#like i have a LOT of problems with my ankle that tends to hurt. sometimes so much i cant walk

[wronggalaxy]

MY LEFT LEG PROBLEM:

I have an unknown condition or long-term injury that has impacted me for a few years, but has been steadily getting worse. In the past couple weeks alone I've become reliant on my cane 100% of the time, lost all physical abilities with my legs outside of walking(including running, sports, jumping, kneeling, walking quickly, kicking, etc.), and have become almost completely bedbound outside of school. I go to school, stumble through classes half awake and in indescribable pain, try and fail to eat lunch because the pain is so bad, go home and spend the next 12 hours lying on a heating pad until I have to do it all over again. I have intense pain 24/7 that randomly spikes from anywhere from a few seconds to hours multiple times every day. The pain comes from my knee, but everything below it hurts as well. I can't stand for longer than a minute and walk for more than 5 at a time, on a good day. Even after just 5 minutes of walking I can't move my leg for 10 plus minutes. After a minute of standing or 5 of walking(often times less) I will uncontrollably collapse and be unable to move at all for 30-60 minutes. Even after all that time I can still only move to go from the floor to my bed or a chair/bench if in public where I have to rest for longer. It's not a muscle or bone problem. My PT and GP think it's a torn meniscus(knee cartilage), but we won't know until I have an mri which my insurance won't currently cover because it's "not medically necessary". A torn meniscus is usually treated by surgery if severe, sometimes not even that much is needed. Since it's been at least 5 years since the tear happened(if that does end up being the problem), surgery might not even be an option. I need a wheelchair. I can't afford one, my house isn't wheelchair accessible, my school is 2 stories and the elevator is constantly broken, I wouldn't be able to ride the bus(my only way to school), where I live if you home school in high school they force you to get a GED not a diploma. If I get surgery recovery time is 6 months, so I'd have to quit the Speech & Debate team. If you quit for any amount of time you can never be on the team again. I regularly get called slurs and insulting nicknames, get fake claimed, have had people try to steal my cane, and have been intentionally pushed down my school's staircases multiple times. I tend to chew on my cane's handle when anxious which has gotten me sexualized, a lot. I'm also suspected for tendinitis in my ankle. The longer a torn meniscus is untreated the bigger the tear becomes and the more likely you are to develop degenerative knee arthritis. I'm also suspected for knee arthritis. Knee braces only make the pain worse and irritate my skin condition, leg braces don't do anything. My cane barely works anymore. I can't use a walker because of my back or crutches because of the school's broken elevator. My GP can only prescribe me ibprophen because of a lack of diagnosis. It does nothing. Nor does any other pain medicine I've tried for anything. I took a pill once that's so strong that it can kill you to take more than 1 a day. It brought me down to what able-bodied people would probably call a 'five'. That was before it got bad.

I don't know how much longer I can survive.

[demifiendcruithne]

okay - well she needs to be aware too that being in constant pain is not normal. most people have 0 pain or can identify where their pain comes from (like 'ah my leg is hurting because i bruised it') - i legit didn't know this until like last year because it's unimaginable to me

anyway. i don't know enough to give any idea of the source of the problem since fibromyalgia is apparently different from common chronic pain/fatigue (or so sayeth the chronic fatigue service. they still helped though) but here's what i find helps me:

electrolytes ease it a bit and help stay hydrated. while it might be a placebo for the former the hydration is always helpful - i tend to drink sports drinks when i'm out and just put a little salt in squash/juice when i'm at home, but you can get specific electrolyte powder or tablets for a lot cheaper per serving than sports drinks - if you can handle it being a little gritty. i can't because sensory issues, but. if your mum asks then tell her it's a thing you got recommended to help keep hydrated - she can't reasonably argue with that, right? and it's 100% truth, just skipping a couple of points

this may be an adhd interaction too, but caffeine calms down flares for me sometimes, as do some other stimulants - though given the only non-caffeine ones i tried are adhd meds, caffeine's probably. the easiest and cheapest to obtain :v no one's going to question you getting soda, and caffeine tablets exist and you can say they're to help keep you alert (which again - is technically true because less pain == more alert)

if it's affecting your sleep, weighted blankets are a lifesaver - while that's more stereotypically a sensory issue/neurodivergent thing, the pressure can help

similarly for when you're out, stuff like knee supports/ankle supports - while the big fancy ones don't help me much, i can often find---i hate to grab it on amazon, but this explains what i mean better than i can. super basic and thus pretty cheap in pharmacies and the like, a lot easier to wear under clothes than the big fancy ones which it is a Pain to put most trousers/pants over i've found (though i also have chonky legs so it might be easier for you)

while it's. difficult to judge for me when's a good time, if you need painkillers then take them - and if you Know something's going to cause a pain flare, take painkillers first. just obviously make sure you keep an eye on the dosages and time between taking them and such, and if you take any other meds make sure there's no interactions - out of paracetamol/ibuprofen/aspirin i can only take paracetamol. it is possible to get paracetamol with caffeine, which i've found helps me more than normal paracetamol and can't /just/ be an adhd thing with how common it is in pharmacies. i also will note that - the generic works just as well as the branded does, at least here in the UK; in the US i know it can be a lot more variable though, and i don't know about anywhere else. so if you're not here then compare the amount of active ingredient or whatever it is

even without a diagnosis - if there's any mobility or accessibility aids that help you like a cane, 100% use them if you can. if the pain is on both sides relatively evenly a cane can still help with balance as well as something to lean on if one leg decides to flare up

apparently exercise helps, but i haven't worked out any that are safe for me to do yet. i've heard good things about yoga from other chronic pain folks though, and if you can go swimming regularly, that's also a good choice - before i knew about the fibro, all i knew was that swimming was the only sport that didn't hurt as much

if you need to rest, then rest, as much as possible. forcing yourself through things WILL make it worse - unfortunately you probably will be forced to do things particularly with your mom not understanding, just try and take a rest day after any major exertion if you can. i personally take a rest day after every time i leave the house since i have to take a bus to get Anywhere and the amount of tiny subconscious movements to stay balanced on a moving bus.........

if you can get to a rheumatology department, they're where i got diagnosed with fibro - i don't know if they'd catch other chronic pain things, but even if they don't they might refer you to someone who can

also - when gym starts up again, talk to your gym teacher about it ASAP. if they have any level of reasonableness at all they can at LEAST give you some understanding, and hopefully be able to tell your mom 'hey this is a legit problem' since she isn't listening to you about it. (and my mum wonders why i don't try to talk to her about my medical stuff much any more.......)

this is a pain scale that might be more useful than the standard 1-10; this is the 1-10 i tend to refer to - my standard state is a 2-3 on there, but it often goes up to 6, and one time i got a 7 just from tidying my room which is absolute heck

i hope that at least some of this works for you and eases it up a bit and you get someone to listen to you who your mom will then listen to and actually take you seriously. if it helps to know, i'm 27 and my mum doesn't take me seriously on some of this stuff either. but i can't move out right now rip you ever want to talk about it, my messages or askbox or whatever are open

So whatever I have since I've been dealing with this stuff like this since early middle school is actually likely 1. Probably chronic and 2. Has been getting worse lately. Which is kinda scary and worrying so I don't wanna think about it.

Like my joints and legs have been hurting way more lately it sucks luckily I don't have gym but I have it next quarter in school so I have no clue what I'm gonna do.

oh my. i hope yuo can get help with that soon :(

[devotedlystrangewizard]

the curse of having a vision that is so far above ur skill level you just kinda think about it

[jarofstyles]

hey besties, pls do a football player Harry (soccer in case ur american lol) and physical therapist y/n !!

I know absolute shit all about football (soccer bc we are American) but we can give it a go!!! Plz don’t be mad I don’t know anything about it cause it’s ✨make believe ✨

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

—-

He was a little shit.

A beautiful, charming, irritating, little shit.

When Y/N has signed on for this team, being the medic was something she had been passionate about for years. Having her own accident and making it so she couldn’t properly play anymore, it was her mission to still be involved in the game so how. Y/N’s own injury and healing process had her become more and more interested in the profession, and here she was.

It wasn’t everything she had dreamed of, as nothing ever was, but it was good. She got to sit field-side every game, close to the action. And every injury she got first look at. She helped the guys with their stretches, their previous injuries and keeping them from Re-injuring themselves, taking care of them and making sure their physical shape was the best it could be.

In general? She was happy. But there was one man who was a thorn in her side and a pain in her crotch.

Harry Styles.

The man who decided it was his personal mission to follow her around like a puppy dog. Popping up in her singular moments of peace during game day. Texting her and asking about very, very small twists of ankles and giving her the ‘🥺 maybe you should come and look at it…’ whenever he did so.

Not to mention his complete and utter want to get into her pants.

Now it wasn’t as if she couldn’t handle a few sexual jokes. Y/N was a big girl and knew 99% of the time, the guys on the team knew their limit. And Harry? Harry, in reality, was a gentleman. Never touched her inappropriately, ever. But the problem was… she kind of wanted him to.

There was no actual clause against staff members and players being together or hooking up. Nope, just frowned upon. Maybe a slap on the wrist. However Y/N knew, she knew that the moment anyone caught wind of her potential affections for any team member or acting on it? It would end with everyone thinking she slept with them to get the job.

Y/N worked long and hard. Tireless hours for make sure these men were healthy, fit, and at their best. She wouldn’t sleep with anyone for any job, and she was actually respected by this team which was something a lot of women weren’t in this field. She could not and would not throw it away for a good dicking.

Fuck, did she want to sometimes.

—-

Harry had these hands. The perfect hands, in her opinion. Big, strong with thinner fingers. Long fingers. A good sized palm, not overly veiny, just perfection in male hand scales. Luckily (or unluckily, whatever way you’d put it) she got to handle them often.

“S’sore today, doc.” He winced, sitting on the table in front of her. Harry’s wrist throbbed. It was rainy, and it was usually a wreck when it was the perfect condition. The ache was annoying, and he knew she had a solution.

Her lips pouted softly as she gently took the hand in place, thumbing over the part of the wrist where rhe injury had occurred. She had learned a while ago where to press, how to rub and get it to lessen before she wrapped it up. “Yeah… old injuries tend to never let you forget.” She sighed, pushing her glasses up into her hair.

Harry never could get over how fucking gorgeous Y/N was. From her nose to her lips, the pretty sparkle in her eye, the curve of her hip… he was obsessed. Not to mention the fact that she was so gentle with him. So kind and sweet, though he knew he got on her nerves with his teasing sometime. She could handle it and he always tried to watch to make sure he wasn’t going too far, but he couldn’t help it.

He was a silly boy with a bit fat crush.

Y/N didn’t bite for any of them. Everyone had attempted when she first came on, testing the waters. Her pretty face was welcome to all the blokes in the team, and there was something incredibly attractive about a woman who could heal. Nonetheless, she never gave in to anything.

In Harry’s case, he knew it was different. He could see her smile at some jokes, see her get the bumps on her skin when he brushed her a certain way. But she avoided the eye contact. Avoided the touches. And it drove him mad.

Of course she wouldn’t know he had actual feelings for him because he was a giant coward most of the time. He hid his affection in the dirty jokes and the teasing squeezes of her waist and teasing. He was a thick skinned man but a full rejection form her would hurt.

Her soft fingers gently massaged over the wrist, making him groan. His head tilted back and he let it out, hissing slightly when she pressed too hard. “Oooh, don’t worry sweetheart. Y’know I like it to hurt a little.” His wide smirk made her roll her eyes huffing under her breath.

Y/N was not having a great day. She had been harassed by an Ex all fucking night over her new job. Making all the damn assumptions that she was getting ‘trained by the team’ in a much more vulgar way, and she had cried half the night. To say she wasn’t in the mood was an understatement, but she was trying.

Harry was not what she needed today, because it made her feel worse. Her blatant attraction to him made her feel guilty. She should be professional and leave it with. The way she had squeeze her legs tighter while he groaned didn’t help her case. The ugly words of how they’ only kept her around for a potential fuck’ was ringing in her head.

Harry though, he was a little oblivious. Her hands were so talented, and he didn’t watch her face for once as she hit a good spot again and he let out another remark.

“Jesus, that’s good. Do those magic hands work everywhere?”

That was the straw that broke her. It wasn’t his fault necessarily, he was just playing. But her eyes watered, hand yanking away as she turned from him, walking over to the bench. Trying to compose herself was hard as the tears burned so hard in her eyes, hands shaking slightly.

Harry startled, not used to that. She never flinched away like that, never ignored his remark and walked away. Usually told him to fuck off, rolled her eyes, something. But the energy in the room immediately shifted and he was uncomfortable. What had happened?

Cautiously, he cleared his throat and stood up from the bench, licking over his dry lips as he spoke again. “Uh… Y/N?”

“S’all I’m good for, right?” She muttered under her breath. Frantically wiping under her eyes she tried to focus on the paper in front of her but she could feel Harry approaching.

He furrowed his brow, not sure if he heard correctly. “Wha-“

Y/N whipped around fast, eyes teary and wet. “I said, that’s all I’m good for right? Only good for my hands and sex and all that pleasure you can get from me?” She hissed. “Only good for a romp in the sheets and a pretty face to heal your wounds and put on band aids. Only good to make you get off and feel good and then what? I’m left here with nothing.”

The tears left her, her hands shaking as she grabbed her bag. Harry felt his stomach drop. Never, ever had he wanted to make her feel like that. Her crying? That wasn’t something he ever wanted to see again. He felt like he had taken a ball to the gut, hard. Those eyes he adored being full of pain, full of tears was his own personal hell.

“Y/N… wait, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“ he tried to follow her to the door, stopping abruptly when she lifted a hand up to him. Her stomping had made him nervous. Now she was leaving without talking to him and he felt like a complete dick. It was their normal teasing, but he had crossed a line.

“Don’t. Just…. Just leave me alone. I’m going home.”

—-

As much as Harry had wanted to chase after her, he had already made her cry once. He wasn’t risking it again.

The icky, gross feeling in his stomach followed him all day. He was gutted. Not only has he apparently crossed a line with someone he respected, he had a fucking crush on her. The man was convinced no other feeling was worse than a crush being angry at him. Even if it sounded juvenile to place it like that.

Harry liked Y/N. He never ever wanted to make her upset in any capacity, let alone feeling like a sex object or violated. He prided himself on respecting women. And he had fucking failed. He needed to make it right, and fast.

-

He had found her address. In her employee file, and he knew that was bad but he needed to check on her. Regardless of what happened beforehand, she was upset by him enough to leave and go home and he wanted to make sure she was genuinely okay.

It was an overstep and Harry knew it. He had to try, though.

He arrived at her door step with a box of cupcakes and some flowers. Gently kicking the floor, he heard the door open and his heart broke a little more.

Y/N standing in front of him with swollen eyes. She had been crying, seemingly a lot. And she looked upset still. Though he expected her to close the door in his face and tell him to fuck off. But she didn’t.

Instead, she broke into tears again, throwing herself into his chest. Her arms wrapping around his waist, he nearly tumbled over but righted himself as he startled. Quickly he found himself recovering, wrapping his free arm around her and holding her. He was able to maneuver slightly and drop the cupcakes on her entry table, flowers as well before having his arms free.

“Hey…. Sweetheart, what’s the matter?” He whispered softly, gently placing a hand on her back. Rubbing it up and down, letting her cry into his tee shirt. It was worrying. Whatever happened was beyond him, but he wasn’t going to let that take away from the fact he had added and made it worse.

“I’m sorry.” Her muffled response was sobbed into his shirt. “I’m sorry for yelling… and saying you thought those things, you were playing and I…” she pulled back worth tear streaked cheeks and Harry’s look of pure concern making her lip wobble. “You didn’t do it. It was… he kept sayin’ that all the team wants is in my pants, and you make me feel guilty because you’re so…. Beautiful, and I never slept with anyone to get this job! Never. And then he wouldn’t leave me alone-“ she hiccuped, looking up at Harry as he caressed the back of her head.

“Who, lovely? Who wouldn’t leave you alone?” He asked with a calm tone. Of course he wasn’t. Someone was harassing her. And Harry would fucking take care of it. It boiled his blood to think of someone making her feel less than.

“My ex.” She sniffled again, slowly calming. Harry had that quality, she thinks. “He-He broke up with me for taking the job. Said… said that I was going to be a personal whore for all of you. And not do my job.” She took a shuddery breath. It was embarrassing admitting this to him, but he had been on the receiving end for a meltdown that wasn’t his to fix.

“Well, can I tell you something?” He brought his thumb up to wipe away some of the sticky tears from her cheeks. “You arent. You’re no one’s whore. You’re a respected, talented and intelligent member of our staff. You so happen to be incredibly beautiful, which obviously makes people find you more bewitching… but I know that we all look at you as a professional talent. They may have tried their luck at the beginning but you laid down the law quickly and they all understood.” He whispered.

“Me? I was trying my luck, because you’re incredible. And I think you’re lovely. But that isn’t a conversation for now. Let’s make some tea, hm? Relax. I brought you some cupcakes. I need to properly apologize for being inappropriate to you. Regardless if it was a joke…”

—

He sat next to her on her couch. The poor girl was better now, washing her face and a mug of tea in hand while Harry had helped himself to a vase and put the flowers inside. Carnations. He thought they were pretty, didn’t know the name until Y/N had fawned over them.

“I’m sorry for freaking out on you.” She said softly, her big sweatshirt swallowing her up. Before Harry could interrupt, she put a finger up. “I know that you were just playing, Harry. I let you flirt with me like that. And I enjoy it.” She could feel herself get warm in the face. “If you’ve noticed, I let you get away with it. I enjoy it. And you didn’t do anything out of line. I was sensitive… I was still raw and I hadn’t had much sleep because he had blown up my phone and regardless he was telling me things he said in person over and over again. So…” Y/N shifted in her seat and used her sweater paws to bring the drink to her lips. “When you came in… I felt guilty for finding you attractive. For liking what you said to me.”

Harry sat for a moment, quiet. So she had liked it…. And felt guilty. Now knowing the context? It made sense. For the life of him he was trying not to hold in to the fact that she enjoyed it, but he couldn’t. It made him excited.

“Okay. That makes sense. Usually.. I do a better job at reading your physical cues. Sometimes I can see something isn’t the right thing to say because you’re tense already. But I was in my own world cause you were making the pain go away and I felt good. It isn’t an excuse, though.” He gently grabbed her hand once she set down her warm tee, thumbing over the knuckles.

“I felt like such a dick. I still do. You know that? And it isn’t because I’m attracted to you. But it’s because I didn’t think about the position I’m putting you in by flirting.” He moved a little closer. “I would never try and jeopardize your job. I’ve been blinded by my own feelings for a while and I was trying to feel it out but I didn’t think to think it was because someone else or a group of people would look down at you for it.” He frowned.

It was so unfair. They wouldn’t care if he slept with her. But they’d ridicule her for sleeping with him.

“I just want to let you know now as well… I wasn’t trying to come on to you to have a hookup.” He hummed. “The feelings I’ve got are genuine. Alright? They aren’t just too get into your pants. And I never want you to feel as though that’s your only purpose. Ever. You have so much worth, and while I’m positive you don’t need me to tell you that, I want tok anyways.”

He was unreal. She really thinks so. How did a man just… be like him. He was a fan favorite and had charm but behind the scenes he was even better than anything they said.

“Yeah. I think I was afraid. Because… I’m the same, you know?” She shyly admitted. “You’re charming and I didn’t want to admit I let your charm get to me, but it has. It has very much. And I like you. I don’t know what to do about it, but I think it’s only fair I admit it myself as well when you’ve put yourself out on the line.”

Harry’s grin grew, dimples pocketing in his cheeks. She liked him back. His heart was ringing in his ears, the shy little look into her eyes making him want to explode. Fucking adorable girl making him feel such intense emotions…. It was incredible.

Thank god. He thought he was going insane.

“We don’t have to do anything in the sense of our job right now. But since we both know… would you want to explore it? I would say privately. Just get to know each other better. Talk. Hang out. Cook food together… maybe kiss.” He smirked slightly at the end, making her let out a laugh. Her laugh soothed his Damn soul.

“I think I’d like that.”

——

Part II maybe? Who knows

[xpeachesncream]

it takes two | one shot (myg)

summary: min yoongi was the one who came to understand you and took you for you. but, when boundaries start getting crossed and priorities begin to change, you start to question if your relationship with your bestfriend is strong enough to make it through.

pairing: athlete!reader x athlete!myg

genre: bestfriends to lovers au, basketball au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 12.3k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, protected AND unprotected sex (later on), slight breast play, oral (f. receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, missionary, riding/straddling, mentions of alcohol consumption, dancing, mention of marijuana, sex on the beach kinda?, some heavy angst, insecurities, crying, injuries (like a cut/ankle sprain), yoongi is just kind of an idiot at one point

note: heavily inspired by the movie love and basketball. unedited for the most part, pls excuse any spelling/grammar errors.

tags: @ggukkieland​ @miinoongi​ @bluesharksandfish​ @unicornbabylover​

⏏︎ now playing: triggered - jhené aiko ; sorry enough - chris brown

First Quarter: 6th Grade

You didn't really have a lot of friends in elementary school. Any, actually. Hell, the girls in your class purposely ignored you because you acted different. Dressed different. Enjoyed the shit boys liked, like playing ball and video games. You couldn't relate to their gel pens, Lisa Frank folders, cute binder stickers and bracelet charms. None of that shit was you. But you didn't care, you were fine by yourself. Nobody to please, nobody to care for.

The only person that came to understand you was Min Yoongi and that's because you played basketball with him and his friends during daycare. At first, it came as a surprise because truthfully, you felt like Yoongi only let you play because he felt bad for you. Which, okay, whatever— so be it. But, after the last round during a game of two versus two, you found yourself on the ground, huge gash on the knee from chasing after the ball before it could go out of bounds.

"Ouch! Crap!" You groaned as you sat up and checked out your knee. Yoongi walks towards you and crouches down, examining the bloody gash.

"Come on." He says, holding out a hand to help lift you up. He swings your arm over his shoulder, already knowing that any sudden movements to your knee can make the wound sting. He takes his time and walks with you as you hop on one leg towards the office, not really saying much. Yoongi wasn't the most talkative in class. He hung out with two or three other boys in your class on the daily, but they were quiet. Weren't much troublemakers, didn't cause ruckus like the other boys did. But, he was still popular among the girls because he was a little cutiepie. You remember walking into the bathroom, hearing Angie and her friends tease her about her crush on Yoongi. Then, the following week, one of her friends also ended up crushing on Yoongi and they bickered [weirdly] in the bathroom about it.

Getting to the office, he sits you down on the bench before approaching the office admin to grab some bandaids and ice for you.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Min?" Mrs. Yao comes over to greet him.

"Y/N's hurt. Can I get a bag of ice and a bandaid for her, please?" Mrs. Yao looks over her shoulder and does a head tilt before sighing. She knew you weren't like the girls in your class, always getting hurt one way or another, being more hardheaded and stubborn than the usual. She grabs a bag of ice and hands the supplies over to Yoongi before placing her hands on her hips.

"You think you can take care of Miss Y/N, or do you need me to help?" He shakes his head.

"I got it, thank you Mrs. Yao." He politely says, giving her a small toothless smile. You silently watch as he walks over, crouching down once again to tend to your wounds. "I don't think this will hurt, but stay still so I can put this bandaid on." He says softly as he spreads the small Neosporin packet across your wound. He wipes his finger down on his pants before removing the back of the bandaid and pressing it against your knee. "There. You should keep the ice on it so it doesn't bruise and stuff." He stands.

"Thank you." He nods as he watches you stand and slightly limp before you adjust your steps to the right pressure. He follows you out, coming back to your side with his hands in his pockets.

"Why don't you act like the other girls?" He asks, cocking an eyebrow at you.

"What? Not liking all the girly stuff that they like?"

