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stllmnstr · 2 months

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every fragile thing

pairing: park sunghoon x f reader

genre: enemies to lovers, figure skating au, college/university au

word count: 12.3k

warnings: alcohol consumption, jealousy, non graphic descriptions/depictions of injuries, use of the american (usa) university system, a kiss or five

soundtrack: get him back! / brutal / jealousy, jealousy / good 4 u / the grudge / bad idea right? / drivers license - olivia rodrigo

After an ankle injury lands you in mandated physical therapy sessions instead of on the ice where you should be training for nationals, you're absolutely certain you must be the most frustrated, emotionally volatile figure skater on the planet. Park Sunghoon proves you wrong.

or,

every fragile thing has one of two choices: become stronger or shatter into a million pieces.

note: hi hello yes this is me on a new blog with the same name. I deleted my old one and wasn't sure if I planned on remaking/reposting but here we are! if you've read this before, then I hope you enjoy just as much this time around. and if you haven't, I hope you love figure skater sunghoon just as much as I do! happy reading ♡

Silence. One word, two syllables. A fairly straightforward term with a meaning that can be easily deduced from a quick scan of its Merriam-Webster definition.

But unlike many words, silence is one that’s typically learned through experience. Through stilted moments, pregnant pauses, dreamlike moments in the dead of night while the world around you is at a standstill.

In the moments just before the music starts, when it feels as if the audience around you is holding their breath. And you stand at the center of it all, blades of your tightly laced skates against ice, chest rising and falling in time with your heartbeat, mind spinning with possibility. In those moments, your long trained muscles take over, following the memory of countless repetitions as your body prepares to do what it knows best.

There’s a question in that silence. One that’s asked with baited breath.

Will I land this skill? Will I go home with a medal around my neck, cold weight a familiar comfort against my skin? Will this be my best performance yet? Will they love it? Love me?

That, as you’ve come to learn, is your favorite kind of silence. The kind that’s filled with endless possibility, with the promise of something beautiful or disastrous or some odd mix of the two to come.

The feeling of freedom, of flying as blade cuts through ice, as your body defies gravity with every jump, every spin.

But that is very much not the kind of silence that greets you where Dr. Min eyes you warily over the top of his pristine clipboard, a crease forming between his dark eyebrows. Frowning, he glances at the paper once more before returning his gaze to you.

“You’re sure you’ve been resting? No weight on the fracture at all?”

It takes a good chunk of your willpower not to roll your eyes. Mostly because you’re lying through your teeth, but who’s keeping track?

“Yes, I’m sure.” Gesturing to the thick black boot the lower part of your left leg and foot have been imprisoned in for the better part of a month, you add, “This thing’s still coming off in two weeks, right?”

Two weeks is pushing it, but you’ve done more with less. Two weeks puts you exactly three months out from regionals, which gives you exactly ninety-one days to pull together the most jaw dropping program you or the judges have ever seen. One that’s certain to land you on the podium and secure a spot at nationals.

Once again, you thank your lucky stars for Coach Lee. She’s been with you since you were still struggling to lace your own skates, and there’s no one else you’d trust to have you ready for regionals in such a short time frame. No one else you’d bet your fate on like this.

“That was our original time frame, yes…” Dr. Min trails off, avoiding your gaze in a way that has your stomach dropping unpleasantly.

“And we’ll be sticking to it, I’m sure.” You hate the way the end of your phrase turns up like a question.

Dr. Min sighs. “Look, ___, our original time frame was ambitious to begin with, and I hate to tell you this, but your ankle is not healing as well as we’d hoped. Fractures don’t heal overnight, and the best thing for you right now is rest.”

The argument is already forming on your tongue. “But—”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m not trying to ruin your life, ___. Truly. I’m saying this to you as the parent of an athlete and a former athlete myself. Pushing yourself now will only lead to reinjury in the future and will also very likely shorten your career. Your ankle needs to heal before you skate on it again. It needs to heal before you so much as put weight on it. And you need to let it heal completely.” The sincerity in his voice is hard to stomach when he says, “Believe me when I tell you that you’ll regret it for the rest of life if you don’t.”

And logically, you know he’s right. Know that this will be nothing but a minor setback if you allow it to run its course. If you follow his advice to rest and heal. But skating has never been something you’ve done with the logical parts of yourself. And Dr. Min doesn’t get it. You tell him as much. “You don’t understand what you’re asking me to do. Regionals are in less than four months, and—”

“I hear you. Believe me, I do. But this is your third year of university, which means you have another shot at nationals next year. If you push it and try to skate before you’re ready, you may very well lose that chance too.”

“So I’m supposed to do what? Sit around and do nothing until my ankle decides to cooperate?” Even voicing the possibility has you suppressing a grimace.

But Dr. Min has different thoughts. “Yes. That is exactly what you need to do.”

You don’t avert your gaze. Neither does he. Finally, after a moment, he sighs. “My recommendation at this point is still rest, but—”

“But?” Your excitement is impossible to contain fully.

Dr. Min levels you with a cautionary look over his clipboard. “But, if you’re going to do anything, our athletics department does also run a physical therapy program, which I think could be beneficial. It would help to retain flexibility, mobility, and agility in the areas of your leg that support your ankle. It could help get you back on the ice faster and maintain the leg strength you’ve built. There’s a group session that runs on Tuesday afternoons—”

“Yes,” you nod, not bothering to hear the end of his statement. “Yes, I’ll do that.”

“I… okay.” As much as you want to hate him for it, Dr. Min has a point. And while you doubt physical therapy will be anywhere near as grueling as your usual workouts, it sounds a hell of a lot better than doing nothing.

…

You’ve never liked hospitals. The odd juxtaposition of white, lifeless sterility and a culmination of some of life’s most painful moments has always left an unpleasant taste on your tongue.

It’s one that has you double checking the address Dr. Min forwarded to you as you enter the oddly cheerful building that is apparently home to a renowned athletics physical therapy facility. Despite the medical purpose, there’s a distinct liveliness that envelops the space.

The woman at reception informs you that this is indeed the right building and the session you’re attending has just begun in the room to your left.

Pausing at the door, you’re struck with a sudden timidness. A physical therapy group for athletes will obviously be filled with, well, athletes. And although you can’t speak too harshly on that particular subsect of people, being one yourself, they can be intimidating. It must be the competitiveness, you think. The drive to push, succeed, win that gives off such a distinct aura.

Steeling yourself with one last breath, you remind yourself that’s why you’re here. To get back to that version of you that has everyone else feeling a little shier. That version of you that eats, breathes, and sleeps with ice skates laced on your feet and visions of the top of a podium driving your every decision.

With determination straightening your brow, you push open the door.

And immediately find yourself grateful for the mental preparation as three heads snap in your direction.

Hitching your bag up an inch on your shoulder, you try not to melt under the sudden awkwardness. Thankfully, one of them is better at breaking ice than you.

“Hi,” the boy closest to you is the first to fill the silence. He’s all smiles where he gives you a friendly wave, moving a stray hair out of his eyes with a flick of his head as he tells you, “I’m Jungwon.”

You offer your name in return, trying on a smile to match his friendliness. You have a feeling it comes more naturally to him than it ever will to you, though.

Regardless, he offers an equally cheerful, “Nice to meet you.” Glancing over to where the second boy is moving through a series of stretches, Jungwon makes eye contact, silently telling him he’s up next.

Even mid-stretch, he acquiesces. “I’m Niki,” the second boy follows.

“And I’m Jake.” The last boy doesn’t need any prompting from Jungwon. Nodding towards the walking boot that covers the bottom half of your left leg, he glances at a similar one that he wears on his own. “Looks like we’re twins. Tore up my achilles pretty bad in my last soccer match,” he explains. “What about you?”

