#it takes twenty minutes for me to explain to him how the game works

[rafesgreasycurtainbangs]

❛ YOU AND RAFE TAKE HONEY PACKETS BUT HE CAVES FIRST ❜

girlfriend¡reader . . . rafe cameron

“Okay, but you guys have to hear this,” Mia said, swirling her wine before taking a dramatic sip. “Last weekend, Aiden and I tried those aphrodisiac honeypacks—you know, the ones they’re always hyping up on TikTok? Holy shit, it was insane.”

You raised an eyebrow, setting your glass down on the table with a soft clink. “Insane how?” you asked, curiosity piqued. Beside you, Lila, who’d been scrolling her phone absentmindedly, perked up, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

Mia grinned, leaning forward like she was about to spill a state secret. “Okay, so you know those little packets you can get at sketchy gas stations or online? They’re like honey mixed with some herbal stuff—supposedly gets your blood pumping or whatever. We each took one, and I swear to God, within twenty minutes, we were clawing at each other like animals. I don’t even know how to explain it. It’s like every touch felt electric, and I couldn’t think about anything except jumping him.”

Lila burst out laughing, her voice bright and sharp. “Oh my God, that’s fucking hot. Did you plan it, or just wing it?”

“Totally spontaneous,” Mia said, her cheeks flushing slightly—not from embarrassment, but from the memory. “We barely made it to the bedroom. I’m telling you, it’s like someone turned the dial up to eleven on every nerve in my body.”

You shifted in your seat, the wicker creaking beneath you, a slow heat creeping up your neck as you pictured it. Rafe flashed into your mind—his broad shoulders, the cocky tilt of his smirk, the way his hands felt when they gripped your hips.

You’d been dating him long enough to know he’d be game for something like this, but the thought of him losing control? That was a whole different level of intriguing.

“Wait,” you said, cutting through their giggles. “So it’s not just hype? It actually works?”

“Works?” Mia echoed, incredulous. “Babe, I’m saying it’s dangerous. Aiden was begging me to touch him by the end of the night, and he’s usually the one playing it cool. You should try it with Rafe. Bet he’d lose his mind.”

Lila nodded enthusiastically, her eyes gleaming. “Oh, he totally would. Rafe’s got that whole ‘I’m in charge’ vibe, but I bet you could break him with this. Make it a game or something—see who caves first.”

You chewed your lip, the idea taking root like a seed in fertile soil. The thought of Rafe—your Rafe, all sharp edges and simmering intensity—reduced to a needy mess because of you? It sent a shiver down your spine, one that had nothing to do with the cooling evening air. “Okay,” you said slowly, a grin tugging at your lips. “I’m in. Next weekend.”

Mia clapped her hands together, delighted. “Yes! Report back. I need details.”

. . .

“Hey,” you said casually, tilting your head to look up at him. His blue eyes flicked down to meet yours, a faint smirk already playing on his lips like he knew you were up to something.

“What’s up, princess?” he drawled, his voice low and rough, the kind that always made your stomach flip.

You shifted, sitting up a little straighter, your knee brushing against his thigh. “So, Mia was telling me about this thing she tried with Aiden. Those aphrodisiac honeypacks—you heard of ‘em?”

Rafe’s smirk deepened, his brows lifting slightly. “Those horny honey things? Yeah, I’ve seen ‘em around. Why? You wanna get freaky?” He chuckled, but there was a spark in his eyes, a flicker of interest that told you he was already hooked.

“Maybe,” you teased, running your fingers lightly over his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his T-shirt. “But I was thinking we make it fun. Like a game. We each take one, no touching allowed, and the first one to cave loses. Winner gets bragging rights—or whatever else they want.”

He tilted his head, studying you with that predatory glint he got when he was intrigued. “You think you can outlast me, huh?” His voice dropped an octave, thick with challenge. “Baby, I’m made of steel. You’re gonna be begging me to touch you in ten minutes flat.”

You laughed, the sound light but edged with defiance. “Oh, please. You’re the one who can’t keep your hands off me half the time. I give it five minutes before you’re on your knees.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, his smirk turning into something darker, hungrier. He leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “You’re on, sweetheart. Next weekend. But when I win, you’re gonna owe me big.”

The heat of his breath against your skin sent a thrill through you, but you pulled back, meeting his gaze with a wicked smile. “We’ll see about that.”

. . .

The following Saturday night, the air in Rafe’s bedroom was thick with anticipation. You sat cross-legged on his bed, the navy comforter rumpled beneath you, wearing nothing but one of his oversized T-shirts and a pair of lacy black panties. Rafe stood across the room, leaning against the dresser, shirtless in a pair of gray sweats that hung low on his hips. His chest was broad and tan, a faint sheen of sweat already glistening in the warm light.

On the nightstand sat two small golden packets, their shiny foil catching the glow of the lamp. You picked one up, turning it over in your hands, the weight of it surprisingly light for something that promised so much chaos. “Last chance to back out,” you said, smirking at him as you tore the corner open.

Rafe snorted, grabbing his own packet. “Not a chance. You’re going down, baby.” He ripped his open with his teeth, the gesture primal and a little too hot for your liking, and squeezed the thick, amber honey onto his tongue. You followed suit, the sweet, herbal taste coating your mouth, a faint warmth spreading down your throat as you swallowed.

For the first few minutes, it was all bravado. Rafe paced the room like a caged animal, cracking his knuckles, his smirk intact. “Feeling anything yet?” he asked, voice cocky as he flexed his arms, the muscles rippling under his skin.

You shrugged, playing it cool even as a subtle heat began to bloom in your chest. “Nope. You?”

He shook his head, but there was a tightness in his jaw, a slight flush creeping up his neck. “Nah.”

Ten minutes in, the air shifted. The warmth in your body intensified, sinking lower, pooling between your thighs. Your skin prickled, every brush of the T-shirt against your nipples sending a jolt through you. You shifted on the bed, pressing your legs together, trying to ignore the growing ache.

Across the room, Rafe stopped pacing. His breathing was heavier now, his chest rising and falling faster. He ran a hand through his hair, the strands sticking to his forehead, and when his eyes met yours, they were dark—pupils blown wide, a storm brewing behind them.

“Fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself. He leaned back against the dresser, gripping the edge so hard his knuckles whitened. “This shit’s no joke.”

You bit your lip, the sight of him unraveling doing dangerous things to you. “What’s wrong, Rafe? Cracking already?” Your voice was teasing, but it came out breathier than you intended, the need starting to seep through your composure.

He laughed, but it was strained, jagged. “You wish. I could bend you over right now and still win this.” But his hands stayed glued to the dresser, and his hips shifted—just a fraction, enough to tell you he was fighting the same war you were.

Fifteen minutes, and the room felt like a furnace. Your pulse hammered in your ears, your body screaming for contact. The air smelled of him—sweat and musk and that damn cologne—and it was driving you insane. You curled your fingers into the comforter, nails digging in as you watched Rafe.

He was a mess now, his sweats tented embarrassingly, his jaw clenched so tight you thought it might crack. His eyes raked over you, lingering on the way the T-shirt rode up your thighs, and he groaned—a low, guttural sound that hit you like a freight train.

“Goddamn it, baby,” he rasped, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re killing me. Just—fuck—just let me touch you. Please.”

You smirked, though it took everything in you to hold it together. “That sounds like caving, Rafe.”

He growled, stepping forward, then stopping himself, fists balled at his sides. “You’re such a fucking tease,” he panted, his voice raw, desperate. “Look at you, sitting there all smug. I bet you’re soaked, aren’t you? Bet you’re dying for it just as bad.”

He wasn’t wrong. Your thighs trembled, slickness pooling in your panties, but you weren’t about to admit it. “Guess you’ll never know unless you lose,” you shot back, voice shaking but defiant.

Twenty minutes, and Rafe snapped—or tried to. He crossed the room in two strides, dropping to his knees in front of you, his hands hovering an inch from your thighs. “Fuck it,” he breathed, his voice wrecked. “I lose. I fucking lose, okay? Just—please, baby, I need you. I’m going crazy here.”

You tilted your head, savoring the power, the way he looked up at you like a man unhinged. “Not yet,” you said, voice low and deliberate, your hand reaching out to graze his cheek—just a featherlight touch, enough to make him shudder. “You can wait a little longer.”

His eyes widened, a mix of shock and pure torment flashing across his face. “You’re kidding,” he choked out, his hands twitching, aching to close the distance. “Baby, I’m dying here. You can’t do this to me.”

“Oh, I can,” you replied, leaning back on your elbows, letting the T-shirt ride up higher, exposing more of your thighs, the edge of your panties just visible. His gaze dropped, and he let out a strangled sound, his whole body tensing like a coiled spring. “You said you’re made of steel, right? Prove it.”

Twenty-five minutes, and Rafe was a wreck. He’d slumped back onto his heels, hands dragging through his hair, sweat dripping down his chest. His cock strained against his sweats, a dark spot forming where he was leaking, and his breathing was so ragged it sounded like he’d run a marathon. “You’re evil,” he muttered, voice hoarse, his eyes locked on you with a mix of reverence and desperation. “Fucking evil, you know that?”

You shifted again, letting one leg fall open slightly, giving him a glimpse that made his jaw drop. “Maybe,” you said, smirking. “But you love it.”

Thirty minutes, and he was begging—really begging. “Please, baby,” he whispered, crawling closer, his hands trembling as they hovered over your knees. “I can’t—I can’t do this anymore. I’ll do anything you want, just let me touch you. I’m fucking losing it.”

You held his gaze, letting the tension stretch one agonizing second longer, then nodded. “Okay,” you said softly, victorious. “You lose.”

. . .

His mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking hard while his other hand kneaded the opposite side. The sensation—amplified by the honey packets still coursing through you—had you arching into him, a sharp cry escaping your lips as your nails dug into his scalp.

“Rafe—slow down,” you gasped, half-laughing, but he shook his head, his teeth grazing your skin as he moved lower, kissing and biting a frantic path down your stomach.

“No chance,” he growled, hooking his fingers into your panties and dragging them down your legs in one swift motion. He paused then, just for a second, staring at you—spread out, glistening, trembling—and the look in his eyes was feral, reverent, like he couldn’t believe you were real. “You’re so fucking wet,” he murmured, almost to himself, before diving in.

His mouth was relentless, tongue plunging into you, lapping up every drop like he’d been starved for it. You screamed, hips bucking, but he pinned you down with an arm across your waist, his other hand spreading you wider for him. He sucked at your clit, hard and fast, then slow and teasing, every movement driving you higher, the aphrodisiac making it all too much, too good.

Your hands twisted in his hair, pulling hard, and he moaned against you, the vibration sending you spiraling.

“Rafe—oh God—I’m gonna—” You couldn’t finish the sentence before it hit, a blinding orgasm that had you shaking, clenching around nothing as he kept going, drawing it out until you were whimpering, oversensitive and boneless.

He pulled back, lips shiny, chest heaving, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning like a man who’d just won the lottery. “You taste so fucking good,” he said, voice rough as he shoved his sweats down, freeing his cock—red, leaking, impossibly hard. He climbed onto the bed, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your stomach with ease, pulling you up onto your knees.

“Been thinking about this for thirty fucking minutes,” he rasped, lining himself up and thrusting in deep in one brutal stroke. You cried out, the stretch overwhelming, perfect, your walls fluttering around him as he set a punishing pace. His hands gripped your hips so hard you knew you’d bruise, but you didn’t care—every slap of his skin against yours, every grunt and curse spilling from his lips, was worth it.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, one hand sliding up your back to fist in your hair, pulling your head back as he pounded into you. “So perfect—shit, I’m not gonna last.”

“Don’t,” you managed, pushing back against him, meeting every thrust. “Come for me, Rafe.”

He did—hard—his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep, spilling inside you with a broken moan, his fingers digging into your skin. The feel of him, hot and pulsing, tipped you over again, a second wave crashing through you as you clenched around him, milking him dry.

He collapsed beside you, both of you slick with sweat, breathing like you’d run a race. His arm snaked around you, pulling you close, and he pressed a lazy kiss to your temple. “You’re a fucking sadist,” he muttered, but there was a grin in his voice. “Making me wait like that.”

You laughed, breathless, nuzzling into his chest. “Worth it, though, right?” “Fuck yeah,” he said, already sounding half-ready for round two. “But next time, I’m winning.”

𓂅 notes ―

return home ⸝⸝

©RAFESGREASYCURTAINBANGS ꪆৎ est. 2025

[vanilleandclove]

we’re chained; jack abbot x f!trauma surgeon!reader 

in your twenties you took a chance at the brooding attending in the emergency department despite your modus operandi of never bringing your personal life into your career. luckily, jack abbot doesn’t either. only until that becomes a problem. key moments in your relationship with mr. jack abbot.

warnings: soft and filthy smut, crying during/ after sex, ptsd, arguments about state of relationship (this is based on an actual convo i had with a man lol), angst, heather and robby situationship, reader has a sister, alcohol consumption- covid, death, anti-vaxx views mentioned, I AM A DOC MARTENS BEX CONNOISSEUR- i hiked in them, trump is unfortunately canon, age gap: reader is mid 20s, jack early 40s. word count: 5.3k notes: situationships are my version of vietnam, listen to solo by frank ocean and hey by the pixies. oh they are so every breath you take by the police. also the reader is canonically a millennial mb.

next - thank you anon

august 20, 2015

“Doctor L/n, how do you treat compartment syndrome?” a voice pulled you out of your thoughts, severely regretting the only four hours of sleep given to you and shots of tequila with a girl you met at a bar down the street from your apartment.

“Fasciotomy with ortho consulting” you answered, the bright white LED lights did nothing to remedy the pounding headache.

“Half correct, do you know why?” Doctor Adamson instigated, he was the senior attending for Pittsburgh Trauma, after seeing the look on your face and four of your colleagues, he chose to answer himself “Trauma surgeons are the bottom of the food chain, work far more hours, earn less, specialize in all- if you’re lucky, you’ll get a consult, other than that, you’re on your own” his eyes bore into you, “Now, Doctor Greene is the surgical mentor for prospective trauma surgeons, he works with me, throughout your residency you will rotate through every specialty, remember, residents do not specialize. You change your path at any time, usually trauma only gets and accepts one fellow. Since you’re getting a taste of trauma today, your attendings are Doctor Robinavitch and Doctor Abbot, they’ve been attendings for a bit, they rule in my stead” Adamson continued on, “Your shift starts now and ends in 12 hours, best of luck”.

“Chopra and L/n, you’re with me, Sawyer and Tate, you’re with Doctor Robby” Doctor Abbot read off a chart, you and Amina Chopra were the only women in the residency program for both physician and surgical- at least first year wise. 

“Jesus it’s like they hire based on looks” Amina turned to you with a smile on her face, “John Hopkins, you?”.

“Boston U” you answered, walking up to Doctor Abbot with her. 

“Normally they don’t hand off surgery to us, last week we had the new interns and med students- it was a bit chaotic but since you’re both surgical junkies, I’ll guess you’re used to it” Doctor Abbot explained, “Also, best of luck to you two, upstairs is nothing but a sausage fest”.

Amina laughed a little too prolonged and loud, “Amina Chopra, graduated top 30 at John Hopkins, interned at University of Maryland” she blurted, her eyelashes fluttering.

Doctor Abbot spared a confused glance, tilting his head with feigned curiosity, “And you?” pointing his pen to you.

“Y/n L/n, dual-enrolled in medical school during undergrad at Boston University, interned at Mass-Gen” you confessed, only gaining an impressed look from both of them.

“Explains why your file says 23” Doctor Abbot responded, “Okay, this is Bridget, our charge nurse, she’s filling in for Dana who’s on maternity leave” he pointed as Bridget lightly waved with the phone tucked in her shoulder.

“Stabbing victims from a domestic dispute 6 minutes out” Bridget told him.

“Alright, trauma rooms are usually always available, boarding isn’t as common here unless there’s a holiday or Steelers game” he explained, “Your best friend is going to be these” Doctor Abbot pulled a pair of blades from his front pocket “I carry extra 11 and 15 blades, y’never know when shit is going to hit the fan”.

That was your first impression of Jack Abbot. His first impressed impression of you was when you were the only one who stopped a bleeder in the trauma room, the blood coated your gown and Amina’s face, you took charge of the trauma room as most just stood there.

Then came the nickname, Rambo. 

october 20, 2015

“Do you know Pixies Doctor Abbot?” you broke the ice as you walked side by side, the cold air Pittsburgh and your lack of a sweater but mediocre layering did not provide the warmth needed. Your nipples became painfully erect and the slightest graze would bring both pleasure and pain.

“Okay one, we’re off clock just call me Jack” he chuckled, “Secondly of course your Mass-ass would ask that, thirdly, how old do you think I am?” he continued to joke.

The low-rise, tight, dark wash, denim jeans and the long sleeve undershirt with a tight fit short sleeve paired with black Doc Martens Bex shoes intrigued Jack as the past months he’s only seen you in black scrubs and sneakers- or your Bexs, like today. As did the navy blue loose shirt and light wash denim intrigued you. His camouflage backpack slung over his shoulder and your black Jansport knocked each other every other move.

“Okay… favorite song?” you asked, as you both stopped at an ice cream parlor just down the street from your apartment and Jack’s house that was a few blocks further.

“Hey” he answered, “Yours?”.

“Where Is My Mind” you responded, “Favorite band?”. You stared in his eyes as you waited for a response, a group of teenagers were in front of you both ordering.

“Pearl Jam”.

“Spoken like a true old man” you smiled, “Favorite Pearl Jam song?”.

“Uh uh, what’s your favorite band Rambo?”.

“Alice in Chains, my dad bought the Dirt CD when I was born” you answered, “Now?”.

“Trick question, it’s in between Last Kiss or Elderly Woman” he answered, his eyes not leaving yours, just in time for you both to order.

“How can I help you guys today?” the server asked, a smile on her face.

“May I get a double scoop on a cone of rocky road?” you asked, moving over for Jack.

“I’ll take a double scoop on a cone too with pistachio cream and pecan delight please” he answered as he scooted to pay, giving the girl a 10 dollar tip in cash- she almost refused before he insisted.

You continued your walk, the ice cream melting as you walked on. Your nose was cold and red beneath your makeup, you felt it become wet from the temperature. Jack laughed as you raced against the clock to finish your double scoop. 

The pizza place next door to your apartment had music playing as couples and families sat together both inside and outside, the song was almost coincidental, Elderly Woman Behind the Counter In a Small Town by Pearl Jam. You smiled, wondering as Jack noticed.

“I guess today’s working in your favor” you looked up at him as he discarded the napkin in his hand. You came to a halt, selfishly wanting to spend more time with him. 

He lightly smiled, “I guess so” you both stared into each other’s eyes as Eddie Vedder’s voice sang in the background, you didn’t dare to blink, fearing he’d disappear. 

You breath sped up as your heart raced, the cold freezing your hands but Jack’s warmth radiated off of him. A human furnace. You licked your lips as if it was a hint, a hint he gladly took as his hand went up to your cheek to move your hair out of the way, wiping the residue of rocky road from the corner of your lip. His thumb lightly grazed your bottom lip as you internally pleaded for him to take action.

It was instant, as if you were magnetic. A beautiful collision to a supernova, as your lips collided and fought for dominance, you quickly surrendered. 

“Come up with me” you whispered against his lips, he held you by your back. He exhaled deeply, craving you.

It took five minutes to get to your unit and crash on your couch with him, you were on top of him, legs on both sides of his waist as his hands found purchase underneath your shirts. 

“Do you have a condom?” you asked in between kisses, Jack nodded against your lips as he unclipped your bra, his thumbs grazing your hard nipples, gaining a moan from you.

“Are you sure you want this?”.

“I’m not a virgin if that’s what you’re getting at” you backed up, grabbing the lower hem of your shirts to take off, shrugging your bra off with it and throwing them across your small living you, the look on Jack’s face was one of hunger. “Why?”.

“You can always back out if you want” he told you, groping your tits once more as he pulled you down to suck on your nipples. He felt the clench of your pussy through his jeans as his leg and prosthetic supported you. 

You backed away in order to take off his shirt, revealing his sculpted body and freckled, scarred skin. Tales of war and life littered his torso, you only got more and more turned on from seeing him beneath you. You moved off in order to take off your jeans, the denim sticking to your skin. Jack sat up, taking your hips into his hands as he looked at your thin cotton panties, and the damp spot that formed. He kissed your navel, hipbones and thighs, purposely withholding your aching pussy. Your hands found their way to his curled brunette- a tad ginger hair that had a few greys peaking in, squeezing his nape as his mouth covered your pussy over your panties. 

Moans flower out of your mouth as instinct, pulling at the loose curls in the back of Jack’s head, earning a groan from him. His fingers crawled up to the hem of your underwear, pulling them down to reveal your glistening lips. He looked back up to you, your eyes watering from the tiniest amount of pleasure his tongue gave you. He stood up, jeans still on his body as his cock strained against the denim. Your hand cupping him, a smirk gathered on your face.

You walked him to your bedroom that overlooked the sidewalk, you drew your curtains before sitting down on the edge of your bed. You undid his belt, just about to pull his jeans down, his hand stopped you. A wave of insecurity followed upon Jack as his prosthetic got caught on the denim, he shook it off as he proceeded to take off his jeans, slinging them on the floor with his foot. His briefs revealed the hard-on you had given him, his hands going to take it off once more. Your legs screwed shut in a mix of fear and sexual frustration. 

Jack’s bigger than the other men you have taken. Way bigger. Girth wise you almost prayed in solidarity for your vagina.

“You okay?” he breathed, gaining a nod from you, his hand cupped your cheek, angling your head up, “Say it”.

“I’m okay” you answered, you were hungry, feverish even.

He satiated your thirst and hunger, again and again. Not a care for your neighbors, your bedsheets, your apartment that smelt like candle wax that drizzled down your bodies, the sun that peaked through in the morning as he took his leave while you slept.

Leaving you confused with a significant ache between your thighs and knees.

october 31, 2015

Jane Doe was all you could get from the 29 year old woman who was hit by a drunk driver at an intersection, it was 10 pm and already overtime. Except you were the one who volunteered to be oncall last week. 

You were stubborn she could be brought back even despite her organs failing. She was the same age as your sister.