"Sure, or you playing basketball. You know girls are usually like cheerleaders and cheer the guys on instead."

"Well, I don't wanna be a cheerleader. I just would rather play. What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, it's just weird to see."

"You're weird." You snapped back.

"How am I weird?"

"You shoot weird."

"And you don't? I shoot better than you." He furrows his brows.

"No you don't."

"Fine, wanna play one more time? Unless you're a wuss and can't play cause of your knee." You rolled your eyes at the sudden change of events.

"I'll play you, I'm not a wuss. Unless you're afraid to lose to a girl." You taunt him as you both walk back to the court.

"Whatever, I'm not afraid cause I won't lose." He grabs the ball and checks it in. "My ball first."

"Sure, if you think that'll help."

And that's how Yoongi lost to you, busted knee and everything. From there, it was history. You became inseparable, Yoongi becoming a large part of your days and vice versa. His parents eventually became close to yours after the numerous times you both have been dropped off to hang out, or catching rides home after school. Yoongi lived in a nearby neighborhood, only being a good 7 minute walk, to be exact.

Second Quarter: High School, Senior Year

In high school, it became a little different. Yoongi grew up, played varsity basketball and became a fucking jock even though he claimed he would never. Yeah, bullshit. You too, played on the girls varsity basketball team, and surprisingly, you two kept each other close. It was a blessing and a curse though, because you couldn't see your life without Yoongi. He's been there since the 6th grade. However, girls took note of that shit. Trying to use you as their way in to Yoongi's heart, or pants, or both. You made it very clear though that you weren't interested in being a fucking messenger. Girls thought you were mean, but really, they just couldn't handle you. Hence, why you really couldn't relate and be one of them.

Yoongi was still the only person who could understand you and handle you, bad attitude and all. Tomboy habits and all. Not wanting to make friends and all.

"Jesus fucking christ, the day just started." Yoongi says as he watches you toss your duffle bag and backpack aggressively in the back seat of his car. "What's your deal?"

"Nothing, I'm just tired." You slump in his passenger seat after buckling your seat belt.

"Chill, don't start your day like this."

"Whatever, dad." You rolled your eyes, causing him to let out a pathetic chuckle.

"Are you coming to my game later?"

"Yeah, if I'm not too tired from practice."

"Y/N, I always make it to your games even if I'm tired."

"Do you?"

"The fuck? Yes I do. When haven't I?" His tone raises with yours. "Don't try and justify your shit by coming up with lies."

"Yeah, yeah bighead. You'll have plenty of cheerleaders there for you."

"Yeah and?" He smirks. "You're the one I'll be looking for though." He caresses your chin, making you smack his hand away while he laughs loudly.

"You're stupid." You groan as you sink lower in his seat. The rest of the ride to school, you shut your eyes and enjoy the peace before you're having to walk down those annoying, congested hallways.

People rave a lot about senior year, but it honestly hasn't felt special to you. Maybe because you kept the same routine since freshmen year, or maybe you really just didn't care as much as everyone else did about how "special" it was. You've always been locked in to basketball even if your mom wasn't a big fan of it. She wished you were more into cute, girly shit, like makeup, shopping, manis and pedis and dresses and heels, but she came to accept this was the way it was going to be. Especially because your dad was your biggest fan. You came to love basketball, more than just a side hobby. You joined the varsity team and practiced day in and day out. When basketball wasn't in season, you'd play with Yoongi at the park or sign up for camps and tournaments. You just wanted to keep bettering yourself so that you could play in college and get into the league post-grad. Yoongi was the same, and he may or may not have influenced your passion for ball. Either way, he was always supporting you and cheering for you even if the other females hated it.

His ex for sure hated the relationship you had with him even though you really steered clear when she was around. Wasn't your fucking problem or responsibility to take care of her insecurities. Same with his flings.

"Hey, so later, yeah?" He asks in between throwing nods and smiles to girls passing by.

"Mhm." You hum. "You gonna be free for lunch later?"

"I don't know. I know where to find you though if I am."

"Have a good day, punk."

"You too, bub. See you in English." He turns on his heel, walking towards his friends, aka his team members. Aka his jock ass group. Aka the ones females flock to.

Namjoon, Jimin, Eunwoo, Lucas.

They were all pretty boys who knew they were pretty boys and used that to their advantage to make big asshole moves. You hated that Yoonks got pulled in from time to time, but shit, it wasn't your life, you were only a small part of his. Sometimes, they also pulled in the football boys, Jungkook and Seokjin. Even the baseball boys, Hoseok and Taehyung. It was all a huge pretty boy, jock, asshole group in the making outside. A big fucking party for a lot of the girls at school, though.

So even if Yoongi was really the only one in your life, you weren't the only one in his. It is, what it is. As long as he doesn't go switching up on you, then whatever, so be it.

The first half of your classes go by quick, being that you enjoyed your chemistry, french and english classes. You had your english class with Yoongi, Namjoon and Hoseok. You had gotten to know Namjoon and Hoseok a little through it, and it was enough to know that they weren't all that bad. At least in this classroom setting.

"You two going to prom together?" Namjoon asks, making Yoongi snort.

"No, what the hell?" Yoongi responds.

"You guys can have fun at prom." You roll your eyes.

"You're really not gonna go?" Joon bites on the end of his pencil.

"No? The fuck I look like?"

"Y/N, I know it'd be weird as fuck to see you in a dress, but it's senior year. You didn't go last year, did you?" Namjoon asks from Yoongi's other side.

"Really, Namjoon?" You give him a look as if it could state the obvious.

"Well shit, I don't know. I know it's not your thing but can't really say I would have noticed either way." Hoseok laughs, causing you to throw your pen at his head before flicking him off.

"Miss Y/N!" Mrs. Maxwell calls you out mid-movie, eyes wide and in disbelief at how you're acting.

"What?! He started it." You slumped back in your seat and let out a sigh.

"Not another word." She says sternly.

"Not another word." You mock her under your breath.

"Aye, stop. You and that attitude boutta get in some trouble the last weeks of senior year." Yoongi puts his hand on your wrist, causing you to shake your head and click your teeth.

"Anyway, you should go." Hoseok whispers as he leans over on the table to look at you.

"No. Besides, with what date?"

"Take the basketball." Joon snickers.

"You're a complete dumbass, Namjoon. Stop talking." You snap.

"Maybe they're right, bub. It's senior year and it's coming to an end quick. I'd hate for you to regret it." Yoongi turns to you and says lowly.

"You know that won't happen." But really, part of you did feel a little bad. You knew it wasn't your scene, and you really didn't care what people thought of you when it came down to it. However, you always wondered what it would be like if someone liked you. If someone wanted you. Crushed on you so hard that they couldn't keep their hands off of you, couldn't stop thinking of you. Your first love. To feel pleasure, pain. Mixture of emotions simply by being in love. You wondered what it would be like to lose your virginity and have good, good sex. Besides, you were a human with needs. But the only person you have ever been close to was Yoongi. For the most part, you didn't see him that way because you knew he definitely didn't. But, you also couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to take your relationship to that point. If it was anyone, he would be the one you'd have feelings for. He would be your first kiss, your first everything. Because Yoongi was comfort and security for you.

But you valued your friendship more than anything.

"Just saying, think about it." He follows up.

"Think about getting an expensive dress and painful ass heals to wear for one night, just to dance around in 'em and take one professional pic with a date? Maybe get railed if I'm lucky?" You playfully wiggle your eyebrows making Yoongi shake his head.

"Don't be such a party pooper for once."

"Mmm. Great reasoning. Really convincing me here." You laugh it off even though in all honesty, you were thinking about it.

The bell rings and thank god it's finally lunch because you were fucking starving. Appetite and attitude on na-na, no doubt. You silently part ways with Yoongi to stop by your locker and grab your lunch. You make your way to the rowdy ass cafeteria, quickly scanning the room to catch a sight of Yoongi. You see him sitting on top of one of the lunch tables with Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin and Taehyung sitting around him. Clearly, Yoongi wasn't free today.

"Wassup baby? Wanna trade that ball in for me?" Jimin says as you pass by their table to make your way outside to the bleachers. You flick him off before rolling your eyes and pretending to gag.

"Fuck off, Park." The group laughs except for Yoongi.

"Wonder if she's got that bad attitude in bed, too." Yoongi doesn't hesitate to smack Jimin upside the head because yeah, no matter what, he was gonna protect you as much as possible. "Owwww, I'm just kidding Yoongi."

"Don't let me hear you say that shit around me ever again."

"Fuck, I'm sorry. It was just a joke." Jimin winces as he rubs the back of his head.

"Damn Min Yoonks, why don't you take her ass to prom if it's like that?" Taehyung says, chewed up food coming into full view as he smacks loudly.

"Why don't you learn how to close your mouth first?" Yoongi spits back.

"Y/N is really rubbing off on you."

"It's manners, idiot. You should've been learned that." Namjoon says, laughing.

"But foreel, why won't you take her? You both are close, you've never seen her that way?" Hoseok asks making Yoongi shake his head in response.

"She's my bestfriend. I value her just the way she is, no more no less."

"Ah, you must have thought about it at least once." Yoongi keeps silent. Luckily, the group easily gets distracted and starts paying attention to Seokjin and Jungkook coming over as they talk about the dates they've scored for prom.

Yoongi has thought about it. Still does. Just like he is for you, you're the only one who understands him and takes him for who he is. You know the real him besides basketball player Yoongi. You're the only one who keeps it real. But he would rather keep it this way than ruin things between you and him. He'd hate to fuck up with you because he knows he can fuck up, there's no hiding from it. He'd never forgive himself if he lost you.

Practice is hell today for you and fuck, you really wanna just go home and lay down for the rest of the evening. Coach had you all running suicides and conditioning drills on the courts outside and pulling scrimmages against each other left and right. Let's not forget how coach is always on your ass right before a game too. Hell, she catches an attitude way worse than you before game time and after a loss. You wanted to avoid that at all costs. But, to avoid taking the bus home and instead hitching a ride with Yoongi, you throw on a hoodie and haul your ass to the gym in some nike slippers. You take a seat on a free end at one of the bleachers, holding Spalding in between your legs with your duffle next to you on the floor. The game is off to a start in about 5 minutes, Yoongi catches sight of you on the bleachers and nods. You give him a small smile as a gesture of good luck, which he reciprocates.

The game starts off intensely, both teams scoring closely even with the boys putting straight pressure. Towards the end of the first half, Yoongi and Eunwoo are the leading scorers, putting their team up by 10. Halftime is a bunch of hoo-haa, with cheerleaders in their itty bitty skirts, trying to shake their asses as they cheer for the boys. The boys don't even hide the fact that their ogling, and it's clear as day they all want some pussy. Quite frankly, they walk around thinking they deserve it cause of how hard they try to pull some wins and put the school on the map. Student government comes up for a bit too, pulling some kind of skit to weirdly promote prom. It makes you cringe and in all honesty, it makes you not wanna go even more, but it is your senior year. If you can snag a date, then maybe.

"Hey." Terra [not a cheerleader but still a pretty, popular chick] plops next to you with a smirk on her face. Immediately, you want no part in it because you already know what she's trying to do.

"Hi?"

"I'm just gonna cut straight to it. Do you know if Yoongi is seeing anyone?"

"How the hell would I know, Terra?" You furrow your brows at her.

"Because you're close to him, aren't you?"

"And? Doesn't mean I'm telling people his business. Besides, he's not obligated to tell me everything just cause we're close." She rolls her eyes.

"Whatever. Look, can you do me a favor and give this to him?" She tries handing you a little ass piece of paper folded neatly with a pink heart decorated on the front.

"Why don't you give it to him yourself?"

"That's no fun." You scoff and roll your eyes. Really, miss girl? "Be a doll for once, yeah?" She winks and slips the note in between your wrist and Spalding so it stays put. You take the note and eye it, letting out a deep sigh as you shove it into your pocket. You weren't in the mood to be extra rude today so you'll give it to him later when he drives you home.

The game finally finishes with Yoongi making a final three, the boys keeping their lead up by 10. Everyone cheers and showers the boys with love after the team has finished shaking hands and high-fiving their opponents. You stick around until the crowd dies down, watching Yoongi flirt with Terra as you swing your duffle bag strap onto your shoulder before slowly heading down the bleachers.

"Hey bighead, good game today." You lightly punch him against the chest.

"I knew you'd come."

"Shut up. I'll be at your car."

"For what?"

"Cause you're taking me home, punk."

"No please?"

"Please." He shakes his head and chuckles before you part ways to let him gather his things in the locker room. When you finally catch sight of his teeny head coming towards you from the gym, you hear him unlock his car to let you in while he continues to walk over.

"Fuuuuuck." He says, throwing his things in the back before buckling his seat belt and switching the gear into drive.

"You have fan mail." Yoongi looks over and sees you clutching the note Terra gave you.

"What's that, a condom?"

"You're sick. It's from Terra."

"Who's that again?" You make a face at him.

"You were just telling her sweet nothings earlier after the game?"

"Oh, Terra with the tig o' bitties. Got it." He shakes his head. "I wasn't telling her sweet nothings."

"Right. You're an absolute dipshit, you know?" You prop up a leg on the seat while you unfold the letter.

"Give it!" You move it away from his grasp and begin to read it out loud.

"Yoongi, you're honestly so hot. If you don't have a date for prom, I just want you to know that I'm free, and I promise I'll give you a good time if you take me." You cackle. "Boy, what the fuck is this? Ew."

"Shut up." He blushes before laughing along with you.

"Look at her, writing her coochie out on paper."

"She isn't."

"Oh, really? Pfft." You softly scoff. "So, are you taking her or what?"

"I don't know? Maybe, damn. What about you?"

"What about me, fool? I told you I'd think about it."

"Go with Jimin. He still doesn't have a date." He hates to say it with how much of an asshole Jimin can be, but if it meant you'd be at your senior prom then Yoongi will let it pass. He'll make sure Jimin doesn't try any slick shit.

"Ew, god no."

"Look, I'll make sure he doesn't go overboard. I promise."

"Why do you want me there so badly, Yoongi?"

"Because it's our last year in high school together and I'd really like to celebrate with you somehow." You sigh heavily.

"Fair enough. Let me sit on it."

"Better hurry and stop keeping that seat warm."

"Don't rush me." You punch his arm, causing a groan to erupt from him.

- - -

Really, you'd rather be anywhere than at prom with Park Jimin holding onto your waist the way he is for the pictures you're taking with him, Yoongi and the rest of their group and dates. After all the pictures and fake smiles, you feel him slowly slip his hand down your dress to try and get a grip on your ass, but before you could do so, you're grabbing his wrist with full pressure and making him wince.

"Don't you fucking dare or else I'll cut your dick off and throw it in a blender."

"Aish, ah, fuck! Okay, I'm kidding, let me go!" He whines lowly. You let go of his wrist after one more good squeeze, causing him to wiggle his hand to get the feeling back.

"Get me some punch, will you? My mouth is dry."

"You know, I might know something else that can help." Jimin wiggles his eyebrows as he continues to hold onto his wrist.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"Or not. I'll be back." He accepts defeat by smiling from ear to ear before walking off. You sit off to the side, the heels a huge pain in the ass on top of Jimin already being a huge pain in the ass. You lean over on your knees, completely forgetting you have a short dress on, causing boys passing by to whistle and eye at the easy access.

"The fuck are you looking at? Keep it moving." Yoongi says pushing the guys forward before shooting you a look. "Y/N, really?"

"Shit sorry, I forgot. I'm not used to this." You sit up and adjust your dress before rubbing your arms at how self-conscious you suddenly [and unexpectedly] feel.

"Are you having fun at least?" He sits next to you, manspreading on the seat in the navy suit he has on.

"Mmm, sure." You slightly smile at him. "What about you? You actually took Terra, huh?"

"Yeah, it's pretty fun." He chuckles. "Don't lie, I saw you dancing a bit earlier."

"That's when the alcohol hadn't worn off yet." You snort, remembering Seokjin's older brother giving the group alcohol after all the parents were done taking their pictures of you all. Yoongi laughs along with you before he looks over and simply stares at you, hair all done, makeup done perfectly without it being too much. You in a dress.

"You look beautiful tonight, bub."

"You don't look too bad yourself, bubby." You blush before Jimin interrupts the moment with your cup of punch.

"Here, princess."

"You better not be trying anything slick, punkass." Yoongi says.

"Mm, don't worry. I haven't been able to." You kick his shin as you chug your punch, causing him to cough and choke on his own words. "I'd like to peacefully have this slow dance with you at least, damn." You swallow the last bits of punch before you're taking Jimin's hand to the floor. Yoongi watches as you two make your way to the dance floor for a slow dance, slightly regretting that he didn't just ask you to dance.

"Let's dance, babe." Terra's baby voice comes out as she pulls him up from the seat to find a spot on the dance floor. Yoongi is honestly tired of having to keep up with Terra's energy and her clingy ass, but nonetheless, he was happy you were around for prom.

He was really happy you were around for prom, even though you hated this shit more than anything.

He had you in full view ahead, and so did you. He couldn't help but direct his attention towards you and keep his eyes on you. Fuck, he has never seen anyone so beautiful until you walked through Seokjin's doors with Jimin. Look, let's get this straight. Even though you had your own way of expressing yourself, he always loved your natural beauty, your natural glow. He loved watching you on the court and how happy it made you to play ball. He remembers every accomplishment, every milestone you've reached. How you've grown tremendously as a ball player. He would never admit it to you in person, but he definitely admires how you push yourself and how you always do what you can to improve. Hell, you might just be the better player between the both of you. And when you catch him looking over, he doesn't even try and hide it. He doesn't even care that he's still holding onto Terra and slow dancing with her.

Something within you flips. You feel that shit in the pit of your stomach, at the heat of your core.

But, you brush it off and break eye contact first, even if he doesn't stop staring. This couldn't happen, no. This was your bestfriend. You weren't gonna let the things you felt get in the way of that.

Nope.

Suddenly, the song changes to something more upbeat and twerkable, Jimin taking the opportunity to spin you around and grind on you. You really need a distraction anyway, something to rid you of those god awful thoughts about your bestfriend, so you let him and you have fun with it. Everyone around you is having fun anyway, and fuck, you wouldn't have to do this ever again so fuck it.

"Let me get a dance with my bestfriend." Yoongi says to Jimin.

"Go dance with your date!"

"Shut up and switch for a second!" Yoongi says, pushing him off of you so he could get behind and dance with you.

"Yoonks, what the hell?" You laugh.

"Go with it, bub. It's fucking senior year, we're graduating soon." You go with his movements, having the time of your life with everyone around you as prom quickly comes to a close.

When you get into Jimin's car, you knock off your heels as he continues to talk nonstop about the night. Jimin was a cutie but god, you could not stand his mindset for the life of you. You were grateful he had agreed to take you to prom, but damn. Prom was done and all you wanted was some peace and quiet.

"I hope you had fun with me tonight." You give him a toothless smile before slipping your heels back on.

"I did, thank you for taking me. Really." He smiles from ear to ear before leaning over near your seat.

"Can I get just one good smooch for the night?" You look at him before you smirk and lean over near his lips.

"Sure." You whisper.

"Oh fuck, this is actually happening."

"Close your eyes, I know you don't fucking kiss with your eyes open. What are you doing?"

"Right. Sorry." He closes his eyes and puckers his lips. You lean in a little closer, feeling his breath against your lips.

Then you flick his nose.

"Ouch!"

"Peace out, Park." You throw open his door to step out and shut it behind you to quietly walk into your house.

The lights are off and your parents are already tucked into the room for the night, leaving you a note on the fridge reminding you to make sure all the doors are locked before retreating to your room. You do as you're reminded before quietly shutting your door and tossing your heels to the side. You let the pins down from your hair, ruffling it around a bit and relieving any pressure on your head. Before turning away from your dresser, you notice a letter from the one university you had been waiting on. You had been waiting to hear back from Stanford for the longest time, and quite frankly, you had been upset you hadn't heard especially when their scouts were at your game awhile ago.

You had broken down to your parents, to Yoongi, automatically assuming the worst when you heard that other people had already been accepted and scouted for Stanford. Suddenly, you found yourself working harder and harder because you felt like you were lacking in so many areas. You felt low, and like your dream was running miles and miles away from you. Faster than you could keep up.

You take the letter in your hand, but don't want to open it because you don't feel ballsy enough [surprisingly]. You call up Yoongi, not caring that he could possibly be in the middle of getting his dick wet.

"Sup?"

"Are you busy?"

"I was just about to walk into my house."

"Oh, nevermind."

"Need me to come by?"

"I got a letter from Stanford."

"Shit, I'll be there in 2 mins."

And in 2 minutes, he surely was knocking at your window. You slide it up enough for him to climb in, Yoongi still in his prom get-up as well.

"Here." You instantly hand him the letter.

"What, why me? It should be you."

"I can't, I really can't." He sighs.

"Are you sure you won't regret this?"

"No, bub. Please." You sit on the bed and fiddle with your fingers as you watch him rip the envelope open and tear out the letter. You can't even keep your eyes on him as he reads the letter and starts backing away from you.

"Shit."

"What? What?!" You stand, trying your best to keep your tone low. He covers his mouth, causing you to pinch his bicep at how dramatic he was being. "Just say it!"

"You're not going." Your heart sinks, but before you could process it, Yoongi speaks up again. "To any other college because Stanford wants you."

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" You whisper and shove him.

"Congrats, bubby. Guess we'll be together in college too." Your eyes widen.

"Y-you're going? T-to Stanford?" He smiles and nods.

"Yeah, I am."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Look, I just wanted to give you your space. That's all. I found out before you went all cry baby on me."

"Shut up." You say before laughing and jumping into his arms, throwing your legs around his torso while he swings you around. As he sets you back down onto your bedroom floor, your hands linger around his neck, gently tugging on the hair that rested there. He keeps you close, his hands resting around your waist as your chests are still touching. You honestly have no idea what takes over you— perhaps all the feelings you felt tonight at prom taking over, or feeling overjoyed from finally hearing back from Stanford, you couldn't decide. But you crash your lips against his, immediately pulling back after you realized you've just kissed your bestfriend.

You just had your first fucking kiss through accidental causes.

Well, shit.

Was it accidental or no?

Mind is going off on a tangent.

"Woah. I'm so sorry, Yoonks, I—" He doesn't allow for any space between you two, keeping your body flush against his as his lips crash onto yours again to cut you off. To be quite honest, things are moving fast and the kiss deepens quick. You follow his motions, gaining some rhythm as your tongue dances along with his in the [now] wet, sloppy kiss.

"Wait, Y/N." He pulls away as the moment intensifies. "A-are you sure you wanna keep going? To be honest, I don't know if I'll be able to hold myself back and I know you haven't exactly—" He knows it would be your first time and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. I mean, sure, he loved you. You were special to him. But he wanted to make sure your first time was also special, whether it be him or whoever else.

"Please. I want this. I wanna do this with you."

By the looks of tonight, it seems like it's meant to be him.

You press your lips back onto his with the same intensity and start to unbutton his shirt when you feel his hands hike up your dress. He gently pushes you on the bed, crawling over to you as he kicks off his shoes and finishes ripping off his shirt and tie. He slowly removes the straps of your dress down your shoulders and undoes the zipper on the side before slipping it down and leave you in your panties.

You had no bra on.

Yoongi's eyes widen when he realizes such, your cheeks heating up while you watch him stare down your body. You begin to feel incredibly self-conscious so you cover your chest with an arm. Yoongi senses your uneasiness, your confidence shooting down below zero.

"You're beautiful, bub. Don't." He says, gently tugging your arm away and letting it fall limply to the side. You simply nod and let him take the reigns because you had no idea what the fuck you were doing. So many emotions were flooding your mind— you were nervous, you were scared, you were shy, you felt lost and too innocent under Yoongi, even if he knew you like the back of his hand.