“Fractured my ankle,” you return, a rueful smile dragging your lips up. “Figure skater.”

“Ah, man.” Jungwon winces. “That sucks.”

You shrug, forcing a nonchalance you don’t feel. “No worse than a busted achilles.”

“That’s cool that you skate though,” Jake offers. “Kind of a funny coincidence, actually. There’s another—”

Whatever it is, he doesn’t get to finish the thought. At that moment, the door opens again, this time revealing a middle aged woman in a white physician’s coat. Her name tag reads Dr. Kim, and she introduces herself as such to you.

“Looks like everyone’s here, including our new members.” She gives another cursory nod in your direction. “Welcome again.” Glancing around, the instructor pauses. “Oh, wait. Except for—”

“I’m here, I’m here.” For the second time in the span of a minute, the door behind you opens. You don’t miss the glance that passes between Niki and Jake. You turn to face the new arrival, but his back is to you as he sets his bag down and begins the process of switching his shoes.

The way the new member enters with a dismissive wave of his hand and lack of proper greeting has you thinking tardiness is not an uncommon trait of his. Even from behind, you can feel the waves of arrogance he exudes. That seems to align more with your preconceived notions of athletes.

Studying him for another second, a sinking feeling of dread begins to build in the pit of your stomach. Long, dark hair. Unnaturally graceful movements, even if all he’s doing is digging through his bag. Tall stature, broad shoulders, long legs.

An athlete’s build through and through. Perfectly suited for the ice.

“Great.” Despite the statement, Dr. Kim’s tone is flat. “Well, we were just getting started and introducing ourselves since we have someone new joining us today.”

“Hi,” he offers, still fixated on his bag, yet to offer as much as a glance in your direction. If anything, it only serves as a confirmation of his identity. “I’m—” You don’t even need to hear him say it.

“Sunghoon?”

At that, he does finally look up.

Gaze locking with yours, a moment of confusion is quickly replaced by a furrow in his brow, the slight downturn of his lips. He’s not thrilled to see you either.

A beat passes.

Two.

Neither of you break eye contact.

The silence extends to the point of discomfort for all four onlookers, each of them hesitant to break the tension that’s rising by the second.

Finally, Dr. Kim takes a knife to the tension. “Do you two know each other?”

Park Sunghoon. Renowned figure skater at your rival university. Someone with such a natural knack for carving lines through ice that whispers of prodigy have been shadowing his footsteps since the minute he put them on a rink.

Someone with his head so far up his own ass you’re not sure how he can see half the time, much less keep his hair looking so perfect.

Oh, you know him alright.

“___?”

And it would seem he remembers you as well.

It also answers Dr. Kim’s question well enough.

“Ah, good.” It sounds like a question, like she’s hoping your acquaintance will be a positive thing instead of a disaster. You don’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. “The figure skating community is tight knit, I suppose.”

You suppress a scoff. That’s one word for it, you guess.

You remember when it felt that way to you, too. Before tight knit became too small. Back before university, when it felt like it was you and Park Sunghoon against the world, instead of against each other. Back when the two of you didn’t skate for opposing teams but instead were members of the same club. A time when you took the ice together, skated as partners until he—

You force your thoughts to stop in their tracks. Your blood pressure has spiked enough in the last few days, and thinking back on long days spent with Park Sunghoon will only send it skyrocketing again.

If anything, you’ll use this opportunity to practice perfecting your poker face for when you inevitably run into him at future competitions.

And future competitions means you need a healed ankle, not a bruised ego. And certainly not an unpleasant trip down memory lane.

Turning away from Sunghoon, you’re the first one to answer when Dr. Kim asks if you’re ready to get started.

“Yes,” you tell her, determination written across your brow, in the set of your shoulders, and perhaps most noticeably, in the way you avoid Sunghoon’s wandering gaze for the next two hours.

…

Without the rink, days are quick to meld into one another. It may be concerning, considering that you still have a set schedule of classes and homework to follow, but your life has revolved around training for so long that it’s hard to tell Mondays from Wednesdays without a set practice schedule.

Thankfully, you do still make it back to the clinic at the right time on the right day, this time for another session with Dr. Kim and your fellow band of broken athletes.

Including him.

Aside from the glaringly obvious exception, you’re not as bothered at the thought of returning as you feared you might be.

Jungwon, Niki, and Jake have proven themself pleasant enough company, and Dr. Kim seems to have built an understanding of how difficult it is to be forcibly removed from the sport you love. As such, she’s one of the least aggravating medical professionals you’ve spent time around.

“Hey,” Niki greets when you arrive. “Did you have a good weekend?”

You shrug. “Good enough. Mostly just catching up on homework.” Setting your bag down and switching out your shoes, you join him on the mat, beginning the series of warm-up stretches Dr. Kim instructed you through last week. “What about you?”

“Not too bad. I got some good news from my doctor, actually.” He switches legs in his stretch, and you’re almost envious of his flexibility. He’s a dancer, and an exceedingly good one at that. One with an unfortunate knee injury at the moment. “My x-rays are looking a lot better. He thinks I might be able to start easing back into regular use by next month.”

“That’s great,” you smile, even as a pang of jealousy stabs somewhere near your gut. “I’m really happy for you, Niki.”

“A month still feels like forever, though, doesn’t it?” He sighs. “I can’t remember the last time I was out of the studio for this long.”

Jungwon slides down onto the mat next to you, joining in on the stretch routine. “Consider yourself lucky, man. They told me at my last check-up that I probably won’t be able to do any jumping or kicks again for at least three months even though the fracture is already mostly healed.” He shakes his head. “No jumping or kicking,” he echoes, sarcasm dripping from every word. “You know, things that are super easy to avoid in taekwondo.”

“If it’s any consolation, I just got told that I’m gonna have to sit out of regionals this year. Which means I’ll have no way of qualifying for nationals.” You wonder how many times you’ll have to admit that particular reality to yourself before the sting starts to fade.

“That sucks.” Jake agrees, coming down to the mat and occupying the spot next to Niki. “I’ll probably have to sit for this entire season, too. I love my team, but it’s so frustrating watching them play when I know I could be an asset on the field.”

“That’s true.” You’re struck by a sudden wave of sympathy. “At least skating is an individual sport, so the only person I have to disappoint is myself.”

“Speaking of skating,” Jungwon sounds hesitant as he approaches the subject. “Do you and Sunghoon, uh…” he pauses for a moment in search of a neutral way of framing the unmistakable tension that surfaced the last time he saw the two of you together. “Do you two know each other?”

Grimacing internally, you suppose an explanation was bound to be solicited after your icy reunion. “We skate for rival universities.” Your gaze fixes on a spot on the ground. “And before college we used to, uh, we used to skate for the same club.”

The three boys share a glance. It’s hardly an explanation for the venom you said his name with but before they can press you further, the subject in question enters the room.

Again, he takes his time setting his bag down, getting his things ready. This time, he also pulls out an obnoxiously big pair of headphones, secures them over his ears before he bothers to turn around. Despite the fact that all three boys offer him friendly smiles and waves, he returns the gesture only with a tight smile, making his way to the mat on the opposite side of the room before he begins his stretch routine.

It’s a message that rings loud and clear. A frown passes between Jake, Jungwon, and Niki. It’s obvious to you, then, that you’re the reason he chose to set himself up as far away as physically possible.

So be it, you think, letting the slight roll right off of you. It’s not the first time he’s given you the cold shoulder for something he plays an equal part in, and you doubt it will be the last.

Besides, it will only make your sessions pass by quicker, if the burden of avoiding gazes and minimizing interactions falls on his shoulders instead of yours.

With nothing but a shrug, you adjust slightly, ensuring that the only view he has of you is of your back.