“L/n it’s a lost cause, step aside” Abbot’s stern voice broke through your ears as you kept on resuscitating the young Jane Doe, “Doctor L/n step down” he pressed further, attempting to grab your hand to pull you off only to be elbowed in the nose. Your ears kept ringing and you couldn’t differentiate the flatline from the minor tinnitus, “Fuck” he groaned, just before he locked your arms above your head.

The flatline blared out in the room as it was just you, Jack, and Jane Doe, your face red with anger and resentment, just as red as the blood that gushed out of Jack’s nose. Jack reached over above your head to trigger the alarms to silence, you were the first to make a sound, a sucked in breath followed by a light wail.

Was it the dead woman who reminded you of your sister? The fact that Jack fucked you 11 days ago and has since ignored you profusely? The overwhelming flow of trauma the past hour that has since died down? Or was it you? You and your inappropriate feelings for your attending that surfaced when he kissed your forehead as you came, the feelings when he kissed your breasts and fondled them like no man ever did, when he stared into your eyes as his thumb and index finger pinched your clit with precision as he other hand was occupied in your throbbing heat. The vibrant hickeys that have now faded to a whisper of what they once were.

“Go home” Jack stated, pulling you away from your thoughts, “I’ll have you reassigned by the turn of the week” he cleared his throat.

You shook your head, “I’m finishing my shift and getting the fuck out of here” you wiped your tears and pushed the doors wide open, finding solace in an empty patient room.

Then the curtain was pulled back by none other than Robby, “Do I even wanna know why Abbot’s bleeding and you’re crying like a puppy just died?”.

Your throat was burning and sore, the eyeliner that coated your waterline was smeared and running. You pressed your lips into a tiny line, “It’s nothing” your emotions forbade you from speaking any higher, or even adequately communicating.

“Doctor Greene wants you to scrub in for thoracotomy, you sure it’s nothing Rambo?” his eyebrow raised, “You did good tonight, if anything, we learned a lot from you”.

You nodded as a way of thanking him before getting up from the bed you sat on, the world kept spinning even after the one-night stand of your life.

december 20, 2015

“Well honey how’s residency going?” your mom asked, “Meet anyone?” She was wrapping presents as Notting Hill played in the back.

There was Jack, who you’ve had the displeasure of working with the past week. He grilled into you hard, only for two days ago, he took you into the supply closet and fucked you. Neither of you spoke of it, you had a bruise on your ass from the metal digging into your skin, Jack’s hand gripped onto the railing and bent the metal. 

“It’s going well I think, Amina is nice we go

out every Friday for celebratory drinks. We’re the only female first years”.

“You’re hiding something” she pointed out, seeing your cheeks flush, “Who’s the guy?”.

Motherly intuition.

“There is no guy- at least officially”.

“Y/n! Please tell me you’re being safe about it” she sighed in disbelief, chuckling lightly.

“I am! We are!” you confessed.

You sent nudes to him, the dirtiest shit imaginable. He left his dog tags at your apartment yesterday before he left, today you wore them and sent a photo with just them on. Put him in a frenzy for hours. By Christmas he was begging you to come back to Pittsburgh as soon as possible.

The first time you spent the night at his house was December 26, 2015, he picked you up from the airport. A little hurt by the fact that he’d go out of his way just for sex. Work and interpersonal relationships only cloud the mind you kept telling yourself.

july 4, 2016

You never mentioned or asked about Jack’s years in the Marines, afraid it wasn’t your place.

So, in Independence Day fashion, after work you let him stay at your apartment. The firework show took place next to your apartment, you had bought ear plugs just in case.

It wasn’t the firework show that freaked him, if anything it sent off his heart to beat a little faster but nothing too serious. It was the illegal fireworks people threw while he was deep inside of you.

“Don’t stop please” your nails dug into his back, eyes rolling back, your window was open for fresh air just as you heard a whistle. You turned your head, hearing the sound whistle come from outside, paying no mind as you were just about to cum.

Just as an M-80 bursted in the air setting off car alarms in the surrounding area and for Jack to immediately pull out of you and shield your head. 

He stood there, guarding you as another M-100 and some firecrackers went off. When you tried to move he gripped your arm immediately, tightly, his brain was on autopilot.

“Jack let go please” you pleaded, his hand was gripping onto your bone at that point and it hurt, “Jack” you repeated, his pupils blown out and his skin began to sweat as his breathing became uneven.

You couldn’t move neither could he, you wrapped your hand around the one that gripped your arm painfully, staring into his eyes even if he couldn’t concentrate or control himself. The feeling of your hand led him to grip onto your shoulder tightly, painfully.

And for the first time, Jack frightened you.

“Jack” you whispered, your eyes swelling up with tears even as you fought it off, the death grip he had on your arm and shoulder hurt. “C’mon come back to me” you pleaded, then you figured it out. “Hey Siri, play Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in A Small Town by Pearl Jam” you announced, your phone luckily catching it as the song played softly, enough to be heard.

You tried to lean in for a kiss only for Jack to regain control from the familiarity. Bruises starting to form on your arm and shoulder, you thought nothing of it as he came back to you. 

jack’s 40th birthday - 2017

The first time Jack let you in was the night of his 40th, he had gone out with Robby and some other friends to a sports bar. By the end of the night you were on his mind.

Not the fact that you bypassed his alarm system and stood in his kitchen at 1 am the night of when he got home in nothing but aquamarine lingerie with a cupcake and candle in hand. 

He smiled at the sight and craziness, as much as he did crave you, he was tired. So instead of sex, you put on his spare clothes and cuddled up on the couches watching a replay of the Pirates v. Cubs that you missed. He played with your styled hair, as your legs intertwined with each other, the cool metal sending goosebumps all over your skin. 

He thought you were asleep when he said I love you. 

You weren’t but, you also knew about the amount of beers in his system and the fact that you weren’t dating. Just fucking with a few extra steps. 

Though the next morning you made sure to put the aquamarine lingerie to good use.

january 20, 2018

The first big argument you had was just as your residency was about to end and you had to apply to fellowships across the nation, you knew you’d get the Pitt guaranteed, you were the only one that stuck to trauma. But it was the formality that you were following.

So when Jack found out you had offers on the East Coast and not once told him, he flipped out when you stayed the night.

“Jack, it's my career!” you shouted, you first started fighting in the backyard patio, now you were both in the bathroom as he brushed his teeth, the towels from the shower you both took hung on your body, “It’s a formality to apply- they pay me to go there and tour”.

“I just don’t see why there’s a need” he shook his head as he spat out the toothpaste.

“Bullshit, when you were in my place you applied elsewhere too” you raked your fingers through your hair, you felt like shit, like he was undermining your career that you built for yourself, “There’s a need because I’m gifted Jack, you were once in my shoes, I would think you’d be more understanding than this”.

“I am understanding, what I don’t get is why that far?”.

“It’s not binding for fucks sakes” you repeated yourself for the past hour, now you were at your wits end, “I’m not staying to fill some sort of void within you Jack, if I stay it’s for the betterment of myself and my career”.

You wanted to break him for making you feel like you were betraying him from a possibility. To make him feel what he was making you feel. Only thing was you were breaking both of you, not for the greater good, not for yourself or him, for approval that you were enough.

All he could give was a nod, he walked out of the en-suite. Grabbed a few clothes to throw on and slammed the dresser and door. You followed suit as he put shoes on and went to the key rack.

“Where are you going?”.

“I need a breather” he curtly replied, not sparing a glance at you once, a faint sniffle emitted from him.

“And that’s where?”.

“If you thought for even a second that this” he pointed between both of you, “Was filling a ‘void’ within me you’re completely fucking mistaken” he cursed, “I’m leaving, you can go to California for all I fucking care”.

You scoffed in his face, refusing to break, “What did you even want from this huh?” you egged on, “Sex and ‘I love you’s’ without any form of attachment? You lead me on 3- almost 4 years and keep me here ‘cuz I’m good fuck?”.

“We agreed to this!” he became irritated, “You’re the one who insisted that a relationship is only going make it complicated just for sex to be fucking complicated” his blood ran hot, “I have been willing to spare my feelings to cater to you and your lack of commitment with this, now you want to leave”.

“It’s a fellowship Jack! It’s a year!” you groaned, “I didn’t think you needed titles and stone cold definitive answers for you to know I love you” you blurted. You never once told him you loved him, whenever he told you he was under the impression you were asleep or unaware.

He was stunned at first, “I can’t do this right now with you” he continued on with leaving.

You wouldn’t see him for another four hours, by the time it reached 12 am you were worried he got into a bar fight, car crash, got shot in an accident- you were paranoid beyond words and reduced to tears.

When Jack came back home he shot you a text, ‘Come outside’. It was freezing and you still went anyway, seeing him sit on his truck bed opening in his driveway.

You took the spot next to him, shivering slightly. “I haven’t felt this way about someone in my life since…” Jack trailed on, “I want you to further your career, I want you to accomplish fucking feats in trauma surgery. Just as much as I want to go home with you or to you. I can’t be selfish about it, but I am, and it’s not fair to you”.

“I want to stay”.

“But-“.

“I want to stay” you repeated, “It’s not entirely because of you, it’s because of this” you used your finger to draw a circle in the air, “As of right now they’re are 7.6 billion people in this world and only one of them I can be everything I want to be with” you cheekily confessed, “So it’s ‘but’ nothing. I’ve been wanting to be with you since I met you. I just thought people would think it’s preferential treatment and I fucked my way up”.

“I can’t hold you back”.

“You’ve taught me enough to blow those fucking boards and competency exams through the roof- I mean I did a lot of the work but you are quite the teacher” you responded, “Plus, when you’re frail and old we can go to California”.

Jack laughed, you spent the rest of the night cuddling, just before you lightly slapped him for worrying you. 

december 24, 2018

It was your first Christmas together. You told your parents there was no possibility of you being able to go, the ED is always swamped during the holiday season. You and Jack had a promise to keep: home by 1 am, warm shower together then presents and maybe sex unless you both crash.

It was 11 pm and your hand was deep in a man’s chest cavity, “Push another round of epi” you demanded, Greene nowhere to be found, you were just a fellow, technically not fully authorized to perform surgery especially in a trauma room.

“Okay no everyone stop, push local anesthesia, I’m going in, I need new gloves and protection glasses now” you demanded, getting a few looks from the interns.

“Y/n cardio is swamped, now’s not the time for a cardiac ablation, especially here” Princess muttered to you, you looked up.

“Seal off the doors, I want only authorized personnel in here only, call Greene, tell him I’m doing a cardiac ablation, our patient has an irregular heartbeat, I need to control that before anything else, I’m going to close him up” you instructed, “Princess please get me a catheter with electrodes”.

“Abbot has them next door” she responded, you looked at the nurse on the phone.

“Call Abbot and tell him I need a catheter with electrodes immediately, he’s authorized to come in”.

“What the fuck is she doing?” Jack cursed under his breath as he made his way downstairs, seeing you close up the Santa impersonator. “Cardiac ablation?”.

You nodded, “Patients stable and closed up, Jesse cut off his pants for me” you told him.

“Can I stay to watch?” he breathed your neck, handing you the catheter.

“Not too close or else I’ll be sticking this in you” you murmured back, Jack took his place next to the monitors.

“I need all the interns to the back, you may not get any closer than that, if you’re paged I’ll clear it later” you shouted, Princess handed you your 11-blade as well as moved the stray pieces of hair.

You made the incision on the groin, inserting the catheter while applying cryoablation. As the scar tissue formed, his arrhythmia stopped completely and he was stabilized, you did it within 10 minutes in complete silence.

“I know you did not just perform surgery unauthorized in a non-sterile trauma room” Gloria’s voice boomed none less than a minute after, the entire floor heard her grilling into you.

All you could do was laugh at it, you saved a man’s life and cured his arrhythmia, he was conscious before your shift ended and gave his thanks, luckily, he didn’t need a pacemaker. He did guarantee that when and if you have kids, he’ll be glad to be Santa for them.

The drive home was quiet as it was 3:40 am in Pittsburgh, snowing and windy. Jack and you took separate cars and he made it home before you. You cursed today as your back and feet hurt, you bruised your hand twice over, and you missed the celebration with Jack.

When you parked next to Jack’s truck in the driveway, the garage being a mess from the Christmas bins being everywhere, you could almost crash, but you’d prefer Jack’s warmth over suffocating in a car so you opened the garage door and went inside. 

Greeted with candles and rose petals all over the place as Frank Sinatra’s rendition of The Christmas Song played. You could cry right then and there when you turned your head to face the living room, seeing the fireplace burn and the Christmas tree lit.

Jack’s hands found their way to your coat, startled for a second from wondering where the hell he came from. He took it off, hung it on the coat rack and let you walk through the house.

“There’s a bath drawn with your name on it Rambo” he whispered in your ear as he ghosted a kiss on your neck, you giggled from not having heard that nickname in over a year. “After we can drink that wine you’ve been talking about the past week, open a few presents…”.

“Wait for me?” you whispered back.

“Always”.

You didn’t make it to open presents, falling asleep on the couch on top of Jack after two glasses of wine. Thankfully, that didn’t become a tradition, you made it a habit to take day shifts during holidays. The next year he gave you an all-inclusive spa membership, you got him a new grill. It was a quiet moment for you both every year, a comforting quiet moment.

august 20, 2020

“You’re working tonight baby?” you questioned, as you poured two cups of hot cocoa for Jack’s niece and nephew. Jack placed a kiss on your cheek. 

Since the pandemic, you were hardly working, they strictly put surgical teams as oncall only as a safety measure. But you saw the strain on Jack. So when his brother insisted on breaking lockdown protocols and having his children stay over, he was displeased and stressed.

“Yeah, Adamson’s not doing well, Robby wants me to rotate out with him” he told you, “I think him and Collins are a thing” he chose to gossip.

You scoffed, “After all the shit he gave you for being with me he does that? At least we were in different departments but they better hope no one finds out” you then added, “But I do love Heather so good for him”.

Jack smiled before looking at you a tad bit more seriously, “I may be back tomorrow or in two days, you think you can drop them off at my brothers?”.

“Yeah might just force them to get vaccinated too” you tried to lighten the mood, “Seriously they’re the first to come to you for medical advice but when it comes to preventive medicine they get psyched out” you sighed.

“Trust me I know” he shook his head, there was a comfortable pause between the two of you, one of knowing and begging to be safe, “I love you”.

“I love you” you replied before kissing him, “Stay safe please hon” he bid his farewells to his niece and nephew who were engulfed in monopoly on the island counter. 

When he came home, he broke the news about Adamson, spent the day holding you in bed as his brother bit the bullet and picked the kids up. You were worried about Jack’s health with the sleepless nights, he insisted you were becoming stir crazy. The next week you had six surgeries, Greene would’ve assisted you but he retired the month before, leaving the trauma department to you. 

dividers by @cafekitsune

[marvelwitchergilmore]

State Of Denial

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> When Bucky gets sick, you take care of him.

Disclaimer: Fluffy fluff, Bucky is in denial about being sick, reader takes care of him, hint of oblivious idiots/mutual pining, little extra fluff at the end. Not fully proof read.

“Buck, you’re sick.”

You and Sam watched as Bucky walked around the kitchen, his nose bright red and his eyes heavy. You watched as he struggled a little to get the child safety cap off the vitamin bottle. 

“I am not sick,” Bucky moved the bottle away from him as he sneezed into his elbow. “I can’t get sick.”

With a small sigh, you reached out for the bottle and opened it yourself. 

“Even Thor gets sick,” you told him. “And he’s a God. You can get sick.”

Bucky nodded a silent thank you before taking some of the vitamins. “I am not sick.”

He was in denial for the following two days, only accepting the truth when he almost collapsed in the hallway. 

You’d been keeping your eye on him for the last few hours. He seemed better than the last couple of days, in the morning. But by mid afternoon, it was like he was halfway to cos-playing Roudolph. 

And when his legs nearly gave out from under him, you decided to put your foot down. 

“Okay, super soldier.” You wrapped an arm around his back and helped him get steady on his feet. “Bedtime.”

Finally getting him into his bed was the easiest task you’d faced for the last few days. He went down like a sack of potatoes onto his mattress, his brow already growing with a sheen of sweat. 

“Why is it so hot in here?”

You reached up and felt his forehead with the back of your hand. “Buck, you’re freezing cold. Friday, please alert Doctor Banner that Bucky-” You looked down at the super soldier. “Has passed out.”

For the next three days, you stayed by Bucky’s side. You kept a track of his temperature, and made sure he was taking his medicine that Banner had prescribed. You tried a few times to make sure he ate something, but it would only end up in the toilet ten minutes later. 

“With his immune system, he doesn’t work the same way you or I would,” one of Banner’s assistants explained to you. “He’s immune to most things, but he still has to build that immunity. Meaning, when he gets sick, he’s…like this. Imagine having the worst flu you could think of.”

You nodded. The worst flu you’d had was just before your final exams of your senior year in high school. It had come from nowhere and hit you like a freight train. 

“Now, times that by twenty. If that kind of thing hit the likes of you or me, we’d be dead. But, since he does have the serum, it hits him like the worst end of your worst kind of flu. So long as he keeps taking antibiotics, and keeps fluids down, he should be back on his feet by the end of the week.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

Just as day five was approaching, Bucky finally woke up long enough to make a coherent sentence. 

You smiled. “Welcome back, soldier. How are you feeling?”

Bucky blinked and looked around. His room was darker than it had been before, but the sun was yet to set. But, without answers, he decided to focus on you instead. 

“Same way I felt after my little league baseball game.”

You smiled a little, grateful he hadn’t slurred any of his words. But the comment threw you off. But, he must have noticed because he went on to explain. 

“We got pummelled by the opposite team. Ended up with a baseball to the back of my head.”

You chuckled a little, letting him continue. “I got bored and started watching the clouds instead of the field.”

With a smile lightly gracing your face, you reached into the fresh bowl of water beside his bed and wrung out a rag before lightly dabbing his forehead. 

“How long have I been out?”

“Couple days,” you told him. “Told you, you were sick.”

Bucky smiled briefly, but then it disappeared. He had no knowledge of the last few days. When he woke up, he thought it had only been a couple hours. 

Gently, Bucky wrapped his hand around your wrist and lowered it from his head. 

He didn’t have to ask. 

“Everything is okay, Buck. You got faint, so I took care of you.”

“With the amount of serum running through my veins, I should be able to take care of myself.”

You held the cloth in your hand, above your thigh. Your eyes remained on Bucky. “Can I get that written in stone? I don’t think I’ve ever met a man who has said that.”

You placed the cloth back into the bowl of water and returned to Bucky. “They get half a symptom and they think they're dying.”

For a moment, Bucky chuckled. “I hate being sick,” he admitted. “Hated it as a kid, too.”

“What? Meant you couldn’t get your head bashed in with a baseball?”

He smiled, briefly. “Something like that.”

“Well,” you said. “You’ll be back on your feet in no time. I made some food for when you’re ready to eat, and-”

As you went to stand, Bucky’s hand reached out for you. “Thank you. Seriously.”

You smiled down at his slightly weakened frame before you sat beside him once more. And for a short moment, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Anytime. Get some rest. If you’re up to it, take a shower. I’m gonna go heat up the food.”

Bucky watched as you walked out of his room and down the hall. 

Half an hour later as you were dishing out the food, Bucky slowly made his way into the kitchen. He looked better than he did a few days ago, but he still looked like he’d been on death’s door. 

“What are you doing? I thought I told you to rest.”

“I’ve been resting for four days. I needed to move.”

From the fresh shampoo scent and body wash that breezed past you as you handed a bowl over to him, you confirmed he had managed to take a shower. 

“Eat up,” you told him before you walked over and set the fireplace before striking a match. 

For the next three hours, you and Bucky sat in front of the fire. Long after his dinner, which he managed to keep down, Bucky fell asleep whilst watching one of the sitcom reruns you’d asked Friday to put on. 

By the time Bucky woke up, he didn’t know what time it was. But he did know he felt a thousand times better than he had done before. 

Maybe you’d been right about getting some more rest. 

Only, as he looked around for you, he found you curled up on the floor beside him. Your hand kept the page of your book open, from where you’d been laying on your stomach, reading another chapter of whatever book you’d found on the shelves in your room. 

Bucky was careful as he swung his legs off the side of the sofa. 

Balling up the blanket you’d had over yourself, he threw it onto the empty sofa opposite both of you before he carefully lifted you from the ground. 

You’d taken care of him for the last four days. The least he could do was make sure you slept somewhere comfortable. 

Laying you down under your covers, he made sure to close your window on the latch after he covered you back up. 

And with one final kiss to your head, he stepped away and carefully closed your bedroom door behind him, only to be greeted by Sam walking out of his own bedroom, half-asleep. 

“You’re gonna have to tell her at some point, man.” Sam told him groggily. 

“And what’s that?”

“That’s you’re,” Sam gave a wide yawn. “In love with her.”

Bucky just smiled and looked away in the darkness of the hallway. “Whatever, Samuel. Goodnight.”

Sam shook his finger above his head as he walked in the opposite direction to his friend. “You know I’m right, Buck.” 

Sam eventually heard Bucky’s bedroom door click shut, and he chuckled to himself. “He knows I’m right.”

Part Two

[colossrat]

The League is discussing about Klarion. They want to come up with a plan in case he attacks again-- And Captain Marvel is not having it.

Marvel: He’s not dangerous! He’s just a kid with no one to play with. He just needs a friend.

Batman: He almost caused several fatalities during his last appearance-

Marvel: Yeah, he was bored! He has this mountain of power and nowhere to put it. He’s focusing on the League because we have enough power to play at his level. He doesn’t mean any harm, Mister Batman, he just wants to be around people who understand him...

Green Lantern: So what then? You want us to open a daycare for him? Play board games? Video games?

Marvel: Of course not. He would hate that. But… it’s not a completely bad idea. Me and the other magic users could try to befriend him. We have more than enough magic and knowledge to handle his pranks without anyone getting seriously hurt. And it would keep him away from civilians.

Arthur (Aquaman): I don’t think Doctor Fate is going to enjoy babysitting with you, Cap.

Superman: But maybe we could give it a try, right? It’s not a bad idea- if it works.

