll never be alone, Y/nnie. I promise."

Y/n nodded, running a hand over her shoulder as Hyunjin pressed two fingers to her cheek, wiping away her tears.

"I know."

Hyunjin chuckled quietly, still holding her. "Yeah? How do you know?"

Y/n smiled up at him, eyes wet. She felt a little embarrassed, but to Hyunjin, she was the most beautiful person in the world, even if she was crying.

She touched his cheek.

"Because now I have you."

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