…

It’s a pattern that continues as physical therapy sessions start to become a regular routine in your week. Sunghoon, with his apparent disdain for anyone’s time but his own, is always the last to arrive. He also continues his habit of picking the spot in the room furthest away from you.

Despite the fact that you’d like to chalk it up to his social ineptitude alone, that explanation doesn’t track. Although there’s still a certain aura of aloofness that follows where he goes, it’s too often that you see him smiling at a joke cracked by Jake or sharing easy conversations with Jungwon and Niki.

Hell, he even interacts with Dr. Kim with a level of warmth you didn’t know was possible coming from him. If there’s any disdain in their conversations, he directs it all towards his right wrist. It’s why he’s here, you assume. Encased in a brace similar to the one you wear on your left ankle, his right forearm seems to be the reason for his attendance.

It’s hard to not be envious. While a wrist injury is nothing to scoff at, it doesn’t necessarily keep you off the ice. Not in the same way a fractured ankle does.

Refocusing your thoughts, you push the boy across the room firmly out of mind as Dr. Kim helps adjust you into the next stretch.

“How about now?” Dr. Kim pushes your spine a fraction of an inch further, pressure light but demanding. Before, this much flexibility would have been an easy request of your body, but lack of use has your muscles feeling tight. “Any tightness or pain?”

“No.” The bead of sweat on your brow begs to differ, as does the way the negation slipped through gritted teeth.

But you’re frustrated. Annoyed at the progress you’ve lost, at the new limits of your body, at the way you feel like a stranger in your own skin.

Across the room, you miss the flicker of annoyance that flits over Sunghoon’s features. Headphones on as always, you imagine you’re nothing more than a blip on his radar, a pesky intruder that’s easily ignored as long as he has his back to you.

“Hm,” Dr. Kim muses. “You’ve retained more flexibility than I expected.” She offers you a smile. “That’s a good thing, a sign of a quick recovery.”

You suppress a grimace. It should be a good thing. You should be recovering quickly. If only you could get your stupid body to cooperate.

Stealing another glance at the boy across the room, you can’t help the way a small burst of rage bubbles in your stomach. Prodigy. Why does he always get to be the anomaly, the exception to the rule? His injury is already less severe than yours, and he’s probably recovering quickly, too. Without even having to fake it.

Easing you out of the stretch, Dr. Kim jots down a quick note. “I’ll have Dr. Min run another x-ray at your next visit.” Nodding towards your ankle, she adds, “I think there’s a good chance that things are looking a lot better, and updated x-rays will help guide our next sessions.” She pauses for a minute. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself or get your hopes up, but I think we might be able to start putting some weight back on it soon. Start getting it stronger again.”

You’re hesitant to let your excitement grow too much. But it would be a lie if you weren’t already counting the days until your next visit with Dr. Min in your head. “Thank you,” you tell her. “I’ll hope those x-rays come back looking good, then.”

“Me too,” she smiles. “I’ll see you next week, then. Hopefully with good news.”

You nod, returning her smile before heading to the door to gather your things. Jungwon catches you on your way out.

“Hey, ___, hold on a sec.” When you turn back towards him, he tells you, “The rest of us are gonna grab lunch at a place nearby, if you want to join.”

Your uncertainty must write itself across your features, because he’s quick to add, “Don’t worry. Sunghoon won’t be there. He’s got a class right after this.”

Slightly embarrassed by the way he read you so easily, you nod. “Sure. Lunch sounds good.” Despite their friendliness with Sunghoon, you’ve come to like the three of them. And it’s been far too long since you broke up the monotony of class, homework, and medical appointments with something as simple as lunch with friends.

And as long as he’s not there, you imagine it will be nothing but pleasant.

It doesn’t take long for them to prove you wrong.

Niki barely lets you get one bite in before he asks, “So, what exactly happened between you two?” Even without the name, the question is obvious.

Still, after choking on the sip of water you’d been taking, you answer, “Who?”

Jake just gives you a look.

You sigh. “Like I said, we used to skate for the same club. We, uh, never really got along, I guess.” Avoiding eye contact, you add, “And now we skate for rival schools. I suppose it’s only natural to not like each other.”

Niki doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, that sounds made up.”

Jungwon swallows his bite, parts his lips like he has something to say. Internally, you heave a sigh of relief. If any of the three of them spare you, you have a feeling it would be him. “I mean, it does seem like something else must have happened.”

Or not.

“You don’t have to tell us,” he adds. “But it’s just… I mean, the two of you can’t even look at each other.”

Sighing, you suppose the circumstances do look odd from the outside. “There was… an incident. Back when we used to skate together.”

“What?” Jake asks. “Did he steal your skates right before a show or something?”

“No, no.” You shake your head. “It happened on the ice, actually. During a program.”

“Wait,” Niki interrupts. “You said you used to skate together. Do you mean like, as partners?”

The guilt on your face says it all.

“No way.” Jake says.

Jungwon’s eyes grow bigger. “What did he do?”

“Yeah,” Niki turns to face you fully. “Wouldn’t being his partner be a good thing? At least on the ice, I mean. I know he can be a little insufferable, but isn’t he some sort of prodigy—”

“Prodigy, my ass.” You’re so sick of that goddamn word. “Wasn’t a prodigy when he dropped me in the middle of our program at junior nationals, was he?”

The way all three or their jaws drop in unison is almost worth the admission.

But the thing is, he was. No accusatory fingers pointed in his direction after it happened. No one blamed prodigy Park Sunghoon for the mishap.

No, it was decided fair and square by the jury of public opinion that the mistake was entirely your fault, your burden to bear. And it’s not like you were immune to the criticism. Whispers followed where you went. And you always, always managed to hear them.

Maybe if you’d trained a little harder, completed the second rotation a little sooner, the skill would have gone off without a hitch, they mused. Hell, maybe if you’d stuck to your diet a little better, those last two pounds would have spelled the difference between a perfect landing and your ass on frozen ground, program music still crescendoing as onlookers watched with horrified fascination.

“Oh,” Jungwon grimaces.

“That’s rough,” Niki agrees.

And they don’t even know the worst of it. Don’t know that back then, at fifteen, you’d had a giant, soul crushing, earth shattering, massive crush on your skating partner. That you searched for his approval just as eagerly as you’d sought out your coach’s.

That you’d squeezed in as many extra practice sessions as physically possible for five months leading up to the routine just to make sure you were as close to flawless as possible, just to make sure you were chosen to be his partner on the ice.

That you giggled, giggled, when you saw the matching costumes the two of you would wear for the first time.

That you followed where he went with long sighs and lovesick eyes. That you looked forward to the grueling hours you spent on the ice with him, turning perfection into something even greater.

That your heart skipped a beat every time you ran through your program, every time he caught you with sure hands and a strong grip.

That Park Sunghoon never made a mistake, never let you fall, not once.

Not until a spotlight was spinning dreams into reality and you were already anticipating the secret smiles you’d share with matching gold medals around your necks.

Not until it all shattered in a single moment.

It was cold, as you laid there on the ice, sprawled out and unable to move from the sudden shock of it all. Luckily, you’d avoided any critical injuries. You had staggered off the ice with nothing but some bad bruising, the worst of it staining your ego and your heart.

And after it all, no matter how many times you passed him on your way to the locker room, shared the ice with him, or searched for the gaze he pointedly avoided across the room, Park Sunghoon never uttered the two words that just might have made you forgive it all.

Instead of an apology or even the decency of an explanation, you got a cold shoulder and a lost friendship you were too confused by to mourn.

In the end, you’d decided to turn it all into a blessing in a very thorough disguise. From that moment onwards, all of your time on the ice was dedicated to you and you alone. Never would you let anything but the sheer strength of your own will, your own goals, motivate you to become better, faster, stronger.

And you found that victory tasted even sweeter, when the full weight of it could rest on your shoulders alone. When no one could whisper behind their palms that the only reason you stood on the podium was a prodigy of a partner.