Red Tornado: Based on the data I’ve collected as the 'mother hen' of Young Justice… I’d say "it’s worth a shot". Klarion is still a kid, as Captain Marvel pointed out. Kids with abilities like his could benefit from the company of others who understand them. It might even help him feel normal—accepted. And if it works, the chances of us becoming the target of Klarion’s boredom again would decrease significantly.

Batman: Captain Marvel, are you sure you can do this? I can’t promise the other magic users will join you. As you know, many of them don’t exactly appreciate Klarion’s brand of magic.

Marvel: Sure thing, Mister Batman! I can handle Klarion, no problem.

So Marvel goes off to find Klarion and tries talking to him. Later, he reports back to the League that things are going well. Klarion agreed not to attack, as long as Marvel plays with him every now and then.

But one day, during a League meeting that’s dragging on way too long, Klarion invades the Watchtower, wearing a scowl that could melt stee

Klarion: Captain! You’re twenty minutes late! You promised to introduce me and Teekl to that magical tiger of yours!

Marvel: Oh, yeah. Sorry, Klarion. I didn’t realize how long this was taking... Er, Batman, sir—would it be alright if I leave early?

Batman: Hmm… You’re dismissed for now, Marvel.

And with that, the League watches as Marvel smiles— And in a flash of light, he transforms into a kid. Not Billy, but a smaller, more casual version of Marvel.

He runs up to Klarion, gives him a high five, and together they disappear through a magical portal.

Later, Marvel explains that he changes forms when they hang out, so they don’t draw too much attention while playing around on Earth.

[neeeooon]

Heyyy could I request Isagi, Reo and Yukimiya confessing their feelings to their crush, but the crush is so shy and insecure that at first, they don't believe the boys and instead, they think it's like, a prank or a bet because the guys are like, cool athletes ? thaanks !!

omg so cute!! yes tysm for the request! 💞

when they confess their crush on you

hs athlete!bllk x shy gn!reader

isagi yoichi

-> when isagi yoichi, aka the best player on the high school soccer team, ran up to you after the final bell rang for the day, sirens immediately went off in your head

-> he barely got the word “date?” out before you clutched your books closer to your chest and shook your head. “i’ve heard about the boys on your team who ask people out as bets and pranks just to humiliate them. i didn’t think you were like that, but i guess i was wrong.”

-> “… eh?” “that’s why you’re asking me out, right? to make your friends laugh?” “EH?!”

-> it takes a lot of convincing, and most of it is isagi stumbling over his words because he was not expecting you to say that. bachira spent twenty minutes hyping him up, repeating that “the worst thing y/n could say is no.” this was worse than that

-> the combination of his stammering, nape rubbing, and pink cheeks is enough to prove he’s genuine. “okay… we can hang out this weekend..?” “this weekend works!”

mikage reo

-> mikage reo. wealthy, intelligent, great at sports, and used to getting what he wants. so, when he sets his eyes on you, he thinks asking you out will be a breeze

-> “uh, no thank you…” you politely decline after reo asks you to eat lunch with him. it takes a moment for your rejection to sink in, but once it does, reo is all sorts of confused. “wait, no? why not?”

-> his voice doesn’t sound as accusatory as his words, so you shrug and duck your head to hide your flaming face. “you’re only asking me out because bored… so no thank you.”

-> he’s flabbergasted because what?? reo thinks you’re the most attractive person he’s ever seen, and anytime he gets the chance to talk to you, you’re always kind. plus he likes the sound of your voice; how could he not have feelings for you?!

-> before you can move around him, he’s stretching himself out like a sea star. “wait! i’m rich! i’m never bored! wait, that came out wrong..” rubbing his purple hair aggressively, reo pulls a small box of chocolates from his book bag and holds them out for you. “i like you. i have for a while, and me asking you out isn’t because i’m bored, it’s because i want to get to know you better!”

-> though you’re still a bit hesitant, chocolates are your weakness. you timidly take the box from his hands and offer a half-hearted smile. “okay… we can hang out after class tomorrow.” “it’s a date!”

yukimiya kenyu

-> he asked karasu and otoya to give him advice on how to ask you out, which was a huge mistake

-> those two followed you around school for a week before you finally broke down and begged them to leave you alone. when yukimiya went up to apologize and explain, you immediately shut him down

-> “i-i’m sorry! i don’t know what game you and your friends are playing, but i don’t want to be a part of it!”

-> he needs a moment to think after that. “game?” “you know, how you ask people out and ditch them? or worse, trick them into thinking you like them before insulting and laughing at them…” yukimiya is genuinely hurt that you’d think so little of him and his friends, despite not knowing a thing about them. was that their reputation?

-> “i’m not playing a game with you, y/n.” “… you’re not?” “no. the reason karasu and otoya were ‘following’ you was because i wanted to know what you liked so i could surprise you when i asked you out on a date..” “a date?”

-> part of you is still unsure, because why would yukimiya, the soccer model, as you out? but his eyes look genuine, and his smile makes you feel fuzzy, so you decide to risk it. if he breaks your heart, so be it. you only live once, anyway. “okay… um, here’s my number. text me?”

[honeydippedfiction]

Angel x Joe #9 for hurt/comfort. I just love them so much

1k & Birthday Bash nav | main navigation | reqs | table of contents

#9. Taking you to the ER for an injury/sickness.

Joe Burrow x Angel

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

It started with silence.

The kind that made Joe glance up from his iPad, the game film still rolling in slow-motion replays, his AirPods still in his ears. The TV was on mute, casting soft blue light across the living room, where Angel sat curled on the edge of the couch.

Or rather, had been sitting.

Now she was hunched forward, elbows on her knees, one hand to her forehead, her breathing shallow and fast.

Joe pulled out his AirPods. “Angel?”

She didn’t answer.

He rose quickly, crossing the room in two strides, crouching down in front of her. Her skin was pale, even under the warm-toned lamplight, and her curls stuck to her forehead with sweat.

“Babe, hey. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I—” Her voice cracked. “I don’t know. My head hurts. I’m dizzy. My chest is tight.”

Joe’s stomach dropped. This wasn’t like her. Angel was composed even when she was in pain, someone who once sat through a root canal and walked out like it was a teeth cleaning. But now she looked like she could barely stay upright.

“When’s the last time you drank water?” he asked.

She blinked slowly, trying to focus on him. “I—I don’t remember. I was rushing this morning. I didn’t eat lunch. I had two meetings. Then the cake tasting. I…”

Her sentence dissolved into nothing. Joe barely caught her before she collapsed.

Her body went limp in his arms, head tilting back, eyelids fluttering. For a horrifying second, he thought she was gone—until she let out a shaky breath.

“Angel!” His voice cracked. “Come on. Wake up. Hey.”

She stirred weakly, and then her back arched in his arms—a sudden, stiff jolt—and a small, guttural sound left her throat.

Panic exploded in Joe’s chest.

He didn’t think. He scooped her up, grabbed his phone with trembling fingers, and was already calling 911 before he reached the car.

·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇·̣̇̇·̇ •❣•୨୧┈┈┈୨୧•❣• ·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇·̣̇̇·̇·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇·̣̇̇·̇ •❣•୨୧┈┈┈୨୧•❣• ·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇·̣̇̇·̇

The drive to the ER was a blur.

Joe had never driven so fast in his life, one hand on the wheel, the other gripping Angel’s leg as she lay slumped in the reclined passenger seat. The dispatcher stayed on the line, guiding him with calm, clear directions—keep her head tilted, monitor her breathing, don’t panic.

Don’t panic.

But how could he not?

The woman he loved, the woman he’d been planning a life with—she wasn’t responsive, wasn’t herself. He kept glancing over at her, willing her to open her eyes, to tell him she was okay. That it was just a panic attack, or low blood sugar, or anything less terrifying than what his mind was already imagining.

He pulled into the University of Cincinnati Medical Center’s emergency lane at 1:53 AM, tires squealing. He threw the car into park and sprinted around the side, yelling for help before the door even swung open.

“Somebody—help! I think she passed out—maybe a seizure—she’s not waking up!”

Nurses rushed forward with a stretcher, and Joe gently eased her out of the car. She looked small and weightless in his arms, her head resting against his chest, her breathing faint but there.

“We’ve got her,” one of the nurses said, taking control.

Joe tried to follow them, but a security guard stepped in. “Give them a minute, sir. They’ll come get you.”

“She’s my fiancée,” he said hoarsely. “I’m not going anywhere.”

·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇·̣̇̇·̇ •❣•୨୧┈┈┈୨୧•❣• ·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇·̣̇̇·̇·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇·̣̇̇·̇ •❣•୨୧┈┈┈୨୧•❣• ·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇·̣̇̇·̇

Twenty minutes later, he was finally allowed into the exam room.

Angel was lying under crisp hospital sheets, a nasal cannula feeding her oxygen, an IV in her arm, electrodes on her chest. Her skin was still pale, but her breathing was steadier. A nurse explained the basics: extreme dehydration, compounded by stress, likely triggered a vasovagal syncope response. The moment she passed out, her body’s natural reflex had gone haywire. It wasn’t a full seizure, but close enough to terrify anyone watching.

Joe sat down beside her, covering his face with both hands.

The nurse touched his shoulder. “She’s stable. She’s going to be okay.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. “Thank you.”

“She’ll need fluids, rest, and probably a full workup to make sure there’s nothing more serious going on.”

As the nurse left, Angel stirred.

Joe shot to his feet, leaning over her. “Hey. Angel. Can you hear me?”

Her eyelids fluttered, and slowly, her eyes opened. Confused at first. Then they found him. Her voice was thin, cracked. “Joe?”

“I’m here. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

She looked around, eyes glassy. “Hospital?”

“Yeah,” he said, brushing hair back from her face. “You scared the hell out of me.”

She frowned, trying to piece things together. “What happened?”

“You passed out. You were dehydrated. And I think stress finally got the best of you.”

Her eyes filled, not with pain, but with guilt. “I didn’t want to worry you. I thought I could just push through it.”

“You don’t have to push through anything alone,” Joe said, taking her hand gently. “That’s not how this works. Not with me.”

She closed her eyes again, letting a few tears fall. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he said firmly. “No sorries. Just get better. That’s all I want.”

·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇·̣̇̇·̇ •❣•୨୧┈┈┈୨୧•❣• ·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇·̣̇̇·̇·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇·̣̇̇·̇ •❣•୨୧┈┈┈୨୧•❣• ·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇·̣̇̇·̇

They kept her overnight for observation.

Joe stayed, refusing to leave even when the nurses brought him a cot he didn’t touch. He sat by her bed all night, holding her hand, listening to the steady beep of the monitors. The hospital window turned from black to navy to gray, and finally, pale pink as dawn broke.

Angel slept deeply, the medications doing their job, her face relaxed at last.

Joe leaned back in the chair, exhausted but wide awake.

In all his years of pressure—on the field, in the spotlight, under blitzes and injuries—he had never been more scared than he’d been watching her body go still in his arms.

Football could break bones. But this kind of fear?

This was the kind that broke hearts.

And still, there was nowhere he’d rather be than beside her.

·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇·̣̇̇·̇ •❣•୨୧┈┈┈୨୧•❣• ·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇·̣̇̇·̇·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇·̣̇̇·̇ •❣•୨୧┈┈┈୨୧•❣• ·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇·̣̇̇·̇

Angel had been home for less than twenty-four hours, and Joe was already driving her crazy.

He hovered.

He followed her from room to room like a silent bodyguard—carrying water bottles, fluffing pillows, adjusting thermostats like the air itself might try to harm her. Every time she so much as shifted her weight or scratched her head, Joe looked up from wherever he was like she’d just cried out in pain.

She loved him. Deeply.

But if he asked her one more time if she was too cold, she was going to pretend to faint just so he’d stop talking.

“Joe,” she said flatly, watching him bring her the third cup of electrolyte water that hour, “I’m not a dying plant. I’m a person. I’m fine.”

He didn’t flinch. “You were unconscious two nights ago. You’re not fine, you’re recovering.”

Angel sighed from her place on the couch, propped up with enough pillows to build a small fort. She wore one of Joe’s sweatshirts, her legs wrapped in a blanket, the IV bruise on her hand faint but still tender. “You’re treating me like I’m made of glass.”

“You passed out and scared the hell out of me. So yeah, I’m gonna treat you like you’re glass. Until the doctor clears you. Until I clear you.”

She raised a brow. “You’re not a doctor.”

“I’m quarterbacking your recovery. Same thing.”

Angel groaned, rolling her eyes. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Joe grinned and sat beside her, not-so-subtly checking her pulse on her wrist. She let him, because truth be told, even though his hovering was excessive, it was also kind of sweet.

“You haven’t left the house since I got back,” she said after a beat.

“I’m on a ‘mental health’ day,” he replied, shrugging. “Coach told me to take it. Said I looked like someone who hadn’t slept in a week.”

She gave him a soft look. “Because you haven’t slept in a week.”

“I’ve been busy keeping you alive,” he teased, though his eyes were still a little too serious for the joke to fully land.

Angel nudged his leg with her foot. “You can breathe now. I’m not going to pass out again.”

“You don’t know that.”

She tilted her head. “You’re scared.”

Joe exhaled slowly. “Yeah. I am.”

The room fell quiet except for the hum of the heater kicking on. He looked down at her hand in his, thumb brushing gently over her knuckles.

“I’ve had injuries. I’ve taken hits. I’ve had defenders try to take my head off,” he said. “But none of that ever made me feel like this—watching you fall and not knowing if you’d open your eyes again.”

Angel’s eyes welled with quiet tears—not from pain this time, but from something softer, heavier.

“I didn’t know I’d let myself get that run down,” she whispered. “I thought I could handle it. The wedding planning, work, the travel… being your partner means being strong.”

“Being my partner means being real,” Joe said. “Strong doesn’t mean pushing until you break. You don’t have to prove anything to me. Ever.”

She nodded slowly, overwhelmed by his gentleness.

“I’ll try to be better about listening to my body,” she said. “But you have to try not to lose your mind every time I stand up to pee.”

“No promises.”

She laughed—a real one this time—and Joe looked both relieved and proud, like he’d just completed a game-winning drive.

·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇·̣̇̇·̇ •❣•୨୧┈┈┈୨୧•❣• ·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇·̣̇̇·̇·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇·̣̇̇·̇ •❣•୨୧┈┈┈୨୧•❣• ·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇·̣̇̇·̇

Later that night, after she was asleep, Joe sat on the floor beside the couch, reading the discharge papers for the fifth time. Gallons of fluids, balanced meals, no stress. Easy instructions, hard execution.

He looked up at her, curled under the blanket, face soft in sleep.

He knew he couldn’t protect her from everything. But he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

[kenzdolls]

𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑

𖤐 synopsis: it’s tomura’s birthday! so what better way than to celebrate it with him?

𖤐 trigger warnings: fluff!

𖤐 pairing: shigaraki tomura x gender neutral! reader

The soft glow of your phone illuminated your face as you checked the time once more: 11:47 PM, April 3rd. In just thirteen minutes, it would officially be Shigaraki Tomura's birthday. You smiled to yourself, knowing he probably didn't expect anyone to remember—least of all you, considering how your relationship had begun.

Your mind drifted back to your first encounter with the League of Villains' leader. It wasn't exactly a meet-cute; more like a collision of worlds that neither of you had anticipated. Yet somehow, against all odds, a connection had formed between you—tentative at first, then undeniable as time went on.

Shigaraki was asleep in the next room. You had convinced him to let you stay over tonight with some flimsy excuse about apartment renovations, hiding your true intentions. The cake was hidden in the back of his refrigerator, a small vanilla affair with minimal decoration—anything too elaborate would have aroused his suspicion. The gift, wrapped in simple black paper, was tucked away in your overnight bag.

The minutes ticked by. 11:55 PM.

You slipped out of the guest room and padded quietly to the kitchen. The hideout was silent except for the occasional creak of the old building settling. You removed the cake from its hiding spot and placed a single candle in the center. No need for twenty-something candles; Shigaraki wouldn't appreciate the fire hazard anyway.

11:59 PM.

Heart pounding, you lit the candle and carefully made your way to his bedroom door. You balanced the cake in one hand and knocked softly with the other.

"What?" His voice came through the door, alert despite the hour. Of course he wasn't asleep. When did Shigaraki ever sleep properly?

"Can I come in?" you called softly.

A pause, then: "Fine."

You pushed open the door with your foot to find him sitting up in bed, the harsh light of a gaming console illuminating his face. His pale blue hair was messier than usual, falling haphazardly around his face. His red eyes widened slightly at the sight of you holding the cake.

"Happy birthday," you said, smiling as the digital clock on his nightstand clicked over to 12:00 AM.

He stared at you, then at the cake, his expression unreadable. "How did you know?"

You entered the room fully, setting the cake down on his desk. "I have my sources," you replied with a mysterious smile. In truth, you had overheard Kurogiri mentioning it to Dabi weeks ago and had been planning this moment ever since.

"You didn't have to do this," he muttered, but you noticed he didn't take his eyes off the cake.

"I wanted to." You sat on the edge of his bed. "Make a wish?"

Shigaraki scoffed, but he set aside his console and moved to the desk. "Wishes are for children."

"Humor me?"

He gave you a look that might have been intimidating to anyone else, but you'd grown accustomed to his attempts to appear disinterested. With an exaggerated sigh, he leaned forward and blew out the candle in one quick breath.

"What did you wish for?" you asked.

"If I tell you, it won't come true," he replied sarcastically, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. "Isn't that how the superstition goes?"

You laughed and retrieved your gift from your bag. "Here. It's not much, but..."

Shigaraki took the package with surprising gentleness. His fingers worked carefully at the wrapping paper, methodically removing it without tearing it—so different from his usual destructive tendencies. Inside was a custom controller for his favorite gaming system, matte black with hand-painted details that matched his aesthetic.

"I noticed your current one was getting worn out," you explained when he didn't immediately respond. "And I added some modifications that should improve the response time for those games you like."

He turned the controller over in his hands, examining it from every angle. "You made this?"

You nodded, suddenly feeling nervous. "Do you like it?"

Instead of answering, he set the controller down carefully and looked at you with an intensity that made your breath catch. "Why do you do this?"

"Do what?"

"Care." The word seemed to cost him something to say. "About me. About my birthday. About any of this."

You moved closer to him, brave in the quiet darkness of the early morning. "Because you matter to me, Tomura. Because everyone deserves to be remembered on their birthday."

"Even villains?" There was a challenge in his voice, but also vulnerability that he rarely allowed anyone to hear.

"Especially you." You reached for his hand, interlacing your fingers with his. "The world might see Shigaraki Tomura, leader of the League of Villains. But I see you."

Something shifted in his expression then, the hardness momentarily giving way to something softer, more human. He squeezed your hand gently.

"Thank you," he said, the words coming out slightly stiff, as if he wasn't used to saying them—which he probably wasn't.

You smiled and reached for the cake. "Now, do you want to eat this, or should I have gone with the ice cream option instead?"

He gave you one of his rare, genuine half-smiles. "Cake is fine. But only because you went to the trouble."

As you cut slices for both of you, you caught him looking at you with an expression you couldn't quite decipher—something between wonder and confusion, as if he couldn't quite believe you were really there, celebrating his birthday with him at midnight.

"What?" you asked, handing him a slice.

"Nothing," he said, taking the cake. Then, more quietly: "Just... no one's done this for me in a long time."

Your heart ached at the implication. How many birthdays had he spent alone? How many years had passed without anyone marking the occasion?

"Well," you said, keeping your tone light despite the emotion welling in your chest, "get used to it. I plan on celebrating many more birthdays with you."

His eyes met yours, searching for any sign of insincerity. Finding none, he nodded once, a barely perceptible movement.

"I might not hate that," he admitted, which from Shigaraki was practically a declaration of affection.

You ate cake together in comfortable silence, the soft glow of his desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. Outside, the world continued to turn, heroes and villains alike sleeping through the first hours of April 4th, unaware of this quiet moment between you and the man society had deemed irredeemable.

But you knew better. Here, in this space you'd created together, he wasn't the villain from the news reports. He was just Tomura, eating birthday cake at midnight, occasionally glancing at you as if to reassure himself you were still there.

Later, as dawn approached and you both grew tired, you found yourself curled against his side, his arm tentatively around your shoulders as you watched him play with his new controller.

"Best birthday?" you asked sleepily.

He was quiet for so long you thought he might not answer. Then, so softly you almost missed it:

"Yes."

And as you drifted off to sleep beside him, you knew that whatever tomorrow held—whatever plans the League had, whatever conflicts awaited—you had given Shigaraki Tomura this one perfect moment. A birthday to remember.

mutuals: @haikyuubby @https-bakugo @va-3 @kitkat13001 @lotusstarr @shigarakislaughter

© 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐙𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 —

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

College Rafe AU where he plays football and they win the big game. because we all saw THE GIF from ‘The other Zoey’ and needed a football au

Was I listening to The Alchemy when I wrote this? Absolutely. My only football knowledge comes from watching Taylor at the games and the smallest from TV shows...so don't take it too seriously. I hope you enjoy <3

Warnings: possible inaccurate football stuff and Taylor references

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The February wind blew as you sat in the stands and watched the team finish practice. You usually were tutoring at this hour, but the person canceled at the last minute, leaving you with an hour to spare before your work shift. You hated when people made you waste your time. Going to your dorm would be pointless since your job was on campus, so you went on the football field to surprise Rafe.  

He ran across the field with the football, sweat dampening the collar of his gray tee shirt. You couldn’t help but worry about him getting cold. This Friday was the big championship game and, as the star player, Rafe couldn’t afford to get sick. No offense to the other players, but the team would lose without him.

Coach called the boys over and you watched Rafe taking off his helmet and wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt, flashing his abs. The few girls sitting lower in the stands were wetting their panties at the sight, dreaming impossible things. These abs were only yours to touch. 

Minutes passed, and then Coach blew his final whistle, calling the end of practice. You went down the stands and called out Rafe’s name, tearing his attention from his teammate’s. When his eyes found you, he changed direction and told his teammate he’d catch up with them later. 

‘’Shouldn’t you be tutoring that swim team jerk?’’ 

You tried to not look too annoyed as you explained the situation. ‘’He canceled on me two minutes before the lesson...’’ 