And because of that, he could pick up on it with the way your body continued to tense up. He shook off his pants, leaving on his boxers until you were ready for him. Cause fuck, he was ready for you, but he had to take this slow. He had to take care of you.

He lowers himself onto you after the two of you have climbed under the sheets, lowering his head against your neck to press light, feathery kisses along the surface. You felt the tingles shoot down your spine every time his lips made contact, causing you to softly gasp and arch your back at how sensitive you were already feeling.

"If you ever feel uncomfortable, just tell me to stop okay?" He says lowly. You nod in response, Yoongi taking it as leverage to plant a kiss on your lips before moving down to your breasts. He keeps his eyes on you, making sure you don't seem uncomfortable in the slightest bit. But you don't, and it's indicated in the way you bite your bottom lip and arch your back at the way his tongue wraps around your hardened bud. He does the same on the other breast before peppering kisses down your stomach and abdomen.

"Yoongi." You slightly gasp, shy at how unusually close he is to your lady friend.

"What's wrong? Want me to stop?" His thumbs gently caressed your thighs as his head hovered over your pelvis. You shake your head and nervously swallow before speaking once more.

"I-I'm just scared, what if you don't like—"

"Shh." He shushes you. "You're everything to me, you know that. You don't have to change just so I could enjoy you in bed. I'll take good care of you, bub. I promise."

"O-okay." He nods, placing a kiss over your clothed clit before pulling them down to get lost within your sheets. He swipes a finger down your folds, causing your breathing to hitch slightly. You watch as he slowly inserts the same digit inside of you, biting onto his bottom lip watching your facial expressions turn from uncertainty to straight pleasure. "Another." You moan.

"You sure?"

"Yes, please." He inserts another digit, curling his fingers upward as he starts to finger fuck you at a steady pace.

"Shit, you're so wet Y/N." He says lowly before lowering his mouth onto you to get a taste and tease your clit. You gasp at the overwhelming sensation, feeling the pleasure bubbling in your core and you had no idea how to deal with it. He picks up his pace while tonguing your clit and sucking at the right pressure until suddenly, you short circuit and tremble under his grip. You purse your lips together to prevent yourself from moaning too loud with your parents at the other end of the hall [jesus fucking christ], knuckles turning white as you grip the sheets tightly.

Your first orgasm came and washed over you quick.

"Did you just��" He removes his digits from inside of you, drooling at your cum accumulating all over his fingers.

"Holy fuck." You whisper as you regulate your breathing, twitching when Yoongi places a quick kiss on your pussy before coming back up to you.

"How was that?"

"So good. Wanna feel you." You whine, tugging him down towards you.

"I got you, bubby." He says, kissing your jaw, cheek, nose and lips. He reaches over into his pants on the floor, grabbing a condom out of his pocket. You furrow your brow and chuckle, confused if this was something he always did.

"You just carry that around?"

"The guys and I split on a box and carried one each for tonight. Just in case."

"Total fucking assholes." He chuckles.

"Better safe than not, right?" He rips it open with his teeth, spitting the wrapper out onto the floor before rolling it down his cock. He was perfectly thick and long, and it made you a nervous wreck all over again thinking about how this could feel. "Ready? I'll go slow." You nod. You immediately felt immense pressure when you felt Yoongi dip his body and slowly enter you. You winced, Yoongi immediately pausing until you tapped his arm to continue. And so he does, and you continue to breathe through it until he bottoms out and lets out a soft groan against your neck. "Fuck, you're so tight bub. God, you're gonna make me cum quick." He slowly pumps in and out, steadying his pace when he feels you buck your hips up to go along with his motions.

The pleasure skyrocketed; You shut your eyes, letting yourself be in this moment. Feel this moment.

He picks it up a little faster, careful not to bang your headboard against the wall. His forehead is pressed against yours, watching as you let out soft whimpers against his lips.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yoongi-Yoongi—" You whispered. "You're gonna make me—" It was becoming overwhelming, your clit rubbing against him as he steadied his pace and continued to fuck into you. He nods, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

"Yeah, that's it. Let go. It's okay." And that was enough for you to reach your second orgasm tonight. Quick, but fuck. Yoongi made you feel so good, and you wouldn't want it any other way. You shut your eyes as you hurdled over the edge, mouth open with silent, inaudible moans being released. "So fucking pretty." Yoongi says as he feels himself reaching his high with the way your walls pulsated against his cock.

God. So, so good.

He holds onto the headboard and quickly fucks into you until he's spilling his seed in the condom, muffled moans being released against the crook of your neck. It takes a moment before Yoongi raises his head, your hands running through his black hair while he presses a tender kiss against your lips. He slowly removes himself, wrapping the condom in a tissue before tossing it into your trash can. He plops next to you and welcomes you into his arms, caressing you to soothe you from your first time.

"You okay?"

"More than okay." You say, the both of you trying to savor the moment before trying to navigate where to go from here.

What now?

Third Quarter: College, Junior Year (Present)

You bent down, hands resting against your knees as you tried to catch your breath during the timeout Coach Chu had called with 5.2 seconds literally left on the clock. He laid out the play he wanted you and the team to pull off in order to gain the win over Berkeley.

It had to be executed perfectly. No flaws.

Coach Chu had been riding your ass since you were a freshman. But, over the years, you've learned how to work through his tough love and turn it into positives, bettering yourself on and off the floor. It paid off, and he saw the fire in you, finally moving you up to starting point guard right before the season ended. Some team members hated it at first, but eventually, grew to work with it as well.

The plan was to have you come down into the paint and lay up the ball or take a shot at the very last second to avoid Berkeley from getting another chance at scoring. Sometimes you hated the pressure, but you've also learned that a big part of playing ball was thriving under pressure.

Your team closes up the huddle before you and your teammates are heading back out onto the floor to try and get this win. You shake off the nerves, bouncing the ball out of bounds until you check it in with your teammate. After that— it was like a blur. Shit happened so quick, you couldn't even process it. You passed the ball and dashed over to the other side of the court while your teammate put up a screen. You rose your hand as you ran into the paint, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you awkwardly lay up the ball in the position you were in and stumble onto the ground from losing your footing. You turn your head as the buzzer went off, noticing that the ball had bounced off the rim.

You missed a fucking lay up.

How could you miss a fucking lay up?

"Fuck!" You cry as you sit up and smack the floor.

"Aye, it's all good girl! Ain't a big deal! You win some, you lose some! We still got a ways to go!" Your teammate [roommate, and closest college friend] Clarice said as she helped you up. She was right, but every loss to you was a big loss no matter what. Coach was for sure gonna drill you about this too, and you were already mentally preparing.

"Thanks." You mumble. You look out at the disappointed crowd slowly dispersing, wishing you could still catch a familiar face in the crowd.

But, Yoongi hadn't been to your game in years. So you thought. You never caught him if he ever stepped foot into your game.

Your head hung low as the familiar feeling of pain and loneliness came rushing back while you headed to the locker room. Too bad you didn't see him hiding out on the side of the bleachers with Lucas.

"Y/N, a word." Coach Chu says, leading you into his office.

Fuck, here we go.

You shut the door behind you and stand awkwardly in front of his desk, fiddling with your fingers.

"Look, I just want to say that you put on hell of a show tonight, win or lose. We still have plenty of games left, plenty of opportunities to lock in play-offs. Alright? Don't be upset."

"Thanks Coach." You give him a tiny smile.

"Are you doing okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I think so."

"What's on your mind?"

"Nothing coach, just been a hectic couple of weeks." In which, it was no lie. You crammed for test after test, project after project. You barely had any time to breathe this year.

"Well, my door is always open if you need to chat." You nod. "I'll see you at practice. Enjoy your night."

"Thanks again." You say as you exit his office and get yourself showered and into comfier clothes.

Meanwhile, Yoongi heads back to his dorm room alongside Lucas, hands dug deep into his pockets while his head hung low.

"You ever gonna talk to her?"

"I don't know." He sighs. "Pretty sure I fucked up any chance of that."

"Look, dude. You haven't really been the same since you and Y/N fell out." Yoongi stays silent as they slowly climb the steps up to their room. "Why are you just gonna leave it like this? It's been so long already. Doesn't it bother you?"

"Positive she doesn't want me around." Lucas shakes his head.

"You haven't even tried. You just gave up and that shit is cold, to be honest. I know Y/N always held it down for you, I would have expected you to do the same." The words cut through Yoongi so deep, he doesn't even know how to respond and leaves it at that.

As you heavily dragged your body back to the dorms and took your sweet ol' time, your mind began to wander back to Yoongi as well. After he had taken your virginity that night, things took a turn for the worst.

He treated you differently, created this distance that allowed you to grow farther and farther apart from each other until he was no longer in your grasp and vice versa.

You went from Yoongi being a part of your every day to nothing. And fuck, did it hurt you. You cried and cried, until you were so tired of crying. You had to pick yourself up and keep it moving no matter what. Life waits for nobody.

You reminisce on those days of debating over who could really be considered the greatest. Although, you did pay your respects to the bigs, the greats— Kobe, Magic, MJ, Lebron— you paid respect where it was rightfully due. However, Derrick Rose at his prime? Rajon Rondo? Chris Paul?

Hell, even Baron Davis, Monte Ellis. Rookie Steph Curry? Shiiit. They were it for you, and Yoongi used to dog your ass on how unrealistic you were being.

That was all gone.

He must be having a ball watching Steph climb up those charts now, though. You wonder what he would say to you.

The days of going to basketball games, to each other's basketball games, to ordering hella pizza and creating chaos in either house over the dunk contest during the NBA All Star Week or yelling all around the living room and jumping on couches during the NBA playoff season and championship games— All gone.

If you knew this would drastically change you and Yoongi, you would have never let that night happen. You continued to put on your brave face, your thick, tough skin even though deep down, it took everything in you to suppress the hurt, betrayal and confusion. Even after all these years.

He meant everything to you. Did you not to him? You could never understand until this day. How could he dispose of you so, so quickly?

You see him on campus and quickly break any eye contact, or run the opposite way. You were tired of doing this even though you felt like you needed closure. Some explanation. You deserved it. But you weren't gonna initiate that. Even if Yoongi did, you don't even know if things could ever go back to the way it was. He promised he would never hurt you, but he has. He still is hurting you. The wounds— it cut deep. Deeper than he could ever imagine.

"Hello?" You smile, hearing your dad on the other line.

"Hey dad."

"Hey baby! How was your game? I'm sorry I couldn't catch it tonight, work kept me behind." You sigh.

"Eh, it's probably good you didn't. Didn't turn out so well." He picks up on how your voice cracks ever so slightly, enough to indicate that you were trying your hardest not to break down about your performance. "I missed the winning shot."

"Oh sweetheart, you'll get 'em next time. You always do. You still have a couple of games left don't you?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't change the fact that I played shitty as hell tonight."

"There's always room for improvement, only way to go is up from here right?" He says softly, making you smile. "You'll get 'em next time, I have no doubt. You always know how to better yourself even when I think you've already reached your highest potential."

"Thanks Dad. You always were my number one fan."

"I still am." He chuckles. "How's everything else? School?"

"Fine." He always has to stop himself from asking about Yoongi, even to ask if there's been the slightest change to your relationship.

"You sure?"

"Course." You lie.

"Alright, well you know me and your mom are here for you if you need anything."

"I know."

"I'll let you go and get some rest, alright? Don't be so hard on yourself."

"Mmm, I'll try." You chuckle. "I love you."

"Love you too. And hey, baby?"

"Yeah?"

"Always remember that you deserve everything good in this world. If someone can't handle you at your worse, they sure as hell don't deserve you at your best."

"Thank you." You smile as if your dad can see you through the phone before hanging up and unlocking your dorm door.

"Sigma Nu party going on tonight, wanna come and slide through?" Clarice asks as she watches you toss your duffle aside.

"I'm tired, not in the mood."

"So aren't I, but I think we both need it. Come on girl, just for a little." You sigh. Clarice had also been there by your side since you both were freshmen recruits. One day, she came into the room and found you a crying mess, causing her to wrap her arms around you and craddle you until you calmed down. You had spilled the beans about Min Yoongi, especially when he quickly became the talk of the campus as a ladies man and one of the best freshmen recruits Stanford has ever seen. You hated it, but a part of you still found yourself happy that he was getting the recognition he deserved as a ball player.

He wasn't the tallest, or the biggest, but boy had heart and played every game like it was his last. You had been his number one fan, and even though you hated him, that fact would never change.

Anyways, without Clarice, you weren't sure where you'd be. Definitely not here because you'd be too busy running away from your past and all the issues that came with it.

Yeah, yeah. Go ahead and say it. You would be stupid enough to not go to your first choice just because of a stupid boy.

"Fine, fine. I'm leaving as soon as someone wants to start acting up and getting all crazy though."

"Deal." She chuckles. You've learned how to dress up a little more— and by a little we mean baggy sweats, a crop tight fitting tee and chapstick. No way in hell you'd get dolled up for a party. Out of the years you've already been here, you probably went to two parties. One being the party Coach Chu threw at his house for a record-breaking season. The other was a legit party that you stepped foot in for all of 2 seconds before you figured it was time to head home, especially after seeing Yoongi hugged up with some chick and disgustingly tonguing her down while groping her ass.

Shit, you were never gonna get used to it.

The frat house is fucking packed and wreaks of weed even down the corner. You and Clarice push your way through, greeting people who were acknowledging your presence and waving at your other teammates that were also present.

"More basketball babes have arrived, let's go!" One of the frat guys cheers as you and Clarice make your way to the kitchen where all the alcohol is laid out.

"One shot?" She asks as she already has her hand wrapped around the Svedka handle.

"One and done." You tell her. You shouldn't have let her pour the shot though because now, you're stuck with nasty ass vodka near the halfway mark of the cup. "Clarice, what the fuck is this?"

"It's called savoring our one."

"You're fucked up." You joked as you tap your cup against hers and take the shot in three chugs. "Really fucked up." You wince.

"Come, lets go see what the other girls are up to and hang out for a bit." You follow her lead to the corner of the living room, chatting it up with your team before dancing around in the little corner you all occupied— keeping as far away as possible from sloppy and messy dudes.

You turned to eye the crowd at some point, catching Yoongi coming down the stairs, a female following from behind holding his hand. Then, they disappear to the outside of the house. You swallow the lump in your throat, the room feeling hotter than it already was.

Why he still had this affect on you, you had no idea.

Clarice and your teammates are too busy cracking jokes that they don't realize you've slipped away to get some air. You're finding that the crowd has come bigger in the short amount of time you've been here and navigating through it has become difficult. You're having to bob, weave and shove your way out, letting out a sigh the closer you get to the front of the house. You're also really glad you've been able to steer clear from—

"Shit, my bad." You unintentionally bump into someone making your way to the front from the side of the house due to you keeping your head low.

"Y/N?" You whip your head around to see Yoongi raising a brow, dropping his arm from the same chick's shoulders.

"Hi." You give him a fake, tight-lipped smile and rush your way to the front of the house. Thank god you finally make it because you were starting to feel claustrophobic, even being outside. However, you weren't prepared for Yoongi to come after you and grab your wrist the way he did.

"Wait, I didn't expect you to be here." Out of defense, you quickly snatch your wrist away from his grip and furrow your brows at him.

"Yeah, and now I'm leaving."

"Why, hang out for a bit—"

"And what, Yoongi? Watch you be the life of the party? Watch you walk around all fine and dandy like shit never happened between us?" You feel the tears welling up on your bottom lids, but you promised yourself you would never cry over him again. You refuse to. He had already taken up so much of you that you refuse to give him any more.

"Is that what you really think?" He says, the hurt apparent in his expression. To be frank, no. Yoongi really, really never meant to hurt you. And just like he had mentioned before, he would never forgive himself if he ever hurt you. He hasn't forgiven himself. He hasn't forgiven himself for how he let you slip out of his grasp when it was his own fault for pushing aside his feelings for you. He thought the world of you, the only woman who kept it real with him and stuck by him through the highest of highs, lowest of lows. There was no one as special as you, no one who could ever be as special as you, no matter how many times he tried to sink his dick into other females.

No one was real like you.

But, he was also conflicted because of that. He felt like he couldn't give you the love you rightfully deserved, he didn't think he could love you properly. He had so much to learn and he didn't wanna hurt you in the process. It sounds so fucking stupid [because it is] that he thought distancing himself was better than just being honest. He was a dumbass high schooler, he didn't know any better. But, he never meant to make you feel special for one night, then run from it. You were always special to him. You had always been. You always will be. And these past years hurt like a bitch, but he coudn't find the words to explain. Eventually, he just believed he would do less damage if you both remained distant this way.

Although, he longed for you. He really needed you just as you needed him. He always has, always will.

So when the two of you bump into each other tonight, he felt like maybe, it was a sign. Maybe it was time to stop being childish.

God, he missed your face.

God, he was a fucking asshole.

"No, I'm not doing this shit." You shake your head. "Just— continue to stay away from me, okay? I'm better off without you." The words sting you, but it doesn't sting you as much as it stings Yoongi. You glare at him once more before you turn on your heel and begin walking down the street to head back to your dorm.

"Y/N! Wait up!" Clarice calls for you, eyeing Yoongi as she passes him to catch up with you down the street. "Hey, hey. You okay?" She swings her arm around you when she catches you silently crying to yourself. "What did he do, Y/N?"

"He fucking exists, that's what." You groan. "Ugh, fuck! I'm not supposed to be crying over his dumbass, I'm better than this Clarice— Why the fuck am I crying over it?" You break down, crouching down to your knees, causing Clarice to hover over you and pull you into a hug.

"Maybe you just need to let it out and stop forcing yourself to not feel anything."

"I hate him, I hate him, I hate him." You bawled into your arms. "I hate him so much." She caressed your back. "But he still finds a way to mean so much to me."

"I think it's time for you two to talk."

"I can't. It's just better this way."

"Are you sure? Because look at you, Y/N. You're a mess, and this hasn't even been the first time you broke down about him. As much as you want to believe that you're fine without him, you're not. He was your bestfriend and I think you need him more than you even know yourself."

"He's doing fine without me."

"You don't know that, baby. Dudes are annoying as fuck because they can literally go on about their day and mask that shit well. If he's ready, let him explain. Hear him out. You both may be misunderstanding the entire situation." It takes you a good minute before you can finally gather yourself and make it back to your dorm room with Clarice.

She was right.

But you were so angry more than anything. You were angry and you weren't sure how you could get past it.

He left your side. 

And so the next day, you go about your day in class, staying quieter than usual during practice. For the most part, Coach Chu was always on your ass because of how vocal you were and how much you caught an attitude when things didn’t go the way you'd like it to. So, to see you this quiet, almost sullen even, concerns him. But, he already pressed you once and he wasn't gonna do it again to avoid irritating you any further.

You run the usual conditioning drills, practicing play by play before a final scrimmage game for the night. You push yourself hard like you always do, almost coming out of practice dry heaving from how tired you are. It was your bad habit though, you wouldn't quit until you got it right. Until you felt right. And unfortunately, it's another one of those nights where you feel unsatisfied with your performance. So, you take it upon yourself to continue practicing in the empty gym that was set to close within the next hour. You're tired out of your mind, and you know this is probably a bad idea, but you can't shake off the feeling of dissatisfaction. To you, that was the next worst thing. Right behind Yoongi.

You begin to work on your three pointers, lay ups and shots out of range before you start to play a scrimmage game with yourself.

"I'll play you." You suddenly hear, the sweat beads dripping down your forehead at this point. You watch Yoongi as he drops his water bottle off at the side of the court before walking over to you.

"Go away."

"Afraid you'll lose?"

"No, I just don't wanna play your ass." You shot up the ball, only for it to bounce off the backboard and land in Yoongi's hand.

"Ball up. Let's play till 10."

"Why the hell do you wanna play me, Yoongi? Don't you have a random chick to bone?"

"I'm clearly standing right in front of you aren't I? Quit fucking talking and play." He aggressively passes you the ball to check it in, you following suit, making the ball damn near bounce off of his chest with how hard you pass it back. He knew exactly how to rile you up.

You get into the zone quickly, trying to find some kind of redemption for the way you had been feeling lately. Redemption, validation, way to take the edge off— anything, really. It was only until the first person scored to 10, but Yoongi was putting up one hell of a fight, jet black hair parted down the middle and matted to his forehead from the sweat building up. You take the lead, sitting at 8 while Yoongi sat at a sad 6 points.

"Ball." You call out as you scored a layup, ramming yourself against the padded wall with the force you had put up.

"That's 10."

"Ball, Yoongi." You huffed and puffed.

"Stop, don't overwork yourself. You just got—"

"Suddenly you care? Stop being a pussy and pass me the goddamn ball." He furrows his brows as he passes you the ball, crouching down to meet you at eye level to try and guard you. You run towards the right of the court, pulling a pump fake before you pivot to get away from Yoongi's guard. You pivot hard and drive it up to the basket, only to fall on the wrong footing and twist your ankle on the way down. "Ouch, fuck!"

"Shit, Y/N!" Yoongi comes to your side, hand supporting your back as the other is on your ankle.

"I'm fine, leave me—"

"Stop being so fucking stubborn and let me help you." He says angrily. You don't say anything else while you fix your position on the floor. "Can you wiggle it at least?"

"Y-yeah." You wince as you wiggle your foot and roll it around a couple of times. Phew, at least this shit wasn't gone for good. But Coach Chu still wouldn't be happy to hear you sprained your ankle releasing your anger on Yoongi during a dumb game. Yoongi helps you stand, arm around your waist as he throws your arm around his neck and holds you steady by the wrist.

"Try walking on it."

"I can, but it hurts a little." Yoongi sighs.

"You just sprained it. Let's go get you some ice or something at the nursing center before going back to your dorm." You silently nod as you hang onto Yoongi for extra support, careful not to make the situation any worse than it already is. He has you sit on the chair within the nursing center, the nurse coming over to wrap your ankle nicely before giving you crutches and some instant hot compress to pop onto it. She orders for security to drive you two over to the dorm building in their go-cart so that you wouldn't have to do much walking on your foot while you focused on healing.

Yoongi doesn't leave your side, even after you've walked into your dark, empty dorm room, not really knowing where Clarice is at right now [possibly library]. He shuts your door and sits you on the edge of your bed, setting your crutches near your bed side and your instant hot compress.

"You need anything else?" Your head hangs low as you slightly chuckle and shake your head.

"Why are you doing this?" You ask him lowly before looking back up at him, tears clouding your vision. "Hm? Why, Yoongi?"

"You're hurt, why wouldn't I—"

"Hmm." You hum. "I'm hurt? So where the fuck were you after prom night? When I was hurt then, where the fuck have you been?" You began to cry.

"Y/N." His tongue swipes over his lips before he sighs. "I'm sorry." He says, close to a whisper.

"Are you? Because I don't think you really understand how bad you hurt me." You aggressively wipe away your tears while continuing to look at him, his body language soft and full of regret. "You didn't care about me."

"How could you say that? I cared—" He sighs as his head drops for a second. "I care about you more than you know."

"If you did then why the fuck was it so easy for you to drop me the way you did?!" You yelled. "You just don't do that to the people you care about, especially if it’s your bestfriend."

"Look, you're right. I have no excuse for the way I acted, and if I could turn back time to re-do it, I would. But I can't, and the only thing I can do is apologize and do my best to make it up to you." His bottom lip trembles as he steps closer to you, a small frown forming at the corners of his mouth.

"Yoongi." You cried. "I did everything for you, I stuck by you through everything, even during the times you didn't deserve that shit from me. But I stayed! I stood by you because you meant everything to me and god—" You groaned. "I needed you. I needed you and you weren't there! I fucking hate you for doing this shit to me but part of me will always have love for you no matter how fucked up the situation is. I will always drop everything for you. I will always care about you, and it's so unfair." It broke Yoongi's heart and he didn't know what to say, but he wraps his arms around you anyway, keeping you in a tight hug against his chest. He's surprised that you let him, even more surprised at how he feels your body soften under his touch.