So fine. Park Sunghoon didn’t owe you shit. Not an apology, an explanation, or even a second glance.

And if he was a prodigy, an ice prince or whatever stupid title he’d earned alongside his medals, well, you’d just have to be even better.

But now, sitting across from new friends with a fractured ankle and a ruined shot at medalling this year, a quiet part of you admits for the first time that maybe, just maybe, part of that resolve is nothing but spite in disguise. Part of the anger you’ve clung to for so long isn’t directed at him, but at yourself.

That it was embarrassing to fall in front of a crowd, yes, but it was also humiliating to know that he was hearing all those little comments about your inferiority too. To realize that his silence meant he probably agreed. That you were a liability of a partner, unequal in both skill and importance. That he could move on from the incident, from you, completely unscathed.

That your little crush was entirely one-sided, just like the respect and admiration you’d once felt for him.

You stare at the half-eaten lunch in front of you, appetite suddenly completely gone.

“What a coincidence that the two of you ended up injured at the same time,” Jake muses.

“And in the same physical therapy group.” Jungwon nods.

“Yeah,” you echo hollowly. “What a coincidence.”

…

When Park Sunghoon speaks to you for the first time in five years, it’s completely by accident.

As the weeks have continued on, you’ve fallen into a perfect routine during your shared physical therapy sessions. A routine of avoidance, ignorance, and as much space between the two of you as physically possible. It’s become so easy that the two of you navigate it with the kind of grace only two elite figure skaters could ever manage.

If anything, it’s more awkward for the other members of your session than it is for the two of you. Jungwon, Jake, Niki, and Dr. Kim are the ones suffering as they try to stay friendly with both of you without icing out the other.

It must be why he doesn’t even bother to check who it is that’s standing right next to him as he reaches for his bag on the shelf near the front door at the end of another session. Must be why he says it in a voice so casual you don’t think it’s him at first. “How pissed do you think Dr. Kim will be if I’m late again next week?”

Even though the voice doesn’t quite fit, you half expect to see Jake standing next to you when you turn to the side.

Sunghoon realizes his mistake at the exact same second you do. You watch as shock flickers across his features, quickly replaced by something guarded, unreadable. Just as completely closed off to you as always.

It pisses you off, the way he’s so utterly and completely unaffected by you. The way he can brush you off as easily as a piece of dust. Insignificant. Unimportant. Unwanted. It has you freeing the reins on comments you should bite back instead.

“Hard to say.” Ice and resentment drip from every syllable. “Then again, I’m surprised you care about what she thinks. Doesn’t seem like something that would bother you.”

That at least earns you some of his emotion. Another bout of shock crosses his face before it shifts to confusion and falls finally to anger. You can see it in the furrow of his brow, the set of his jaw. The flare of heat in his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

If he falls to anger, you’ll rise above it. At least on the outside. There’s no accounting for the way your gut twists in rage. Still, you offer him a smile that’s almost as fake as it is sickeningly sweet. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out if you spend enough time thinking about it.” It’s patronizing, and intentionally so. You hope it annoys him enough to keep him up tonight.

Reaching for the front door, you take your exit first. The hallways of this building have become familiar over the weeks. Even with anger clouding your vision and a bad ankle, you trace a steady path to the parking lot. You’re halfway to your car when the sound of your name stops you in your tracks.

You freeze for a moment, turning the sound of it over in your brain, stuck on the way it almost sounds like a plea, a prayer coming from his lips. The sound of footsteps draws nearer. They fall quickly, as if he’s running. Your indecision still renders you immobile.

“Hold on a second. Did I… Did I do something to upset you?”

If you thought you were angry before, you’re surely seeing red now. How dare he.

Spinning around, you only hope you sound as outraged as you feel. “Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?”

“What? No.” His brow furrows. “I mean, I know our schools are technically rivals and all, but we haven’t really seen each other in years.”

“Right, because you’ve been so sunny and welcoming since I joined the group.”

“I was giving you space. You practically bolted like a scared cat when you saw it was me.” He runs a hand through his hair. You hate the way it falls perfectly back into place. And you hate the way he looks so good doing it. “But clearly you’ve got something against me.”

The audacity, the sheer, utter audacity. There’s no trace of humor when you say, “You’re hilarious, really.” And there’s no room for debate when you turn away from him again, continuing to walk towards your car.

“Wait,” he tries, but it falls on deaf ears. “God, ___, would you just hold on for a second, I—”

You turn. To do what, you’re not entirely sure. But before you can decide, the grip he has on his car keys loosens, the fingers of his right hand less dexterous than usual thanks to his arm brace. He still has his reflexes though. With his other hand, he manages to stop them from falling completely.

“Better take care of that.” You jerk your chin to where he awkwardly fumbles with his keyring, trying to find a better grip. “Wouldn’t want to drop those too.”

His gaze snaps to you, eyes wide, mouth slightly slackened. The keys fall from his grasp, metal clinking delicately on the pavement. A million questions swim across his features, none of which you’ll give the grace of answering.

Instead, you turn around once more. You make it all the way to your car, all the way out of the parking lot, all the way home.

And he never says your name once.

…

The following Tuesday, you are the last one of the group to arrive. And while you would usually never pass up the opportunity to best Sunghoon at anything, including being the latest arrival, competition is not the reason for your tardiness.

It’s avoidance. That, and the fact that you had to spend eleven minutes giving yourself a pep talk in the car before you could work up the nerve to approach the front doors of the clinic. In the end, it’s a glance down at the boot on your left foot that does it. You’ve let Sunghoon ruin your chance at a gold medal once, and you’ll be damned if you let him do it again.

Besides, your last visit with Dr. Min was a good one. Your ankle hasn’t healed quite as much as Dr. Kim suspected, but progress is progress, and you’re making plenty of it, according to your most recent x-rays.

You enter the session with an apology for Dr. Kim and concentrated efforts to not let your gaze wander to the back corner of the room as you make your way over to where Jake and Jungwon sit. Starting your stretches, you assume Niki is over with Sunghoon, but you can’t work up the nerve to confirm that.

Despite her initial annoyance at your tardiness, Dr. Kim is equally pleased at your latest x-ray results and gives you the green light to switch out the resistance bands you’ve been using for the next level up. Just as you’re reaching for the set of red bands on the shelf next to the treadmills, a set of obnoxiously smooth hands gets there first.

Turning to Sunghoon with narrowed eyes, you grab the end of the band set he just snatched out from under you, eyes ablaze.

The little fucker has the gall to roll his eyes. “What are you doing?”

You yank on the band. He doesn’t even flinch, grip steady. “I’m trying to follow Dr. Kim’s instructions,” you inform, tone flat.

This time when you yank again, he yanks back. Much to your annoyance, he’s able to exert enough force to have you stumbling forward. “You’re trying to provoke me.”

“And it’s working,” Niki whispers to Jake and Jungwon in the back corner of the room. Dr. Kim just shakes her head.

“Just take the green bands,” Sunghoon suggests.

“They don’t have enough resistance. I need these ones,” you argue. “Why don’t you take the green ones?”

“Pretty sure if one of us takes the lighter bands, it should be you.” Sunghoon tightens his grip. “Or are you seriously trying to claim that you’re stronger than me right now?”

“I’m using them for my legs, you absolute jackass. Which are definitely stronger than your forearms.”

Sunghoon cocks a brow. “Should we put money on it?”

“You are such a dick. Dr. Kim literally—”

“Has another set of red bands,” the woman in question interrupts. She levels the two of you with an exasperated look as she holds them out in front of her. “There’s another set of every color on the equipment shelf next to the door.”

“Oh, right,” you nod, pulling back a little on your end of the band before you release it, just to hear the small cry Sunghoon lets out when it snaps against the skin of his good wrist. “Thanks.”