Rafe closed the last steps to you and pulled you in a loose hug, knowing you didn’t like it when he was hugging you with his sweaty body. You didn’t mind the sweat, it was the smell that lingered on your clothes that you didn’t like. One time, your co-worker asked why you smelled like a football locker room after a game… You’ve never been more embarrassed.

‘’I hope you’re charging him for the lesson. He made you waste your time waiting for him.’’ 

You wished you could do that, but that’s not how it worked. 

‘’How was practice?’’ you asked, changing the subject. ‘’You ready for Friday?’’ 

‘’Coach doubled our pre-practice run because Robbe showed up hungover.’’ Rafe groaned, his legs sore from the extra running. 

You drew your eyebrows together. ‘’It’s only Wednesday…’’ 

‘’Exactly. It’s the second time he shows up hungover this month. He better clean his act up before Friday or else Coach is gonna bench him. Just because his father gives big money to the school doesn’t mean he can do shit like that.’’ 

‘’Fucking entitled rich kids.’’

You scoffed. ‘’Sure, Mr. My-Father-Is-Ward-Cameron-And-Owns-An-Estate-Company.’’ 

Rafe rolled his eyes. ‘’Alright, alright.’’ A brisk of wind blew and he scrunched his nose, his cheeks red from the weather. You reached to touch it, and he leaned into the warmth of your palm. ‘’Mmh, that feels nice. Do you want to get pizza and watch a movies?’’ 

‘’Tempting offer, but I have to get going soon. I have work in twenty minutes.’’ 

You pouted and Rafe pulled you closer. 

‘’Fuck work, stay with me.’’ 

A laugh left your lips. ‘’I can’t do that. I’ll get fired.’’ 

On Friday, you met Rafe’s family in the stands. You had met Ward, Rose and Wheezie before, but never Sarah. She was graduating high school this year and hadn’t been able to make it to any of Rafe’s games. It was nice to finally meet her. 

‘’Ah, so you’re the lucky charm,’’ Sarah said, flashing you a smile. ‘’I’ve heard the team is on a winning streak since you and Rafe got together.’’ 

The lucky charm was a joke Rafe’s teammates made after noticing the team had been winning every time you attended. You thought it was only running around school, but apparently Sarah had heard about it. 

The game was close to begin — seven minutes left before kickoff. From high up in the stands, you watched Rafe bouncing on his feet on the sideline, the stress of the game turned into bursts of energy. Damn, did his ass look good in his tight pants. Beside him, Topper was talking to the coach and pointing at something on the field. Perhaps a tactic idea?

You jumped up when the scoreboard came to light and cheered loudly as both teams were welcomed on the field. The ambiance was unlike any of his past games. Players took their positions, adrenaline coursing through their veins and waiting for the referee to blow the whistle. 

As the game unfolded, your focus was on Rafe. He was running across the field, trying to catch the pass Topper made. He caught it, his fingers closing around it securely, but a beefy guy from the other team came from behind, driving him to the ground with a thunderous tackle. 

You winced at the sight. You hated the contact part of football. 

Soon enough, the second period was ending and the half-time began, the score 17-14 in favor of Rafe's team. Sarah and Rose went to the bathroom while Ward went to get drinks and a snack for Wheezie. 

‘’Do you think they’re going to win?’’ she asked, scooting closer to you. 

She had taken a quick liking to you, the girl who had taken her big brother’s heart. 

You took a sip of your drink. ‘’I don’t know. I hope so. Rafe worked hard this season.’’  

Wheezie nodded. ‘’Rafe knows how to play the game and he knows how to win. I’m confident we’ll win this one.’’ 

The third period had barely started when Rafe crossed the field, carrying the ball. He was running so fast and ducking the other players without losing his speed. You held your breath, sitting on the edge of your seat. As expected, someone from the opposing team went to intercept him, but Kelce saw him coming and tackled him, allowing Rafe to score another touchdown. 

‘’Touchdown, Rafe Cameron!’’ The speakers echoed around the field, causing most of the spectators to stand and yell simultaneously. 

You jumped in excitement, a proud smile lighting up your face. ‘’Yes, baby!’’ 

Later in the game, with only thirteen seconds left on the board in the fourth period, the teams were tied. 

A score of 21-21 flashed on the scoreboard. There wasn't much time left, but you’ve seen Rafe score in eight seconds.  

‘’Come on, Rafe, you can do it,’’ you said, although he couldn’t hear you. 

Beside you, Sarah was holding Wheezie’s hand, stressed. 

The referee blew his whistle, signaling the resumption of the game. The crowd erupted into a frenzy of cheers and applause as Rafe dashed across the field, evading defenders with lightning speed. With just three seconds left on the clock, he made a spectacular leap, soaring over the goal line to score the winning touchdown.

The crowd in the stands went wild. Rafe's teammates rushed towards him in a jubilant huddle, their cheers drowning out the roar of the crowd. In their excitement, they lifted him high above their heads, his helmet coming off in the process.

Wheezie jumped, loudly cheering for her brother. ‘’I told you he would win!’’ 

You took your jacket and headed down the stairs, Rafe’s family following behind as the game reporter declared the grand champions, his voice booming over the stadium speakers. 

A lot of people had the same idea, which caused the large field to get crowded quickly. It was difficult to see over the taller heads, but your lips curled into a grin when you saw him standing at the center of it all, with his coach and teammates around him, looking both exhausted and exhilarated. His hair was tousled, his face flushed from the exertion of the game, but there was a radiant smile on his lips as he basked in the glory of victory.

You called out his name and his eyes searched around the field, high on adrenaline. Once he saw you, he broke away from the ecstatic mob of his teammates and sprinted towards you, his eyes shining with excitement. Without a moment's hesitation, Rafe enveloped you in a tight embrace, lifting you off your feet. You wrapped your arms around his neck, giggling and ignoring the sweat that was transferring to your clothes. 

‘’You did it! It was unbelievable,’’ you said, your voice filled with emotions. ‘’You’re the best, baby. The absolute best.’’

—

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[frombloodandfire]

Indigo

“I used to shine bright like gold, now I’m all indigo.”

A woman who tries to escape her past with no hope for the future, ends up on an unknown place playing childhood games to win. A man from her past happens to be there for the exact same reason. Will they escape their haunted pasts? Or they will end up dying in vain?

Just a pilot first chapter to see if you all like this series! It will be an oc x Cho Sang Woo, but I will try to not use her name much either (im avoiding y/n so I’m keeping it simple). Also English is my second language so forgive me for any mistakes and please correct me! Some things are left unknown for later chapters. <3

Warnings: blood, depression, heavy language etc.

She woke to the soft sound of rain tapping against the window. The night had been rough, and the day promised to be no easier. She was already late for a job interview, probably another one she'd never hear back from, just like all the others.

The phone rang, pulling her from her thoughts. She scrambled across the tiny room, pulling on her clothes as she went.

Who could it be at this hour?

"Can we talk?" came the voice on the other end, low and urgent.

"I'm late for something," she replied, trying to rush through the words.

"Meet me at seven tonight," the man said, cutting her off. "I finish work early."

Before she could respond, he hung up. Not that she wanted to, but she knew she’d go. But why would he want to meet on a random Thursday evening?

The interview had been a brief glimmer of hope "We’ll call you in the next few days.”they said to her. The school was only twenty minutes away from her apartment, a dream job. Maybe this was the universe’s way of throwing her a bone.

The rain had stopped by the time she arrived at the metro station, and she smiled, because maybe it was her lucky day finally after so many years. But as she waited for the next train, a tall man in a business suit, carrying a small case, approached her. She ignored him at first, assuming he'd ask for money or try to sell something, but then he spoke.

"Ma’am."

She glanced up, annoyed, then quickly turned away. She didn’t have time for this.

“Sorry, I’m busy…” she muttered, standing up and moving toward an empty seat.

But the man followed her. “I’d like to offer you a great opportunity.”

She paused, narrowing her eyes. "A great opportunity?" she repeated, confused. What was this some sort of scam? Was he a cult recruiter? Either way, she wasn’t interested.

“Want to play a game?” he asked, his voice smooth.

“A game?” She raised an eyebrow. What was he talking about?

Without waiting for her response, the man pulled out two small pieces of paper, one red, the other blue.

“I'm sure you've played ddakji before, right?”

She shook her head. "Not really..."

"It's simple," he explained, handing her the papers. "Try to flip the one on the ground, and you win."

“What do I win?” she asked skeptically.

He ignored her question entirely. "Pick a color."

Reluctantly, she chose the red paper, placing it on the ground and attempting to flip the blue one. It didn’t move.

"Yeah, not gonna happen..." she muttered, a bit embarrassed. The man, without a word, picked up the blue paper and flicked it with ease. It spun perfectly, landing on its edge.

“You have to pay now," he said.

“Pay? What do you mean, I have to pay?” Her heart skipped a beat.

She had a sinking feeling she was being played.

“How about you pay... with your body?”

“Wh—?” Before she could react, he slapped her hard. The force of the blow almost made her stumble, but she managed to steady herself. Rage bubbled up inside her.

“What the hell? That’s it. I’ve had enough.”

Without thinking, she grabbed the red paper, anger fueling her strength. To her surprise, it hit the blue one and it flicked.

“Ha! Take that!” she shouted, feeling a rush of triumph. “So, what do I win? I get to slap you back?” She was now laughing.

The man laughed, unfazed. Then, to her shock, he pulled out a stack of cash 100,000 won and handed it to her with a smile.

“Congratulations. You were great for a beginner!”

She froze, staring at the money. There was no way this was real. A stranger had just handed her cash for a childish game.

“Take this. There are other games you can make much more.” he said, before giving her a small card. It was marked with a triangle, a square, and a circle. When she flipped it over, a number was scribbled on the back.

What the hell? Should I call this? What does it mean?

By the time the evening arrived, she was standing outside his apartment, exactly at 7:00 PM. Three minutes passed. Then five. She hesitated, unsure if she should have come. Maybe she should’ve just gone home.

"Lyanna!" a voice called from the door.

She turned to see him rushing toward her, a sheepish grin on his face. "Sorry for the wait. Let’s get inside. My mom’s not home."

It had been so long since they'd seen each other.

“It’s been a while, Jun Ho. How are you?”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hard time at work, but... I’m doing okay. What about you? Did you find any job?”

“I can’t say things are great,” she admitted, feeling a lump rise in her throat. “But... I got a job. They accepted me today.”

He laughed, a sound full of relief. “Ah, finally. After all this time... That’s great news. What about the debt? Will you stay in Seoul now that you got the job?”

She hesitated. “The debt... it’s still there,” she said quietly, looking down at the floor. "But, yeah, I’ll stay in Seoul for now. Until I can make enough to get out of here.”

He studied her with concern. The silence that followed was heavy.

“I don’t know why you called, Jun Ho,” she said, breaking the stillness. “Maybe it’s better to forget the past.”

He reached for her arm, his grip tight. "I can’t. I need to find him, Lyanna. You’re my last hope. You’re the only one who can help me."

Her heart tightened. She wanted to help him, but the past... it was too much to carry. "I can’t help you, Jun Ho," she whispered. "I’m just trying to rebuild my own life. I want to find him too for my friend’s sake... but—"

“She would help if it was to find your husband.”

At the mention of her old best friend, a cold shiver ran down her spine. She thought about her every day, ever since she’d passed. The woman had been everything to her.

“This hurts still, you know? Even after all the years…” She said, her voice trembling. “Maybe one day we’ll find him. But I can’t right now, Jun Ho. I’m not in a place to help you. Not when I can’t even help myself.”

She stood up, her hands shaking slightly. “Give my best to your mother,” she said, turning toward the door. But then she stopped, looked him in the eye one last time. “Thank you for calling. I missed you. And I’m glad you’re doing well.”

“Wait!” Jun Ho called, rushing to her. He bent down, picking something off the floor. “You dropped this.”

Shit. The card. She’d dropped it without realizing.

“Oh no. Thank you! I’m such an idiot…” She smiled, forcing herself to laugh. “Stay safe, okay?”

With that, she stepped out the door, her heart heavy with uncertainty as she walked home.

If you wish to participate, please state your name and birthdate.

Lyanna Collet, 1986.

A/n: let me know if you are interested!! It would help me to express your opinion ❤️

[pogueswrld]

*•.¸♡ make up sex ♡¸.•*

pairing: fred weasley x fem!plus-sized!reader

summary: Freddie talks too much, and his girlfriend is exhausting all the ways she knows to shut him up. Softly, of course.

warnings: smut🦢!1!1!1!1! there's plot and fluff, and everyone's of age ofc, although it is hinted that reader is still in Hogwarts, kinda sub!Fred top!reader, like he's whining and panting and begging and shit (bites lip) ANYWAY, dick riding hehe, no usage of y/n.

note: it is 2:59 pm on a Friday, let's see how fast I write this shit. note 0.2: Okay so it's 5:54 pm on the same day, I think I'm done. This isn't edited, but it took me 3 hours to write 😁

He was still talking. Why, in the name of Merlin, was he still talking?

Dating Fed Weasley is fun, there's no denying that, but Good Heavens isn't that a boy a handful. Both literary and figurative. He's got a wide imagination, a never-squelching desire for knowledge, and a big heart. That is a dangerous combination for a somewhat intelligent and never-quiet man.

She's a saint, his girlfriend, and Ginny made a point to always express that to her. "How do you put up with that all the time?" Gesturing to Fred, who was using his hands in elaborate motions as he went on his fourth rant of the morning on the same subject to George. She'd only shrug, lips engulfing another spoonful of whatever ice cream the girls were sharing. "In one ear and out the other darling."

Not to say that she hates it, or that it bothers her- quite the opposite actually. Fred's excited and hyper personality is what made him so interesting to her, it was what drew her to him in the first place. She enjoys listening to him rant, even about the most random things -he stopped her the other day and explained in great detail how penguins mate and how once the female accepts the male's proposing gestures, they're together for life- and she adores it.

Yes, it sure can be a bit much at times, but she wouldn't change it for the world. Imagine loving a man who was as boring and dry as his older brother, Percy? She would have to jump out of Ginny's bedroom window!

Today was her first day back in the Burrow from Hogwarts for summer break, and she was exhausted, to say the least. She was up from dawn, finishing up the last bits of her packing before leaving for the train station with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. And because she's a good friend, she made sure each of her friends made it to their transportation safely before she and Ron were picked up by Fred and George.

In the car, Ron opened the untameable can of worms by mentioning Bill who was staying over at the Burrow for the summer as well, taking a couple of months' worth of vacation away from the dragons and such. That was the spark Fred needed to blast off into a hundred rants one after the other.

He spoke about seeing Bill again, which is understandable, he hasn't been home in years. He spoke about the dragons, which led to his excited mention of his favorites and how he's going to ask Bill how it was training them. Then he turned to Quidditch training, and even though both him and George had left Hogwarts a year or so ago, the both of them still found time to play the game as a side hobby. After that was all done, George gave her and Ron and update on the shop, and Fred went on and on about all kinds of new candies and flavors and combinations they were working on to add to the store by the beginning of next year.

She was understandably tired by the time the Burrow came into view. And as much as she adores her boyfriend, she needed him to shut the fuck up for twenty minutes. But he's so sweet, and his eyes light up when talking, and he gets this beautiful energy surrounding him when he does it that she doesn't have the nerve to ask him to be silent for a bit. So she excuses herself and tries to bury her body under the covers of his bed.

But he finds her there, and he reports to her that dinner is ready, and that Bill is here, and that she looks so gorgeous on his bed, and that there's a strange animal in the backyard, and that Ginny tried to curse the bathroom when he went in to use it, and that he doesn't understand why she'd do that, and that George is out in the garage, and that-

She jolts up on his bed, her eyes twitching as she stares at him. He looks so beautiful, but he's talking too damn much. She cups his face, and he goes silent and stares at her with wide eyes.

"Wha'?" He mumbled, his lips squished together as she squeezed his cheeks.

"You talk too much, ya' know that?" She said, her thumb slightly caressing the apples of his cheeks.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, and tilts his head ever so slightly. "Do' it bothe' yo'?"

She giggles breathlessly and lets go of his face before pressing her lips tightly against his. "Not all the time, but times like today..." She rests her forehead against his and sighs, "It can be a lot, and I need you to read the room and tone it down a little bit, d'ya think you can do that for me?"

He stares, something in his gaze changes, and he nods. "Of course, baby. Whateva' you want."

Great. Now she feels bad. She sighs and pushes past the blankets swallowing her to sit up on her knees. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls him into a hug. "I love you, truly love you, and I don't mean to be mean to you, and you know I love it when you ramble, but I'm really overwhelmed today, darling. I'm sorry."

Fred wraps his arms around her waist in return, hugging her tightly. It's true that he can't always read the room, and now that he's no longer attending school he's got much more free time on his hands than he knows what to do with. It takes him a couple days to be able to read his girlfriend's body language like he used to once she's home from school, and he feels terrible that he was one of the reasons for making her feel so incredibly overwhelmed. He also feels slightly ashamed of his non-stop rambling all day.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, mumbling something into her skin that made her shiver and giggle away from him. "Stop," she breathes in a giggle, "It tickles."

He chuckles, his hands squeezing at the skin of her waist as he stares at her dreamily. "I said, I'm sorry I made you feel overwhelmed, I promise to try and do better."

She grins at him, so brilliantly, that he can't help but lean down and capture her lips in a soaring kiss. "I love you." He mumbles against her lips, and she smiles while trying to kiss him back. "C'mon now, love, let's go have dinner."

Her eyes darken; her pupils widen, and she smiles that mischievous grin that he adores so much, and he groans while throwing his head back. He knows exactly what is on her mind.

"I have a better idea." She whispers, giggling as she throws herself into his lap and kisses him with such force that she's pushing him down on his bed. He yelps, his hands traveling to the bed and her waist, holding on to her for stability. Bubbling heat travels across his body through her kiss, and he sighs when her cold fingertips trace down his arms, sending goosebumps across his body.

Her kisses transfer from his lips to the sides of his mouth, his cheeks, down his jawline, until she's pampering open-mouthed kisses across his neck like stardust.

He sighs, his eyes closed and his head thrown back on the pillow. "Please," He breathed, a low whine undertoning his voice. She shivers above him, her teeth grazing his skin in a teasing bite.

She's always hated the effect his voice has on her.

"Please what, darling?"

He whines. It's low, for her ears only, it's a barely-there breath, but his mouth is right next to her ear and she hears him loud and clear. Her panties dampen almost immediately.

"Please touch me," He whispers. His hands gripped tightly to her thighs. He knows better than to roam her body without permission. She pulls back slightly, blinking up at him with a soft smile and long lashes. "But I am touching you, Freddie."

He knows this game. This cruel, cruel game she adores to play. He whines in pretentious of hating his role, but his hips buck, and his cock twitches underneath the fabrics of his boxers and trousers.

He slowly traces one of his hands from her thighs to her palm before letting her fingers rest on his aching cock. He guides her hands to gently rub him through his clothes and he lets out a breath when her fingers squeeze around him. "Touch me there." He gasps.

She entertains him, allowing him to set the pace and buck into her hold. He releases deep breaths and low whines, stuttering moans every time she tightens her grip around him. She can feel herself getting wetter by the second, how his eyes are shut desperately, his teeth bite down on his bottom lip, and her name is gasped out of his throat with every other movement. It makes her feel powerful, it makes her entire being vibrate.

"That's enough." She mumbles, pulling her hand out of his grasp and bathing in his complaining whines as she pulls off her shirt. He blinks up at her, watching her boobs bounce in the push-up bra she's wearing before she unhooks it and slides it off her shoulders. He blinks again and swallows whatever drool and saliva has gathered in his mouth, causing his Adam's apple to pop along with the action. She smiles at the sight and quickly bends down to leave a swift kiss on it.

"Take off your shirt." She commands him, and he does so without hesitation, throwing the garment somewhere on the floor of the room he shares with his twin brother. He watches her hands intensely as she teases him by running her thumb on the inside of her trouser's elastic, before slowly pulling the item down and off. He groans at the sight of his favorite panties on her; a partially lacey red thong that settles up between her butt cheeks. She always told him how uncomfortable it made her, but the look on his face when he saw it on her made every second she spent wearing it worth it.

"You're trying to kill me, love?" He groans, daring himself to take a dangerous leap and push his thumb against the damp cloth, pushing down on where he knows her clit hides. He glances up at her, watching the way her lips part and her mouth hangs open at his action.

"And what am I to tell George when he asks? Death by a red thong?"

He grins up at her, picking up the speed at which he's rubbing on her bud of nerves. "Only if you're the one wearing it."

She shudders, forcefully holding herself back from grinding against his thumb. Instead, she grips his wrist and pushes it away from her. She hooks two fingers on each side of his trousers and boxers before meeting his eyes, watching as he licks his lips and nods before pulling the clothing items down his hips and legs.

His cock bounces out from underneath the fabric happily, it smacks against his lower abdomen and she giggles at the sight of precum beads rolling down his slit. He whines, throwing his arm on his face to cover the embarrassing blush that matched his hair color. "Don't laugh at me, why're you so mean to me today?"

Her giggle grows louder, and she leans down to push his arm off his face. "I never intend on being mean to you, my darling, you just bring it out of me. I'm sorry." She mumbles as she meets his gaze, her hand cupping one side of his face and he leans towards her touch. "Don't hide from me, yeah?"

He nods.

"Good boy."

He whines, his eyes squeeze shut and his jaw drops when her fingers wrap around him again, but her thumb is collecting his precum before spreading it down his length before she works a steady rhythm going up and down. His whines slowly turn into moans. His noises were so heavenly that she could swear her wetness was flowing through the fabric of her thong and onto the skin of her thighs.

She sees his muscles contracting and she stops, removing her hand from him altogether. He opens his eyes, blinking up at her in confusion as a noise of complaint slips out of his throat. But he swallows it back up when he sees her push her thong to the side and spread her folds before sitting on his length, and she grinds back and forth on him without actually allowing him access to her.

He groans, throwing his head back. She's coating him in her juices and there's a delicious squelching noise coming from between them and it's driving him insane. He sucks air into his lungs through clenched teeth and shudders when she allows a single moan to slip through her parted lips.