"Fuck, I'm so, so sorry bub." He says lowly as he presses a kiss on top of your head. "I'm so sorry."

"Please don't ever go again." You cry against his chest.

"No, I'm not. I'm gonna be right here." He says hugging you tighter. "You're the only one who's ever understood me, who's ever kept it real with me. I don't deserve you, but I know damn sure I'll work hard to make up for letting you go in the first place." He places another kiss on top of your head. "I'm right here. Not going anywhere. I'm so sorry."

- - -

5.

4.

3.

2.

1.

"THE STANFORD BOYS TAKE THE CHAMPIONSHIP!" The commentator screams into his mic, Yoongi running a lap around the court before he's cheering loudly with his teammates and joining the group hug. You run down the bleachers, dashing straight into Yoongi's arms while he swings you around.

"That's what I'm fucking talking about!" You squeal and giggle as Yoongi places you back down and plants multiple kisses around your face, hands resting on the small of your back.

"Let's get out of here." He whispers in your ear.

"I'll wait at your car, bighead." You wink, causing him to smile that gummy smile of his that you adore more than life itself.

There's obviously a huge party going on tonight to celebrate this huge achievement, but Yoongi says he doesn't wanna join for once. He's happy, yeah. But the way he wants to celebrate is in peace. After so long, he feels like he can finally say he's content with where his life is at and where it's going. He drives over to the nearest beach, backing into a space so the both of you could sit in the back and try catching all the shooting stars up above. Yoongi leans against the side of the trunk, allowing you to lay your head on his lap while you curled up beside him listening to the waves slowly crash against the sand.

"Saw one." He says, looking up at the sky.

"You're a punk, no you didn't."

"What?" He laughs. "How are you about to say that? I caught it with my own two eyes."

"Oop! I saw one!"

"Now that's a lie. I was looking up too."

"Shut up." You laugh, causing Yoongi to tickle you along the sides before he stops and plants a kiss on your lips. It's silent for a minute while the two of you take in the night view— The sky and ocean coming together as one, forming a view that seemed endless.

"Hey."

"Hm?" You hum as Yoongi's fingers gently brush through your hair.

"You know I love you right?"

"Ew with the sappy shit, Min Yoongi." He laughs.

"Seriously."

"I know." You smile up at him. "I love you too."

"Come here." He says softly, tugging you upwards. You sit up, allowing Yoongi to press his lips against yours. He pulls you in by your shirt, having you straddle his lap while he grips onto your hips and immediately grinds against you. You let out a small moan feeling how quickly he hardened, his cock hitting you in the right places as you continue to grind on him. "Fuck, wanna feel you babygirl."

"Here?"

"Yeah." He chuckles and bites onto his bottom lip.

"What, all of a sudden you're scared?"

"Fuck off." You fire back, releasing his hardened member from its confines as you stroke him gently. He tilts his head back in pleasure before tugging your shorts and panties to the side, enough for him to cop a feel of how wet you are.

"Baby's all wet."

"What're you gonna do about it?" You whisper against his lips, biting onto his bottom lip and pulling back slightly. He hisses at the sensation before he moves your hand from his cock and takes control. He pushes you upward, positioning you enough to line up with your entrance.

"Take this shit off."

"Yoongi, we're in public."

"So, you're all talk and no play."

"I hate you."

"Nobody's here." He groans. "Just take off your shorts, pleeease." He begs as he slowly strokes himself. You toss aside your shorts, Yoongi immediately hooking his finger at the bottom of your panties and tugging it aside in order to push himself into you. He does enough before he lets you do the rest of the work and sink down on his length, a gasp leaving your throat as you take all of him in. He grips your hips tightly, setting the pace as he groans into your neck, your fingers tangled in his hair resting at the nape of his neck.

"Shit, babe." You moan as you tilt your head back.

"Fuck, you always ride me so well." He presses light kisses against your neck before he's nipping at the surface.

"Godddd why do you feel so good?" You whimper.

"You like how I feel inside of you?" You nod. "Yeah? Like how my cock fills you up?"

"Never gonna get tired of it." You moan, Yoongi making you pick up the pace aggressively. Besides the waves crashing, the lewd noises of skin slapping against skin fills the car, along with your soft moans and Yoongi's groans. Your clit is constantly rubbing against him, causing the pleasure to build so quickly it becomes overwhelming. You try to hold off as much as you can but—

"My pretty baby. All I fucking need." He almost growls, the words enough to send you over the edge. You let out a loud moan, not even caring for the houses nearby as your orgasm hits hard and ripples throughout your body, sending aftershocks. Yoongi continues to have you ride him fast and hard, the overwhelming sensation causing a hint of pain to mix with more pleasure until  you feel him feel you up. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He groans as his nails dig into your skin, giving two good thrusts upwards into you to help ride out his high. You both sit in the position for a minute, trying to come back down from your highs. Yoongi gives you a delicate peck on the lips, smiling into the kiss before he pulls away. "Swear you're all I need."

"See, I don't know if I could say the same." He smacks your ass as you hike up and off of him to put on your shorts.

"Take it back."

"I'm kidding." You blush.

"My ride or die. Are you with me?"

"Always have been. Are you?"

"You know I am."

"Good. You know it takes two." He smiles before pulling you into another hug and pressing a kiss against your temple.

[eremiie]

Hi! I love your writing! Could you maybe do something for Eren where the reader is good friends with Jean and they hang out a lot, which leads to a heated argument with Eren, who ends up admitting his insecurities about losing her and it gets all fluffy and cute from there? Thank you💜🥰

futile competition;

❥ eren x reader | 3k words | fluff

❥ in which eren gets a little envious & reader has to reassure him

❥ hi! thank you sooo much<3, i hope i did this request justice aksjskak, enjoy :)

"jean, how did you even sprain your ankle in the first place?" you were sat idle on the wooden bleacher with jean next to you, the two of you conversing freely instead of jean being out practicing with the rest of the football team because of his sprained limb.

"i landed wrong during practice a couple days ago. when i went to the doctor they told me to sit out for two weeks."

"two weeks? so you're gonna miss next weeks game?"

"yeah but your boyfriend and reiner are two of the best players, they'll be fine without me for a game."

you shrugged your shoulders looking towards the field, looking for eren. during games you'd be able to spot him quite easily as he always adorned the large number five on his back, but of course like majority of the team he was shirtless, the only reason you could spot him being the way his bun was on the verge of falling out his hair and cascading over his shoulders.

"you're like the weakest link on the team, they're doing much better without you." you joked, causing jean to roll his eyes and shove you over in the slightest. "jean, i will kick you in the leg that's hurt, stop." your giggling made him break out into a smile, him putting his hands up in mock surrender.

jean and you were quite good friends, occasionally hanging out in and out of school, you having met him through your closest friends sasha and connie. the only reason that you two were hanging out during his practice was because you told eren you'd wait for him afterwards so you could spend this friday with him to his request.

"jaeger, focus!" the coach exasperated, flailing his arms outwards at eren's fumble. eren cursed under his breath, and wiped the sweat off of his brow, looking away from you and jean before picking himself up off the ground. "go run a lap and stop letting your girlfriend distract you. everyone else go get water then locker rooms!"

you chuckled at eren being disciplined, watching him make his way out the field to the track to run his lap, jean laughing beside you. "he's such a kiss ass, he's just trying to impress you." jean shook his head as he spoke.

"i don't know why, we're already dating."

jean nodded his head in agreement, grabbing his crutches and pulling himself up. "do you need help?" you questioned standing up abruptly to help him steady himself, a subconscious reaction if you must, as it was just in your nature to be helping.

"nah, nah, i'm good, i'm not disabled or anything, it's just a sprained ankle." jean shrugged you off, and it's true, he was of course fine for the most part, but he also didn't want eren getting angry at a simple gesture from you, as he tended to do quite often. "let's just go back to the gym."

୨୧

eren exited the empty locker rooms, clear irritation spread across his face. his lack of concentration during practice, and jean's stupid face flirting with you was fogging his mind.

"eren!" you called out to your boyfriend, him turning his head after nodding a small goodbye to his coach. you gave jean a small hug before he started waddling away on his one foot and you starting to make your way towards the brunette, eren struggling to suppress an eye roll. "hi baby," your arms wrapped around his waist and he hesitantly reciprocated, letting his circle your shoulders.

"hey." his tone grumbly and dry, but you didn't let your mind wander too much on it.

"i see practice wasn't the best today. was it because of me?" a mischievous grin graced your face as you and eren began to exit the gym, heading towards his car.

yeah, something like that.

"no, it was fine, i just slipped up a couple times." your thumb brushed over eren's hand a couple times before he pulled back to pull his keys out of his backpack that was hung over his shoulder. "get in the car," and then him unlocking it with a press of a button, his presence leaving your side as he went over to the drivers side of the car. you didn't like the way he so casually brushed you off, as eren was usually excited to see you after practice. he would occasionally shower you in kisses, and wipe his sweat all over you and have you shuddering in disgust, but the aloof personality taking place was never present to you, so of course you couldn't help but think it was strange.

you slid into the passengers seat with your own bag sat in between your feet on the floor, and initially decided not to converse with the boy for the rest of the car ride, leaning your head against the window and occasionally glancing at eren who you didn't even see look your way once. seriously, what was his problem? if you knew he was going to act like this while you were at his house the rest of the evening you'd would've went home faster than he could blink.

"______, c'mon." eren murmured before he shut the door to the drivers side, walking towards his front door leaving you still attempting to collect your belongings so you could follow him. you were so stuck in thought that you didn't even realize the two of you had made it to eren's house.

"_____, hi! it's been so long since eren has brought you home, how are you?" mrs. jaeger's (who many times has insisted you called her carla) cheery tone flooded your ears as you entered the household, eren shutting the door behind you and barely even uttering a 'hi.' to his mother or mikasa. despite this you couldn't help but smile at carla, the lady was so sweet and kind and you genuinely couldn't figure where eren got his temper, or stubbornness from.

"hi mrs. jaeger-"

"please, just call me carla." her figure danced her way towards you and her nimble fingers turned you around facing the stairs so she could shed your backpack off for you, and only then did you realize eren had disappeared from sight, leaving behind only the sound of creaky stair steps.

you sighed, and of course carla put two and two together, but not before mikasa who was sat on the kitchen stool facing the stairs as well, in the middle of helping eren's mom with kitchen work. "what's wrong with eren?" she brushed aside her ebony hair and made her way over to the stairs, carla placing a hand on her shoulder to halt her movement.

"mikasa honey, just leave him alone for now, he gets like that sometimes." carla gave you a sorry smile already knowing her sons antics. "i'm sure _____ will get through to him if that's what he needs, right?" mikasa's eyes flickered to you, an unreadable, almost blank expression on her face before she nodded and you let out a small, "right," her walking back over to her position at the stool.

"do you want any snacks, or anything? i know it's been a long day at school and all,"

"it's fine mrs. jaeger, i'm not hungry."

"alright, will you be staying for dinner, i could make your favorite?"

"i'm not sure yet," as many times as your answer would be yes you weren't lying, with eren's strange demeanor you weren't sure how long you could stay in the household even with carla catering to you, her joyous aura wasn't enough.

"okay well let me know, i'll let you go now," she leaned into your ear, her black strands tickling your face, "let me know if anything."

soon enough you were following in eren's steps on your way to his room. you slowly pushed the oak door open seeing eren wasn't in his room and assumed he went to take a shower. you had no problem sitting and waiting as it gave you a second to conjure your thoughts as well, you taking a spot on his bed.

it wasn't long before he appeared back though, him opening and closing his door, eyes flashing to you for only a second. he threw the towel around his neck that was stopping his damp hair from dripping onto his abdomen onto his desk chair and slid on only a pair of sweatpants before crawling on his bed. "scoot over," and you did, making space so he could lay next to you, the smell of his body wash evident on his skin.

the slight tension was unnerving as you played with your fingers where they sat in between your crossed legs, eren paying you little to no mind. "what's your problem?" you couldn't help but ask, as many times as you played the details of the day back in your head you couldn't find a bump in the road, anything that would make him act so distant.

"my problem? i don't have one."

you struggled to not roll your eyes, instead raising a brow. "seriously? you didn't talk to me in the car, you're barely talking to me now, didn't you want me to come and spend today with you?"

"yeah, but i'm sure you rather be spending today with jean, right?"

oh.

you pursed your lips, narrowing your eyes at the boy who's eyes were finally fixated on you. your arms crossed and you bit back an insult, since one was definitely a part of the options you were weighing in your brain. "excuse me?"

"you heard me," he sat up, his muscles flexing underneath his skin as he propped himself up on the bed. "you and him have been so comfortable lately. i'm pretty sure you hang out with him more than me anyways." he huffed, a fire blazing behind his turquoise eyes (which not to mention you always found mesmerizing, even through his anger.)

you grimaced, eren was clearly blinded by his frustration. he seemed to forget how you came over almost every weekend, not to mention a few times throughout the week as well, how you spent majority of lunches with him and how the two of you were a literal couple. it wasn't your fault you and jean had more than one class together, and seemingly got along. he was good company, you couldn't deny that, and you knew him before you even knew eren.

"eren i spend so much time with you, what the hell are you talking about? is that what's bothering you?"

"it doesn't bother me," and of course he was lying straight to your face. "i could care less. do what you want with horseface."

okay now he was being dramatic.

you stifled a laugh at the stupidity that escaped his mouth, how could he make such a vague assumption? "you could care less? so why are you acting all pouty and not talking to me? if you didn't care we'd be all good right now, stop being all mad for no reason."

"i have a reason to be mad,"

"so you admit that you're mad?"

"i mean-"

"and if you're mad then you obviously care?"

"can you let me talk, damnit? you always do that, just let me talk."

"then talk, eren, it's gonna be nonsense anyways. why can't you just trust me? i've been friends with jean before we even started dating, if i wanted him then we would've been a couple before me and you."

"that doesn't stop him from flirting with you and being all touchy and shit, i don't like that,"

"it doesn't matter what you like or not, it matters what's true, and whats not true is that he flirts with me, he doesn't, and he's not touchy either, you're literally being delusional."

"i'm delusional?" this time eren rolled his eyes, his voice raising in the slightest and he was now sitting straight up, giving you a small shove in demonstration of what jean did earlier. "when he shoved you like that he wasn't flirting with you? and when you two were laughing and shit he wasn't trying to flirt with you?"

"eren don't touch me," you pushed his hand away once it made contact with you, a crease in your eyebrow evident from your rising anger as well. "we can't laugh now? like what the fuck sense does that make to you? you're literally just jealous."

"jealous of what? of kirstein?" disbelief was evident in his tone.

“who else? nobody just acts like that for no reason, you’re jealous, eren.” you began to stand up ready to just leave, crawling over eren’s body to make your way towards the door. you couldn’t stand when eren couldn’t admit to his fault, i mean; it was his fault right? he was stubborn, and it was irritating.

but eren on the other hand couldn’t let you leave, he didn’t have time for his mom to scold him for upsetting you, or for mikasa to bombard him with aimless questions, better yet, for jean to find out the two of you were fighting, or worse, fighting over him.

before your hand could reach his doorknob his hand reached your wrist, eren pulling you backwards towards him in the gentlest manner he could muster, you turning towards him your expression still vexed. “eren, just let go of me, i get it.” but his grip remained, him using his other hand to turn your frame towards him by your waist.

"i’m not jealous, i just feel like i shouldn’t be having to compete with another guy for my own girlfriend!" he sputtered abruptly, and the hand on your waist clenched at your t-shirt, while the grip on your wrists tightened. you were caught somewhat off guard looking up at eren, curiosity brewing at his sudden outburst.

“what?”

“i just... i don’t want to lose you to some idiot,” he could no longer meet your eyes, his facade dropping and a new side of him he hadn’t shown being unveiled to you.

“eren..” your free hand rested on his shoulder and you slowly walked him back towards his bed until the back of his knees hit it and caused him to plop down on the covers, “baby, you’re not gonna lose me... you couldn’t lose me over something like that.”

eren’s gaze was still shy to meet yours, but his other hand made its way to your waist as well, pulling you down on top of him until you were straddling his lap, him pulling you close so his arms wrapped around you. “i know, but...” he struggled to get the rest of his words out, not even sure how to convey them to you regardless of how understanding you’d be with him.

“eren, look at me,” you grabbed his face between your palms, smoothing out his loose brown locks so you could get a clear sight of him, training your eyes on his. you loved the way blue swam across his green eyes, and the way his bottom lip jutted out slightly as if he was constantly pouting. he was so gorgeous to you, even through his anger. “i’m yours, i’m all yours, and you’re mine. nobody, not even jean can get between me and you, i love you, i date you. jean and i are just friends, and you don’t need to let him get in your head like that.”

eren pouted his bottom lip before leaning his head against your chest, you raking your fingers through his hair until the hair tie loosened around it. he relished in the feeling of your warm skin against his and your hands attempting to place another messy bun in his strands of damp hair. “i just feel like i’m not doing enough for you sometimes... like he could give you something that i’m not.”

“eren you are enough for me, like i said, i’m dating you, not anyone else, if you weren’t doing enough for me i wouldn’t be with you. i love everything about you baby.”

“you sure?”

“yes, why wouldn’t i be sure? even with how stubborn you are, and how angry you can get, and how jealous,” you lifted his head from your chest, pressing your lips to his forehead with a grin. “you can get, there are so many good aspects about you that i love and i won’t leave you because. you know... just don’t hurt me.”

eren couldn’t help but let a smile grace his own face as well, hands drifting up your back until they reached the back of your head, pulling you down to connect your lips to his fervently. you loved the way his lips felt on yours, his slightly chapped but so perfect when paired with your own. his attempt to deepen the kiss was futile as you pulled back with a giggle, eren shaking his head and laying back pulling you on top of him some more, his arm wrapping around your shoulder as he pecked a kiss to your hair.

“so i’m not gonna lose you?”

“no baby.” another peck to his chest.

“you love me? and my anger issues, which i don’t have?”

a roll of your eyes and another laugh let out from you as you kicked his leg from under yours causing him to laugh as well, subconsciously squeezing your body tighter on top of his. “i love you, and your anger issues which you do have.”

eren pinched your sides, smirking from above you. “i love you too, babe.”

a quick knock at the door made both you and eren turn your heads, but the door was open before eren could even utter a “come in,” carla’s figure with a worried expression on her face that quickly turned to surprise when she noticed the two of you cuddling. “oh! i’m so sorry, i heard the two of you arguing earlier and i thought she had left when i was upstairs, i-“

“mrs. jaeger, it’s perfectly fine.” you smiled picking yourself up off of eren awkwardly who sat up as well.

“mom! you could’ve waited after knocking!” eren groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“you guys are so cute,” her hand covered her mouth as she squealed, smiling sweetly at her son and you. “are you staying for dinner, _____, it’s almost ready, i’m having mikasa set the plates now so i want to know.”

there was no harm in staying a little longer. “sure, i can stay.”

“great! okay, i’ll leave the two of you alone now.” soon after, eren’s door was shut and the remnants of carla’s voice wandered as she walked down the hall, something resembling an “oh, they’re so adorable!” and you and eren couldn’t help but laugh.

[thetriggeredhappy]

@sniperscout-ship-week I GOT THERE EVENTUALLY

Day 2: Spot

(no warnings)

-

“No, seriously, you’re gonna love it!” Scout insisted, adjusting his bag on his back before starting to haul himself up the rocks before them. “Climb’s only, like, twenty more minutes.”

“Didn’t you say that ten minutes ago?” Sniper asked, staring doubtfully at the rocks Scout seemed to so effortlessly scale and wondering where he should even start.

In his defense, Scout wasn’t rushing him along, and had volunteered to carry the bag since he was a little more in practice climbing things. He was clearly used to moving up these cliffs much faster than this, and besides a lot of bouncing on his heels while he waited, he didn’t make any smart remarks.

The first five minutes, Sniper had been fine. Walking uphill, climbing a few boulders, all simple stuff. He had to climb plenty of ladders in his day job, this wasn’t much different in terms of exertion. It was the ten minutes after that, and the ten after that, where he started having a problem. It wasn’t a strength thing, it was an endurance thing, and that’s where Sniper was rapidly learning his weak point was.

He’d really thought he was pretty in-shape overall. Apparently not.

“Look, we can take a second if you want,” Scout said carefully, helping pull Sniper up to the next ledge. “It’s, uh, kind of a lot of climbing and walking and stuff.”

For a second, Sniper considered brushing him off and saying it was fine, but then it took him a moment longer than he expected to find his footing again and he decided to just shelve his pride for the moment. Clearly Scout could already tell how rough this was. “Yeah, I’ll… yeah. I’ll just—“ He took a seat, pushing his hat back to rake a hand through his hair, trying to get it out of his face. God, it was hot out.

“Yeah, yeah, no problem.” Scout took a seat too, shrugging the bag off his shoulder and starting to dig through it. “Uh, here, if—if you want.” A water bottle nudged against his knuckles, and he accepted it, taking a swig. “These cliffs get pretty, uh… pretty toasty. Only start really cooling down, like, an hour before the sun goes down. Shouldn’t get any worse than this.”

“Couldn’t have waited another hour or so, then?” Sniper asked, glancing over at him.

Scout shrugged. “I mean, I dunno, then we’d, like, have to climb in the dark, and I’ve already had to hit the Medbay way too many times this month from busting my ankles out here.”

“That often?” Sniper asked, blinking in surprise.

“Heh. Yeah, I’m a pretty huge klutz sometimes. And, y’know, just doing laps around the base gets boring, so I started heading out into the… everywhere else. Out here.”

Sniper nodded, not understanding in the slightest.

“Uh, anyways. You, uh… I dunno, I just figured, didn’t you say something about how you like hiking and stuff?” Scout asked, now looking doubtful.

“Hunting, more than hiking. Just occasionally,” Sniper corrected.

“Similar thing,” Scout said, and Sniper shrugged after a moment, because Scout wasn’t wrong, persay. “Anyways, I, yeah. I dunno. I, I just, I figured you probably wouldn’t bite if I tried to suggest we go, like… I dunno. I’m just usually pretty much the irresponsible type and you’re… not, so, most stuff I like to do I think you’d probably hate, so I figured…”

“I have no idea what you’re on about,” Sniper deadpanned.

“I, I dunno! Bar hops and fast food and causing trouble and shit just don’t seem like your speed so I wanted to like… suggest something you’d actually like. Like hiking. Since jogging out here and stuff is kinda like hiking.”

Sniper thought about pointing out how Scout had just essentially tried to connect jogging to hiking to hunting, a thing which Sniper hadn’t even actually done in a good two years or so, but decided against it, if nothing else because Scout already seemed to be feeling pretty stupid from the dejected expression he failed to hide, face tilted away and down towards where he was scuffing his heel through the dirt. He tried to think of something else to say. “You don’t, er… need to worry so much. About whether I’ll… like, things,” he managed, stumbling on his words. “I like going out and all that, just… I’m just quiet, mate. Doesn’t mean I don’t have fun.”

He wasn’t sure whether that made sense until Scout nodded a few seconds later, brightening a little. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” A pause. “We’re, uh, we’re almost there, you wanna keep—?”

“Sure,” Sniper sighed, hefting himself back to his feet. Scout practically bounced to his own, and Sniper wondered at the miracles that regular exercise could accomplish. “Might as well.”

Oddly enough, now that he was pacing himself, it really wasn’t so bad. Scout was right about it cooling down, at least, and with the sun going down they were out of direct sunlight, which helped as well. Scout seemed to be in better spirits, too, increasingly excited as they apparently got nearer to wherever Scout was taking them.

“We’re like, super close, seriously,” Scout urged, all but dragging Sniper by the wrist, smiling in that wide way of his.