And the satisfaction that comes from completing your usual number of reps with a higher resistance is almost as gratifying as when you see Sunghoon rubbing at the still reddened skin on his left wrist as you pack up to leave for the day.

“Those two are gonna kill each other,” Jungwon tells Jake and Niki as the three of them walk to their cars, brow creasing in concern.

“Or something,” Jake agrees.

Niki hoists his bag up on his shoulder. “My money’s on ___.”

A contemplative look passes between Jake and Jungwon before they nod in unison, “Yeah.”

…

You’re in the middle of passing a medicine ball back and forth with Jake the following week when he asks, “Are your school’s finals next week too?”

And although it’s hard to believe, first semester is already drawing to an end as the days get shorter and assignments get longer.

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m up to my ass in essays right now.”

“Same,” Jake agrees. “Sometimes it makes me wonder how I do it when I’m training, too.” Although you agree, a pang of jealousy is the only thing his words inspire. Of the skaters on your team that are preparing to compete as you speak. That have already choreographed their routines and selected their music and are spending every waking moment perfecting each and every detail of their program.

It’s hard. It’s brutal. You’d be the first to admit that. But you miss it all the same, so much it hurts.

A moment passes before he continues. “Well, anyway, Jungwon, Niki, and I were thinking that since none of us are training right now, we should celebrate the end of the semester like everyone else does.”

You arch a brow. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“Right, sorry,” he apologizes. “Consider this your formal invitation to get absolutely shitfaced with us next Friday.”

The laugh that bubbles in your throat is so unexpected you can’t quite bite it back. While you have your fair share of good, old-fashioned fun, he’s right. Every other semester, you’ve celebrated the end of finals season with a cup of hot tea and an early night in bed. Traded one source of stress for another as you woke up bright and early the next day to hit the ice.

You send him a smile, tossing the medicine ball back in his direction. “Count me in.”

…

The following Friday night finds you double-checking the address on your phone before tentatively knocking on the front door of what you hope is Jake’s apartment. In the middle of the university district across the city from your own, you can’t say you’re familiar with any of the buildings outside of the athletic complex, which you’ve only ever visited for a handful of competitions. It strikes you then that this is also the university Sunghoon attends. And, stomach dropping, that you never actually asked who all would be attending tonight.

Before you have the chance to spin on your heel and high-tail it down the stairs you just climbed, the door swings open. It’s not Jake.

“Oh,” you mumble. The boy who opened the door is not Jake, but he is very much attractive. “Sorry. I’m looking for Jake Sim’s apartment.” Your voice turns up at the end like a question.

“You’re in the right place,” he smiles, and it’s gorgeous. “I’m Heeseung, Jake’s roommate. You must be ___.” He opens the door wider, allowing you space. “Come on in.”

“That’s me.” You offer him a grateful smile as you enter, hanging your coat and sliding your shoes off.

The interior is surprisingly sophisticated, for a college boy’s apartment. It’s clean, for starters, and as you follow Heeseung down the hallway towards the kitchen, you can’t help but be impressed by their choice in decor.

“Help yourself to anything.” Heeseung gestures to the impressive spread of snacks on the table. “But first, can I get you something to drink?”

“Um…” Your lack of alcohol-related knowledge is apparent, and the uncertainty must be obvious, because Heeseung just smiles again.

“I’ve got you.” There’s an undertone of something in his words. Something playful, something bordering on flirty. But it’s too subtle to tell for sure, and you’re not one to bet on losing odds. He reaches for a glass and a handful of ice cubes. “Do you like fruity flavors?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “That sounds good.” Besides, it’s been a minute since you’ve been well and truly flirted with at a college party by a boy that looks like he could spell trouble in his sleep. This could be fun, you think.

Glancing towards the adjacent living room, you notice the usual familiar faces. Jake and Niki are sitting on the couch while Jungwon chats with a pair of boys you don’t recognize. Eyes tracing the perimeter, you feel your shoulders tense when they land on a familiar silhouette. Sunghoon has his back to you, but his identity is just as unmistakable as it was on your first day of physical therapy. Like Jungwon, he’s talking to another person you don’t know.

Oh, well. It’s too late to back out now and too early to make an exit. If you and Sunghoon can coexist in a room once a week without starting too many fires, you’re sure you’ll manage to get through tonight just fine.

Heeseung hands you a full glass. It’s cold where it meets your fingertips.

“Should we join them?” He inclines his head toward the living room and you nod.

Following in his footsteps, you wave a quick greeting to Jake before taking a seat next to Heeseung, enough space between you and Sunghoon for you to relax slightly.

“How do you and Jake know each other?” You ask, searching for something to fill the silence, to keep the conversation flowing. “Do you play soccer together?”

Heeseung shakes his head. “No, we’ve been friends since elementary school. But I am on the basketball team, which helps. I feel like student athletes just kind of get each other, you know?”

You do know, and you tell him as much. The crazy schedule, the unwavering commitment. It’s much easier to explain to someone that’s living through the exact same thing.

“Speaking of which, you’re a figure skater, right? For the university across town.”

You arch a brow. “I’m surprised Jake told you so much about you.”

“Not nearly enough,” he flirts, and this time it’s blatant.

You take another sip of your drink with upturned lips, weighing a response on your tongue. Before you can decide how many cards you’d like to show, you make eye contact across the room with the one person you were hoping to avoid.

Sunghoon looks equally—scratch that—even more displeased to see you. Jawline so taught you could cut your finger on it and lips drawn in a straight line, he’s pissed where he locks eyes with you from his seat. Sunghoon is the one to avert his eyes first. Throwing back whatever’s in his cup, he slices through the moment of tension with a knife.

If Heeseung notices the way your breath splutters, he doesn’t comment. Thankfully, Jungwon chooses the next moment to say his hellos and introduce you to the boys you hadn’t recognized earlier.

“Sunoo,” he nods towards the boy he’d been sitting with earlier, who offers a friendly greeting. “And that’s Jay, over by Sunghoon. And you’ve already met Heeseung.”

“And you all go to school here?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon nods. “Jay and I live together, and Sunoo is Niki’s roommate.”

“You’re deep in enemy territory,” Heeseung elbows you lightly, teasing. “What are we gonna do with you?”

You lift your now empty glass towards him, grinning. “Get me another drink, hopefully.”

Sending you a wink, he takes the glass from your outstretched hand before standing from the couch. “On it.” You watch his back retreat into the kitchen, oblivious of the second one that follows it a handful of moments later.

Jay, as it turns out, is not an athlete, but does play guitar for a local band your friend has been raving to you about for ages. He’s already promising you two sets of complimentary tickets to every one of their upcoming shows by the time you realize Heeseung’s been gone for a while. Too long.

Excusing yourself, you head toward the kitchen. And it’s just your luck that you find the person you’ve spent the evening avoiding, instead of the one you’re searching for. Even with the buzz of your first drink fading rapidly, your inhibitions are feeling low.

Sunghoon barely has the chance to register your presence before you’re laying out accusations.

“I know you don’t like me, but do you really have to spend the whole night glaring at me like that? In front of everyone?”

Sunghoon’s shoulders tense, a confirmation that he hears you, but he says nothing. Instead, he just swallows the remainder of his drink in one large gulp. His eyes are still flaring, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you did something to piss him off.

But it’s just like him, to avoid conversations he doesn’t want to have with the end of another drink. To treat you like someone not even worthy of a response. You don’t know why you expected anything different. Scoffing, you notice the full drink sitting on the counter. Heeseung must have had the chance to refill it before disappearing.

You move to step around Sunghoon and reach for it when he finally says, “I’m not glaring at you.”