Suddenly, he's engulfed in her warmth and he hisses. His hands grip tightly to her thighs, hips, and any plump skin he can find. He squeezes her, hissing, and pants until he's sheathed completely inside of her. "Slow down," He gasps, "Slow- slow down, slow down, slow down." His voice turns from low breaths to almost high-pitched whines, and she leans down and captures his lips in a silencing kiss.

"Need you to lay here and keep your pretty mouth shut, darling, can you do that? Can you stay quiet for me so your family doesn't hear us fucking?" He whines, hips bucking into her warm cunt causing his eyes to roll to the back of his head as he nods mindlessly. "Yes, yes, yes. I'll be quiet. Fuck- please, baby, please fuck me."

She giggles at his desperate whines, and slowly rocks her hips back and forth, just enough movement to send pleasure jolts but not enough to get them going. She was testing the waters, trying to see how loud he could get without giving him much of anything.

Fred was losing his mind, he could feel her walls clamp down on him every time she moved back, and he could feel himself nudging against her feel-good spot every time she moved forward. Her wetness made a mess out of both of them, making it easy to slide into her and pick up the pace.

He arched his back slightly, just enough to hint at her to go faster. Because she was starting to feel frustrated, she obliged. She switched from grinding down on him to bouncing, her knees and hips working overtime to not make a noise every time her ass cheeks met his thighs.

She's now moaning, leaning down to muffle her noises by his neck or breathe them directly into his ear. Fred's eyes roll to the back of his head every time, and his hands grab onto the fat of her hips to help her.

"I-" She gasps, pushing herself upwards, clamping down on him tightly before forcing deep thrusts with her movement. "I'm gonna cum." She whimpers, and her legs begin to shake and fail her. Fred let out a loud breath that turned into a whimper before pushing himself up and, with a tight hold of her hips, forced her up and down his cock.

"Wa- wanna feel you. Wanna feel you gush around me. Give it to me, please." He whines, his words muffled into her temple, his eyes closed as her walls flutter around him, her body shivering against him and her lips part in long whines. One of his hands sneaked in between them, and his thumb drew quick circles around her clit, just enough to electrify her over the edge.

She freezes up, squeezes down on him and Fred is gone. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly down on him, the repeated squeeze of her walls stimulated him over the edge and they were shaking through their highs together. Her hands were buried in his hair, his hands holding onto her hips, while their lips interlocked in an overflowing kiss.

A few seconds later, their mouths parted as they gasped for air, holding onto one another as their highs dwindled. He traced random shapes on her bare back while she scratched at his scalp in a way she knew he loved.

He was the first to pull back, looking up at her with nothing but love and adoration. He tilts his head and grins, "Do you still want to go down for dinner?"

She laughs, heartily and loudly out of his arms and back onto the bed. "If you'll be going downstairs for a plate, get me one with you. There's no way I can look your mum in the eye after this."

[kyoshithewriter]

Level the Playing Field.

Warnings: mature themes (18+), angst.

Part five: Rivals.

A/n: what can I say? I like my men jealous and little unhinged (remember this is fictional lmaoo) enjoy?

The silence stretches uncomfortably between them. It feels weird having the height advantage over him, but she was firm about her conditions of him coming over. She needs a lot of space to make sure she’s able to think clearly, so he agreed to sit on the floor. Sadé pretends to be busy on her laptop, but the truth is- she can feel the heat of his stare and she isn’t ready to deal with it. It’s been like this for the past twenty minutes. He’s supposed to be reading but he’s opted for staring at her instead.

“Explain the term social stratification to me.” She demands without looking away from her own notes.

“Uh, social what now?” There’s not a hint of humor in his voice. Sadé pinches the bridge of her nose.

“How many classes have you even attended since the semester started?”

He shrugs carelessly.

“Not much, I train a lot or I need rest from training a lot.” He swipes his index finger across the pad of the laptop as soon as the screen goes dark.

“Who writes your papers then?” She just can’t wrap her head around how he’s so clueless about the course.

“Some girl in class. It’s not what you think though!” There’s almost an edge of panic to his voice when he rushes to add the last sentence.

“Don’t care.” Lie. “I���m just concerned about how little you seem to know, Jude. Is the test coming up a mock or is it a part of your coursework?” End of term exams aren’t for another few weeks, but she knows some courses administer tests as a part of coursework pieces that make up your grade. If it’s the latter then he’s well and truly fucked.

“It’s a coursework grade.” Sadé sighs heavily realizing she might need to take matters in her own hands. She reaches over to her nightstand, opening the drawer to remove flashcards, one of her notebooks and different coloured pens.

“Let’s pick up-” she cuts herself off mid-sentence, not wanting to rekindle memories of their last attempt at studying. “Let’s start from the basics.” She looks at him a couple feet away on the floor knowing explaining to him won’t work unless he can see her illustration. After contemplating briefly, she decides to join him on the floor; it feels safer than allowing him on the bed. Sadé sits cross legged beside him, pressing her notebook on the ground to make a poor illustration of a football pitch. Her body stiffens as she sees him scooting closer in her peripheral vision but she doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she draws eleven circular dots to represent the players.

“Okay, let’s try wording it in a way you care about.” She tries not to tense as he scoots even closer.

“What happens in a game after a player gets a red card and is sent off?”

“It disrupts the whole flow of the game, makes it harder.”

“Exactly, every single player on the pitch is important, functionalists believe the same about society. Social institutions, like the players, all work together to keep society running smoothly. Government, family, religion, education…”

They stay like that for a little over an hour before Sadé decides they should take a little break.

“Wow, if only you lectured my classes.” He sounds as if he’s in awe.

Sadé chuckles softly. “I learned a long time ago that interest is important in learning. And because I wasn’t allowed to fail, I had to find very creative ways to study, I was hoping it would work for you too.”

“I learned more in the past hour than I have all semester.” He still has that tone in his voice, like she just performed some sort of miracle.

“Well maybe if you’d attend your lectures, Jude.” She rolls her eyes at him playfully.

“Wouldn’t matter, I’ve slept through the few I’ve attended anyway. None of them have ever captured my attention like you just have.” He says earnestly. They make eye contact briefly before Sadé loudly clears her throat, needing to break the tension she can feel wanting to build. No.

“Well, I’m glad to be of service. Keep refreshing yourself on what we just did. I’m going to do some reading of my own then we’ll get started on another unit.” She returns to her place on the bed, trying her best to not look in his direction. She knows attempting to study with him in the room a few feet away will be futile but she tries her hardest anyway. It takes another 15 minutes of her re-reading the same slide over and over for him to break the silence.

“Okay, I think I’ve got this down pat now. Let’s move on to the next one.”

Sadé is proud to say they managed to get through two more hours in a similar fashion. She tried her best to link topics to the sport to keep him engaged but with some things, it just didn’t flow. In any case, he still paid attention, he must realize the gravity of the situation he’s in.

“Wow, this is actually really interesting when you pay attention to it.”

Sadé stretches her arms above her head, joints loosening with audible pops.

“It is, I only did it for two years in sixth form and loved it so much. The different perspectives on certain behaviors and society as a whole are really interesting.”

“Why didn’t you choose to study it here then?” He cocks his head to the side like a curious puppy.

“Didn’t sound fancy enough for my mother.” she says absentmindedly, still scrolling on his laptop. They just covered two units, they have just one more until he’s all caught up.

“You’re getting tested up to unit 4 right?” At his lack of response she finally looks up at him. Sadé is surprised to see the look of anger he has directed at her.

“How long are you going to allow it?”

She swallows. “Allow what?” She asks meekly.

“You know what I mean.” There’s an edge of irritation in his voice.

Sadé looks around helplessly. She knows he means allowing her mom to control her every move. But what can she do?

“She’s my mom, Jude. What am I supposed to do?”

“Rebel!” She’s never seen him this angry. She tries to tell herself his anger is not directed at her but it doesn’t help. She starts choking up.

“I can’t. She still supports me financially and even if I can find a few part time jobs they would barely cover accommodation much less tuition.”

“You’re a straight A student! Have you even tried applying for scholarships?”

“I received one for my freshman year but it only covered half of it. I haven’t tried for another one this year though.” She admits and she feels embarrassed about it for some reason.

“If they’re funding people with Cs and Bs full time because of athleticism then I’m sure you can find opportunities too.” He sounds so frustrated that it makes Sadé curl in on herself. She’s so afraid of change, afraid of breaking routines.

“Remember I’m not from here, Jude. I don’t know about the institutions that offer funding and stuff.” She tries but the excuse sounds lame even to her. She could’ve asked, researched on her own. The truth is, even in moments of frustration or fear, she had thought about it- thought about cutting her mom off and trying on her own, but she knew she couldn’t actually do it.

“That’s the excuse you’re trying with me, Sadé? You just sat here and taught me almost a semester’s worth of work in about two hours and you’re trying this with me?”

“Why do you care so much?” She asks, desperate for the conversation to end. It’s reminding her of just how pathetic she is.

“Because! I have a parent who’s just like that. And if I didn’t go against my father I’d be sitting miserably studying medicine just to fulfill his dream of having a son who’s a doctor. Even now, when it’s obvious my future in the sport is bright he still hasn’t acknowledged my achievements in any way. If you don’t put a stop to it Sadé, it’ll never end until she molds you into the perfect version of herself that she wanted to be but couldn’t. Be your own person.” Sadé stares at him wide eyed. His confession is surprising but she can tell he’s being honest, it ignites a tiny flame in her chest.

“I’m scared.” She softly admits. He gently grasps both her hands folded in her lap and brings them to his lips. He kisses the back of her hands softly.

“I’ll help you. We’ll start with that scholarship for next year.” The tension bleeds from her limbs one by one and something warm takes its place. Fuck, why is it so easy for him to make her feel like this?

“By the way, congratulations on your signing. That’s a huge achievement and you deserve it. You’re very talented, you’re going to be a star.” she looks away from him bashfully. “I’m sorry for how I acted the other day.” Sadé looks up at him shyly from under her lashes. There’s a frustrated furrow between his brows and his eyes look… conflicted.

“Don’t apologize, Sadé. I’m an asshole.” He brings a thumb to rub at her cheek.

“Do you… do the other girls know that you, um, sleep with other people?” She immediately regrets the question. Why would you ask him that?!

Jude laughs softly.

“Yes. We always establish from the beginning it won’t be more than sex.”

“Why so many people?” She’s really, really curious.

“I don’t know, honestly. They want to and so do I, but it’s not in the way that people talk about me.” He pauses to look at her windowsill, she’s sure he’s noticed the orchids she left there in a glass filled with water. “I don’t just go around fucking a different person every day of the week. When things get weird with… Annita, I just… I like sex.” He finishes lamely with a lazy shrug. Sadé bites her bottom lip, contemplating.

“Is it… is sex really that good?” She doesn’t mean to sound so breathy but her heart rate picked up as soon as she thought of the question. She’s not completely naive about the topic, but all she does know is from an educational standpoint as well as from videos she’s watched when the guilt wasn’t too consuming. And she knows realistically that neither are great measures for real experiences.

He gives her his full attention again. Eyes locked on her own.

“It can be. Depends on a lot of things.” He leaves the statement hanging, challenging her to ask further. Sadé swallows, mouth suddenly feeling dry.

“Things like what?”

“Things like, the person. Some people fuck just for their own pleasure, Sadé. I hate them. The right people know it begins with the mood.” His voice seems to have dropped an octave lower and it forces her to uncross her legs to subtly squeeze them together. His eyes follow the action.

“Get the mind in the right place first and the body will follow. The right person will take their time to figure out where to touch to make you feel good. Like, with you for example. I know touching that pulse point at your neck makes you feel good. I know touching you right below your belly button makes you feel good. I know you like when I lick the roof of your mouth, just behind your teeth.” His eyes zero in on every part of her he mentions. Sadé wants to rock her hips against the seam of her cotton shorts so fucking badly. She squeezes her legs tighter, so much so that they visibly tremble. His eyes lock onto her nipples straining against her brown tshirt.

“I bet you’d be sensitive there too. You’d probably get worked up just from having them teased.”

Her breath audibly stutters. “Jude…”

“Hm?” Is his only reply as he watches her fidget. Sadé is trying so hard to not undulate her hips to ease the pulsing between her legs. She can feel how wet she is, already beginning to dampen her cotton panties.

“I- more.” Her voice breaks with desperation.

“That’s it, the right person knows that they should only take your panties off when you start begging. When you sound like you’re desperate enough to cry for it.” He pauses to suck in a breath, “the right person, especially… In your case” Sadé knows immediately he means someone who’s never had sex; “they’d want to make it so so good for you baby, they’d use their mouth first-get you worked up and soaking. Then they’d use their fingers because you’ll need to to get a feel of that…foreign intrusion.”

She chokes, hips raising to rock against air- wanting, no, needing friction. Anything to take the edge off.

“Then, only then would they…” he huffs a frustrated breath. “Find the right person, Sadé.” He stands with his laptop still open, shielding the front of his black sweats before storming out her room.

Sadé is too turned on to be confused. She doesn’t even attempt to get to her bed; instead, she reaches beneath her shorts and panties without finesse. She’s absolutely soaked. She rubs once, twice and a third time before biting into the palm of her other hand so she doesn’t scream for the entire building to hear. Fucking hell. She sits, panting. She should feel pathetic about getting off on the floor but it was too good. It has never felt like this when she got off in the quiet of her room. Find the right person, Sadé. Keeps ringing in her head because she knows- they both know that she has.

*********

“He didn’t touch you?” Celine asks. She’s kneeling on the couch, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Not once, he just sat there, telling me all the things ‘the right person’ would do to me. I swear if he spoke another minute longer I would’ve gotten off without even touching myself.”

“Wow.” Mikayla whispers. She reclines on the couch- eyes focusing on nothing in particular.

“Please don’t start having fantasies about Ryan right here in front of us.” Celine groans.

“I need to get laid. We should go clubbing.” The suggestion is so absurd that Mikayla and Sadé both turn to stare at Celine as if she suddenly spoke mandarin.

“Stop looking at me like I suggested we pull off a heist. It’s a Friday night and we’re young and hot! Let’s go clubbing.” Oh, she’s actually serious.

“I don’t know Celine, even if we were considering it, it’s past 10 pm already. By the time we get dressed it would be like 12 am.” Sadé nods in agreement with Mikayla.

“That’s a very reasonable time to get to the club guys. It closes off at 4 or 5 am.” Celine huffs at the doubtful expression on their faces still.

“How about we try for tomorrow night? I have a hair appointment at 11 for braids but I should be back before 8. We’d have plenty of time to go.” Sadé suggests. Celine immediately perks up, looking towards Mikayla with a pout and wide eyes.

“Okay, we can try it out.”

**************

Sadé gets back from her hair appointment at some minutes past 7. The small knotless braids are waist length and perfect. Back home, her mom would never allow her to get her hair this long. Being away from her has allowed her the smallest amount of freedom of wearing what she wants to and styling her hair the way she likes it. She reaches for her phone, checking the time to see if she can squeeze a nap in before she has to start getting ready. She’s actually going to the club, she can’t believe it. There’s a thought nagging at the back of her mind, the thought of how she hadn’t heard from Jude all day. She tries to not think about it too much, it’s been a couple of hours, no big deal.

“7:20, I can squeeze in a 40 minute nap after my shower.” She mutters out loud in an attempt to drown out her thoughts. She can’t believe she’s right back where she started when it comes to him.

“So pathetic, Sadé.” She berates herself as she heads into her bathroom.

*******

Two hours later, Sadé finds herself dressed and waiting in the kitchen. She carefully sips on a glass of cranberry juice, mindful of her makeup as she scrolls aimlessly on her phone. She opted for a bodycon backless black mini- leather dress. The black heels on her feet are a solid four inches and strappy. She looks sexy and Sadé imagines that if her mother saw her right now she would probably have a stroke. A notification from Celine on her phone alerts her that she’s at the door.

“Fucking hell, Sadé” Is what Celine greets her with as soon as she opens the door.

“Fucking hell at you too.” Celine took their night out seriously and it shows. She went shopping earlier with Mikayla today. Sadé didn’t need to because she’d always ordered things she liked, whether she’d have the chance to wear them or not, it’s her small act of rebellion. Celine also chose a mini bodycon dress, but hers is a dark blue with long sleeves. The heeled sandals on her feet are rose gold complementing her purse and jewelry.

“Let me guess, Mikayla still isn’t ready?” Celine asks, exasperation clear in her tone.

“I’m coming!” Mikayla’s voice drifts from down the hall with the click clack of heels accompanying it. Mikayla’s outfit for the night is a pair of high waisted blue jeans that seems to have been painted onto her body, with a brown corset top and black heels.

“Okay. We actually look like we’re going to the club.” Mikayla utters in shock.

“We’re actually going to the club…” the trio pause as the weight of Sadé’s words settle over them.

“I got us a cab already so we’re not backing out.” But even as she says it, Celine’s eyes are still wide.

********

Celine was very specific about the club she wanted them to go to. And now, standing outside seeing the line waiting to go in, Sadé wants to scream.

“Celine, even if we eventually get in it will be packed tighter than sardines in there.” Sadé bodily shivers as if Mikayla just described a scene from a horror movie. It might as well have been. They don’t do well with crowds.

“It will be fine! It’s huge in there… apparently. But Scarlett is the hotspot around here.” Celine insists.

“But why do we have to go to ‘the hotspot?’ Any club would’ve been fine.” Sadé whines as Celine shuffles them toward the back of the line.

“It has to be Scarlett okay?!” She whisper- yells at them like disobedient children. Mikayla and Sadé share a frightened, confused look at their friend’s weird behaviour. It takes a few minutes of them waiting in line for Sadé to figure out why Celine is so fixated on this particular club. A group of five players from Erlhedge stroll directly to the top of the line to speak with the bouncer. The burly man checks- what she’s assuming is a list- before they’re let in ahead of the line they’re in.

“Let me guess, you somehow figured out that players would be here tonight and that’s why you chose this club.” Mikayla mutters, clear annoyance in her tone.

“What? I thought you’d be happy too! Sean will be here and of course Ryan and Jude.” She shrugs her shoulders feigning nonchalance.

“You could’ve at least given us a heads up Celine, what the hell?”

“Yea you made it seem like it was a girl’s night out to meet new people.” Sadé adds, agreeing with Mikayla’s words.

“Look, I’m sorry.” She doesn’t sound sorry, “I just heard about them celebrating here tonight because of signings so I thought…” Celine trails off.

“So wait, you asked us to go lastnight knowing we’d say no because of the time but would try making up for it by suggesting today, all of that instead of just telling us what was going on?” Mikayla asks bewildered. Now that Sadé thinks about it…

“You’re right, it’s just…” celine licks her lips nervously, dampening the matte red of her lips; “You both finally got some attention from the people you want in one way or another. Sean still doesn’t even know I exist. I was scared you’d both say no to coming because you’ve gotten their attention already.”

There’s a hint of melancholy in her voice and Mikayla immediately pulls her into hug. Sadé still stands off away from her, she understands her point but she hates being lied to. It doesn’t matter what her excuse is, that was manipulation- maybe a bit harmless but still.

“Well, we’re already here might as well enjoy it. How do you plan on getting his attention?” Mikayla asks her upset friend but Sadé tunes out the conversation. The reality of it sinking in- Jude will be here.

“Right Sadé?” Mikayla’s voice interrupts her thoughts.

“What?”

“That we forgive Celine.”

Sadé looks at Celine. She’s curled into herself trying her best to look ashamed and remorseful. She doesn’t buy it.

“Yea, sure.” Sadé shrugs, her intentions weren’t sinister so she guesses it’s fine.

When they finally make it inside the club, Sadé is in awe. She now sees why the club was given its name. The interior, while large, is really packed. News of them celebrating here must’ve reached everyone but her and Mikayla apparently. The lighting inside is low but a deep, dark red. It feels… sultry, like the club was made with the intention of seducing anyone who enters. There’s some smoke visible in the air and it seems to be scented with a hint of cherry. The bass reverberats as tinashe’s ‘2 on’ rings throughout the club and there are women dressed in red lingerie and masks maneuvering their way through the crowd serving bottles and drinks on trays. There’s a huge balcony up a flight of stairs that Sadé guesses is the VIP lounge and she can immediately tell that the players are up there as she spots Liam’s form heading up the stairs. She can’t really decipher who else is there among the bodies because the lighting in the club is so low. Sadé stands awkwardly beside her friends, hand clutching at her black purse.

“Um? Bar?” Celine tries to yell over the music.

Sadé nods simply because she’s not sure what else to do. The trio join hands as they navigate their way through the crowd. The bar has four people behind it, all busy taking orders and making cocktails.

“Fuck, how do we get their attention?” Celine yells while waving madly at the bartender closest to them. The tall, cacausian man with a buzz cut looks in their direction and holds a hand up signaling he’ll come to them soon.

“I guess that’s how.” Sadé whispers. She takes the time to survey the club once more. It’s just a little past 10 and it’s already packed like this. She’s hoping there’s a capacity limit because if more people keep pouring in it’s going to get to a point where it’s hard to even breathe. A figure approaches in her peripheral vision but Sadé pays no attention, assuming they’re just headed to the bar.

“No panic attack today?” It’s shouted directly in her left ear. Sadé cringes as her ear rings from the volume of the voice. She turns her offended gaze on Annita. Of course she sees me among the sea of people in this dimly lit room. Just my luck. The curly haired brunette scowls up at Sadé, crossing her arms just below her generous chest that’s exposed in a pink dress with a plunging neckline. Sadé returns her heated glare in lieu of responding.

“What is it about you? I know he’s sleeping around until we decide to make it official, but seems to can’t leave you alone. Why?” She spits bitterly. Mikayla suddenly flanks to her right, realizing the tension between them. It’s then Sadé notices the duo behind Annita as well.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She answers coolly.

“what’s going on?” Mikayla whispers in her ear.

“I’m not here to fight in the club, put the claws away. Just wanted to remind your friend here to know her place with my man.”

“Is he though?” The simple question from Sadé wipes the smirk off her face instantly.

“Don’t worry about that. Just keep your eyes on the VIP section tonight, we’ll put on a show just for you.” Annita’s voice is full of promise. She walks off into the crowd with a sway to her generous hips.