“Alright, alright, take her easy,” Sniper tried, going for grumpy but just landing somewhere in bemused. It was nice, sometimes, seeing that genuine enthusiasm for life that Scout tended to have.

Then he rounded a corner, and squinted for a moment at the shift in light, then his eyes widened.

Stretching out before them, the entirety of the Badlands. The cliffs were cast in crimson, shades of red and pink, violet in the shadows and almost shimmering as the sun set clear out at the horizon. Scatterings of things just too small to decipher hung in shadow in the distance, shadows magnified and spiking towards them, a few lonely clouds just to one side giving a sense of scale to everything that almost gave Sniper vertigo.

“C’mon,” Scout insisted, now actually pulling him along, urging him up just one more small climb that led to a ledge, flat, on top of which were a few things. Camping chairs, for one, dusty and rusted in some places but otherwise intact. A rock that was clearly moved over there at a height that could almost make a table.

“Wow,” Sniper said, mostly because he was surprised.

“Yeah! Nice little spot, huh?” Scout asked, adjusting some things. “Usually I’m out here around sunrise, and sometimes I just like to chill out here. Like, on weekends and stuff if I don’t sleep in. Don’t gotta put up with Soldier and his trumpet thing, or any of the guys stomping around. It’s all peaceful and stuff.”

Sniper nodded, taking a seat in one of the chairs. Scout took the other one, starting to pull stuff out of his bag. Granola bars, mostly, and water. Sniper settled in to look at the view some more, slightly amazed with how different things looked from this high up. Higher than any of his nests, for sure.

“It’s really nice, though, kinda havin’ a space like this. Because Doc has the Medbay, y’know? And Hardhat’s got that workshop and Heavy has his little place with the—the heater, thing, where he makes his bullets? Melts metal? That thing, and Demo’s got his place he makes bombs and, like, pretty much everyone has like a place they get to just hang out in, but I’ve really got nothin’ like that, so, this place kinda rules. If it wasn’t kind of a hassle to get up here I’d probably be up here, like, all the time. You gotta make sure you don’t tell anyone about this place, by the way. Like, they’re not gonna wanna walk this far probably, but still. Unless I like, go missing or something. Then I probably fell off a cliff. Oh, one time on a weekend I went all the way up here and was just hanging out, like, reading my comics and stuff, and I straight up fell asleep up here and I woke up with the worst sunburn in my life—“

Sniper drank water and nodded along as Scout started in on his rambling, eyes drawn to the view more than his wide gestures. And if he, too, ended up falling asleep up here, needing to be shaken awake by Scout an hour or so later, that was his own business.

And even as he filed away the spot to try and see it later, if Scout wanted, he suggested that maybe next time they go get fast food somewhere, because god did his legs hurt the next day.

[brutal-nemesis]

Arthropod Day 2021: 🦀Time For Crab 🦀

Malacostraca Moment 😳🦀

So fun story I wanted this to be on a Saturday because SIDEWAYS SATURDAY but when I was deciding on the date I looked at the calendar for July without realizing it. Happy Sideways Stuesday I guess? 

Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: drowning mention, animal attack (kinda chill tho it’s not really violent), dehydration, autocannibalism mention, parasitic insects, partial nudity, heckin surgery (but it’s CONSENSUAL (⊙ˍ⊙) who am I), suicide for convenience (immortal)

“This looks like a lovely spot for a vacation; thank you guys so much for finding it for me.” The small dingy had just landed on a sandy beach enclosed by dark rocks on either side, a lush forest leading deeper into the island. Casyts’s captor glared at him before harshly tugging the rope tied to his wrists, trying to get him to stand and step onto the beach with her.

“Shut your trap, Ragnarok, or I might change my mind about gagging you. Now get up or I’ll have my men drag you.” 

Castys sighed and rolled his eyes, getting up and following her so his rope burn didn’t get any worse. “Aye aye, Yvonne.” 

“That’s Captain Veldna to you,” she growled, jerking him forward. He stumbled a bit, but he was able to catch himself before he got sand up his nose. He debated trying to yank the rope out of her hands and running away or stealing the boat, but her very strong men were right behind him and that would probably just end in him having extra bruises. So he just followed her like a stupid little goat as she led him towards the rocks, hoping she wouldn’t leave him tied up so he could at least enjoy his time being stranded. But no, this was about sending a message to his crew or making him suffer or something. He didn’t really remember, he’d been dazed as hell when he’d initially gotten captured during a fight between their two ships. Blood loss was a bitch sometimes.

They forced him to sit with his back against a large rock, yanking his bound hands above his head and worming a large nail through the knotted rope before hammering it into the rock. “Not gonna lie, this seems a little extra. I’m not going to go anywhere, so, like, just let me-” Yvonne slapped him harshly across the face.

“You’re not here to have fun, you annoying little parrot.” She looked over at her men, who had just finished tying his ankles together and nailing them down in a similar fashion to his wrists. “If you lot are done, let’s leave.” She turned back to Castys, a wicked grin on her face. “I wonder how many times you’ll die before your crew finds you?”

“My money’s on eight. Do you want me to keep track and tell you next time we see each other? If only I could write in a diary what horrors I suffer sitting on this warm rock that you tied me to during high tide so I won’t even drown later. Now that-agh!” Yvonne stabbed him in the stomach, and Castys bit back a scream as she twisted her blade. 

“The sound of your silence is something I could get used to.”

“Well, the real question is, is silence actually a sound-” Castys’s very valid observation was cut off by the bitch yanking out her sword and promptly kicking him in the stomach. He couldn’t help but cry out, doubling over as far as he could. Yeah, yeah he should probably just shut the fuck up and let them get on their merry way before he got more unnecessary injuries. 

“Enjoy your vacation, Ragnarok,” Yvonne spat. As one last gesture of maturity, she kicked sand at him before walking off, and some of it definitely got in his stab hole, so that was nice. He watched them row away, sighing. Now it was just boredom city, but hey, at least he had a nice beach view. The sun was a few hours away from setting, not that it mattered that much since his skin was dark enough that he probably wasn’t going to get sunburned. 

Being tied to a rock on the beach was...just about as boring as he expected. His arms got all tingly after a while from being stuck above his head, so he couldn’t even properly relax, and a man could only watch little waves roll for so long. He had a nice view of the setting sun, and hey, that means the light of dawn wouldn’t be shining in his face. While the sun was still a little ways above the horizon, he heard an odd rustling noise over in the vegetation, different from the background sounds he had gotten used to. He looked over, hoping it was a friendly man with a knife.

It was not a friendly man with a knife. But it wasn’t something bad, either. “Oh shit hello crabs!” Castys watched as they scuttled out of the treeline onto the beach, glad to have something fun to watch. One of them was slowly making its way towards him, and Castys wondered if he would be able to convince it to snip his bindings. “Hey there mister crab man, come on down, and please for the love of god untie me.” Yes, yes he was talking to a crab, because why not go full send on the insanity right away? It would be so much more fun, and it’s not like anyone else was here to judge him. “Yeah crab get in my zone-wow you’re kinda big.” He’d thought the crab was closer to him, but nope, it had been farther away but giant. Not like giant giant but not, like, normal crab size. It was almost as big as his torso maybe, but he was never great at estimating the relative sizes of things. 

“You’re large but you’re a gentleman, ain’t ya? I don’t know why, but you just seem like a polite fellow.” The crab stopped not too far from Castys and just looked at him blankly. Or maybe it was making a face at him, but he couldn’t read crab body language. Could anyone read crab body language? Crabs, he would hope. “Could you bring me some tea, good sir? Or just...water. Water that’s not salty. I don’t actually like tea it literally tastes like nothing but you know what I would drink it now because I am thirsty.” There was a moment of silence. “Not like thirsty in the weird way some people are. I have no idea what that’s about. But like, I want water. Or...oh my god, Mr. Crab, bring me a coconut!” Castys closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “Yeah… that would be nice. Food and water and it’s prepackaged and I don’t know how I would eat it because my hands are tied but I’ll figure it out.”

A sudden sharp pinch against his wound jolted Castys out of his daydream. He looked down in horror to see that the crab was holding something in its claws. Something pinkish-red that was dripping blood down onto the sand. The bastard. The crab brought the piece of his flesh to its mouth and just ate it while staring right at Castys. “That,” he blinked in surprise a few times, “was incredibly rude.” The crab stayed still, watching him as it did its weird mouth movements that were maybe chewing. “You are absolutely not a gentleman. I rescind everything. You little garbage boy. Rapscallion. I bet you never get invited to the crab raves.”

And the crab. Had the audacity. To reach out its stupid pincher. And do it again. “Little bitch!” Castys yelled, squirming against the ropes in an attempt to scare the thing off. Shockingly, it did not work, because wounded, dying prey squirmed all the time, and...that’s pretty much what Castys was in this scenario, wasn’t he? He was just stuck sitting here while that stupid crab ripped off little pieces of him with its stupid crab pincher and put them in its stupid crab mouth. If he was lucky, this would make him bleed out and die faster and then he wouldn’t have an open wound anymore, which would be a bonus. Though, it had sand in it, and then if it healed…

A problem for another day.

Not the next day, though, or the one after, because, hooray, he was still tied to a rock, so even though he did die a few hours later, he couldn’t do anything about the Sand In His Insides. He made up a song about it, but singing it loudly did absolutely nothing to scare away the crab, whom he had named Crabstard (Crab Bastard). Crabstard seemed to think Castys was his new best friend, coming back regularly for meals. Castys liked to imagine killing and eating Crabstard as a show of dominance, but that made him wonder...would eating Crabstard be a form of autocannibalism? Because Crabstard had eaten him...

He wasn’t sure what was worse, Crabstard and his stupid giant pinchers, or the mosquitoes. There weren’t a ton of them, but their bites were just awful, littering his arms and legs with swollen, white boils, which were unusual and also very concerning but what the fuck could he do about it. Because of course he couldn’t scratch them, and they itched so much it hurt and he just had to endure it. Just like he had to endure fucking everything. The heat of the sun, the awful tingling in his arms, the soreness of his wrists, Crabstard pinching off bits of his flesh, the maddening pain and itch of all his bug bites, the hunger and thirst, the boredom, and the...the loneliness.

No, he was fine, he was fine with just himself, it was always just him anyway. He wasn’t imagining his crew rowing to shore and untying him and tending to him in his cold, dark cabin, because he couldn’t get his hopes up, because they probably weren’t even coming for him. They were just going to leave him behind like everyone else and fuck he was wasting water like a useless idiot and he couldn’t stop or even wipe them away and he probably deserved this for everything he’d done so what did it matter?

And, great, the next day he started hallucinating a passing ship and a rowboat coming for him. Thank you, dehydrated whore brain! Let’s get our stupid little hopes up! Dang, the people on the boat kind of even looked like some of his crewmates, which was rude of his brain to make this so realistic looking.

It wasn’t until his first mate, Kaveri, was untying him that Castys realized that this was real, that they’d really...really come for him. “I’m so glad we found you, Captain.” She pulled him into a hug as soon as he was free, and he hugged her back as best he could with his sore arms. 

“I’m glad y’all did, too.” He leaned back when she let go and looked down at himself, wincing. “Well, before we get back to the ship, I am going to deliver a much needed death upon mys-“

“Captain, Captain, wait,” the ship’s medic, Sixtus, called as he ran over. He knelt beside Castys, taking his arm and examining the bug bites closely. “I knew it. These bites all over you are...they contain fly larvae. We’re going to need to dig them out before you heal yourself.”

“...what if I’ve died since I’ve gotten bitten. Like, earlier.”

“Well.” Sixtus breathed in sharply. “We will just have to wait for them to, uh, let us know where they are.” He sighed. “For now, let’s get you back to the ship and I’ll get out the ones I can. I don’t have the tools for it with me.”

“Can I kill Crabstard first?”

“Crab...stard?” Kaveri gave him a concerned look, and Sixtus felt his forehead.

“He’s a very impolite giant crab. He is my rival. I wish to vanquish him.” The other two shared a look.

“Do you know where this...this crab is?” Sixtus tried.

Castys held up a finger and opened his mouth, pausing for a second before shutting it and blinking a few times. “I. I do not. He just scuttles out of the trees to commit crimes every now and then. He has no friends.”

“Alright, in that case, no. You’re in no condition to wander around the island looking for a crab.” Sixtus held out his hand. “So, come on.”

“Fiiiine,” Castys groaned, letting the taller man help him to his feet. He was a little unsteady, but he was able to make it to the boat with Kaveri’s help. As they rowed away, he turned back to the island one last time, cupping his hands around his mouth as he yelled, “Fuck you Crabstard I hope you starve and die in a pit and the other crabs eat you!” 

Once they made it back to the ship, Sixtus ushered Castys into his office, instructing him to sit up on the examination table and take his shirt and pants off. Kaveri helped him, opting to stay in case Sixtus needed a hand. He examined Castys thoroughly, using a lightstone to get a good look at the swollen bug bites littering his body as well as the number of small wounds in his side.

“These from the, uh, crab?” Sixtus asked as he gestured to them.

“Yup. Him and his stupid pinchers.”

“Alright, I know you don’t really get infections, but I’m going to clean these out just to be safe.” He paused. “Also it just feels. Really wrong not to. It’ll bother me if I don’t.”

“Do whatever, doctor man.” Castys did his best not to let his pain show as Sixtus dabbed at his wounds with a stingy liquid. It really didn’t hurt that much, but when Kaveri placed her hand on top of his as he gripped the edge of the table, he didn’t wave her off. He’d let it be Fuss Over The Captain Day. For their sake. Because they seem to have been worried about him. 

“Alright, I’m all done with that, so if you could lay down, Captain, I’ll get started with removing those larvae. Kaveri, get him some rum and then hold him down.” She nodded, leaving and returning soon after with a small cup.

“You know, I haven’t had water in days,” Castys mused before winking at her and downing its contents. Kaveri shook her head.

“You literally emptied my waterskin while we were rowing back.”

“Oh dang, I forgot. Nevermind I’m actually not funny and am just stupid.” He scooted a bit and laid down with his hands behind his head. “Get rid of my worms.”

“They’re not-they’re not worms, Captain, they’re insects, since-” Sixtus stopped himself, folding his hands in front of his mouth. “Nevermind.” He cleared his throat. “Arms at your sides, please. Kaveri, if you would.” She nodded, holding down his shoulders as Sixtus turned Castys’s arm, locating the first larva he was going to remove. Castys breathed in sharply as the knife sliced into his arm, doing his best to keep still as Sixtus slid a pair of tweezers into the wound. The rum dulled his senses enough that it didn’t hurt as much as it could, but it certainly wasn’t painless, and he couldn’t help but gasp as Sixtus slowly pulled a small, wriggling grub out of the incision. He dropped it in a metal tray, cleaned the wound, and picked up his knife.

Then the process started all over again.

Castys didn’t bother counting how many times those tweezers probed around inside him, how many wet little plops he heard as another larva dropped into the tray. He focused on staying still, on the prickle of the rough wood table against his bare back, on the feeling of Kaveri’s hands on his shoulders, more comforting than restraining. They reminded him that he wasn’t alone in his suffering, for once. But he wasn’t supposed to need comfort, he was their immortal captain, the one who’d been through everything before and was strong enough to go through it again, the one his crew could always depend on to be strong. And here he was, teeth gritted against the pain, his forehead resting against Kaveri’s arm, fists clenched to mask their shaking, all over a few cuts and some little maggots.

“Alright,” Sixtus wiped his brow with the back of his hand, “I think that’s all of ‘em. That I can see, at least.” He looked down at Castys. “You had seventeen of those things in you, Captain.” He grimaced. “And possibly more, so please let me know if you feel anything, uh, wiggling. But for now, you’re free to...die.”

“Can’t believe I got a new world record for worm friends.” Castys grabbed the small leather pouch that usually hung around his neck from his pile of clothes, pulling it open.

“They’re not worms-”

“Thank you, Sixtus.” With that, Castys stuck his finger in the pouch and touched his death stone. He came back to life feeling infinitely better, but Kaveri and Sixtus still insisted he rest after he cleaned himself up. He grumbled, but he let Kaveri force him into his bed and bring him something to eat. Once he was finished, she collected his plate and stood awkwardly by his bedside.

“Do...do you want me to come back, Castys? Will you be alright?”

“Look, I’m honestly fine, you’re good. I’ve been through a lot worse, and I’m all healed up now so it doesn’t really matter.” 

She pursed her lips. “I suppose, but that doesn’t mean that that didn’t still take a mental toll on you, and…” she sighed. “Just...call me if you need anything, alright?”

“Will do.” She nodded, but as she started to walk away, Castys realized there was something he’d rather not leave unsaid. “Wait, Kaveri?”

“Yes?”

“Th...thank you. For, uh, finding me.”

“Of course, Castys. We’ll always be there for you.” Castys opened his mouth to reply, but he stopped himself and just smiled and nodded, his shoulders only falling once she’d left.

He wished that were true.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch

[suoyou]

[wip] 真金不怕火炼; true gold fears no flame

incomplete wip. 2744 words, rated t. 

originally drafted for the wangxian weddings for maubrey collection. a sequel to baby’s first wangxian fic 蓝色生死恋; a blue love (to live and to die for)

Wei Wuxian wakes up the morning after his wedding a little cold and a lot sore, skin tingling like it’s new. He’s spent a lot of both lives waking up feeling like his skeleton had sneakily rearranged itself overnight in the worst way—a rib in his throat, a femur jammed up through his belly, vertebrae scattered around him like loose gravel. 

But today he wakes up with the sun in a crescent on his hip, smiling at the edge of the window, feeling like every part of his body for once is in the right place. Brain in his head, head on his shoulders, heart in his chest. Lan Zhan is, of course, already awake, staring up at the canopy of their wedding bed. Not wide-eyed, and possibly for the first time in Wei Wuxian’s life, lazy. 

“Lan Zhan.” He can hear his own voice vibrate against Lan Zhan’s body. 

“You’re awake.”

“What were you doing up, earlier?” Wei Wuxian presses a deep yawn into the side of his husband’s—husband’s!—neck, the kind that sends shivers all the way down into his ankles and feet. “It was barely dawn. Don’t tell me you weren’t tired? I can’t believe I didn’t tire you out last night. I don’t even know if I was awake for our last round.” The thought makes heat flare in Wei Wuxian’s cheeks. They’ll have to revisit that.

“Hm,” Lan Zhan says, and the low thrum of laughter runs through him. It’s mostly silent; Wei Wuxian feels it more than he hears it. “You were, but only just.” Then, “I thought of a song.”

“A song?”

“Yes.”

“About what?”

“You,” Lan Zhan says, both fondly and in a way that says this should be obvious.

“About my oral prowess, I hope.”

“It was not.”

“Is it happy, at least?”

Lan Zhan is quiet. “My other song for you is not very happy, is it?” 

“Well,” Wei Wuxian pushes himself upright so that he’s lying on top of Lan Zhan, rests his chin on his folded wrists. A constellation of hickeys and bruises stretches across Lan Zhan’s neck, and Wei Wuxian takes his time studying them. He hasn’t seen his own skin yet, but he can tell the violet blooms are already fading on Lan Zhan, burnt back by the heat of his golden core. “I think someone a lot lonelier than the Lan Zhan I married wrote that song, is all.”

“Mm.” Lan Zhan holds Wei Wuxian by the waist, steady, steady, like balancing the weight of the world on him in the cradle of his palms. “But you’re here now. To have you like this, it would be impossible to feel lonely again.”

“To have me like how?” Wei Wuxian asks, propping his chin in his palm, wide-eyed with mock wonder. “Will the esteemed Hanguang-jun care to elaborate?”

Lan Zhan’s eyes darken, narrowing for a flicker of a moment before he moves, and Wei Wuxian ends up on his back so fast that ah, there, there’s that feeling that his bones are all in the wrong places—in the best way, in the only way he hopes to know it again, with Lan Zhan’s hands on his body  and heart against his. Beating, beating, beating.

☄

For some reason, Wei Wuxian is surprised when he gets up and Lan Zhan offers him clothes that look virtually identical to the ones he’s always worn—dark, red accents, wristcuffs laced with ribbons. Everything is a little nicer, and even for someone who never cared to notice, the fabric folds heavy and well-made in his hands. There are cloud patterns embroidered in black thread along the collars, and peonies in the shoulder patches. 

He stands in the middle of their wedding chamber, naked as the day he was born, turning them back and forth without slipping them on. 

“Do you not like them?” Lan Zhan asks, already decent with his satin underrobe on.

“I love them, they’re just so—me?” Wei Wuxian lowers them. 

“Would you like me to put them on?”

“Yes!” Wei Wuxian says. He lifts his arms helpfully when Lan Zhan comes to him, slipping the sleeves of a new red underrobe over him and leaning close to do the ties at Wei Wuxian’s waist. He’s so close that Wei Wuxian simply leans forward and kisses the crown of Lan Zhan’s head. Then his temple. Then he stops, because if he doesn’t, they will never leave this chamber. 

“These were commissioned from a different tailor,” Lan Zhan says when he slips the black outer robe onto Wei Wuxian’s body. “I was concerned that they wouldn’t get your measurements right, but I’m glad to see it fits.”

It fits like a hug around Wei Wuxian’s body. 

“The collars of the underrobe are quite high?”

Lan Zhan looks at him. “That was intentional.”

Wei Wuxian stares blankly until the faint ache of hickeys registers, and he puts his hands over his face and groans, “Ohhh. Oh, I won’t make it through the week like this.”

“Wei Ying.”

“I love you, Lan Zhan, I really do, with all the force of ten thousand weeping mountains—a hundred thousand—but my heart will give out. It will cave.”

Lan Zhan ignores his theatrics and turns him around to run his hairbrush through Wei Wuxian’s hair. He’s always so gentle when he does it for Wei Wuxian—not that he’s rough on himself, but he certainly doesn’t seem to take as long, brushing out every lock of hair between his fingers. 

“I can’t believe the Chief Cultivator can’t even take a few days to himself. After his own wedding!” Wei Wuxian says as Lan Zhan twists his hair up into a soft knot. It’s elegant and something Wei Wuxian will likely never learn how to do himself. “I want to stay with you all day. I want to lie in the sun with you and then go running by the beaches at sunset. Well—I’ll run, you can walk gracefully, as you do. I want to sit in the grass with you and feed the rabbits until the wet seeps up into my robes.”

“Mm. So do I.” Lan Zhan pushes his hairstick through the base of the knot. “But it will be a short meeting. Just a report and a written acknowledgment that we are married, that the sects have bore witness that we are married. And that any assault upon you would be considered an offense to the Lan Sect.” 

Wei Wuxian’s knees go soft and it has nothing to do with the exhaustion from the night before. “Lan Zhan...”

“You could come if you like, but I would not ask you to.”

“Because you’re flawless and perfect.”

Lan Zhan exhales. It’s his favorite way to laugh. Then he smooths his hand down the free length of Wei Wuxian’s hair. “I’ll meet you in the Jingshi for lunch.”

“Come back to me soon.”

“Always.”

☄

For two weeks after the wedding, Lan Zhan has reduced duties and Wei Wuxian a leave of absence from classes, but it has been a while since he watched the sun turn the sky blue, then grey, then lace-white as it rises over the blanket of clouds. Once, on a night hunt, Wei Wuxian had climbed high enough in the Cloud Recesses that the clouds were finally under him, and he looked over the endlessness of it, feeling like he was standing at the edge of existence. 

By the third day, after all the guests leave, Wei Wuxian finally gets some much-needed solitude. It’s a weird thing to need, for him, anyway, considering how much time he’s already spent alone. When he sits in the meadow of rabbits in the back hills of the Cloud Recesses, he lies down with his arms spread until he can feel rabbit nosing at his pockets.