The gaze you level him with is incredulous. “Do you think I’m stupid? I have eyes—”

“For all I know you are stupid!” Sunghoon sighs, drags an open palm down the length of his face. “I mean, are you really gonna let some guy you just met pour your drinks all night?”

“Heeseung?” You’re confused why all of his rage seems to be directed towards something so insignificant. “He’s Jake’s roommate”

“And a complete stranger to you.”

It’s infuriating, the way he assumes his opinion should hold any weight in your life. The way he thinks he has any say in your decisions. “So should I avoid all the food now too?” You’re being petty now for the sake of it. “I mean, since you’ve been in here unsupervised for quite a while now.” You take another step towards your drink and he moves, blocking your path with his body.

When you look up, you find his eyes already trained on you, and there’s no ice in them now. Just pure, unadulterated heat. Fire. Flames that lick the base of your spine. “You’re so fucking agitating, you know that?”

“I’m agitating?” You take another step forward, hoping the proximity will force him away. It doesn’t. If anything, he leans into it. Into you.

You reach for the drink again. This time, he stops you himself. Fingers of his unrestricted hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Yeah.” His words are low, voice a caress even as it drips venom. You feel his breath ghost across your cheekbone. “Real fucking agitating.”

Your eyes are still locked on his, and you search them for a hint of something coherent, something that makes sense. Every bone in your body drawn taught, it’s as if muscle memory reverts you to the last moment you were like this, the last moment he held you this close, body entwined with his own in a familiar embrace. Your wrist slackens in his grasp.

Last time, he dropped you. Sent you scattering across ice until the only thing you could taste was the bitterness of defeat and the sharp sting of humiliation.

Last time, he let you fall.

You have no idea what he’ll do now.

In the end, it’s the sound of approaching footsteps that has the two of you springing apart, your wrist falling from his grip. In the scramble, you remember your original target.

Despite the long melted ice, this drink feels even cooler in your grip, a stark contrast to the simmering heat just beneath your skin.

When Heeseung enters, he’s tucking his phone into his pocket with an apologetic look. “Sorry, I had to take a call. My brother gets chatty at the worst times.” Nodding to your hand, he smiles, “You found your drink.”

“Yeah, I did.” You take a step closer to the living room, closer to Heeseung. Further from Sunghoon.

Glancing between the two of you, there’s a hint of uncertainty when Heeseung asks if you want to rejoin the others in the living room.

You put his worries to ease and your questions to rest when you agree easily, not even bothering to give Sunghoon a second thought.

You do seek his gaze one last time, though, before you follow Heeseung back to the party. Looking directly at him, you raise your glass in a mock toast. Without breaking eye contact, you bring the cup to your lips, swallowing half the drink in one long sip. When you do finally turn away, it’s to find the empty seat next to Heeseung.

The rest of the evening passes in a pleasant blur, trading stories and laughs with the people around you while Heeseung keeps the seat at your side warm. Sunghoon does you the favor of disappearing from sight after your stand off in the kitchen.

It’s easy to relax into the company of everyone else, so much so that you don’t see Sunoo until you’re running right into him, the contents of his cup saturating the front of your shirt.

It’s a problem Heeseung is quick to solve, and the gray hoodie he offers you is cozier than any of your own with a scent that’s almost addicting.

He’s sweet, you think. Sweet and charming and forward in all of the right ways. It’s solidified when he offers to join you on the porch when you tell him you’re stepping outside for some fresh air. It’s cemented when he accepts your refusal with nothing but a smile and the request that you “come back quick.”

Stepping outside, it takes you a moment to realize that you’re not alone. It would appear that your earlier assumption that Sunghoon must have gone back to his place was wrong. There’s no drink in his hand, but the way he sways with the gentle midnight breeze makes you think he’s still working through everything he downed earlier.

Silently, you glance up at the cloudless night sky, at the way the stars seem to wrap around you. Gaze returning to Sunghoon’s back, you suppose the simplest course of action would be to leave before he realizes you’re here. You turn to do just that, to make good on your promise to Heesung, when the sound of your name stops you in your tracks.

Or at least, you think that’s what he says. It’s hard to tell, with the way his syllables and sounds slur together. Turning back towards him, you find him already looking at you. He repeats your name, and this time around, it’s a bit clearer.

His eyes trace a downward line from your face to your change in clothes. Something in his face crumples, withers.

“‘M sorry,” he slurs, words not lining up quite right through the inebriation.

“What?”

“That day.” The sudden onset of sincerity in his tone makes him seem more sober than he is. “I should have caught you.”

The stars in the sky suddenly don’t seem so far away. You must have heard him wrong. A crease forms between your eyebrows, eyes scanning over his features. They’re laid open in their honesty, no trace of deception.

“I wanted to catch you. I tried to.” He sighs. “Was my fault.”

“I…” You search for words, for the vindication you’d always imagined you’d feel at his admission. In its absence, you find only confusion and an odd pang of regret. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“Sorry for what? Why are you bringing that up?”

He just shakes his head, eyes falling to his feet.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. Like a broken record. His pain is wrapped up in there too, trapped in a loop time has never quite let it escape.

When you return to the party, it’s with a jumbled excuse of needing to check on a pet cat you don’t have.

In the haste of it all, you forget to so much as exchange numbers with Heeseung. But you do find the time to pull Jake aside on your way out the door, to make sure that he helps Sunghoon get home safe.

…

The next morning greets you with a pounding headache and an unfamiliar hoodie draped over the back of your desk chair. It takes a moment of searching through hazy memories before recollection of that particular string of events finds you.

With a sigh, you head out in search of water and Advil, sending Jake a quick message that you’ll stop by his apartment later to return Heeseung’s hoodie.

Even a handful of hours later, you can’t decide if you hope Heeseung is home or not. It’s a Saturday afternoon after a long night, so you figure the odds are high. But you still can’t pinpoint whether that feeling in your gut is excitement or dread.

In an effort to delay the inevitable, you take a detour before visiting Jake’s apartment again. Your rival university’s sports complex is just as nice as you remember it, large, pristine buildings that hold everything an athletics department could dream of. Fondly, you remember the first time you skated in this stadium, back in middle school. It had felt so big, then, so special, to be skating for such a large crowd.

It felt even more special to be sharing the ice with someone who put dreams in your head and butterflies in your stomach. Still fairly new to pair skating, the two of you had put on a program with a less than favorable amount of deduction.

But still. It was yours. It was special. It was shared.

You wonder if he knew then, that one day he would be the reigning king of this very same rink.

Probably, you think. Park Sunghoon never had the habit of letting things feel impossible.

Looking down at the boot on your foot, you miss it, all of it, all at once. The late nights. The early mornings. The bruises and cuts and aching muscles. The determination after defeat. The elation after glory. The feeling of flying every time blade touches ice.

The sign posted next to the stadium is an advertisement, a reminder, of the upcoming regional championships. There’s a pang of loss, a moment of grief, for your program that will have to wait for next year.

But your x-rays are coming back better every time, and Dr. Kim is sure you’ll be back on the ice by the time spring comes.

For the first time in a long time, you think it’ll be okay. You know you’ll be okay.

In front of you, the stadium door opens, and you realize you’re standing right in front of the exit.

“Sorry,” you mutter, quickly moving to get out of the way, but then you take a closer look. “Coach Kang?” you ask, just as she says your name with the same air of disbelief.

It’s an odd feeling of synchronicity, to stumble into your childhood skating coach just as you’re reminiscing on the past.

“It’s been so long,” she beams, pulling you in for a warm hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Just visiting a friend. What about you?”

“Coaches’ meeting,” she explains. “Trying to see if I can get some of my junior skaters in to watch a few practices before regionals.” Nudging you with her shoulder, she adds, “speaking of which, how’s your program coming along? Are you getting excited?”

You shake your head. “I’m actually off the ice for this one.” Glancing down, you lift your booted foot in explanation. “Ankle fracture has me out for the rest of the season.”