“What the fuck was that?” Celine yells from her place at the counter. Sadé swallows, looking at the people in their vicinity to see if anyone else witnessed what just happened. She sighs in relief realizing that everyone is just too eager to get drunk to care about petty arguments.

“I don’t know, let’s just get fucked up so I’m not coherent enough to have thoughts.”

*********

Three drinks in is enough to have Sadé feeling confident enough to slow grind against Mikayla as ‘La Modelo’ blasts through the speakers. At some point, the club became a bit more illuminated and they drifted away from the bar. No matter how tipsy she is, she keeps it in the back of her mind to not allow her eyes to drift upstairs; she does not want to see the show Annita promised. Mikayla giggles as she tries to keep up with the movement of her waist while Celine stands off to the side. She keeps eyeing the balcony upstairs. It’s almost desperate enough that Sadé wants to tell her to stop and have some fun, but that’s because the liquor in her system is making her feel good. Those cocktails were 80% vodka for sure.

“Sadé!” Celine’s voice is full of urgency.

“Huh?”

“Trevor has been staring at you!”

Sadé gives her a quizzical look.

Celine sighs exasperatedly, “he’s a player from Mayberry! He also got signed to some big club in Germany, whatever. The point is, he’s upstairs, he might ask you to come up and you have to agree and take us along with you.” Sadé’s body locks up. But They’re upstairs.

“Celine how do you even know he-”

“Excuse me ladies.” It’s a scantily clad, bottle girl that interrupts their conversation. “The guy in the black satin button down asks if you and your friends want to join him upstairs for the night.” And just as Celine said, the words are directed at her. Sadé tries ignoring Celine’s pleading eyes in her peripheral vision. If she goes, she’ll be a lot closer to Jude and Annita than she’d like. Her eyes trail up to the VIP section and immediately finds Trevor. He’s standing close to the stairs and it’s obvious he’s looking in their direction. She can’t make out a lot of his features from where she stands, but it’s clear he’s tall and lithe. Fuck it.

“Do you want to, Mikky?” She knows how Mikayla is, if her friend is not comfortable they won’t go.

Mikayla looks over at Celine before shrugging. “As long as you’re okay with it.”

Sadé smiles at the woman. “Lead the way.”

******

Trevor is brown- skinned and sports cornrows. He has a neatly trimmed goatee and the plumpest lips. He’s gorgeous. Has nothing on Jude though, her mind unhelpfully supplies. The VIP area seems to be sectioned off into cliques. The players from Mayberry and their friends are further left away from the stairs, meaning, Sadé will have to walk directly past Them to get to Trevor’s section. The group from Erlhedge is large- she’d give a rough estimate of about twenty, a mixture of about 7 players who got signed and the others being friends of either them or the women they���re with. Sadé straightens her spine, gaze locked straight ahead as she struts past their section. Her skin prickles and she doesn’t have to look to know it’s Jude staring. She can always feel it. It’s almost as if her body is wired to know when he’s close. Even then, she doesn’t return his stare- he brought Annita here as his date while she didn’t even get an invite. That again speaks volumes. Trevor’s section is noticeably made up of fewer people. A few glance their way briefly out of curiosity but go back to their own thing immediately after. Mikayla and Celine take a seat on the long, leather couch. However, Celine angles her body towards the Erlhedge section, toeing that invisible line that separates them. Sean is only a few feet away, with his back turned to them. He’s gesticulating wildly as he speaks to Liam.

“Just go talk to him.” Mikayla encourages.

“I can’t, Camille is there. I know they aren’t dating but he brought they are somewhat of a thing...” Seems to be a common theme among players at this school.

Sadé sighs at Celine and her Sean saga. Trevor gently pokes her in her side to get her attention. The area on her body’s so ticklish that she jerks almost violently and it makes him chuckle.

“I’m sorry, just wanted to get your attention without yelling in your ear.” His voice is smooth, the kind of smooth you hear over some radio program at 2 am in the morning.

“It’s okay, just ticklish there is all.” She smiles shyly up at him.

“I’m Trevor, you are…?”

“Sadé.” She supplies, shaking his offered hand.

“Nice to meet you, Sadé.” Sadé’s skin warms from face to feet.

“You go to Erlhedge?” He turns away from her to retrieve cups and a bottle of some kind of unopened Rosé from the table closest to him. He pours three cups, offering one to each of them.

“Thank you, and yes. Sophomore year, biology major.”

Trevor’s eyebrows raises up his forehead.

“Biology huh? So you’re also smart? I might have to propose to you in the middle of this club.” He teases.

“Do it then.” she smiles cheekily, playing along.

“Bet?” Is all the warning she gets before he actually drops to one knee in front of her. She falls into a fit of laughter, grabbing at his arm to pull him up from the floor as a few people start to look their way. Mikayla wiggles her brows at her from behind Trevor’s kneeling form. Trevor eventually stands, holding her giggling body upright.

“Guess we’re engaged now, Sadé. You’re stuck with me.”

Sadé opens her mouth to respond but doesn’t get the chance to.

“You’re Trevor, right?” The voice coming from her right is awfully familiar. Sadé tenses. Jude’s smiling but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“And you’re Jude, right?” Trevor fires back. She knows immediately there’s tension between them. She figures it’s because they’re rivals, but it seems to go deeper than that with how tense Trevor’s body is to her left.

“Ah, stop it. I know you know me. We both know you know me all too well, Trevor.”

“Um…” she mumbles awkwardly. She’s sandwiched between the two and it seems their standoff has now gotten the attention of everyone in the area.

“How’s Ashleigh?” The name from Jude’s lips seems to flip a switch in Trevor. He pushes Sadé out the way and leaps at Jude’s smirking form. Sadé stumbles to the side but is caught by Mikayla before she can land on her ass on the floor. She cries out, feeling a sharp pain as her right foot twists at an awkward angle. It’s pandemonium after that. The other players immediately jump into action as soon as Jude and Trevor start going at it. They’re of similar build but Jude has a slight height advantage on Trevor. Jude tackles him into a table that immediately crashes under their joint body weight. The other players from Mayberry rush in their direction to Trevor’s aid but they’re met by Jude’s friends.

“We have to get the fuck out of here.” Mikayla shouts in pure panic. The sound of glass shattering in the background over the music sends her heart in a frenzy.

“My ankle, I need help.” Sadé cries out. Mikayla and Celine loop her arms around their shoulders as they rush to move around the fighting and screaming before they get sucked in the middle. Security rushes past them on their way down the stairs, heading in the direction of the fight. When they finally make it outside, Sadé ducks out her friends’ arms to sit on the curb. She doesn’t care what she looks like sitting her bare ass on the streets outside of a club, she just needs the pressure off her foot that’s obviously sprained.

“Holy shit! Are you okay?” Celine asks, frantic.

The question sends her over the edge and she cries. The sobs are gut wrenching and she doesn’t care. Even as people begin pouring out the club in waves, yelling about threats of the police, she sits and bawls. Not only because of the throbbing pain in her right ankle, but because of Ms. Summers, because of Annita, because she knows that whatever that was inside, it’s her fault. She knows Jude came over to antagonize him on purpose because of her. All those people hurt, property destroyed. She hates him, she hates Jude so fucking much. Everything has become a whirlwind ever since they crossed paths. He’s too much for her to handle and she has to stop trying to. Sadé is in no way built for people like him and she needs to accept that before he really fucks up her life.

“Sadé, do you need to go to the hospital?” Mikayla asks softly. She’s stooped to her level beside her. Celine stands off to the side, looking around frantically. Sirens sound in the distance. They need to move. The last thing she needs to top this night off is to be harshly interrogated.

“I think it’s just a sprain.” She sniffles wetly, examining her foot. It’s already beginning to swell.

“I should be fine with some painkillers and ice for now.”

“Okay, I’m calling a cab. We need to move away from here in the meantime though.”

“Is she okay?” The voice comes from a 5’11, olive toned figure. His long, black hair is pulled into a bun at the back of his head that shows off the perfect structure of his face and green eyes. Ryan.

“Uh… she… ankle.” And even in her current condition Sadé giggles quietly. Mikayla’s a wide- eyed stuttering mess. Ryan smiles, obviously endeared.

“I can help, we need to clear the area before the cops come.” He looks directly at Mikky’s blushing face.

“I… okay. Yea.”

Ryan silently asks Sadé permission with a raise of his brow. She nods, immediately understanding what he intends to do and lifts her arms to wrap around his neck. He scoops her up easily, carrying her bridal style.

“We should head to the deli around the corner.” Ryan suggests and the trio agrees.

They walk in comfortable silence. Sadé makes eye contact with Mikayla every once in a while and gives her friend a sly smile to which she’d respond by blushing deeper and threaten her silently with her eyes. Ryan doesn’t stumble once with her in his arms. He looks over at Mikayla for a moment.

“You followed me on IG the other day right?”

“Uh, yea. Yea I did.” Mikayla ducks her head after responding.

“What’s your name?” Sadé tunes them out and focuses on Celine. She walks a few feet away from them with a far away look in her eyes. Sadé files it away to have a serious conversation with her friend later. The deli is blissfully empty- thank God- and the owner immediately rushes over to them with a chair after Ryan explains the situation. He sits her down gently.

“Thank you so much.” He waves Sadé off, typing away on his phone.

“It’s nothing. Since we’re here, are you guys hungry?” And suddenly, in the moment, nothing sounds better than getting home, showering and stuffing her face with an Italian grinder sandwich.

“Yea, actually. I could eat. I’ll take an Italian grinder, no onions.”

Celine declines the offer and Mikayla looks at Sadé worriedly. Sadé shrugs in response.

“Come order with me?” Ryan directs the question at her blushing friend. Mikayla gives a shy nod and the pair head in the direction of the man behind the counter. Sadé works on unstrapping her right shoe. The throbbing has gotten worse and the straps digging in her skin aren’t helping. Sadé cringes at the sight of her foot, it has gotten even more swollen in the small time frame it took for them to get here. The bell above the door dings as someone steps through. She lazily looks up from her disfigured ankle towards the entrance of the shop. She tenses and her chest heaves with anger as she glares with all the hatred she can muster.

“Let me take you home.”

[pedripics]

Pedri: "On the pitch I don't think; I do the first thing that comes into my head" | EL PAÍS Deportes - Translation

The Barca player breaks free in the Spanish national team, the team that is making waves at the Euros.

He seems shy, but he is not. In fact, he is one of those who spreads joy at Spain's training camp in Donaueschingen. And although he doesn't really enjoy interviews, Pedri González (Tenerife, 21 years old) is relaxed and fun. And he has a message for his team-mates: "I would like to say that Nico is very bad at Play". A state of mind that is reflected on the pitch, liberated as a midfielder in the Roja team that shines in Germany.

When was the last time you cried with laughter?

"Twenty minutes ago. We were in the gym and a physio took a big hit and it was… Someone's falls, someone else's bad feelings without the person actually hurting themselves, make me laugh a lot."

Are those the videos you get the most on TikTok?

"Falls, a lot of monkeys and food, especially chocolate. It's a bummer because I can't eat that. It's more than forbidden. They take everything away from me [laughs]. But if I win the Euro, before I go on holiday, I will eat chocolate."

Have you thought that it's been less than four years since you made your debut in La Liga?

"A lot of people say to me: 'It seems like ten years have passed'."

And how do you cope with the feeling of time passing?

"I certainly feel like a lot has happened because of the things I've learned. You're so into what you do, whether it's a World Cup or a European Cup, that when you want to start thinking, you're already in the next season."

What would you say to the 17-year-old Pedri who came to play for Barça B and ended up in Messi's team?

"That he enjoys the day-to-day and everything he does. It goes by very quickly when you think about it…. For a footballer the most important thing is to find what makes you good. In the beginning, for example, you don't have much idea about nutrition or what to do in a gym. But as you start to gain experience, you find what works for you."

Has it hurt you not to have trained at La Masia?

"It was different. Players who have been trained in La Masia are accustomed from a very young age to a certain type of work that other quarries do not do so much. For example, another thing that is not about the game is the interviews. At Barcelona, they've all practised, they've done a thousand with the club's television. But when you get caught out of the blue..."

Has everything happened too suddenly?

"And on top of that, they take away the good things you used to eat… [laughs]. But you adapt: it's your dream."

Have you talked to Lamine Yamal about these experiences?

"In the first few games of the EUROs I told him to be calm, to enjoy himself. I explained to him that if he did what he knew, he would do well. And we see how he does it."

Is it true that you are all day with Ferran Torres?

"Now a little less, because he plays Call of Duty and I'm very bad."

Has Ferran introduced you to his interest in mental health?

"Yes. One minute in ice water. He's been doing it for a year. He goes in every morning, before breakfast: ice water up to his neck and before getting out he also dunks his head in it. He got so annoying about it that he convinced me. And now I can't stop doing it. I've been doing it for three months now. It's good for my muscles, it wakes me up, it activates me. I recommend you try it."

With the number 10 in extinction, how do you feel in the position of playmaker instead of the interior?

"I'm closer to the danger zone. Everything I do has more relevance to the game. Also goals and assists, of course. On the other hand, when you are a bit further back you help to bring the ball forward. It's true that in today's football there are few coaches who use a playmaker. But there are many players with the qualities to play there. It's a position where I feel comfortable. I enjoy it."

Why?

"Because when you receive the ball you are already in a position to face the center backs, to shoot or to provide an assist. It is spectacular."

Did they play videos to show you how to move in that area?

"Yes, at the beginning. Luis [de la Fuente] told me that he wanted me to play in that position. He explained to me how I had to press, where I had to position myself when we had the ball. He showed me videos of other players from national team games. He wanted me to see the model of the game so that I could understand the playmaker's position. He also showed me videos of me at Barça to analyse what I needed to change and what he wanted me to improve."

Which players stand out for you?

"There are a lot of people. Wirtz has had a great season. Musiala, I've played against him, I like him a lot. You've seen the season Bellingham had. And I shared a dressing room with Grizi. He is a player I love."

Griezmann has reinvented his position a bit.

"Now he's like a false forward. He makes plays, scores goals, gives assists. He is super complete. When he was at Barcelona I laughed a lot. Very nice guy."

And when you were a child, who did you look up to?

"I looked up to Iniesta a lot. He didn't play in that 10 position, but he had the qualities to do it. In fact, he could play anywhere: as a winger, on the inside, on the outside. He had that ability to turn. David Silva also turned spectacularly. Players who know how to be between the lines, who know how to profile themselves to have an advantage over the opponent."

Is the twist the most important thing?

"With good control you can face the centre directly. If your back is turned, the midfield reaches you, you can't turn and everything becomes a bit more complicated."

How far in advance do you think about what you are going to do?

"When I'm on the pitch I don't think too much. I improvise. I shoot with the first thing that comes into my head. I know there are a lot of people who also visualise the gameplays or situations that can happen in a game. I don't do that. I prefer to go out on the pitch and do whatever comes out."

And what do you think about before the games?

"I try to be calm, I listen to the music playing in the locker room. Now we made a list with the teammates in which each one put a song. I put on Zero Hour by Myke Towers. It's good. At least nobody says to take it off when it's playing."

Did you like any of the other Euro teams?

"Germany is at a spectacular level. There are teams like England and France, who may not be playing a great role, but they have players who are going to get involved at any moment."

You don't see the title being only between Spain and Germany?

"Not at all. There are teams that are not playing at a good level, but they are going to do their best. There are people who say that you have to lose a game, look at the example of Argentina in the World Cup."

Is the player also winning?

"When you gain minutes you settle into the team. In a national team you don't know your teammates as much and you gain confidence. Surely we will improve"

You have arrived fresher, but without so much rhythm.

"When you don't have a competitive rhythm, it's noticeable. But when you have looser legs, you go all out. They always say that quality players don't have to run or defend, but I don't think like that. When everyone works, the team is better."

Do you finish games more tired than usual?

"No, I'm very well. Above all, because of the work I've done to get there. I have found something that has been very good for me."

What is it?

"A specific type of work for me. It's a secret [laughs]."

How do you get on with marketing?

"Well, I'm doing fine. At the beginning I didn't like it very much, but I've accepted it. The situation is worth it. It depends on what it is, I like it. There are some things that are more fun."

For example.

"When I take the photos for a campaign I get a bit lazy, but then when I see the result I like it."

When you arrive in a city and you see yourself on the posters, what do you think?

"Let's see if I look good [laughs]. My mother always passes them to me. The one in Doha was huge."

Who was the last person you made cry with laughter?

"I haven't made anyone here cry with laughter yet. But I will. I'm going to make Ferran Torres cry with laughter."

[httpvomitello]

💙❤️💜🧡 Peepaw Splinter! Peepaw Splinter! Peepaw Splinter! Peepaw Splinter! :O :O :O :O :O 🧡💜❤️💙

Helloo ~ I added more things, hope you like it! ♡♡♡♡♡

It was supposed to be an easy night in the lair, but things got wild fast. Splinter’s wife had gone out to gather supplies, and that meant the boys had one big task: keep Hana occupied and out of trouble. At four years old, Hana was a force to be reckoned with. She was tiny but packed with curiosity and energy that kept everyone on their toes. No matter what they did to entertain her, she’d get bored eventually and start pushing boundaries just for fun.

“Alright, Hana,” Leo said, taking the lead as always, “we’re gonna play some games and then settle down for the night, okay?”

Hana grinned, nodding, but she was already plotting. After playing dolls with Raph, a bit of drawing with Leo, and storytime with Donnie, she was still full of energy, and her brothers had their hands full just keeping up with her. After an hour of games, though, her attention drifted, her eyes darting around the lair, looking for something else to do.

When she spotted Mikey sneaking snacks in the kitchen, a mischievous smile crept onto her face. She darted over to him and tugged on his arm. “Mikey, let’s play ninja!”

Mikey couldn’t resist her little grin. “Alright, kiddo, what kind of ninja game we talking about?”

“You try to catch me,” she challenged, already tiptoeing away.

And that’s how it started. Hana went full spy mode, slipping between shadows and darting into hiding spots all over the lair, always just out of Mikey’s reach. He’d been trying to catch her for almost twenty minutes when he realized he’d actually lost track of her.

Mikey finally gathered up the rest of his brothers, looking sheepish. “Okay, guys, maybe I… might’ve lost her.”

Leo’s eyes widened in seconds. “YOU WHAT?” he took a deep breath “Alright, spread out. She couldn’t have gone far.”

Meanwhile, Hana had snuck her way into Donnie’s lab, where her curiosity got the better of her. She was fascinated by all the gadgets Donnie was always working on, and there was this one beeping device that was flashing lights. She couldn’t help herself; she reached out and poked a button. Instantly, it lit up and made a loud *beep*, and she gasped, ducking under the table as footsteps approached.

The door swung open, and Donnie stepped in, sighing as he saw the device lit up. “Alright, Hana, come on out,” he said, trying not to laugh. “Curiosity’s cool, but you know the lab’s a no-touch zone.”

Hana crawled out, giving him a sheepish grin. “I just wanted to see…”

Donnie couldn’t help smiling, ruffling her hair. “Tell you what—sit here, and I’ll show you how it works. Sound good?”

Hana’s eyes lit up, and she clambered onto a stool beside him, watching as he explained each little button and screen on the gadget. She was listening so intently she barely noticed when her other brothers peeked in to make sure she was still there.

“Found her, huh?” Raph said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorway.

“More like she found us,” Donnie replied, laughing.

Just then, they heard the front door slide open, and everyone perked up as Splinter stepped inside, back from his errand. His eyes softened as he took in the scene—Hana perched on Donnie’s stool, the others gathered around.

“Papa!” Hana hopped off the stool and dashed toward him, her face lighting up.

Splinter scooped her up, his eyes full of warmth as he held her close. “Were you good for your brothers, Hana?”

She hesitated, then looked up at him, clearly debating how much to admit. “Umm… mostly?”

Her honesty made Splinter chuckle, and he patted her head, setting her down and joining her and the boys in the main room. Hana instantly tugged on his hand, her eyes full of excitement as she told him what she and her brothers did.

Splinter watched with quiet amusement as she talks, then scooped her up onto his lap, settling in for some quiet time with her. The other turtles gathered around, glad to finally have a chance to relax too. Mikey decided to have a little movie night with his family when their mom came over, excited to spend a little more time with the family before she too fell asleep.

Hana remained on Splinter's lap, the two talking when a scene from the movie that they let her choose. Splinter gave his daughter a small caress in her hair, receiving a loving look from his wife.

By the end of it, Hana was curled up, eyelids drooping as she tried to keep up with the movie but eventually, sleep took over. Raph pulled a blanket around her, and Splinter smiling as he looked around at his sons, all leaning in close.

“You’ve done well tonight,” he murmured to them, his voice filled with pride.

[ashensgrotto]

Never Had a Friend (Like Me) - Part 2

Original art piece by pfbatakopd on twitter (Used only for Header. Do NOT REPOST ORIGINAL ART)

Part 1 Part 2 (You Are Here) Part 3

YandereSoulmate! AU:

Part 1 (Am I Feeling Love?)

Part 2 (Protective)

Part 3A & Part 3B (Poor Unfortunate Souls)

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto X F!Reader

Word Count: 9,105

Synopsis: A chance for redemption comes in the form of a wish…

Author’s Notes: Ok, here we go. I received an anonymous message in my inbox for the next part of the Yandere!Soulmate series and I was actually going to work on it - but with the arrival of GloMas, working on the next part of ‘Raison D’être,’ wanting to finish “Weren’t You Aware, Angelfish?”, AND the holidays, time got away from me and I forgot about Scarabia’s segment for a short while. 

However, because you all seem to enjoy this and want to know if the tako has redeemed himself - I figured I would work to get this part done. Now, warning - Pompefiore’s part is going to take a bit of time to complete because I will have to wiggle my way through my memory bank and replay a few parts of it (which is approx 76 chapters in length for those players who haven’t made it that far into the game yet) since I’m working so deep into Ignihyde’s chapter right now (which is a doozy - I’m still in chapter 67-tower 1, oof help).

This one is also going to be split into three parts - I promise it will not be a long wait for the second & third parts as this is my Christmas gift to all of my readers <3

Thank you all for your continued support!

Warnings are as follows: yandere behaviors, manipulation, imprisonment, & hypnosis

***

… Mister Kalim, sir, have a wish? Or two? Or Three?