“I haven’t brought anything for you,” he says, eyes closed. The sun is orange and veiny against his closed eyes. “Since when did you guys even like me enough to look for snacks?”

There are voices coming down the mountain path, though, so Wei Wuxian sits up and brushes stray bits of grass off his back and knees, tries to pick some out of his hair. Before his wedding, he would not have cared, but he’s husband to the Chief Cultivator now. He needs to look the part. 

“Morning,” he greets, and blinks when it’s a handful of older Lan women carrying the rabbit feed today. Tending to the rabbits is disciple work, usually, but vaguely, he knows they had to change the structure of classes for the two weeks he isn’t teaching. 

“Oh! Wei gongzi. We didn’t expect to see you out here.”

“Hanguang-jun isn’t with you?”

“He’s busy in the mornings,” says Wei Wuxian, hands jumping to the collars of his robes. They’re bound tight, thank heavens. “I’ve simply been unwinding after a wedding like that. It really takes everything out of you, doesn’t it?”

“Being married does that to you,” says one of the women, sagely. Lan Danyi if Wei Wuxian’s memory serves him correctly. The other women nod, murmuring their assent.

“It...takes everything out of you?” he asks. That doesn’t sound pleasant, but he hasn’t been anything but happy since being married. Is he doing something wrong?

“When does it not?” says another. Lan Ruyi, who looks so much like her sister that they could be mirror images. “You’re lucky you married Hanguang-jun, Wei gongzi. Marriage is hard work. The first year of a marriage is the hardest year of any relationship.”

“It—it is? Why?”

“Well, of course,” they say, like this should be common knowledge. Lan Danyi bends down and begins feeding the rabbits their carrots. “You will probably have it better than we do, but when you get married, who do you become? You lose your sense of self. Before this, you’re your own person, but you don’t just belong to you anymore, don’t you? Of course, Hanguang-jun would never be so uncouth, I see that he doesn’t mind that Wei gongzi continues to wear his own robes. Which is as it should be, do you remember that Zhao Xiaohong that Lan Hongqi married a few years ago?”

“Oh,” says Wei Wuxian. He hadn’t thought of that. 

“Of course, of course,” says the third woman. Wei Wuxian well and truly cannot remember her name, which is going to be a problem if he’s going to be part of the Lan Sect now. “But your future isn’t your own anymore, either. You walk a two-person path now. When one person hurts their feet, you must check your own for thorns. Sometimes the path diverges and you want to take a different one than the one they choose.” She sighs. “And you have to choose the one they want to take.”

“I think learning how to walk one, honest path is romantic in and of itself, Jianying.”

“Perhaps. But not all of us can marry Hanguang-jun, so really, how romantic could it be.”

“So you can’t be headstrong, it’ll be such a pain,” Lan Ruyi says. “It’s easier for someone who grew up in the Lan Sect, but marrying in is always harder.”

“Which is what makes the first year of living together the hardest,” says Lan Danyi, nodding. “You don’t want to be someone difficult to share space with. But, Wei gongzi, I’m sure you and Hanguang-jun won’t have a problem at all. Right?”

“Right,” he says faintly. A morning with the rabbits is almost always calm and soothing, but today he feels neither calm nor soothed. “Uh, have a lovely morning.”

“Wei gongzi, go safely!” they call after him as he slip-slides back onto the path.

He gives them a wave, and starts heading back alone.

☄

“—ying. Wei Ying?”

 He blinks.  Then he comes to, piece by piece, chopsticks still aloft between his bowl and his mouth. A bite of married-couple spiced tripe drips its fiery oil into his food, a little red coin on the pebbled surface of his rice. Lan Zhan has leaned forward, mouth set in a taut line of concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Wei Wuxian shovels his food into his mouth. “Nothing, Lan Zhan.”

His husband—will he ever tire of that title? Evidence points to no—is not convinced. Not that Wei Wuxian expected him to be, but he also doesn’t expect Lan Zhan to set his own bowl down, resting his chopsticks over the rim, and insist, again, “There’s something wrong.”

“Lan Zhan, it’s really...really, it’s…”

Of course, Hanguang-jun would never be so uncouth, I see that he doesn’t mind that Wei gongzi continues to wear his own robes.

“Well,” says Wei Wuxian, and Lan Zhan leans forward minutely to listen, “Lan Zhan, do you hate that I dress this way?”

This question apparently catches Lan Zhan off-guard. He blinks once, twice, then asks, “In what way, Wei Ying?”

“Like...myself.” Like my unmarried self. 

A faint ribbon of confusion slips between Lan Zhan’s eyebrows. “I love you regardless of what you wear.”

“You probably prefer me not wearing anything, right, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian jokes weakly. 

“Yes. But,” says Lan Zhan, as Wei Wuxian wheezes at his frankness, “what is this about?”

“I just thought,” Wei Wuxian says, feeling wild and stupid, because they’re married, they’re married, why is he being silly about this, “that. I don’t know, I’d look different after I got married. To you? That I should look different.” I want to look different. I want to look like I belong to somewhere, to someplace, to someone.

“Different how?”

“Uhm,” he looks down into his rice, chili oil staining the grains a bright, yolky gold. Gods, this is ridiculous. “Never mind.”

Lan Zhan is a quiet rustle of fabric and footsteps when he stands and moves around the dining table. When he sits down beside Wei Wuxian he’s a warm waft of sandalwood and camellia oil. “Wei Ying,” he says, brings Wei Ying’s hand into his lap between his own. “Something troubles you.”

“It’s not—I’m not troubled, Lan Zhan, I promise. But I guess I. I want to look married to you.”

Lan Zhan searches his face. The concern softens around the edges. “How so?”

“I don’t think I can wear all white or a forehead ribbon, or more than three layers,” Wei Wuxian warns, “but. I felt at home, wearing your white underrobe. It’s not that I don’t like red, but I only wore it so much so you couldn’t see the bloo—”

Wei Wuxian snaps his mouth shut. Really, is this a topic he should be bringing up a day after their wedding, at dinner, no less? He feels like an uninvited, rain-soaked guest falling through the doorway of a place he’s not welcome. 

“Stains less,” he finishes in a tiny voice. 

“Wei Ying,” says Lan Zhan, and he reaches up to tuck one of Wei Wuxian’s feathery wisps of hair behind his ear. “If that is what you want to wear, then you should wear it.”

“I didn’t want to make you feel bad. You commissioned those for me in mind specially.”

Lan Zhan shakes his head. “Only because I mistook your preference for them. What you wear is your choice, Wei Ying. In this life, you do not have to look any way but the way you want to. All white. All black. A bit of both, or neither. The things we put on our bodies...they’re an extension of us. Whatever that looks like to you now is what I’ll love.”

“What if I want to wear a pink tunic and a green skirt and, and a gold belt, and no shoes?”

“You would look like Nezha,” Lan Zhan says very seriously, “and I would love you all the same.”

Wei Wuxian laughs, and then he kisses his husband right there at the dinner table, and he thinks that being married really doesn’t take too much out of you at all. Lan Zhan steadies him by the arms, and then pulls him into his lap, and Wei Wuxian’s ribs wedge into the side of the table and the bruise from even that will be sore and sweet the way a hickey is.

What a fortune it is to be married, Wei Wuxian thinks, when Lan Zhan has him on the bamboo mat floors and his hair in a dark fan across them, and have the privilege to be nothing but your messy, scattered, glimmering self. 

[selfwriting-sugarquills]

70 George Weasley headcanons in celebration of 700 followers!

A/N: I hate to repeat myself but I do still love and appreciate all 700 of you! Thank you for reading my stuff and here’s to 700 more! <3 

Find the 70 Fred Headcanons: Here 

George is well known to be the brains behind the twins’ operations. He sorted out finding the location for the shop in Diagon Alley, he came up with most of the names for their products, even if Fred came up with the idea for the product itself, and for the longest time, he was the one who sorted out sales and orders for stocking their wares as well as overseeing the owl post-service while Fred sorted the more practical parts.

It might sound crazy, but if you ask George, he didn’t actually like Fred very much until they were about eight or nine years old. George was a lot more quiet and emotional than Fred and frankly, probably feared his mother more than his twin, and so George always thought Fred was too brash for his liking. Eventually, as we know, Fred’s crazy ideas rubbed off on George, and he started liking his twin more and more until they became the inseparable duo we know and love today. Mostly this was because the two found out how well they complimented each other, which meant that whatever they got up to turned out a lot better than when they’d attempt the same alone. 

Fred added an extra oomph to their escapades, daring to aim just a little higher, and George was sensible enough to make sure that a little higher wasn’t too high. 

It’s only their older siblings who noticed this change and remember the times where Fred and George didn’t get along as well as they did, which is why Bill, Charlie and Percy tend to treat the twins more as individuals whereas Ginny and Ron are more likely to see them as a duo. 

Since George is more sentimental, he’s also the bigger worrier. Did they like that joke? Did that prank go too far? Is this worth it and what are we going to do if it isn’t? He’s usually also the twin who’s more likely to step back and apologise to anyone they’ve pranked or teased, not liking the idea of upsetting someone.  

This also means he’s incredibly considerate concerning relationships, he’s not afraid to voice his concerns and worries. If his s/o is struggling with something, he notices, worries and tries his best to support them. 

Essentially, if their s/o is upset: Fred is more likely to make a joke to make them laugh and take their mind off it, George is more likely to take them aside and talk to them about it, letting them let their feelings out for as long as they need, he’ll listen for hours if that’s what his s/o needs. 

Speaking of letting feelings out: It’s been pondered if the reason George is the better beater, despite Fred being the more brash and extreme of the two, is because he uses the quidditch pitch as an outlet for his aggression and considering his anger doesn’t just involve beating bludgers but also resorting to elbowing people in the face (or beating Malfoy up) I’d say that this is incredibly true for him. Most people share the opinion that if something angers George, he’d let it build up until he explodes (myself included) and playing quidditch is a good way to let off steam without it being directed at anyone in particular, making him extremely violent on the pitch, though after every game he plays, he’ll probably be in his most zen and relaxed state of mind.

I do also like the idea of George being very emotionally mature in the sense that he knows how his feelings tend to build up, and since George is also a worrier, he probably doesn’t like the side of him that explodes in people’s faces and yells until he’s done being angry, so: He does try to confront his feelings as soon as he feels them so they don’t get a hold on him. If he’s angry with you, he’ll tell you, if he’s upset because of something that’s happened he’ll tell you. If he doesn’t and seems all quiet and broody (cause he’s not a saint and sometimes he doesn’t confess his feelings) then it’s probably a good idea that you ask him about it. 

George is also not afraid to cry, or at least he’s not as afraid to show it as Fred. He actually cried quite often as a small child, as Fred will happily remind him. The only times George will hold his tears back is when he doesn’t want to make the people he loves the most worry, like when he lost his ear. 

He was so close to crying he thought his throat would split open but he kept it in while his parents and Fred were there; he couldn’t bear to worry his mother more. Not to mention Fred for that matter. Instead, he waited until he was allowed to take a shower and let it out as quietly as he could, though little did he know Fred was standing guard on the other side of the bathroom door, crying as well. 

George doesn’t want a lot of children, he’s so used to the large family dynamic. It’s not that he disliked having many siblings but he’d prefer to have a few kids, three at most and be able to spoil them rotten. 

George has only broken one bone. It was his collarbone from a bludger. Besides that, he has dislocated his arm once due to hitting a bludger too forcefully from a wrong angle and sprained his ankle from landing too quickly more times than he can count. He’s also been concussed from taking bludgers to the head twice. 

George is actually a bit of a neat-freak. He likes having things in order and in the right place so he doesn’t lose track of things. He can’t put too many things in cupboards because if he can’t see them he’ll forget he has them and buy more and more (cause ADHD, baby), so instead he keeps things where he can see them, though in racks and specific orders which Fred often messes up.

Generally, once they moved out, George was better at doing the housework and he didn’t mind at all. Doing all the housework means it gets done the way he wants it done. 

His favourite season is winter and his favourite holiday is Christmas because it’s “a time for family”. 

George prefers Molly over Arthur (though it’s a tough pick), and he especially loves spoiling her once the shop takes off. He’ll buy her gifts often and always writes to remind her how much he (and Fred) appreciate her. 

He’d never admit it but he also does this as a way of proving himself to her. It really hurt him in those years where Molly would disapprove of his and Fred’s plans and even when he found success he still grappled with the feeling of his mother not being proud of him, despite her telling him that several times. All this just added to his disliking of Percy when he was at his going through his insensitive-git-phase.  

 George’s favourite time of day is the evening. When everything’s quiet and still he can concentrate better. He wrote most of his essays and came up with most products for the shop during this time. 

George loves intimacy. He’s not big on PDA. Cuddling alone together, being all tangled up in each other and having whispered conversations when everyone else is asleep are more his thing. 

He does love being close to you in public though, he’ll sit next to you, hold your hand, have an arm around you, lean his head on yours, bump his knee against yours under the table if you’re in a lesson or at a meal together. Small yet intimate touches are George’s romantic love language. 

George’s favourite sweet is chocolate. Anything with chocolate is good. If there’s caramel or coffee involved too then even better, mint is also accepted (his favourite flavour of ice cream is mint chocolate chip and he will fight you on why it’s the superior ice cream flavour) 

George prefers tea over coffee and drinks AT LEAST two cups a day but can easily have up to four or five depending on how long his day is. 

George takes a lot of naps. He’d occasionally nap at Hogwarts, like most students. He really started after he lost his ear because Molly kept fussing over him and forcing him to go lay down and rest, then it became even more of a regular thing after the battle of Hogwarts when he’d stay with Fred at st. Mungo’s, while he got better, and then when Fred forced him to go back to work because “sitting here, is not going to make my leg work, now go make us some galleons you git!” he’d work the shop mostly by himself, well, actually completely by himself beside his employees, which was still a small team at the time and he’d often just have to excuse himself to go upstairs and take 30 minutes to nap before he’d pass out from exhaustion. 

George struggles with some sensory problems since losing his ear, he gets a faint ringing sound in his ear every now and then, and though he can hear out of his missing ear, it’s less than his other one and he struggles determining where sounds are coming from which is distracting sometimes. He also got a bit of vertigo every now and then as well as some nausea for the first few years after he lost the ear, it got better and better and today it barely bugs him, though he gets dizzy easily.

On the subject of the ear: George enjoyed telling his nieces and nephews (and heck his own kids too) these wild stories of how he lost his ear: he paid it as a toll to an ancient spirit to gain superpowers, it froze off on a particularly cold camping trip with their uncle Fred, a bludger blew it right off, he was possessed by the spirit of van Gogh…. the list goes on. 

George was also slightly self-conscious of his ear for a while, he often worried if people were grossed out by it, though with time he forgot about it more and more until he hardly noticed it himself. Now he doesn’t notice if others notice and frankly, he couldn’t care less if they do.

Fred and George mention in OOTP that they took turns testing products, George tested puking pastilles and ended up taking several days off because of what Madam Pomfrey thought was a bad case of the stomach flu, nosebleed nougat (he said himself how it kept bleeding and at that point he let Fred do more testing because Madam Pomfrey was starting to get wayyy to suspicious of him having some terrible disease that was thought to be long gone) and fever fudge though Fred also tried that one. 

George takes after his mother as a parent, his platonic love language is definitely cooking for his kids, making them hot cocoa and baking with them during Christmas breaks. 

Does he fuss over his kids as Molly does? Noo, absolutely not no. no way. no. no. (yes)  

George’s boggart is being left alone. 

Despite that, he hates it when people assume that he and Fred are interchangeable and incapable of being without each other. He loves his friendship with Fred, he’s very happy to be his twin but he’s still his own person and it would be nice to be seen as such and not just “one of the Weasley twins” 

Mostly his hatred of being seen as “one of the Weasley twins” stems from the fact that people always assume Fred first, meaning George has been mistakenly called Fred more times than he can count. 

George is very timid, to begin with, in any relationships because he’s worried his s/o wants him to be like Fred, and that they don’t really care about him as a person but see him more as an asset or “the next best thing to Fred” Which is also why he’d never marry Angelina after she’d dated Fred, even if it was just for a while. 

George spent his first salary from the shop on a gift for his mother, a necklace, and a mixed bag of sweets from Sugarplums'...He knows it’s stupid but he just wanted to buy as much candy as he wanted without feeling guilty about spending money for once. 

George is not squeamish what so ever. He has got a stomach of steel. It’s almost kind of freaky how unfaced he is but then again, he did invent and test puking pastilles and a product called you-no-poo, so he’s seen a lot.

George’s favourite dates are movie nights and going for ice cream. 

George (and Fred) regularly attends quidditch matches, they also love to go back to Hogwarts to watch their kids play (you know at least one of their kids would be into it, considering the Weasley’s history with the sport) and they always yell out their support v e r y loudly. 

George really likes wine. The older he gets he appreciates it more and enjoys talking about it without any knowledge on it at business dinners, he’s impressed quite a few potential clients and business partners by giving them a long tirade about wine, without a single thing of it being necessarily true. 

George (+Fred and Lee, lol) experimented with eyeliner for a short while, they stopped because it was quote-unquote: “too much work” which made a lot of their female friends roll their eyes because, oh you’ve no idea, do you, Weasley?

I mean someone had to test the wonderwitch products, right?

George is a very light sleeper, and since Fred is anything but that- what with his sleepwalking and tossing and turning- George rarely got a lot of sleep, meaning there’s a large percentage of his detentions in school that were solely from “inattentiveness” aka “falling asleep in class.” 

George always thought that if he really really couldn’t work with the joke shop, he’d be a healer. He doesn’t know if he’d be any good at it but it’s a nice thought and he does have a caring gene from his mother. 

George’s first sign of magic was when he was a year old. He summoned a blanket into his crib, so it wasn’t much. His first noticeable thing he did was three years later by blasting Fred off him when they were play-wrestling, he basically shocked him with a defensive charge which sent Fred flying onto his back. Fred’s reaction was sitting up, looking shocked, rubbing his head and then whispering: “cool!” They spent days trying to recreate it but to no avail. The story of the event has been greatly exaggerated by both Fred and George to their nieces and nephews. 

They still joke that George has a secret superpower that can only be unlocked by play-wrestling him. 

As George gets older, he requires glasses like his father, though mostly for reading and sometimes for working on products. 

George’s favourite genre of music is soft rock, he’ll belt out an 80’s power ballad any day (and preferably while cooking) 

Oh, cooking. George gets super into cooking and baking after the twins move out, he tries his best to recreate his mother’s recipes and is still to this day attempting to perfect her cornish pasty (a personal favourite of his) and every Christmas, George and Molly practically never leave the kitchen in the burrow, as George desperately tries to learn everything he can. 

George is the godparent of all Fred’s kids as well as Albus, Dominique and Lucy. 

George buys the best gifts, I’ve already touched on this, but he has a weird ability to get you not only what you wish for but what you really need. 

Also, his gift wrapping skills are out of this world (his kids + nieces and nephews will never not receive those gifts that are wrapped in like 100 layers of paper)

George loves pet names, he loves the overly sweet, cliché ones and the simple, common ones. His favourite to call his s/o is darling, sweetheart and, weirdly, pumpernickel (he just thinks it’s a funny word).

George’s favourite dates he’d take his s/o on is: museum dates, cooking for them at home, picnics and going to the beach. 

George actually kind of liked the Hogwarts uniform. It was easy to keep track of and it meant he could spend minimum time in hand-me-downs that rarely fit perfectly. 

George would love to have (and probably has already got) a dog, he doesn’t care what size or breed (but personally I can see him getting on well with a cavalier or a Stabyhoun) 

George (also) has a small size kink: He loves wrapping his arms around his s/o from behind, enveloping them in his jacket when it’s cold and resting his head on top of theirs. 

George is either full of energy and wants to do five things at once or wants nothing more than to lay flat on the nearest soft surface he can find and watch movies until he falls asleep. 

He often takes his s/o on random adventures, he does it as a way to escape boredom or if he’s lost his inspiration. He finds it helps to come up with new ideas if you throw yourself off your rhythm (if you get it you get it) by doing something random you don’t normally do. 

George has big John Mulaney energy and if his s/o ever showed him his shows, he’d probably never stop quoting them. 

George’s favourite body parts on his s/o: Neck, hands, lips (and butt) (this is where it gets steamy just fyi) 

George is very respectful in bed, he’s the type to ask “are you ok?” and “is this ok?” a lot, at least the first couple of times he’s together with his s/o until he gets to know them better. 

George def. has a praise kink, he loves giving praise but he also loves feeling like he’s appreciated and loved and doing a good job, you know? 

We all know George has a thing for lace, we’re way beyond that at this point. Consider silk, though. He’d totally be into silk over the lace, it’s a light fabric, pretty and really easy to tear away…. *wink* 

George is surprisingly good at opening bras. 

Generally, he’s really good with his fingers…

He has a pretty dirty mind when it comes to sex but is also super embarrassed about it so he’d only admit his kinkier thoughts when he really trusts and knows his s/o. 

I think he’d be pretty two-sided in bed, he loves the intimate, sweet sex but also the rougher, tearing-your-lingerie-off-you sex. 

He prefers receiving more than giving oral but it is by such a small margin, he’ll happily give. 

He can only last one round (maybe two if you give him a long break) but he’ll absolutely make it count.

George’s fav position is missionary. As much as he likes trying other positions, he prefers the intimacy of missionary. Plus he thinks being able to see your face as you unravel under him is really hot. 

[anxiousstark]

S3 01 | Tattoo

BIG MASTERLIST | TW REWRITE

Stiles Stilinski x Reader! Half-sibling!Mccall

Word count: 1871

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, blood, murder, dead body, swearing (always).

A/N: SEASON 3 HERE WE COME! Double update this week! 

↪ PLEASE RESPECT MY WORK. DON’T COPY, TRANSLATE OR CLAIM THEM AS YOURS. NOT ON THIS WEBSITE OR ANOTHER. ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.

Summer was the greatest thing that happened to us, and without any doubt, the best thing that had happened to me since I arrived at Beacon Hills. Our summer was full of peace, which is what we needed. No creatures were trying to kill us or other people. We were safe, and even though we couldn't avoid being a little apprehensive, we knew that we were finally safe.

Scott, Melissa and I were able to sit down together, explaining to her everything that had happened. We were terrified because it wasn't easy to explain to someone you loved that danger followed you. After all, we weren't humans anymore. That night we told her everything. Melissa got teary, feeling guilty for not being able to help or do anything for us. We told her that we were fine, we would be fine.

During this peaceful holiday, I was able to get closer to both boys. Scott and I didn't throw ourselves at each other's throats. Of course, there was a long way to walk. We still needed to get used to everything. The hazel-eyed boy and I developed a new habit during summer, whenever we felt anxious we seemed to notice, bodies being attracted to each other, hands interlocking, hoping to give the comfort we sought. Holding hands became a soothing gesture between us. We did it unconsciously.

"Hey, Scott, sure you don't want something like this?" Stiles grabbed a folder, holding it up, showing it to the other boy. I walked closer to him, excited to see what was he holding, knowing Stiles, something that would make me snicker. "Too soon? Yeah." Of course, I snickered when I noticed that he was showing Scott the drawing of a beast that looked like the Kanima. Melissa allowed him to get a tattoo.

For what we got to know, Matt was dead. We still weren't sure what that would mean for Jackson. But we had promised ourselves that we wouldn't get into supernatural trouble during summertime. However, tomorrow was our first day back to class, which meant that the supernatural would come back to form part of our lives.

"I don't know, man, are you sure about this? I mean, these things are pretty permanent, you know?" I walked around the room, admiring the drawings decorating the walls.

"I'm not changing my mind." Scott and I got closer especially at night. One night I woke up after having a nightmare where I saw my mother. It seemed like the other McCall was also having a nightmare, which ended in both of us, sleeping on his bed, and talking about the stuff that worried us. That night Scott McCall cried, he missed Allion, but he couldn't ignore everything that had happened.