“Oh, no.” Coach Kang places a consolatory hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry. That has to be so hard.”

“It’s okay, actually.” You don’t know who’s more surprised, her at your admission, or you at the fact that you actually mean it. “Everything is healing up nicely, so I’m looking forward to an even better program next year.”

“Well look at you, all grown up.” She smiles. “I can say that thirteen-year-old you would not have had such a good attitude about it. Honestly, I’m surprised a fracture was enough to stop you. You were always so stubborn about things. You and Sunghoon.” She lets out a short laugh as your shoulders tense at the mention of him. “I was just thinking about you two the other day, actually. We had a skater fracture his tailbone and argue until he was blue in the face that he still wanted to compete.” Shaking her head, she adds, “It reminded me of that time Sunghoon insisted on skating even though he’d just sprained his wrist.” She shakes her head again, releases a small laugh. “Never could keep you two off the ice.”

It all checks out, the stubbornness, the determination even when it was stupid. But you’re hung up on one detail. You’re sure you could list every one of Sunghoon’s skating injuries just as thoroughly as he could. But before the current one, you can’t recall any wrist injuries. “What? When did he sprain his wrist?”

Coach Kang waves her hand flippantly, like the sinking feeling in your gut isn’t intensifying with every passing moment, like she isn’t about to confirm a realization you’re already dreading. “Oh, you remember. It was just a few days before nationals that one year.”

That one year. She skirts around it, for your sake probably. But you know exactly what she means, when she’s referring to.

And suddenly, you’re falling through air again, plummeting towards ice as a hand makes a desperate attempt to catch you. As sheer will alone is no match for injury weakened bones and ligaments and muscles. As you’re sliding across frozen ground and he’s gripping his wrist with pain on his face and terror in his eyes.

As your head spins, spots clouding your vision from the force of the impact. Before the world goes black, your eyes search for him.

And in those last few moments of consciousness, you watch as his mouth moves to form words you can’t hear.

“I’m sorry.”

…

Raising your fist, you pound at the door again. One, two, three times. At this rate, your knuckles will be bloody before you get a response.

But before you can start your assault on the wood in front of you again, the door swings open slowly, revealing a familiar frame.

“You absolute idiot.”

“Well hello to you too.” Rubbing at his eyes, you appear to have just woken him from a nap. If his head is feeling anything like yours was this morning, you almost feel sorry.

But there are more pressing matters at hand. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“That I’m an idiot? Probably not.”

“That you sprained your wrist three days before nationals? That you skated anyway? That you attempted to catch a person quite literally spinning through the air with a wrist injury?”

A beat of silence passes.

And then another.

Sunghoon suddenly looks wide awake. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. What the hell were you thinking?” There’s fire in your eyes, an anger that’s directed towards him but not in the ways he’s used to.

He pauses for a moment, eyes searching your features for another beat. Finally, he sighs. “Would you have let me skate if I did?”

It’s not the answer you expect. And it’s just like him, to answer a question with one of his own. “I… what?”

“You heard me.” His eyes don’t leave yours. “Would you have let me get on the ice if you knew I was hurt?”

And what is it, him and his habit of asking ridiculous questions like they don’t have obvious answers. “What kind of question is that? Of course not. No one in their right mind would have let you do that program with a wrist sprain, much less your partner. And I love Coach Kang, but I’m about to file a negligence suit against her, because what the hell kind of—”

“Stop talking.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry,” he grimaces, and you’re still getting used to the way apologies sound on his lips. “That came out wrong. What I was trying to say was that you… Well, I… I mean…” He trails off for the third time, casts a tentative look at the way your eyebrows only raise higher and higher every time he stops a train of thought in its tracks. His gaze falls down, somewhere between your nose and chin. An exhale passes through parted lips. Something in his resolve slips. “Oh, fuck it.”

And then he’s kissing you.

Lips against lips and hands in your hair. It’s messy and awkward, and you can’t quite get the timing right.

Sunghoon pulls back a fraction of an inch, catching his breath and letting you do the same.

“What are you doing?”

There’s heat in his eyes and fondness too, a soft sort of expression that only melts further every time he looks at you. But now there’s anxiety in the mix, a crippling fear that he’s misjudged everything entirely, done something horribly wrong.

“I’m sorry.” Before today, you could count his apologies on one hand. Now, you’re running out of fingers. “Did you not want—”

This time, it’s you that pulls him down, hands lacing around the nape of his neck, exhaling a soft sigh against parted lips that sends his mind spinning.

And it’s only the second time, but it’s already better. Already a natural rhythm that the two of you seem to fall into with a little more grace.

The expanse of his door is cold against your back when Sunghoon pulls you into his apartment with his good hand, and he’s a quick study. Attempt number three is an even greater improvement as hands search for new skin to discover and things start to fall into place, one at a time.

Reaching for Heeseung’s forgotten hoodie, Sunghoon breaks the kiss only to toss it somewhere outside your current plane of existence. In this moment, you exist only within the space the two of you occupy, everything else an afterthought.

And you have the feeling attempt number four will be your best yet.

…

epilogue

“Are you ever gonna join me or do I just have to stay out here looking stupid forever?”

You don’t even take a moment to consider. “The second one.”

“Come on,” Sunghoon pleads, skating back towards you where you remain planted firmly to the bench on the perimeter of the rink. He moves towards you with a grace that used to inspire a raging, stomping green monster of envy. Now, you just admire the way he cuts across the ice with the agility of a dancer. “It’s fun out here, I promise.”

Avoiding his gaze, you let your eyes fall to your feet instead. They’re already laced up in your favorite pair of skates, black boot all but forgotten since you had it removed at your last visit to Dr. Min’s office. Since he gave you the green light to return to the thing you love most.

You had been ecstatic then. Brimming with so much extra energy Sunghoon had to physically intervene to prevent you from accidentally knocking over an elderly lady on your way out of the hospital. But now, with the opportunity you’ve been dreaming of for long, hard months at your fingertips, something in you hesitates.

Sunghoon says your name, and suddenly he’s serious. “This is all you’ve been talking about for months.” Sliding down onto his knees in front of you, you’re suddenly at eye level. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He casts a doubtful glance. “Really, I just…” It’s hard, to speak your fears into existence, to let them take flight. Even if the boy in front of you makes it a little easier. “What if it’s not what I imagined?”

It’s a million little worries wrapped up in one. What if your ankle isn’t the same? What if it’s never the same? What if you’re not as good as you were? What if you’re not good enough?

Sunghoon hears them all, and puts them to rest with a smile, a gentle touch as he rests his forehead against yours. “You and that big brain. Always worrying about the wrong things.”

“Hey! I—”

“It won’t be what you imagined.” He draws back a few inches, and your eyes have nowhere to land but on his own. “It will be different. It will feel weird, and your legs will feel wobbly, your muscles will feel weak, and your ankle might give out.”

Your lips flatten into a thin line. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re doing a terrible job.”

Sunghoon just pinches your cheeks together, forcing your lips to purse. “So you’ll show up. Over and over again. Every day until your skates start to feel like a second pair of feet and the ice starts to feel like home again. Until your ankle and your muscles and your stamina are all built back up, in a way that’s different from before but will feel familiar before you know it.” He presses a single, delicate kiss to the tip of your nose. “Until I’m dragging you off the ice instead of onto it, because your boyfriend needs attention and is feeling a little jealous of all the time you’re spending here instead of with him.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re so needy. It’s gross.”

Sunghoon only smiles. “Only for you.”

This time, when he gets back on his feet and extends a hand, you take it. You follow him onto the ice and headfirst towards your insecurities feeling a little bit like a newborn deer, a bike without its training wheels.

He laughs when you stumble and brushes hair out of your face when you pout.