I’m on the job, you big nabob.

You ain’t never had a friend like me.

***

“Well done, Jade,” Azul praised, “How did the ‘talk’ with Kalim go?”

It was the first night of being in Scarabia in the vacant room the Grim and (Y/N) had originally been held hostage in. Apparently, it was routine in Scarabia to have all of the students locked within their dorm rooms - hence the reason as to why the concept was foreign to both Grim and (Y/N) as the two of them never felt the need to lock their doors at night (though Azul did while (Y/N) had lived in Octavinelle for security purposes - but he would never tell her to begin with.)

True to his word, Azul started sniffing around straight away, using Jade to talk to Kalim while he and Floyd distracted Jamil with a game of mancala.

“It was just as you expected, I’m afraid,” Jade answered, placing his hands behind his back as he gave his report, “It’s very likely that Kalim is being magically mind-controlled to make him act out erratically.”

“That would explain the sea otter’s rapid changes in behavior,” Floyd nodded in agreement.

“But how is that even possible?” Grim asked.

“Grim, that’s like asking how you can stomach twenty cans of tuna in twenty minutes,” (Y/N) answered, looking toward the trio, “I’m assuming it’s similar to your ultimate magic, Jade.”

“To an extent, yes,” Jade nodded in agreement, “The closest you might get would be with Ruggie’s ‘Laugh with Me.’ That ultimate magic allows Ruggie to manipulate a person’s body to do what he wants them to. There’s also hypnosis magic that works in the same sense, but it takes control of a target’s mind and requires a far higher degree of skill and power. Very few mages are even capable of using it because of the amount of skill required to even cast it.”

“You gotta have skills and power on par with Azul for that,” Floyd added.

“But even I would be hard-pressed to control living creatures with their own egos like humans,” Azul argued, “I still prefer to give them the chance to think it over before signing one of my deals.”

“But I doubt anyone in Scarabia is half as good as you, Azul,” Grim piped up, “Even Kalim’s big signature is just a glorified waterspout…”

“Grim, ‘Oasis Maker’ is a very talented frame of magic,” (Y/N) sighed, looking at the others, “Though, I do agree… even Jamil’s score levels are relatively average on the school’s grading scale.”

“I wouldn’t be too hasty to make assumptions,” Azul chidded, “There’s an old saying in the sea that we have in the sea which states ‘a clever hawk hides its talons.’”

“So the brings us to the big question, who’s controllin’ sea otter and why?” Floyd asked.

“I’m afraid I won’t be much help there,” Jade shook his head, “I couldn’t get any answers from him.”

“Speaking of which,” (Y/n) asked suddenly, “What exactly… does your signature spell do?”

“Oh? Have you seen it before?” Grim asked curiously.

“Only once - I think we had a patron at the lounge that was behaving quite, um… indecently?” you admit, “It was like he suddenly just spilled what was on his mind as soon as Jade got close to him.”

Jade sighs, “My unique magic is one that would make most people guarded around me if they knew what it did, specifically - I’m not a fan of revealing it, but (Y/n) hit it pretty hard on the nose. It’s called ‘Shock the Heart’ - it allows me to force the truth out of a target that might be hiding something. The drawback is that the spell can only be used once on a target - once I use it, I can’t use it on them again, and it only works on those with a weak mental vulnerability or loosely guarded minds. Those like Azul who are weary, or have high resistance to magic, are effective against the spell - hence my signature spell is very limited in scope.”

“It works great on guys cowerin’ in fear or bawlin’ like babies,” Floyd grinned, showing off his row of sharp teeth.

“The way those two smile scare the daylights outta me,” Grim looked at you, “I still can’t believe you lived with these three for three months!”

“They’re not that bad,” you mumble under your breath, “...mostly.”

Azul coughed, “Jade, what were you able to find out? If anything?”

“Kalim’s always been the type to open up to others - it’s one of the reasons why he was selected to be the headwarden. Thus, my spell worked on him flawlessly - however, when I asked him if he knew the name of the student using hypnosis magic on him and if he would tell me, he claimed that he must never tell anyone. He made some sort of promise to this student long ago, so he couldn’t reveal it.”

“Oh how hysterical!” Azul snorted, “Your signature spell was thwarted by Kalim’s strength of character!”

“It would seem that way,” Jade admitted.

“And here I thought the sea otter would sing like a canary,” Floyd hit his hand over his forehead, “Just when you think you know a guy!”

“...I would assume that it’s a promise he keeps close to his heart,” you think out loud.

Azul looks at you, eyes widening, “(Y/N)! You genius angelfish! That’s it!”

“What’s it?” you ask.

“I have an idea,” Azul answered, “I have a hunch at who our little serpent schemer is… and how to pull him out of hiding, but first - Floyd, I’ll need your help.”

“My help?” Floyd looked flabbergasted.

“Yes, I need to borrow your signature spell.”

Jade, Floyd, Grim, and you blinked in surprise.

“Azul, pardon me for asking,” Jade spoke after a moment of stunned silence, “but why in the world are you asking for Floyd’s ‘Bind the Heart’?”

“Because I intend on using myself as bait,” Azul answered.

“Azul! You can’t!” you could contain yourself at the thought of Azul stepping in harm’s way.

“(Y/n), listen to me,” Azul took your hand, “This won’t be like the last time, I promise. I’m one of the strongest mages here right now, so I have to do this. Floyd’s ‘Bind the Heart’ will allow me the protection from hypnosis when we have to face off against our little viper. I don’t intend on him gaining control over anyone any longer - not even you.”

“I hate to admit it, but Azul is right,” Floyd answered, scratching the back of his head, “As much as I hate to admit, it would give us an advantage as well.”

“What do you mean, Floyd?” Jade asked.

“I’m always goin’ off about how great my signature spell is an’ showin’ it,” Floyd shrugged his shoulder, “So, if I swap something with Azul an’ give him my signature spell - no one will know that he has it, least of all our target.”

“But you’ll have to feign ignorance, all of you,” Azul answered, “If you can’t, this trap won’t work - this is the one shot we have.”

“Alright, though I’m not really seeing where this is going…” Grim sighed, resting his paws on his hips.

“You will eventually, Grim,” Azul answered, “Now, Floyd. Are you ready? I’ll give you something that will be an adequate replacement for the time being.”

“Sure, octy - whenever you’re ready.”

“How many times must I…? Never mind.”

Azul closed his eyes and took a deep breath as magic began to gather around him.

“The song ceases, the sun sets… I extend my benevolent hand to you poor unfortunate souls… Now, to business! It’s a Deal!”

***

Azul always knew how to practice patience - it was something he learned over the years during his searches for his soulmate. He may have been desperate during his childhood years, searching every day and night for that special someone that was destined to stay by his side, but that didn’t change the fact that he was preparing for this moment specifically.

All day, Azul kept one eye on his target, watching them as he, Floyd, and Jade began to slowly rile him up with their constant assistance toward Kalim - helping the Scarabia housewarden with memorization spells, training routines, and homework that had been assigned over the holiday weekend, keeping him busy and away from the one person who was to be held responsible for the mess the dorm was now in. By mid-afternoon, the trap was set and Azul walked down the hall towards the kitchens with the suspect beside him.

“The students' completion rate for these assignments is up fifteen percent from yesterday,” Azul commented amicably, “Those are some statistically significant results, in my opinion. Believe it or not, (Y/N) and Grim both told me that Kalim was going through some rough patches, his mood swings pretty drastic - even compared to Floyd’s… but he’s been acting pretty calm since we arrived. Isn’t it wonderful that Kalim’s regained the faith of Scarabia’s students, Jamil?”

“...No. No, it isn’t,” Jamil hissed quietly.

“It’s not?” Azul feigned surprise.

“No offense, but I can’t let you people stay in Scarabia any longer,” Jamil stopped and glared at Azul hard, “It’s time you went back under the sea.”

‘Got you,’ Azul thought before asking, “Where did this come from, Jamil? Have I done something to offend you?”

“...You made eye contact with me. Fool,” Jamil’s wicked grin spread across his features, “The one you behold is your master. When I ask you a question, you will answer. When I give you a command, you will assent. Snake Whisper.”

Azul felt the magic coiling around him, a small murmur of ‘Bind the Heart’ rejected the magic - now… it was time to play.

Azul feigned pain until he could see you and Jade hiding out of the corner of his eye, making sure that the two of you could see everything - his cell phone held securely in Jade’s grip as the stream began. He feigned falling into Jamil’s magic, opening his eyes to reveal Jamil’s control over his mind and body. He slightly slumped his shoulders, giving the illusion that he was no longer in control.

As he did so, Jamil began to rant - playing right into the octomer’s hands

“Because of you, all my carefully laid plans have gone up in smoke! All I needed was a little more nudging from those two dimwits and the students would’ve kicked Kalim out,” Jamil growled, “Do you have any idea how much painstaking effort I put into laying the groundwork for that?”

Azul did not respond, though he wanted to give a few choice words to Jamil about calling his sweet angelfish a ‘dimwit’ - but he would have to wait for that.

“Azul - you returned all your contractually stolen powers back to their rightful owners recently, right?” Jamil asked suddenly.

“Yes, master,” Azul responded, thinking, ‘Where are you going with… ah, I see…’

“Tch. So much for using you as my own personal genie of the lamp,” Jamil scoffed, reaching up and rubbing his chin, “Your unique magic is quite a valuable asset… but it would be hard to keep you controlled long-term.”

“Master,” Azul’s voice spoke up, “I remember the contents of the contracts.”

“What?” Jamil looked at Azul in surprise.

“I remember all the secrets of the people I made contracts with - their troubles, their weakness, their desires.”

“What a… twisted collection. I see I made the right choice not to make friends with you,” Jamil smiled cruelly, “Tell me, does this intellectual cache of yours include the headmage’s secrets?”

Azul grinned internally, baiting Jamil even more, “Of course, master. I know one thing he would never want others to learn. Do you wish to know his secret?”

“Oh, abso-lutely!” Jamil’s smile broadened, “Once I have the headmage’s weakness in my grasp, I’ll finally be free. I’ll kick Kalim out of school and become Scarabia’s housewarden myself!”

“... And there we have it.”

Azul watched, a knowing smirk appearing on his face as Jamil whipped around to face Jade, his face contorted in confusion.

“So you finally show your true colors!” Grim pressed his paws onto his hips as he glared up at Jamil from between you and Jade, “I bet you thought you were real slick, pullin’ the wool over our eyes!”

“H-how… how much..?”

“All of it,” you answered, “Start to finish.”

“And live streamed to the world from Azul’s smartphone,” Jade waved the phone at Jamil as footsteps entered the hallway with many Scarabia students appearing, “Azul’s Magicam livestream presently had five thousand active viewers. It’s currently trending under the topic: ‘A Certain Magicians’ School’s Dirty Little Secret’.”

Voices began echoing around Jamil, the students of the Scarabia dorm demanding to know the truth and why Jamil - their own vice warden - would deceive them.

“Y-you… you’ve got it all wrong!” Jamil shouted, his fear and apprehensiveness growing.

“Don’t even try to talk your way out of this one,” Jade folded his arms across his chest, “The mind control magic you used on Azul is hard evidence.”

Everyone looked at Azul - who kept his silent slumped state, continuing to pretend to be under Jamil’s magic still.

“Jamil, it’s been you all along,” Jade continued, pulling everyone’s attention back to him, “You’ve been using your signature spell on Kalim and making him throw Scarabia into chaos!”

Jamil tsked, smearing, “I was trying to avoid escalating matters, but you leave me no choice - Azul, I command you! Subdue and restrain them all!”

“Yes, master,” Azul answered, taking a step forward.

You took a step back with Jade, Grim darting behind you as you looked at Azul pleading, momentarily forgetting that Azul wasn’t really under Jamil’s power, “Azul, no. You don’t want to do this. Please! Snap out of it!”

“Pleading with him won’t help you, (Y/N)!” Jamil laughed, “He’s my loyal minion now.”

‘And… now,’ Azul took another step forward, before spinning around and pointing his cane at Jamil, “You wish I was.”

“What?!”

Azul looked over his shoulder and winked at you, relieved to see your smile as he turned his attention back toward Jamil, “You told me the funniest thing earlier - allow me to return the favor. You think I’m an arrogant mage, but you were sorely mistaken. An embarrassing misjudgment for the vice warden of Scarabia - the dorm that is supposed to embody the spirit of mindfulness.”

“I know I made eye contact with you! I had you in my control!”

“Please, I’m a competent mage and you know it,” Azul frowned, keeping his cane pointed at Jamil, “I always prepare for the eventualities before I act - right Floyd?”

“I think you let your guard down a little too soon there, sea snake,” Floyd appeared, his voice sounding more baritone than before - almost like a tuba was speaking.

Azul snickered softly as your eyebrows raised up into your hairline, “That’s… what you exchanged with Floyd for his signature spell?”

“Pretty cool, huh?” Floyd said with a grin.

“Shall I explain it?” Azul asked, keeping his focus on Jamil, “In exchange for a vocal adjustment, Floyd gave me his unique magic, ‘Bind the Heart’ - it jams or blocks an opponent’s magic and diverts it elsewhere. Hence - I used it to evade your mind spell, then pretended to be in your hold and got you to spill your intentions while you gloated.”

Jamil gritted his teeth, glaring at them as Kalim appeared, the housewarden asking politely to tell him that it was true, that Jamil would never do anything like that, that it was just blackout spells because of how tired he was. But the silence from the vice warden was short-lived.

Azul felt you stiffen beside him, your hand suddenly gripping Azul’s overcoat, “(Y/N)? What’s wrong?”

You met his gaze and Azul knew.

An overblot was approaching.

He turned to Jade and Floyd, “Jade, Floyd, ready yourselves.”

“The one you behold is your master… When I ask you a question, you will answer. When I give you a command, you will assent! Snake Whisper!”

At Jamil’s command, the Scarabia dorm turned on its guests and its headwarden.

Azul was quick to pull you and Grim behind him as a shield of water protected the three of you from a rain of fire, “Mediocre, nothing! He’s easily one of the top mages in the entire school - to say nothing of Scarabia.”

Floyd grumbled, “I keep squeezin’ em but they keep gettin’ back up - are they zombies or somethin’?”

“That’s just part of ‘Snake Whisper’,” you explain, as if your eyes are seeing the internal workings of the spell, “It forces a target to continue to obey the commands - like a puppet on a string. Even though they might feel pain and are internally trying to avoid as well as fight the spell, their minds and bodies are not completely their own anymore.”

“Jamil! Please stop!” Kalim begged as he blocked an attack, “You can have what you want! You can be the housewarden! I’ll go home to my family!”

“What? You thought that would work? My spell won’t be broken so easily,” Jamil snickered as black ink and heavy energy surrounded him, “Not as long as you exist in this world… Kalim.”

“Jamil! You’re courting danger!” Jade begged, eyes widening, “If you keep using your signature spell, you’ll exceed you blot tolerance-”

“SHUT UP AND DON’T ORDER ME AROUND!”

The air became heavy as a dark shadow came over Scarabia. Azul pulled you closer as several dark shapes began to shift - the housewarden of Octavinelle watching in horror as a creature appeared before them. Hovering above the ground in ancient Viziar garb of black and red was Jamil, cloaked in darkness with hair that now took on the shapes of small black vipers - a dark shadow that took on the form of a dark genie hovering behind him, as if awaiting his command.

“He’s overblotted!” Azul gritted his teeth, “The negative energy is swelling up… Everyone! Steel yourselves!”

“I have no need for an incompetent king or a con artist,” the twisted voice of Jamil spoke, “Your personality flaws give me ADEQUATE cause… to send you packing on a one-way trip to the ends of the earth! So long! Ex-Housewarden Kalim! A-hahahahaha!”

The next thing Azul knew, he was airborne.

[canirove]

Rice, Rice, baby | Chapter 15

Author's note: You don't want to miss this week's chapters 👀

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

It's been three months. Three months, twelve days and twenty hours (yes, I've counted them) since I slapped Declan's face and told him I didn't want to see him again. But today that is over, because the national team is coming back to Tottenham training centre, and I'll have to face him again.

The phase of feeling like there is a hole in my chest and crying with everything is over. But am I ready to see him and those stupid blue eyes of his, to hear his loud laugh, and to smell his perfume everywhere around me? I am not. At all. 

But oh, well.  

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“What do you mean he isn't coming?”

“He picked up some kind of injury on the last game. Not sure what, tho, I don't understand those things” Olga says. “But he apparently is going back to Arsenal so he can rest.”

“Thank God” I sigh.

“You look so relieved, Liv” she laughs.

“Well, how would you feel if you were about to see again the guy you fell in love with and who broke your heart, and had to put on a smile on your face and make him coffee as if nothing had happened because otherwise you could be losing your job?”

“I don't think they would fire you for not smiling at him.”

“Yeah, but for dropping a boiling coffee on his precious feet…”

“Oh my God, Liv” she gasps. “I know he was a dick and I hate him for what he did to you. But would you do something like that?”

“Maybe” I shrug.

“Olivia!” she gasps again.

“I was kidding, it was just a joke. Relax.”

Though maybe I wasn't 100% kidding. Because I think this is the new phase I'm in. Violence. Rage. Wanting to hurt him as badly as he hurt me.

“I hope so” Olga says, giving me a worried look. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Bloody hell” I curse when half the boxes of napkins I'm carrying end up on the floor.

“Let me help you” a voice says next to me.

“It's ok, don't… worry” I say, looking up at the owner of that voice and getting lost in the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen. Declan. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Uh?”

“Weren't you injured?”

“Yes.”

“Then?”

“They want to run some tests before I leave tomorrow.”

“Oh, good. The sooner the better. And I can do this myself, I don't need your help.”

“Liv, please…”

“No” I say, snatching one of the boxes from his hand and starting to walk away. 

“Liv, c'mon. I just want to talk.”

“And I already told you I don't want to talk to you ever again. Besides being a liar, are you also deaf now?”

“Liv…”

“Stop saying my name, Declan. You are gonna wear it off.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, sure” I snort. 

“I am, Olivia. If you'll let me explain myself…”

“I said no, Declan. And now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do” I say, turning around and walking into the cafeteria, taking big breaths to calm myself and not kick something or start crying again. Or both.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“See you tomorrow, Liv” Olga says before getting into her car.

“Bye” I smile back. 

It's already dark outside, the car park full of puddles from the rain. And I'm so busy trying to not step on one of them while also looking for my keys inside my bag, that I don't see the person standing next to my Mini until he talks to me.

“Hello, Liv.”

“Holy mother of Jesus!” I scream, my bag falling from my hands and ending on a puddle. “What the fuck are you doing here, Declan?”

“I want to talk with you” he says, picking up my bag.

“Again? Didn't I make myself clear earlier?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But you are stupid, I know. And now look, my best bag is ruined because of you” I say, snatching it from his hands just as I did with the napkins. It is soaking wet.

“At least your phone wasn't inside” he shrugs.

“What a relief, uh?” I say, walking around him and opening the car's door, throwing my bag inside.

“Liv, it'll be just a minute. Please let me…”

“No, Declan! I don't want to hear your excuses! I'm done with you! Why can't you understand it?”

“Because I… Liv…”

“Because I… Liv…” I repeat, making fun of him. “Don't you have somewhere else to be? Like texting that singer or one of those other girls you are sleeping with to let them know you will be free tomorrow?”

“Liv…”

“For the love of God, stop saying my name!” I say, lifting my arm to slap him like I did at his house. But like happened the second time, he grabs it before I can touch him.

“I probably deserved that” he says, closing the space between us.

“You definitely did, yes.”

“I was a dick.”

“You are a dick” I correct him, trying to stay focused on being mad at him. But it isn't easy. The way he is looking at me is making my heart beat too fast, my knees are already feeling like jelly as he keeps moving closer, and my skin is burning where his fingers are touching me.

“Liv…” he whispers, his free hand moving to my face, caressing my cheek.

“Stop saying my name, Declan.”

“I can't.”

“You…” He is too close. So close that I can smell his perfume everywhere around me, surrounding me, making me get lost on him. Fuck. Shit. No. “Declan…” I whisper.

And then, what I didn't want to happen, happens. 

At first he just brushes his lips against mine, something delicate, barely noticeable. But it is enough to send a wave of electricity through my whole body, making me shudder in his arms. And when he properly kisses me, I'm gone. My arms move on their own, wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer to me. Which only makes his kisses more intense, more desperate. We are kissing as if our lives depended on it, as if we needed each other to breathe. And that doesn't stop when I open my car's back door and we both get inside. When clothes start leaving our bodies, the little space turning us into a tangle of limbs, pushing us against the other as close as it is humanly possible, gasps, moans and other unholy noises leaving our mouths. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Liv, this just came for you” Alex says, leaving a big package on the table where Olga and I are having lunch.

“Who is sending me something here?” I ask with a confused look.

“I don't know” he shrugs, sitting down next to us.

“Open it, Liv!” Olga says. 

“Ok” I say, doing as she's asked.

“Oh… my God. Did you buy yourself a designer bag?” she says when she sees the box.

“I didn't, no.”

“Then who sent this?”

“I… I don't know” I say, slowly opening it.

“Liv! That's the bag you've been wanting for ages! How many times have we gone to Harrods just to stare at it?” 

“Too many” I chuckle.

“Does it say who has sent it?” Alex asks.

“There is a note, yes” I say, taking it and reading it while Olga marvels at the bag.

“You once told me that you were in love with this bag, that you would go to Harrods with your friends and stare at it wishing it was yours. Well, guess what. Now it is. Hope it makes up for the one I ruined the other night. -DR ”

“And?” Alex asks again. “Who sent it?”

“Kennedy.”

“Madders’ wife got you a designer bag?”

“She says she got invited to do some free shopping, was able to choose whatever she wanted, remembered that I was feeling a bit down, and…” I shrug.

“They gifted her a designer bag?” Olga gasps, totally buying my lie.

“They gave her a budget and it was the same amount of money as the bag.”

“Wow. The life of a wag” she laughs. “I want friends like that too. This is so nice…”

“It is” I smile. 

“Olga, we need you” one of our coworkers says.

“Coming” she sighs. “Will you let me try it on later?”

“Of course.”