"Okay, but why two bands?"

Scott shrugged, stating that he just liked it. "But don't you think your first tattoo should have some sort of meaning, you know, or something?"

"Getting a tattoo means something."

Stiles had a small grin on his face, ready to inform Scott that wasn't the point. But the tattoo artist interrupted him. "He's right, tattooing goes back thousands of years. The Tahitian word 'tatua' means 'to leave a mark.' Like a rite of passage."

"Yeah, you see? He gets it."

"He's covered in tattoos, Scott, literally."

"Okay, you ready? You ain't got any problems with needles, do you?"

"Nope." Scott offered me a smile, ready to get the tattoo he has been asking for so long.

The boy standing next to me scratched his chin. "I tend to get a little squeamish though, so..." There was no time to analyze the situation. Stiles was lying on the floor, an uncomfortable posture making the circumstances even funnier.

I sat on the passenger seat on Stiles's Jeep. Scott had bought a bike with the money he had gained while working for Deaton in the clinic. So now, every day, I was driven to class by the hazel-eyed boy.

"Don't you think it was strange?" He asked me again as I spaced out. "It seems like something supernatural to me. Exactly when we go back to class." After Scott's tattoo, we were ready to go home and have dinner together. My half-brother's happiness due to the tattoo didn't last for long as an excruciating pain made him take the bandages off, realizing the tattoo had disappeared. Maybe we should have taken into account that he was a werewolf, and he healed faster. A tattoo was an open wound.

On our way home, we saw Lydia's car, and not to anyone's surprise, she was with Allison. A deer hit the front of their car, making us run to them to check if they were hurt. Scott was convinced that the deer was terrified.

"I suppose, Stiles." I sighed, running my hands through my hair.

"Hey," He glanced at me for a second, quickly looking back to the road ahead of him. "You alright?" His hand ended up resting on top of my hand, which was resting on my thigh.

"I feel like so many bad things are going to happen again." I lamented. "We still don't know anything about me. There are obstacles everywhere."

"I told you. We will find answers, okay?" He squeezed my hand. To be honest, some nights during summer were spent searching for every scaly creature that exists in the supernatural world. But without knowing what I could do, we couldn't conclude anything. When we arrived at school, we walked directly to our classroom.

Stiles and I glanced at each other when only a couple of minutes into the lecture, Scott had to leave class. My mind went to the worst scenario case, thinking that maybe Melissa was in danger. Stilisnki seemed to notice my change of behaviour, extending his hand, offering me to grab it. I did.

He rested back on his chair, sighing, tired from doing whatever the teacher has ordered us to do. "Hey, Lydia. What is that?" When I followed his gaze, I noticed a bandage around the pretty strawberry blonde girl's ankle. "Is that from the accident?"

"No. Prada bit me."

"Your dog?" I asked. Stiles's other hand extended forward, forbidding me from biting my pen, a nervous habit I didn't notice I was doing.

"No, my designer handbag. Yes, my dog." She replied as if I was stupid, which made me grumble a little while Stiles smiled at my reaction.

"Has it ever bitten you before?" Lydia shook her head. "Okay. What if it's, like, the same thing as the deer? You know, like, how animals start acting weird right before an earthquake or something?"

"Meaning what? There's gonna be an earthquake?"

"Or something. I just... maybe it means something's coming. Something bad." Stiles was completely right. Something was wrong, I felt it.

"It was a deer and a dog. What's that thing you say about threes? Once, twice..." Her words were interrupted when something hit the window, leaving a trail of blood. Every student was interrupted form their concentration, glancing at the window. Jennifer, our teacher, walked towards it. Crows, so many crows were coming towards us. Another one hit the window, and then another, and another.

"S-Stiles..." I whispered, my hand rapidly clutching his shirt between my fingers. The windows couldn't resist so many crows hitting it. They ended up being shattered, thousand of crows getting inside the classroom.

I quickly grabbed Lydia as she seemed to be shocked enough to react, covering her head with my arms. I felt someone doing the same thing for me. Stiles's back pressed tightly against mine, the inside of his thighs pressed against the outside of mines. His arms covering my face after he saw that I was hit by a couple of enraged crows.

Of course, the cops had been called. They were now asking around, trying to understand what was going on. However, this was something out of their reach.

"You alright?" Stiles's hands grabbed my cheeks, lightly moving my head from side to side, making sure that there wasn't any wound or scratch.

"You?" My fingers grasped a feather that seemed to be stuck in his hair, pulling it out. He nodded, sighing in relief, taking me into his arms. That is another habit we had developed during the summer.

"Guys," Mr. Stilisnki came closer to us, his eyes focusing on our intertwined hands. "No more class for today, okay?" He offered us a smile. "Go back home, alright? Make sure you guys are in a safe place." We both nodded.

"Yeah, I see it. It's two bands, right? What does it mean?"

"I don't know. It's just something I traced with my fingers."

"Why is this so important to you? Do you know what the word 'tattoo' means?"

"To mark something." Stiles crossed his arms while letting Derek know as if he didn't know already. He looked so proud of himself.

"Well, that's in Tahitian. In Samoan, it means 'open wound'. I knew I wanted to get a tattoo when I turned 18. I always wanted one. I just decided to get it now, to make it kind of a reward."

"For what?"

"For not calling or texting Allison all summer. Even when I really wanted to, even when it was so hard not to sometimes. I was trying to give her the space she wants. Goin' four months later, it still hurts. It still feels like a, uh..."

"Like an open wound." Stiles finished for him. I sniffed, wiping my wet cheeks. I could feel a pair of eyes on me. "Wait, are you crying?"

I sobbed even harder when the boy standing next to me noticed that I was weeping. "I don't know why," I continued cleaning my face. "I just got emotional." The three boys grinned, Stiles embracing me while softly laughing.

"The pain's gonna be worse than anything you've ever felt." Derek let him know, but that wasn't going to scare Scott.

Fire. He was going to burn Scott. "Oh, wow. That's a... that's a lot for me. So I'm gonna take that as my cue. I'm just gonna wait outside." He tried to leave, and I tried to follow him, but Derek wasn't having any of it when he got up, grabbing us from the back of our shirts, and telling us to hold Scott down.

When we were leaving Derek's house after holding Scott down, who cried loudly, until he passed out. The McCall boy couldn't help but grin and be excited about his first tattoo.

"Well, it looks pretty damn permanent now." Stiles examined it, hands deep down in his pockets.

"Yeah. I kind of needed something permanent. Everything that's happened to us... everything just changes so fast." I sighed, linking my arms with both boys, who offered me a smile. "Everything's so, uh... Ephemeral."

"Studying for the psats?"

"Yep."

"Nice."

Scott opened the front door, but rare enough, he examined it while rubbing his fingers against the wood. "You painted the door. Why'd you paint the door?" He asked, looking back at Derek.

"Go home, Scott."

"Hey," I intervened. Scott's breath got quicker, scratching the paint off the door. "What is going on, Scott?" There was a symbol on the door.

.

.

TAGLIST: @og-baby-ob14 - @savemypostcards - @cas-loves-pizza - @used-avocado - @mvrylee - @bilesxbilinskixlahey - @honeydoll-stark - @arieltheworldisamess - @softpeteparker - @kit-kat-katie99 - @thatsuperherosidekick - @bexbetterxthanxwords - @big-galaxy-chaos - @littlemiss-forgotten - @enchantedcruelsummer - @coldfreakeggsexpert - @merla123 - @sammypotato67 - @weirdowithnobeardo - @maggiesblogsblog - @itskindyl - @bobo-bush - @moongoddesskiana - @multifandxm353 - @irwxnhugsx - @xoprincessmel - @iclosetgeek - @andreagf956 - @niawoods - @anerroroccurrrrred - @perrytheplatypus11 - @trustfundparker - @nmriia - @steve-harringtonnn - @trustfundparker - @brithedemonspawn - @weirdowithnobeardo - @my-soul-is-the-moon - @azayamari - @poguestyle17 - @bibliophilewednesday - @10minutesofscreentime - @momentitodebruh​ -

People in bold means it doesn’t let me tag them.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Weak Spots

Summary:  Red knew he should've just kept walking.

Read it on AO3

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Read it here!

~~*~~

Red didn’t do walks. Why the fuck would he, for his health? Wasn’t a workout plan out there that was gonna build him any muscle and when your main mode of transportation was taking a step through the void, you tended to keep the travel expenses to a minimum.

So no, he didn’t do walks, or strolls, or jogs, did he look like his fucking brother? Maybe a little around the eye sockets, but where Edge was always on the move, Red’s internal gearshift was set on park. He liked to have a clear idea of where he was coming from and where he was going to, and not much in between.

All of that was a longass way of saying that wandering down the street with a cigar in one hand and an itchy tailbone in the other was not his normal state of being. Just the walking part, the smokes and the ass scratch were a daily occurrence.

Sometimes, though, the urge struck to get out, to circle the block and have a looksee around that wasn’t through a camera lens. His leg bones got jittery, was all, and tended to take him along for the ride.

If you asked Sans, they weren’t walks at all, it was only him taking a mo’ to survey his domain. Said if Red coulda taken a piss, he’d be whizzing on any tree or fire hydrant he passed. But no one fucking asked Sans, so who gave a shit what that fucker thought about it.

He’d be paying for that remark in spades when Red got back. Spades, diamonds, clubs, he’d owe in all the suits.

(maybe even hearts)

Red shuffled easily along, the soles of his boots scraping the concrete. Up to the border where Old New Home and New New Home met and transformed from mostly abandoned carbon copy houses to pretty little family homes. Didn’t usually go this far out, but it was better’n trudging through the roughly plowed streets of his neighborhood. The sidewalks here were newer and heated, cleared from any snowy sludge, and Red was plenty done with all forms snow; after years in Snowdin, he’d had enough of it for this lifetime and halfway into the next.

The sidewalk made a lazy loop through the little park system that was slowly getting built up. Ebott had a few parks, sure, but not all Monsters wanted to drive out or haul their kiddos on the bus for a little swing set time. No one was on the playground right now, the swings hanging empty, the jungle gym iced over. Maybe on a warmer day, the kiddos would be out but today the chill was keeping them behind closed doors, wasn’t another soul in sight and—

Wait.

In one corner of the park, deep in the snowdrifts and sitting at the wide base of sheltering tree was someone in a bright orange jacket. For a split second, he thought it was Stretch sitting huddled over there; not too many other people around here chose to dress like they were in search of a fucking crosswalk to guard.

A blink and a closer look proved it was a trick of sight, not that Red was that far off. Turned out to be Andy, the honey bun’s shorter platonic soulmate was the one parked alone in the snow. Kid was sitting with his head resting on his updrawn knees, his arms wrapped around ‘em and Red’d seen enough people in that position to recognize when someone was havin’ a cry. ‘course, usually it was his fault…

Anyway.

What he should do is just keep on walking. Kid hadn’t seen him and whatever his troubles were, there were plenty of other shoulders out there he could spill ‘em on. Hell, Blue might kick his own brother out of the way to rip his damn shirt off so Jeff could use it as a Kleenex and apologize for not washin’ it first.

Red had enough on his plate, thanks, and he didn’t need anyone feeding him whatever was the daily special for angst.

Keep on walking, yep, that was what he should do. Maybe even take a shortcut, head on back home where Sans was probably still curled up on the sofa in the same grungy shorts he’d worn the day before, socks sagging down to puddle at his ankles and a smear of ketchup on the front of his t-shirt. No one was ever gonna paint him like one of their French girls and that was fine by Red. Let his bro keep the pretty one, Red had a claim on the asshole, even had his name on ‘im these days and Sans wore it bold as the brass it was engraved on.

Shoulda, coulda…didn’t. Red heaved out a sigh and stopped. His bro was the one who kept collecting liabilities but fuck if Red hadn’t picked up a coupla weak spots of his own along the way and Handy Andy was one of ‘em.

If Grillby could only see him now, he’d laugh his flaming fucking head off.

So Red took a detour, wandered over in Andy’s direction. The snow was deeper out here, spilling cold into the tops of his boots and why the fuck couldn’t people have a crisis where it was warm? Andy didn’t look up and Red leaned against the tree trunk, grimacing at the chill leaking through his jacket as he struck a match against the rough bark.

That got him a startled gasp and Jeff jerked, looking up at him with a tearstained face and red-rimmed eyes.

Red worked on lighting a fresh cigar, wondered idly if he's gonna have to arrange some kind of 'accident'. Better not be Antwan making the kid cry, 'cause if he had to murder his bro's best friend, it'd be a lot of damn work; he’d need to make that case airtight, Edge always gotta be so suspicious. Trained baby bro too well in that.

But patience was asking too fucking much and his feet were cold, so Red asked gruffly, "so what's the problem, kid?"

“Nothing,” Jeff said, sniffling,

“uh huh. just rehearsing for the big play, is that it?”

He was quiet for a long moment and Red didn’t say another word, only smoked his cigar and let the silence crawl up Andy’s spine, prickling like a sin until he finally blurted, “My mom called.”

“that so,” Red said, indifferently. Leaving the door open and as suspected, Jeff blundered right on through it.

“My dad had a heart attack and he's in the hospital,” Jeff said. A fresh wash of tears fell down his cheeks and he wiped them impatiently away on his sleeve. “She said he’s stable and he doesn’t want to see me, but she wanted to let me know.”

“sounds like a bitch move right there.” He snuck a glance and saw the protest rising on Jeff’s face in a ‘don’t call my mom’ a bitch sort of way, watched as it faded.

“Maybe it was,” Jeff said, low. He dropped his chin back on his knees, his gaze resting on wide field of untouched snow in front of him. “You’d think I’d be over it. It’s been years since he kicked me out. I want to hate him, you know? Sometimes I even do, but…it's still my dad. It still hurts, every stupid time.”

“uh huh.” Yeah, Red got that. Sometimes all the what ifs and could bes and wishes for things to be different got clotted up with reality. It happened. "so why ain't you with the honey bun or sacked up with your booty call? why are you sittin' here alone like a dumbass?"

Jeff didn't answer for a long minute, his eyes on the ground, until he finally muttered, "Because they'd try to make me feel better."

Ah.

Red only nodded, shifting to stand upright with a grunt. "gotcha. welp, wallow away, kid." He stuck his cigar between his teeth, shoved his hands in his pockets, and started off, tromping back through the snow. A low, muted sob rose behind him and Red paused long to call back, "i'll give ya a coupla hours to get it out of your system, kid. cry, scream, play country music, don't give a shit, but after that, you better be headed someplace more cheerful, you get me?"

"Okay," Jeff sniffled, all pained gratitude and fresh tears. "Thanks, Red."

"don't. i wasn't even here." Red walked out back out to the sidewalk and left the kid to it, headed in the direction of home, and if he pulled up the camera hidden on one corner of the jungle gym on his phone, eh, Jeff should know better by now than to ever think Red wasn't watching.

-finis-

[signedaiko]

Heyyo! I’d like to request a mtmte matchup, if possible?

This got pretty long so if you decide not to do it i totally understand!

For sides, i don’t really have a preference, i tend to stay out of most conflicts. Pretty sure i’d be a neutral.

I’m afab and use she/her pronouns. I’m 169 cm and get teased for it a lot. But i’m pretty massive for someone my size, and i’m strong as hell. Don’t rly get messed with other than a few friendlly jabs.

I dress in a way i like to call „whatever Brainstorm would wear” :

oversized hoodies

graphic tees, either fandom stuff or just puns

jeans(ripped, high waisted)

funky shirts to go over the hoodies and sometimes jumpers

colorful socks

ankle boots and leather jackets

But really, anything colorful and kind of extra with a little black thrown in.

Hobbies:

doing random research til 3 am and forgetting to eat/sleep/drink

sending the same meme to 3 groupchats and friends bc i need more reactions to that

witchy stuff

writing poems to vent

blasting music while i bake/cook/or study, sometimes singing along

starting new hobbies and abandoning them after a few days

same with art projects

taking naps anywhere and anytime

collecting rather useless things(i have at least 500 topjoy caps and like 5 porcelain clowns)

but rly, my room is full of stuff i don’t need but i think they’re neat

Personality:

do no harm take no shit attitude(i never start fights but i will finish them)

i put others before myself, but it gets me in trouble a lot

flirty for fun but if someone flirts back i get so flustered i can't even reply

i like making fun of people and make it look unintentional

like, i say something rly rude and uncalled for, and i know it hurts them but it’s so good seeing ppl forgive me bc they thought i was joking(i wasn’t)

people come to me for advice a lot bc i look at the problem in most perspectives, not just theirs

i also don’t often sugarcoat things

my humor is what you get when you mix puns, dark, and dry humor with sarcasm

i’m a big sucker for headpats (and peanut butter)if you let me fall asleep in your lap AND pet my hair, i’ll probs fall in love

i rly like caring for others? i think i’d be a good wife/mom

platonic/romantic cuddling is my everything, though my love language is giving/recieving gifts

i like to make ppl doubt their beliefs for funsies, i just have a way with words

Other:

when poked, if i’m suprised enough i let out a little squeal, some say it’s cute

i get crushes very easily, from all genders, i always notice if someone likes me but i wait for their first move

i have adhd, so coffeine makes me tired, but sugar hypes me up

i like pshysics, psychology and biology, i wanna be a sociologist when i'm done with art school

headcanon or oneshot, it's up to you, hope you have a nice time :3c

You got…Nautica!

Okay, hear me out- You have your whole sciences figured out, precisely what you enjoy most- and you are confident with it. That alone has me thinking that Nautica would start off as a bit of a...fan? She really admires you; you seem like you have everything together and know what you want from life. Nautica starts picking up pieces you are putting down, which naturally starts having a positive effect on her own mood and day-to-day chores. Naturally, she can only do that so long before actually becoming your friend. It would make sense that her lack of togetherness is also something you need more of. That sweet, sweet chaos... She is also a fantastic liar, great at convincing people things that might seem way out of the realm of possibilities, and you are great at spinning the story. You just mess with people a lot, maybe it's a bit mean, but heyyyy- Having been through a lot, she could really use that mom/wife side of you. Someone there can provide genuine care beyond just listening or comfort but in experiences. In return, she gives you the grandmother who's seen some shit and was probably gay at some point vibes. She knows everything technical; the woman will build you a castle if you ask her in a single night. Your motto is 'wives for lives.' I also think your theme song would be Sugar by Robin Schulz!

———-

Authors Note - Do not worry about length! Honestly, the ones with barely any info are the ones that kiiiiill me; the more, the better :) Sometimes when I read matchups, I have the big 'why aren't they my friend?!' moment, and it just happened.

[fearfulkittenwrites]

A Hurt Bird - Part 1: Sprained Ankles and Ice Cream

Words count: 2569

Summary: You find out just how broken the local hero really is. It's a good thing you don't mind fixing wings.

Notes: Hey there! This work was beta'd by @foxam-vampire​. Thank you friend! Now, some more notes! I'm avoiding gendered terms on this, bc I wanted as many people as possible to be able to enjoy it. If that needs to change at any given time, I'll let you know in the notes. There will be at least one nsfw chapter in this. I'll try my best to split it in a way that will make it easy for you to skip over it if you don't want to read that kind of stuff. This fic mostly consists of random one-shots that are very much connected. It may grow forever or stop soon, depending on how much I feel the need to update it. Also, this will mostly consist on the reader caring for Dick instead of the other way around, although that may happen too. If there's something you'd like to see in this, feel free to leave it in the comments or head over to my tumblr and leave me an ask!I hope you enjoy this!

It was about three in the morning when you heard a loud sound coming from your window. Normally, those sounds wouldn’t trouble you, seen as you lived on the last floor of an old, relatively small residential building. Disoriented birds would crash into windows every now and again, but it was nothing to worry about. However, considering that most birds should be asleep by now, and that the sound came from the fire escape window, you got a little worried.

In your recently-awoken, adrenaline-filled mind, picking up a broom for protection and investigating the noise instead of calling the police and locking yourself up in the bathroom seemed like a very good idea, so you did just that. As you got closer, you heard annoyed mumbles.

“Stupid lose brick.” A man’s voice said “Fucking fell like an idiot, Jesus Christ. I feel like a damn teenager again.” He hisses, seemingly in pain. You held your breath for a second. He grumbled something you couldn’t quite get, sitting on the floor.

Suddenly, you pushed the window open and swatted at him with the broom, causing him to scream in surprise and you in fear.

“Wait, wait, stop!” He said, trying to evade your hits and yell louder than you “I’m not here to rob you!”

“Y-you’re not?” You stop, finally taking a better look at the stranger “Wait. Are you...”

“Nightwing, yeah.” He smiles. There was a cut in his lower lip and a little bit of blood tainting his teeth “Sorry for disturbing you, I’ll be on my wa-Ah!” He attempts to get up, hissing in pain as he tries to support his weight on his right leg.

“You’re hurt.”

“Yeah, it happens a lot.” He jokes in a strangled voice, holding on to the metal handrail.

“Come in, I’ll get you some ice.” You say, giving him some space.

“You don’t have to, I’ll be fine.” He waved you off.

“Yeah, but I want to.” You shoot back “Besides, I hit you with a broom several times, so I’ll feel really bad if you don’t let me help.”

“You really shouldn’t be inviting strange men into your house in the middle of the night.” He raises an eyebrow.

“You’re not just a strange man.” You argued, tilting your head from side to side lightly “You’re our hero.”

“But you don’t know me.” He lets his head drop down a little, cocky smirk on his face. You rolled your eyes.

“I’m helping you. Like you help us. Let me, okay?” You motioned for him to come in “I have ice, and water, and food.” He stares at you hesitantly “C’mon.” You say, a little impatient.

“Alright then, if you insist.” He caved in, accepting your help to climb into the house. You wrapped his arm around your shoulder and supported him, holding him by his waist, walking with him to the couch.

“You’re – ugh – heavier than you look.” You grunt. He huffed a laugh.

“Maybe you’re just weaker than you think you are.”

“I just woke up, give me a break.” You roll your eyes, setting him down on your old couch “Besides, you are thin, but you’re also a mountain of muscles. That makes you heavy.”

“My friends can carry me.” He teases.

“Are your friends heroes too?” You ask, taking the ice tray out of the freezer and cracking the cubes into a towel.

“Touché.” He laughs.

You kneeled down, bringing the ice with you, and slowly attempting to remove his boots.

“You don’t have to.” He says, trying to reach down. You put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Let me.” You stared at his eyes, or at least tried to; they are being covered by the mask, making it impossible for you to see the color under that abnormal white screen blocking them.

“They’ll smell bad.”

“Yeah, it’s a thing that happens with feet.” You shoot back, rolling your eyes “I’m used to it, don’t worry. My friend used to sprain her ankle a lot while running. Now shut up, sit back, and let me help, okay?” Nightwing seemed a little taken aback by that, cheeks assuming a light pink hue as he leaned back against the couch, slowly.

His ankle was swollen, but it still hadn’t turned purple. You delicately pressed the ice against his skin, and noticed how he grimaced.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” He answers “There’s no way of doing this without a bit of pain anyways. You’re very gentle.”

“That’s good to hear.” You smile, pressing your lips together as you stare at his injured foot “So, uhm, what about your mouth?”

“My mouth?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You look up “There’s blood on your teeth.” He brought his hand to his lips slowly “You... Do know that there’s blood on your teeth, right?”

“Yeah.” He answers, staring at the blood on the tips of his gloved fingers “Yeah, sure. I did know that. I was... aware. Of the blood, that is. I did know of blood on my teeth.”

“You had no clue, did you?”

“I had no clue.” He whispers, lowering his head.

“But didn’t you... I don’t know, can’t you taste it?” You ask.

“I can. It’s just that it lingers for quite a while, to be honest. I thought it had stopped, but apparently there’s another cut on my mouth, or maybe a loose tooth.” His tongue searched around a little “Yup, found it.” He says, words kind of mumbled because of the position his tongue was in “Definitely a loose tooth.” He grimaces “Man, those suck.”