“Urgh, you are the best, Liv” she says, giving me a hug before leaving.

“Kennedy's last name is Rice now?” Alex says.

“Uh?”

“You may fool Olga, but not me. I know he sent you that bag. Are you back together? Did you forgive him?”

“No and no.”

“Then?”

“Then what, Alex?”

“Then why did he buy you that bag?”

“Because it is over. It is like a goodbye gift.”

“A goodbye gift?” he laughs.

“Yes. Now if you'll excuse me” I say, getting up and taking the bag and the package with me.

Even though Declan and I haven't talked again since what happened in my car, we both know what it meant: it was a goodbye. One that hurts and that neither of us wanted if we only think about what we were feeling that night, but that was the right thing to do.

[atevanfool]

Expanding Chapter 11 - Eager

| Rating: T | Words: 4,519 | CW: Mild homophobic language, Violence | On Ao3 |

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x-x-x

Branson

Things are finally quieting down in his life. The teacher in charge of after school detention had seen how much work Branson had been putting in to better himself and had cut him a major break. Branson only had to suffer through two weeks of detention before his evenings were free to do what he wanted to with them again. Instead of going out with friends, like most kids his age, he’s picking up more shifts at the shelter. The owner is so grateful that she’s offered him a job as soon as they have money for another employee. The shelter is getting there, slowly but surely. His heart swells with pride.

And speaking of animals, getting to come home to Sweetpea every night is a highlight of his life. Evan and Tommy had finally taken away the gate blocking the mudroom from the rest of the house and let the bunny freeroam about a week ago. His dad is adamant about him being diligent in picking up any droppings Branson finds. As much as his dads’ love animals, they don’t want to live like they are one. Branson doesn’t mind. It’s just another part of taking care of a living creature.

To his delight, Daniel is growing to love the bunny. Any time his aunt, uncle, and cousins come to visit, the first thing Daniel asks is where Sweetpea is. Jee prefers watching from a distance, thinking she’ll hurt him. Branson’s tried explaining that Pea is tougher than he looks, but his cousin isn’t taking any chances.

One Saturday morning, Branson asks Evan, “Can you drop me off downtown on your way to work?”

Evan lifts an eyebrow. “Any reason in particular?” His parents still get uneasy about him acting too independent. They feel like he’ll start regressing, and wanting to do things on his own because he doesn’t want to ask. But it’s not that. He just wants to hang out. He’s bored of being stuck in the house, and Nikki isn’t available to do anything.

“No, dad. I’m just bored. Can’t I want to do normal teen things once in awhile?” He whines, flaring his nostrils and crossing his arms. A part of him has come unlocked since the arrest. It’s like his mind is finally making the connection that he’s allowed to be a teen. He’s allowed to be petulant, and moody, and to stomp around the house when he gets mad. He’s not only allowed to have emotions but he’s allowed to show them. The feeling has been so freeing it still makes his head spin on occasion. “So can you?”

“Um. Sure. I guess. How do you plan on getting home?” His dad stuffs a t-shirt into his duffle - he’s heading into a twenty-four hour shift. His pops will be coming off of one around 6PM tomorrow so Branson is going to be alone for the next day or so. Along with being bored, Branson still feels a little uneasy being in the house by himself, so it’s best if he can be outside when both men are working. The house is feeling more and more like home every day, but a part of him still feels like a guest just passing through.

Shrugging he says, “I can catch an Uber.” Evan makes a face. “Dad, I’m almost eighteen. It’s a twenty minute ride from downtown.”

“You could be thirty and still get kidnapped.” Evan states, straightening up and putting his hands on his hips. “Or something could happen to you.”

“Daaaaaaaaad.” Branson groans, throwing his head back. “Please? I don’t want to be stuck at home, again. I don’t have any friends to hang out with, so what else am I supposed to do? I don’t want to sit around playing video games. That’s your thing.” Evan winces when Branson mentions how friendless he is. Sure, he has Nikki, but she has her own life and isn’t available to hang out at the drop of any given hat. They need separation every so often.

Staring deep into Branson’s soul, Evan gives in. “Fine. But I want you checking in every couple of hours or so.” When Branson goes to protest, Evan holds out a hand. “That’s the only way I’m letting you go. You don’t have to call me, but I need you to send us a text. Both of us.” He emphasizes. “And you need to text Tommy that you’re going.”

Stupid worrywart dad doing stupid worrywort things. “Fine.” Branson stops himself from rolling his eyes. Instead he pulls out his phone and shoots a text to his pops. There’s no response, but that’s no surprise. “Can we go now?”

“Hold your horses, damn. Do you have enough money on your debit card?” Evan asks as he does the phone, keys, wallet check of his pockets.

“Yeah. I’ve got enough.”

“Is your phone fully charged?”

“Yes dad. It’s been off the charger for like… five minutes.”

“And you’ve got your house key?”

“Yessssssssss.” Now he does roll his eyes. “Can we go now?”

“Kid, I’ve got almost two hours before my shift starts. Can’t you just hang out for a bit longer?” Evan frowns at him.

“Please?” Branson bats his eyelashes at his dad. Miraculously it works. He briefly wonders how long the kicked puppy attitude will work on them but he’ll take the win for now. Especially if it gets him what he wants.

“Okay, fine. This one time. I guess I’ll get a workout in before shift starts.” He mutters the last part to himself under his breath. “I’ve got to grab a few more things. Go get the truck started.” Evan throws the keys at him. Catching them, Branson does a little victory dance, including a miniscule fist bump, which Evan snorts and rolls his own eyes at.

Ten minutes later they’re pulling out of the driveway. The ride towards the shopping center near Sunset Boulevard is comfortably quiet; neither of them feels the need to speak, though Evan can’t help but regale Branson with fun facts about the area. Branson doesn’t have the heart to tell him that Evan has told him all this information before. He’s too happy. Nearing the shopping district, Evan pulls the truck into a spot by the sidewalk to let Branson out. As he’s leaving the truck Evan states, quite adamantly, “Every two hours Branson. I mean it. I need at least a text from you, and so does your pops. There’s a lot of people around here but it’s still not the safest area.”

“Got it, dad.”

“And don’t overspend. You have that emergency credit card but-”

“It’s only for emergencies, I know. Have a little faith in me.”

Evan’s smile is painfully gentle. “I do, kid. I just want you to be safe. And to make smart choices. Having one brash kid, i.e me, in this world is enough. Don’t be another Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley.”

Taking a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, Branson quickly spits out, “I don’t know dad. If there’s anyone I’d want to set an example for me, it would be you.” And then he slams the car door and scurries away before he can see the glassy eyed expression Evan gives him. This early in the day, the boulevard is still teeming with people and he has to shoulder his way through to get to the outdoor market. Once in the center, he takes his time browsing through each and every stall.

There’s a place selling hot sauce that he spends some extra time in. Evan loves spicy food and has an array of sauces he likes using in almost every meal. Eyes scanning each bottle, he eventually happens upon a honey habanero. His eyes widen. His dad would absolutely love this for glazing steaks. Turning around, he finds an employee and pesters them with questions about its heat level and what its base is. In the end, he buys a single bottle of that as well as a spicy plum sauce that he’s seen in the kitchen before. It got used quite a bit when either pops, or dad, made Asian themed food for dinner. Branson loves when they make soba based dishes using the sauce because it always burns just right.

Gifts for his dad bought, he moves along the shopping center, stopping every so often just to browse. Around two, he stops at a taco food truck and orders way more food than necessary. They’re some of the best tacos he’s ever eaten, though he’ll never tell his dad who still thinks American tacos were the pinnacle of tacos.

Stuffed full, he continues to browse, or at least tries to. As he’s shouldering past an elderly man standing in the way, he spills out onto a mostly empty plaza. In any other circumstance, he may not have taken note of the group of twenty-somethings, standing in a loose circle around someone. He probably wouldn’t have bothered taking in the strangers appearance; they’ve got hay colored hair that flows in waves down around their shoulders. Their brown eyes are deep with a hint of hauntedness that no one should experience. Branson feels in awe of their ostentatious brocade cloak-like thing that’s clasped at the neck by an intricate cardinal shaped brooch. A blue purse, not much bigger than a large wallet, swings across their body - the clasp a beautiful rose gold. They’re wearing light washed skinny jeans that stop just above a pair of velvet, baby blue platformed Mary Janes. A pair of white socks that ruffle around the ankle are pulled over the hem of the jeans. Their gleaming white shirt reminds Branson vaguely of pirates in old movies, with a large, ruffly collar that dips into a deep V with large lantern sleeves that cuff primly at the wrist, showing off an expanse of tanned skin. He’s unsure about their heritage, but he thinks perhaps that they’re likely mixed with a bit of either native American, or eastern Asian.

He also has no idea if they’re a boy or a girl.

Not that it matters because, as he stands there, the picture of what’s happening becomes more and more clear. The men and women surrounding the stranger are speaking in harsh tones as if they’re interrogating the person. There’s a ring of bruises around their slim neck, and their left eye is beginning to turn a putrid shade of yellow-green. They’re hunched in on themselves and when they make eye contact with Branson, they flinch away. He knows that he kind of looks like a punk but he’s not that scary.

“Hey little queer, why are you dressed like a clown? Did the circus leave you behind?” One of the men asks, grabbing the stranger by the wrist once again. Branson can’t see it, but he knows there’s bruises there, too. “Not even the freak show wants a freak like you?”

“Are you a boy or a girl? Maybe you should pull down your pants so we can check.” Another of the bullies chimes in.

“Why are you carrying a purse, fucking faggot.” The first man spits at the person’s feet which makes them flinch yet again. “Answer me.” He shakes them, and they let out a whimper. Branson can’t watch this. It doesn’t matter that it’s five against one.

“Hey, what are you guys doing? Leave that person alone.” He puts as much authority into his voice as he can muster. “Are you trying to mug them? I’ll call the police.” He won’t, but the threat usually got people to back off.

Apparently not this time. The stranger reaches out, mouthing no at the same time that the biggest of the men in the group turns on Branson. Cocking an eyebrow he growls, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Just a concerned citizen.” Putting on an air of nonchalance, Branson shoves his hands deep into his pockets and shrugs as he rocks back on his heels. “Seems like you’re attacking this person for no reason.”

“It’s none of your business. Stay out of it.” Big boy sneers. “Or are you one of them, too?”

Feigning innocence, like he wasn’t just listening to them spewing poison, he asks, “One of what?”

“I bet he is. Just look at him with all them piercings and shit.” Henchmen one scoffs. “Coming to save your gay brother?”

Branson widens his eyes. “Wow, I didn’t know piercings made you gay. I should tell my dads’. They don’t seem to know how to follow the gay dresscode. They’re really missing out.” Both men frown at that. “Oh, yeah, I’m totally not into dudes but like, my dad married my pops and now they’re super gay. It’s pretty cool.”

“Disgusting. I can’t believe those freaks are allowed to breed.”

Branson snorts and can’t help but jab, “Yeah. Like the world needs any more people like you roaming around.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. Maybe that I’d rather be a queer than a bigoted moron.” Thankfully Branson is expecting the fist, he’s been watching Big boy clench it for the last thirty seconds or so. Dodging it, he launches his own fist into the man's stomach, flinching as it hits what feels like a concrete wall. The guy may have a gut, but it’s no marshmallow.. Ignoring the throb in his knuckles, Branson prepares for a swing from the other hand. Again, he manages to dodge, but the guys friends are interested now and Henchment number one has decided to join in the fray. He attempts to get Branson into a headlock, but Branson ducks and weaves. He’s had no official fight training so he runs on instinct. Which, to his credit, works for a bit until the three others that are still surrounding the mysterious, gorgeous, stranger decide they no longer want to sit by and watch.

It doesn’t take long after that for Branson to find himself face down on the ground with one of them pinning his cheek to the concrete while others held down his limbs. His ribs explode in agony with each breath; he can feel the deep bruises already forming. He feels blood trickling down his chin from where he bit down on his lip too hard from a punch. Then there’s his head; it’s throbbing like a drum beat and he’s almost certain he’s concussed.

“You should’ve minded you fucking business, brat.” Big guy hisses in his ear as he grabs him by the hair.

Not sure where he finds the willpower, Branson laughs, “There’s always going to be a bigger bully than you. I’m as hell not scared of you or your goonies. I’ve got much scarier people in my back pocket.”

Big guy snorts. “Yeah, keep talking big, kid.” Big guy yanks Branson’s head back and as it’s racing towards the cold concrete, he hears yelling in the background. It sounds vaguely like LAPD, put your hands up! But he’s out cold before he can process the words.

x-x-x

Branson’s not sure how long he lays in a state somewhere between dreamless sleep and half wakefulness, but it feels like he’s floating. In the distance he hears an incessant beeping that scratches his brain wrong and he turns his head to the side to try and escape it. A sharp pain lances through his skull and he moans.

“Oh my God, you’re awake!” An unfamiliar voice cries. “Hey, um, nurse. Hey nurse! He woke up!” The voice grows distant for a moment. 

Eyelids like lead, he opens them one millimeter at a time, wincing at the bright lights surrounding him. Things are fuzzy and take a long second to come into focus. Once they do, Branson spots a man in scrubs looking at a computer monitor and jotting down notes. Seeing his eyes open, the man turns a gentle smile on him and asks, “How’re you feeling?”

“Hngh… Like I got hit by a semi?”

He laughs. “Yeah, sounds about right. You took quite the beating. I just gave you another dose of pain medication which should kick in soon. We’ve called you guardians so we’ll need to wait to administer anything else until they get here. Let me check your pupils.” The nurse, a white man in his thirties with a slightly crooked smile and fluffy light brown hair, turns to him with a pen light. He checks first the right, then the left, and then nods approvingly. “Looking good. Any dizziness? Do you know what day it is?”

“Saturday.” He replies, clearing his throat after realizing just how dry it is. “Can I get some water, please?”

“Of course. Your pupils look fine, which is a good thing.” The nurse fills a plastic cup with a straw and holds it to Branson’s mouth. He sucks it all down in just a few long gulps. “Whoa, slow down just a bit.” He pours another cup and sets it on the rolling table nearby. “Anyway, just make sure to rest. Limit the amount of screen time, your friend there grabbed your phone and such. No more than about fifteen minutes at a time, alright? And don’t try to get out of bed without help. Your ribs are pretty banged up and it will hurt to move for quite awhile.”

“Okay.” Branson groans, throwing his head back a little further into the pillow. This is the worst. With a smile, the nurse exits the room, leaving Branson with the stranger. Turning his head he asks, “So. Who are you?”

They frown at him and huff. “The better question is, who the hell are you? Why did you step in like that?”

Branson tries to shrug but winces as pain shoots down his middle and sides. “No one else was. I couldn’t just leave you there.”

They roll their beautiful honey brown eyes. “Yeah. You could have. Everyone else was. I had to call 911 because of how bad they were beating you.”

“Oooo, so scary, calling the emergency line.” Branson goads. Then more seriously, “But thanks. For calling them. Seriously, though, what’s your name?” They open their mouth to answer but at just that moment, Tommy bursts through the door - still in his turnouts, blue eyes wild with worry. “Pops.” Branson says with surprise, attempting to sit up but immediately having to flop back due to the pain.

“Branson, oh my god, kid. What the hell happened to you?” Tommy pushes into the room and steps hurriedly to the bed. Within seconds Branson is engulfed in a pair of strong arms, nose buried into the smoky smelling protective gear. “You’re okay, right? I haven’t heard from the doctor yet.” He straightens out but grabs his son by the shoulders, searching his black, blue, and yellow face.

“I’m fine, pops. Just bruised.” Branson offers him a tiny smile.

“He also has a concussion.” His stranger replied curtly. Tommy turns to them. “Hi.” They seem unfazed by the suspicious glare pointed their direction. “I’m Quinn. Your son got hurt stepping in to help me.” They hold out a surprisingly large hand, fingers longer but on the chubbier side.

“Is that so?” Tommy turns back to Branson and quirks an eyebrow. Branson smiles ruefully, wishing he could shrug to show his indifference. Oh well. “I’m glad to know you’re both alright. Quinn, are you hurt too bad?” Tommy takes the hand and gives it one good shake.

“No, sir. I’m okay besides some bruises. They’ll heal quickly.” They answer politely.

“Good, good. Well, I’m going to go find your doctor and find out what’s what. I’ll be back, okay? Do either of you want something to eat? Drink?”

“No thank you, sir.” Quinn replies.

Tommy wrinkles his nose. “Quit it with the ‘sir.’ Makes me feel way too old. Just call me Tommy.” Quinn blinks owlishly as they nod, not used to the frankness. “Branson?”

“No, I’m good.” Nodding, Tommy turns to the door. Just as he’s about to step out, Branson calls, voice small, “Sorry for making you leave work, pops.” His heart feels dejected, like he’s taken five steps backwards. A part of him still worries that his dads’ will send him back the home because he’s fucked up one too many times. The fear diminishes a little each time one of them turns to him with a soft smile on their face, though.

“Bud, I’m just so happy that you’re okay. I got a call from Athena before the hospital called and I thought my heart was going to stop. No more scaring me and your dad, alright?” Winking, he disappears out the door.

There’s a small silence in the room before Quinn speaks up, sounding just as small as Branson had a second ago, “You… have two dads?”

Looking them in the eye, Branson states proudly, “Yeah. I do. And they’re amazing.” He means that with every fiber of his being, every piece of his soul.

They smile softly, clasping their hands in their lap. Branson notices then that their nails appear to be painted, and they click which makes him think that they must be the false kind a lot of girls get. The sharp pointy tips are also kind of a giveaway. Nikki gets them sometimes, but she says they annoy her once they grow out, and they’re too expensive to replace, so she only gets them a couple of times a year. “That’s so great. I’m glad you like your parents.”

His chest tightens. “They’re only my foster parents. My bio parents are druggie wastes of life pieces of shit.”

Quinn shrugs, picking at a nail. “Still. You’re so lucky. Tommy seems to care a great deal you. Not at all kids get so lucky, even when given a second chance.”

Branson can’t help snorting, turning his head up to stare at the ceiling. He moves his hands to his stomach and holds them there as he speaks, “Yeah well, Evan and Tommy aren’t my second chance. They’re my eighth.”

Quinn’s head shoots up in shock, mouth hanging open. “I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not a nice person, Quinn.” Branson murmurs, feeling a huge sense of shame. “Before I got placed with my dads’, I might have been one of those people.”

They shake their head vehemently. “No. No way. You’re too young to be reformed and have a savior complex.”

Branson actually laughs at that, but has to hold his stomach, whining, “Ow, ow, ow. Don’t make me laugh, idiot. It fucking hurts.”

“Don’t say stupid things, then.”

“Believe me or don’t believe me. You can ask my pops when he comes back.” They lapse into silence for a few minutes when Branson’s curiosity makes him blurt out, “Are you a boy or a girl?” He shifts his eyes to look at Quinn, who’s been biting at their thumbnail for a while now.

Brown eyes look up at him through long lashes. “A boy.” There’s no judgment in their tone, not even exasperation.

“Then why do you dress like that? And so… Do I call you a ‘he?’”

Quinn scoffs and crosses their legs. “I just told you that I’m a boy. He/Him pronouns are fine. They/Them is fine. She/Her is fine. I don’t really have a preference. And I dress this way because I want to. I look hot, don’t I?”

Branson doesn’t disagree but, “Dressing like that makes you a bigger target… Doesn’t it?”

Quinn shrugs again. “That’s on them. I like how I dress. I’m comfortable in my own skin.”

Swallowing hard Branson asks, “So… are you gay?”

Quinn laughs and gives him a toothy smile. “No, sweetheart. I guess I’d say I’m pansexual if anything. I don’t really care what’s in someone’s pants. I care more about who they are as a person. You haven’t been around too many queer people have you?”

His cheeks redden and he gets indignant as he huffs, “No, got a problem with that?” 

Quinn winks. “Not at all. I can just tell.”

Branson frowns again, though there’s no heat behind it. “I’m sure.” He’s starting to get tired, his eyelids feeling like little lead weights. Each time he blinks it gets more and more difficult to open his eyes again.. He’s not ready for Quinn to leave yet, he’s got so many questions for them, but his brain feels too foggy to make a coherent sentence.

“I should probably head out.” Quinn says softly. Branson tries to protest, but he holds up his hand and says, “You’re tired and need to rest. It’s been a stressful day for both of us.” He stands and stretches, limbs long and lean, and lets out the cutest little squeak as his joints pop. “Thanks, Branson. You really saved my hide today.”

Branson thinks he mumbles a ‘no problem’ but he’s fast asleep before he can decide if his words came out sensible or not. The next time he wakes, there’s a note with a phone number under Quinn’s name, his handwriting worse than chicken scratch. Evan and Tommy huddle together on the two seat sofa against the window. When they see he’s awake, they both jump to their feet and rush him, asking him question after question.

Tommy tells him that the doctors want to keep Branson overnight, just in case, though everything looks mostly fine. Branson falls asleep once again, feeling like he’s floating. The final time he wakes up that night it’s to eat a paltry dinner of homemade soup brother with finely diced veggies, courtesy of his dad, and a few glasses of water. That’s followed by the police questioning him on everything that happened that morning. He does his best to recall, but his memories are a bit fragmented. Athena is there, her mouth a thin line as she listens in, her subordinates taking notes.

“We’ll find out who did this to you and Quinn, Branson don’t you worry.” She growls, teeth bared. He shudders, glad to have her on his side. “You’re in some trouble for hitting them back, but I’m sure we can talk you out of actually being charged. In the meantime, keep your nose clean, ya hear?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Nodding, she then shoo’s her subordinates out, checks back over her shoulder to make sure they’re out of sight, and then approaches him. Nervously he looks up into her eyes, but she’s got a gentle, motherly smile on her face. Reaching out, she strokes his hair a few times before letting her hand rest there. “What are we going to do with you? Buck’s influence must be rubbing off.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He asks wearily.

Chuckling, she pats his head once and says, “Not at all. But don’t take too many points out of his book. He’s a troublemaker through and through, that one.” She gives him a wink before taking her hand back, turning, and sashaying out of the room.

Looking after her, he waits until he can no longer see her back before he sighs, closes his eyes, and lets himself drift back off into the land of dreams.