“Uhm... Do you want some ice, maybe? I have more.”

“I...” He ponders on it for a moment “Yeah, actually. If it’s not too much trouble.” He places a hand at the right side of his cheek “It’s starting to hurt more now that I’m aware of it.”

You nod, trying to balance the ice pack on top of his ankle.

“Leave it.” He says “Can I put my feet on your couch?”

“Sure.” You got up as he turned to the side, stretching his left leg out and pulling the right one a little closer so he could hold the ice pack in place.

You picked the other ice tray and repeated the process, filling both of the trays and placing them in the freezer before going back to the hero. You handed Nightwing the ice pack and went back to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. When you came back again, he pulled his left leg closer, giving you space on the couch.

“Thank you.” He says after emptying the glass.

“No problem.” You smile “Give it here.” You used two fingers to ask for the ice pack back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got it.”

“C’mon. It’s better for your leg to be stretched out.” You insist, tapping your thighs.

“You’re very stubborn, aren’t you?” He teases.

“Yes, I am, now give me the damn ice pack, hero.” You stretch out your hand. He placed the wet towel-ice pack in your hand and his feet on your lap “Was that so hard?” You tease. He stuck out his tongue.

“Very.”

“Awn, you poor thing.” You sarcastically add “Being made to suffer by a civilian tending to your battle wounds.” He chuckles.

“Why are you being so nice?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” You shrug “You saved my life.”

“Did I?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah. A while ago, when that shooter walked into the subway station? I was there.” You look down at his feet again as you nervously bite the inside of your lips “I was scared shitless. And then you came in, swinging through the stairs, and knocked him out so fast.” You swallow “So yeah. Thank you for that.”

“I was just doing my job.” He smiles, face leaning into the ice pack pressed against his cheek.

“I guess.” You whisper. He nods “You don’t normally get too much help, do you?”

“Not so much.” He purses his lips “Working and living alone have their downsides.”

“Yeah...” You look at him for a moment.

The hero seemed more battered and bruised than you ever thought he could be. Before tonight, you couldn’t even be sure that he was human, but now, watching him talk and walk (well, limp), he barely seemed like a masked vigilante. He looked like a lonely guy. Before you realized it, your thumb was drawing slow circles on his clothed leg. You weren’t even sure if he could feel them under the material, but the way that he stared at your fingers made you believe he could.

“Okay, uhm, would you like something to eat?” You offer “I have some chinese food that I ordered earlier, but I don’t know if your mouth is in a chewing mood.” He laughs again.

“Yeah, I don’t think my mouth is in a chewing mood.” He smiles “It’s okay.”

“Well, I do have ice cream. If you want any.”

“Really?” His face seems to light up a little “What flavor?”

“Chocolate. Want some?”

“Uuuh, yes, please!” He smiles, removing his legs so you could get up from the couch “Listen, I don’t want to sound like a child, but, do you have any sprinkles? I really like them.”

“Sadly, no. I don’t really like sprinkles. But I do have caramel syrup.”

“Caramel syrup with chocolate ice cream?” He makes a weird face.

“It’s good!” You try to defend yourself.

“I’ve never heard of that.”

“Look, you can try some of mine, and if you like it I’ll put it on yours, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

“Alright then, wait here.” You went to the kitchen yet again, looking for cute bowls to put the ice cream in, unfortunately realizing you only had one old, glass bowl, sometimes used for soup “Well, shit.” You murmur in embarrassment, picking up your wide coffee mug for yourself and the bowl for him. You took both of them and the syrup to the living room “Here.” You hand it to him, sitting down again.

“Thanks!” He grins, watching as you poured the caramel on your mug “You’re eating it out of a mug?”

“I don’t have any other bowls.” You murmur, ashamed.

“Oh, I see.” He says, looking at your lowered face “Hey, that’s fine. I mean, I have only one mug and three spoons at my place.” You chuckle a bit.

“So we’re both broke loners, huh?” You ask, handing him the mug “Here, try it.”

He took it, picking some up with his spoon.

“Hum, that’s good.” He hands it back to you “And yeah, guess so.”

“Told you.” You pass him the bottle, letting him pour as much as he wants in his ice cream “So, uhm, what will you do about the tooth?”

“I’ll try to see my dentist tomorrow.” He answers.

“Isn’t it a bit suspicious? I mean, I imagine this happens a lot.”

“Well, I usually say it happened while I was practicing my acrobatics.”

“So you’re an acrobat?” You raise your eyebrows.

“I thought that much was obvious. You know, with all the spins and impressive sky stuff.” He smirks. You giggle and nod “Awn, that’s a pretty laugh.”

“Oh, shut up.” You blush, staring at his feet again.

“I wasn’t teasing you. You do have a pretty laugh.”

“Thanks. You have a pretty laugh too. And your feet don’t smell thaaaat bad.” You tease, causing him to snort.

“Okay then. I suppose that is one of the most sincere compliments I’ve ever been given.” Both of you laugh for a while, before finishing your ice creams in silence.

You set your mug down, noticing how the ice had melted almost entirely, leaving a very soaked towel on his foot. When you motioned to leave, you noticed him trying to stop you.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to take these to the kitchen. It’s all melted now.”

He pouts.

“But I like you here.”

“I’ll come back, Nightwing.” You laugh.

“Alright.” He lifts his legs.

“Is there ice left on the one in your cheek?”

“This one is alright.” He replies “Thanks.”

“No worries.” You rush out, putting the bowl and the mug in the sink, along with the wet towel, before coming back “See? I’m here.” You lift your hands, showing off playfully.

“That’s nice.” He turns around as you settle on the couch, catching you off guard as he places his head on your lap “Hi.” He grinned, white teeth showing.

“Ooookay...” You said, a little startled, but smiling. You placed your hand on his head, playing with his hair.

“Hmm, yeah. That’s great.” He closed his eyes, sighting “You must be an angel. So kind, so helpful... Gives the best head scratches...”

You huffed out a laugh.

“Well, I’m glad you like them, you needy boy.”

“Hey! I’m an attention-seeking whore, and a man, get it right angel.” He smiles.

“Makes sense.” You raise your eyebrows, watching him melt under your touch, breathing deeply “Listen, if you want to crash here for the night, that’s okay.”

“Oh. No.” He says “I should go.” He gets up, and the sudden lack of warmth scares you a little.

“I wasn’t kicking you out or...” You turn on the couch, facing him.

“No, I know!” He smiles extending his hands “I just shouldn’t take advantage of your kindness.” Nightwing looked down, hands behind his back.

“You’re not taking advantage of anything, hero.” You support the weight of your head on your elbow.

“Really?” He asks, a little cynical “What do you get from all of this?”

“It’s not about what I get.” You roll your eyes “It’s about what I’m willing to give.” He raises an eyebrow “You help people, right? People like me, my friends, my family... So you should get it.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You help because you can. Because you know you can’t keep waiting for something magical to happen and eradicate all human suffering from the earth. You can save people, so you do. Right now, I can help you, so,” You shrugged “I do.”

“Yeah, alright.” He scratches the back at his neck “Still, I feel like I’m acting a little too...” He gestures towards your lap “Friendly.”

“That’s not a problem.” You chuckle a little, and he does too. You bite your lower lip “You sure you don’t want to spend the night here? The couch turns into a bed, and it’s more comfortable than it looks.”

“No, it’s fine.” He smiles at you “But thanks for the offer.” He stands up “I can already walk again, so I’ll be on my way.”

You followed him to the fire escape, watching as he picked up his grapple gun.

“So, uhm, listen...” You start, hugging yourself to try and keep the cold wind out “When it gets too hard... you know, being a loner. You can come here again. If you want to.” He looked at you for a moment, and his features seemed to soften as you spoke “You don’t have to care for your wounds by yourself, if you don’t want to.”

“Thank you.” He smiles “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Nightwing leaped from the metal staircase towards the ground, before surging up, holding on to the grapple gun, swinging his body forward and falling again, then going up, and down, and up, until he was too far to be seen. 

(Hey! If you made it this far, consider rebbloging? It’d make me very happy :) )

Thank you for reading! <3

[callboxkat]

Those Long, Lonely Nights (part 5/6)

Author’s note: This is a retelling of the story These Deep Dark Woods, but from Roman’s perspective. I recommend reading that story first, but this can also stand alone.

Summary: Roman, a knight, insists on accompanying his best friend Logan, a potion maker, when he decides to head into the notoriously dangerous woods bordering their home to find some rare herbs and minerals for his apothecary. They find much more than they bargained for when they encounter Remus, a bloodthirsty giant. Logince. Angst with a happy ending.

Fic Warnings:  food mention, blood, injuries, death mention, killing mention, gun mention, mild body horror (it’s Remus), disturbing imagery (it’s Remus), character death, temporary/believed character death, kidnapping, guilt, attempted self sacrifice, talk of giants, vampires and other monsters. Very unsympathetic villain Remus.

Word Count: 2329

Part 1 : Part 6 

Writing Masterpost!

...

Roman gasped and sat upright. Or at least, he tried to. Gentle but firm hands pushed him down as Roman realized he was moving, being carried on a stretcher. Blue sky shone above, rather than those endless trees.

“Sir Roman, it’s the guard, we’ve got you—“

“Logan,” Roman interrupted, “Where’s Logan; is he okay?”

“He’s here,” said a voice. Roman quickly tried again to sit up and turn to look, which... judging by how his stomach rolled and black rushed in from the edges of his vision, may have been a mistake.

…

He caught glimpses of blue sky and anonymous faces, snatches of conversation, but he couldn’t seem to properly hold on to reality until he realized he was being lowered onto a bed. Several sets of footsteps left the room, their owners murmuring quietly. A door shut. He opened his eyes.

“Please stay down,” said a voice. “You’ll be alright; you’re safe now. Just let me look you over.”

A woman stood at the bedside—a doctor, judging by her appearance. “Logan?” Roman asked.

Hands began gently examining him, feeling along his arms and legs. “He’s alive. They’re taking him for surgery. They’ll bring him here after.”

He’s alive.

“Surgery?”

“For his leg. They’re trying to save it.”

Roman swallowed. “Will he be okay?”

The doctor gave him a sympathetic look. “He’ll live. I saw his leg, though, and I won’t lie to you. If he does keep it, I’d be very surprised if he didn’t need a cane.”

Roman sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “Oh.” Logan would not be happy about that. Even if a cane would make him look distinguished.

“For now, let’s focus on you. Does anything feel broken? What hurts? I see that bruise on your head, and your feet aren’t in great shape, either, but if there’s anything else. Like that blood on your side—is that yours?”

Roman swallowed, suddenly very aware of where his coat stuck to his side. He could still feel Logan’s head pressed there. “Ah... no. But I hurt my ribs,” he admitted.

“Okay. I’ll look at those after we get this head wound sorted.”

She reached up, and Roman belatedly noticed the ice pack that had been placed on his head as she took it away. “It looks like the swelling’s already gone down. Can you tell me your name?”

“Roman. Uh, Sir Roman.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sir Roman. My name is Valerie. And what day is today?”

Roman hesitated a little too long, but he was able to tell her.

“Okay. That’s good.” She held up one finger. “Follow this please?” She moved her finger from one side to the other, and Roman did his best to follow it. He had a feeling he didn’t do a great job, based on her expression.

In the end, Valerie told him he had a minor concussion, two likely cracked ribs, some bad cuts on his feet that had to be cleaned and in one case stitched, a badly sprained ankle, and a lot of bruising. She’d had to cut off the shirt of the uniform he’d been so proud of, but Roman found he didn’t care.

After Roman had been treated, some of the knights came in to find out what exactly had happened to him and Logan, and why they had gone so far into the woods alone in the first place. Roman had to admit that they were right, saying that he should have found more knights to accompany them once they had decided to go further from the settlement, or should have tried harder to stop Logan from going at all. Some of them seemed rather angry about it. Roman didn’t blame them.

It was late afternoon by the time they brought Logan back. When it became clear Roman had no intentions of staying horizontal, Valerie helped him to sit up against some pillows.

The people who brought Logan in carefully lay him on the second bed in the room. The apothecarist had been dressed in loose medical garb that didn’t suit him at all. His eyes were shut and shadowed, and his head and leg were thickly bandaged. He was still very pale. But his leg was still there, and Roman could see his chest gently rise and fall. The sight filled him with a dizzying relief.

One of the doctors, or nurses, or whoever they were who’d brought Logan back to him, stepped aside to quietly converse with Valerie.

Roman just watched the steady rhythm of Logan’s breathing, a part of him fearing it might stop if he looked away.

The other person stepped out, and Valerie turned to Logan, picking up a blanket and laying it over him. She left his injured leg exposed. After a glance in Roman’s direction, she also folded it down just enough that Roman could still see his chest move.

“How is he?” Roman asked, his eyes not leaving his friend.

“They saved his leg,” she replied, “though it’s almost certain he’ll need a cane. He also has a concussion.”

“But he’ll… you said he’ll live, right?”

Valerie gave him a reassuring look. “As long as nothing changes, he will.”

“When’ll he wake up?”

Valerie hummed. “He might wake up sometime tomorrow. They gave him a sedative for the surgery, and he needs time to rest and recover. He’s not in great shape.”

“…Okay.” ‘Might wake up tomorrow’ was certainly much better than ‘might wake up’. And they had saved his leg—also very good news. Logan would kill him if he found out someone had cut off his leg on Roman’s watch.

Logan still had his leg, and his life. At least Roman hadn’t entirely failed to protect him.

…

Logan slept through the entire next day. Roman also dozed for much of the time, admittedly exhausted and without much else to do. His day was broken up by small, plain meals, and when Valerie or one of the other doctors came to check on Logan and Roman. Each time, they’d look them over, give Logan and Roman some medicine, and if necessary, change their bandages. Roman was not a fan of the bitter taste of his painkillers, but they were better than putting up with the pain. It looked like Logan was receiving more medicines than Roman, which he supposed made sense. Roman didn’t ask what any of the potions were. Logan probably would have known.

Over the course of the day, Logan’s color seemed to improve, and Valerie seemed pleased by whatever she was looking for when she examined him. But, still, he stayed asleep. Roman was worried.

“He could wake up sometime tonight,” Valerie mused, her fingers pressed to Logan’s neck, “but I would not count on it.” She took her fingers away, then took a bottle from her coat and dabbed a liquid from within on Logan’s lips, letting a small amount trickle into his mouth. “He’ll likely be pretty out of it, if he does. Try not to overwhelm him. Just keep him calm, and call for a doctor if none of us is in the room.”

Roman wilted a little, but he nodded. He really, really wanted to talk to Logan—he needed to—but more than that, he needed Logan to be okay. And it wouldn’t exactly be worth it to talk to him if he wouldn’t remember it, or be present enough to really take part.

Roman was silent for a moment.

“When he’s well enough,” he asked hesitantly, “would you mind giving us a moment alone? I’d, um... really like to talk to him. Alone.” Sure, Valerie wasn’t always in this room, but she or another doctor seemed to always be just in the other room beyond, where Roman was sure they could hear anything said in this one.

Valerie looked confused for a moment, glancing between him and Logan, probably wondering what on earth he could want to speak about; but then realization flickered in her eyes. Roman felt mildly embarrassed, but Valerie just turned back to him and nodded, smiling kindly. “Of course. I’ll make sure you two get some time alone. But if anything seems wrong, you call me back right away. I’ll go far enough that you can talk in peace, but I will not leave the building.”

Roman did his best to pretend his face wasn’t flushed pink. “I will, I promise. Thank you.”

Valerie nodded, then went to change Logan’s bandages. Roman watched as she carefully unwound the gauze from Logan’s head, checked and cleaned the wound, and spread a salve over it before wrapping his head in fresh bandages. She then went to the foot of the bed and did the same for his leg. Roman didn’t watch that. He wasn’t squeamish; he was a knight, but... this was Logan. And he’d already seen what the giant had done to his leg.

“Will he be in much pain when he wakes?” Roman asked.

“We’ll give him a potion for that.” She glanced up at Roman, who continued to look away, since she wasn’t quite finished with Logan’s leg. “Don’t worry. He’ll be getting the good stuff.”

Roman chucked weakly.

Valerie finished tending to Logan, then turned to Roman, who was not exactly eager to have more of that salve put on his cut feet. It stung.

Finally, she was securing the last bandage in place.

“Okay, I’m just about finished here. Someone will be in in a couple of hours; but of course, if something happens, just call out. Do you need anything before I go? I could help you lay back down—might be more comfortable, for sleeping tonight.”

Roman glanced at Logan, who was still sleeping peacefully, then shook his head. “No, I’ll be fine like this. Thank you so much for all of your help.”

“It’s no problem. It’s my job.”

“Still. Thank you.”

Valerie nodded, gathered her things, and left.

Roman sighed, settled back against his pillows, and closed his eyes.

…

Even during the night, every hour or two, someone would come in to check on Roman and Logan. Roman was not exactly happy to have his sleep repeatedly disturbed. How was he supposed to get back to his normal, fabulous self if no one let him have his beauty sleep? But he was glad that they were keeping an eye on Logan, at least.

Then, there came one instance when he couldn’t have been less annoyed to be woken up.

He’d been dreaming, he thought, of shadowy forests and bloody faces and glowing, sickly green eyes, when a sound brought him back towards wakefulness. As Roman drifted out of sleep, he placed it as a quiet moan.

Roman frowned and opened his eyes, looking around. It was clearly still nighttime, and the room was dim, lit only by moonlight filtering through a thin white curtain over the window, and by a soft glow from under the door. Daybreak had to be an hour or two off, yet.

There was a shifting of fabric from his right, and suddenly Roman realized what—or rather, who—had woken him.

“Logan?” he asked softly, looking over at the other bed.

Logan’s head shifted, his eyelids fluttering, then opening halfway. He let out another, even softer groan.

Roman sat up straighter, trying not to wince as his ribs protested. “Logan,” he tried again. “You with me?”

After a pause, Logan’s eyes slid in his direction. Even in the dimness, Roman could see how drowsy he looked. His normally sharp blue eyes looked glazed. His eyebrows furrowed, and Roman realized he appeared to be growing more nervous and confused.

“Hey, it’s me, Roman. We’re home,” Roman whispered, hoping to reassure him. “They got us out. We’re okay. You’re in the hospital, but they’re going to have you all fixed up in no time.”

The words didn’t seem to register. Logan shifted again, looking agitated. He made a distressed sound.

Roman bit his lip. Time for plan B. He pushed aside his own blanket, and, taking a second to brace himself, pushed himself to his feet. He gritted his teeth, grimacing, then hobbled over to Logan’s bed.

The bed wasn’t very wide, but his favorite nerd was very skinny, so there was plenty of room for Roman to sit on the edge of the bed. He took Logan’s hand, hoping he wasn’t overstepping. The apothecarist usually wasn’t exactly cuddly.

“Hey,” Roman whispered, as Logan’s eyelids drooped, then opened again.

Logan mumbled something. Something about a potion? It didn’t make much sense. Maybe Logan thought he was at his apothecary, or that they were still out in the woods, gathering supplies. Valerie had said he’d be out of it.

Roman hesitated, nodded to himself, then carefully swung up one of his legs onto the bed, the one whose ankle was sprained. There wasn’t enough room for him to fully lay on the bed, but this was more comfortable.

He rubbed his thumb across the back of Logan’s hand in small circles, still nervous about whether Logan would be okay with this, but the injured apothecarist seemed to relax as Roman continued the gentle, repetitive motion. Roman’s heart swelled, and he swallowed against a sudden lump in his throat.

He’d nearly lost this. For a while there, he had thought he had. Even if Roman himself had somehow managed to escape, he would have never had the chance to tell Logan how he really felt. It would have been too late. Logan could have been gone forever, and Roman would have never known if things could be different.

“Roman?” came a weak, wavering voice.

“Yeah, buddy, it’s me. We’re in the hospital.”

Three seconds of silence passed. Roman thought perhaps Logan had fallen back to sleep, but then his hand twitched in Roman’s, like a weak attempt to squeeze it. “You okay?” he mumbled.

A tear leaked down Roman’s cheek. “Yeah, I’m okay. It’s okay. Just rest.”

[willow-salix]

More OC Asks for Aunt Sel - #014, #031 and #056 please~💙

My secretary didn't remind me about these and I was too busy doing what is known in our house as "Scott Wrangling" it's a full time occupation that John and Virgil were more than happy to outsource to me. I personally think I got the raw end of the deal. Anyway... Questions, questions, questions... Where did I put those questions? Ah! Found em. OK.

Question 14: Detail my secret shame? *ponders this for a moment or two* I don't know if I have one, not a secret one anyway. I tend to be far too easy to read.

I guess one thing I'm very ashamed of is not standing up to the people that have made me doubt myself over the years. I'm very good at standing up for others, especially those I love, some (John) might say I'm too good at it, rather enthusiastically so... I just... I don't know, hypocritical Selene incoming, but, much as I tell everyone else to love themselves for who they are, that they are perfect and shouldn't try to change for anyone or anything, it's easier to say than to do. I guess I never thought of myself as worthy of being loved. I was always one of those people that give love rather than recieve it. And I thought that was fine, my calling in life if you will. My job is to make others feel good and not feel like I deserve it myself. Yeahhh, I guess that is pretty shameful.

Oh! I'm also still ashamed of the time I accidentally stole a cheeseburger but that's not important right now... *ahem*

Question 31 am I superstitious about anything? Of course! I'm a witch, we're born superstitious. I drive the family nuts with my superstitions. John isn't allowed to get out of bed on the left, I refuse to allow it and then sometimes I'll climb over him so I don't either, it depends on the day.

The boys hate it when I tell them they will get good luck every time a bird shits on them, beach, rescue, shopping, doesn't matter.

Apparently opening an umbrella indoors is only bad luck in the UK, that or they are allllll lying to me, which I wouldn't be surprised about.

There is a Russian tradition that it's bad luck to sit on the corner of a table, and Scott just insists on plonking his arse down on the corner of everything! He sits at this jaunty angle and crosses his ankle over his knee. One good push and he'd go right over. I've not done it yet but it's soooo tempting.

It's really bad luck apparently to either make a toast or to acknowledge one with a glass of water. I wouldn't allow it at our wedding. No way was I risking second hand bad luck.

When I first came to stay here I moved loads of mirrors, no one had a clue why. But you see you should never have a mirror facing a doorway, mirrors are portals to the spirit realm and if an oogie boogie was just wandering their arse past your mirror and looked through and saw a doorway reflected they could pass through it and enter your home. Don't risk that shit! I've dealt with far too many haunting because of that.

I made John move his bed, because you should never sleep with your head facing North. I moved the pillows the first time and then made him move his bed. I do it in hotel rooms too, make him move to the end of the bed as you can't go about rearranging hotel furniture (allegedly). Sleeping to the west ain't that great either.

Don't wear red during a storm, either.

I've got tons more but yeahhh

Lastly, question 56, have I ever struck someone in anger? Erm... Not that I recall. I did smack at anything and anyone that dared come near me at the GDF that time... And I did try to beat up the ones that attacked Scott at the karaoke bar, *looks all around to make sure no one is listening then whispers* and I did really want to punch Ridley at my bachelorette party... *raises her voice again * but in general, no.

I usually get this weird kind of calm come over me where I get super pissed and dangerous and then me hitting them is the least of their problems.

I tend to yell and scream a lot, but mostly it's frustration, hurt and fear that makes me hit people. Not fear for myself or that they scare me, but fear for those I love. I'd beat the crap out of anyone that threatened one of my boys or our family.

I've never hit someone during what I'd call a domestic argument, been there, wasn't fun. No one has the right to hit someone just because they don't agree with them or because someone is in their face. If you were defending yourself or someone else, then yes.