After an hour, you’re already feeling more solid than before. After two, that feeling of flying is starting to return.

It’s somewhere just before hour three when Sunghoon says, “Remember how I told you earlier that you’re worrying about the wrong things?”

“Yeah.” You drag the word out slowly, not liking the hint of deviousness in his sudden grin.

“This is what I was talking about. Instead of worrying about getting back on the ice, you should be worrying about how long it will take you to be able to beat me on a lap around the rink.”

“You absolute asshole. I fractured my ankle!”

Already halfway around the rink, Sunghoon just laughs.

…

outtake—five years ago.

Sunghoon’s vision is blurry. It’s a terrible combination of things—the exhilaration of the spotlight, the pain in his wrist, the grief of an egregious error. The sudden onset of tears that sting in the corners of his eyes and fall without his permission.

Despite all of it, he finds his way back to his dressing room. Choking back a sob, he reaches for the glass of water he’d left out earlier. It tastes acidic on his tongue, burns like regret on the way down.

Stupid, he was so stupid. His hands tangle in his hair. He wants to pull it out. Wants to scream until his throat is raw and he can’t anymore.

It was a terrible enough decision to gamble his own fate on an unhealed injury, but as the reality of the situation comes crashing down around him, he realizes he’s done something much worse.

Eyes open, eyes closed. It doesn’t matter. All he can see is you, sprawled out on ice, limbs bent unnaturally, eyes dazed at the impact.

The unexpected impact. Because you trusted him. You trusted him so much that of course you’d never considered what you would do if his hands failed, if his wrist gave out. If he decided to risk your program, your fate, you, all on a whim, on an inflated sense of self-importance and a lack of regard for the injury he was so certain he could power through.

He couldn’t imagine it, three days ago. Telling you that he was injured, that he couldn’t skate the program. He couldn’t imagine watching as the features he bashfully considered so, painfully pretty twisted into disappointment. Into anger.

So he turned his shame into resolve, into determination. One that allowed him to catch you with a fractured wrist in every practice run, every time, except for the time that mattered. Biting back grimaces and cries of pain all for the fool’s hope of seeing you smile in a few days’ time, a gold medal around your neck.

Instead, he got to see you spinning through the air, slipping through his fingers, landing with a sickening thud. He wants to ask what hospital they took you to, wants to ignore the pain in his wrist a little longer and run there himself, just to make sure that you’re okay.

But then he imagines the way you’ll look at him when you see him. The way all that disappointment and anger he’d wanted to avoid so desperately will surely be all you have to offer him.

He understands. He does. He wouldn’t want to see him either.

Turning away from the mirror, he tucks away his shame for the future. But that only leaves his gaze landing on the bouquet of flowers sitting on the table. The one he’d spent nearly an hour agonizing over, the one his mother had assured him a dozen times you would love. The one he made sure had all of your favorite colors.

He snuck his own favorite in there too, in hopes of what exactly he can’t be sure, but he knows he likes the way they look together—your favorite color and the deep blue irises that represent his own.

It seems to stupid now. After everything, after this, he can’t imagine you want his flowers, and even less his favorite color. He can’t imagine that you want anything to do with him.

So he doesn’t seek you out. Not in the hospital that day, not when you’re cleared to practice and back on the ice again, not when chance has the two of you colliding five years later.

Not until he watches you walk away from him with all that anger and resentment and disappointment he’s been so avoiding for so long. Not until it strikes him in the face and he realizes that he can’t live with it, can’t let bygones be bygones and hope time and the absence of him in your life have healed you for the better when it still hurts to even look at you.

On a dressing room table, five years in the past, a bouquet of flowers wilts.

And Sunghoon learns that with love and patience and a little bit of sunlight, beautiful things, even the fragile ones, bloom when you water them.

.....

note: thank you for reading! as always, comments, reblogs, and asks are very much appreciated :D

#sunghoon fanfiction #enhypen fanfiction #park sunghoon #sunghoon #enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x you #enhypen x you #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon fanfic #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon angst #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios

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blkkizzat · 4 months

Text

❛ MY SHORTY ALWAYS ON SOME BULLSHIT LIKE CHICAGO ❜

PART 2

part of the 420 'We Be Burnin' series

⋙ MENU ITEM: PLUG!CHOSO x SORORITYBRAT!READER ⋙ PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 (completed)

⋙ product description (summary): okay so you finally realized how badly you fucked up. but is it too late? will choso even talk to you now? has he moved on for good or is it that you now have to worry about someone else moving onto him? ⋙ side effects (tw): more drama. more angst. teasing. jealousy. thirsting. mentions of sex and oral sex. intoxication with drug & alcohol use. sending nudes. y/n is still a brat. bitchy sorority sisters. party culture. ⋙ thc levels (wc): 8.2k of 22.1k ⋙ inventory notes (a/n): best viewed in dark mode. i appreciate y'all liking this sm hope you don't mind i split this up more, but the second part was getting too unruly in length lol

Plug!Choso who you thought forgetting about would be relatively easy. Overwhelmed with the sheer amount of new presidential duties, you had no shortage of various meetings to keep you occupied. Even so, Choso had a way of popping into your mind as the most routine things would remind you of him.

You couldn’t go get a fresh set of nails without expecting to see his tinted blacked-out sedan parked outside waiting for you. Scrolling socials had also become annoying as you’d see a post and immediately want to send it to Choso— your sorority sisters would think you were gross if you sent them mukbang videos. You couldn’t even bake anything anymore, especially anything chocolate, without reminding yourself of how much Yuji hated nuts in his chocolate chip cookies.

Or even now when you had been walking across campus with your sisters and chatting about the massive proposal plan of next year’s sorority activities. A daunting task on its own which you had to submit to your national chapter by the end of the month. In fact, there were a lot of tedious things you realized you’d now be responsible for as president.

However, all of that flew out of your mind when a car sped by blasting a familiar rock song— one that Choso always played.

Stopping in your tracks you whipped your head around but the music was coming from a completely different car. The disappointment in your chest felt like you were suffocating.

The song was the first one from Choso’s ‘stoner emo boy playlist’ that you’d actually admitted you liked so he made sure to play it whenever you came around. You didn’t think you were official enough to have a song, but it felt like you did when you’d heard it just now.

Although what pained you more in the moment was the fact Choso hadn’t even bothered to text you since the day of the brunch. Your pride and guilt kept you from texting him initially but after the first week you caved and did what you once thought was unthinkable— texting a guy first.

You’d thought he’d answer instantly, happy you’d finally forgiven him for nearly ruining your brunch and you did want to apologize for missing Yuji’s game. But when 20 minutes turned into an hour and an hour turned into the entire day you realized he was ignoring you.

Choso was a dealer.

He always had his phone on him. In fact, Choso used to respond to you so fast you wondered if he’d always kept your messages up on his screen.

The seriousness hits home when more of your texts go unanswered as the days go by.

You huffed.

Two weeks had passed since you first reached out and apparently Choso was still giving you the cold shoulder. Unconsciously chewing on your manicured french tips, your intrusive thoughts paint the absolute worst scenarios.

This was around the time of day he’d usually be on campus and you’d meet up in the empty garage.

Would he be there now doing another deal?

Or giving ‘discounts’ to another girl?

You shook your head. Choso wasn’t like that.

You knew he wasn’t.

Then again he had stuffed your guts in less than 10 minutes of knowing each other.

But you were the exception right? Choso wouldn’t move on just like that, would he?

Rejection wasn’t something you had dealt with often in your life or well, ever.

You’d gotten everything you wanted since you were little whether it was something you worked for or something given to you.

So what if you didn’t have Choso?

You should be content with life.

You had everything you’d ever wanted right now.

You were pretty, got damn near perfect grades and now had the title of sorority president for fuckssake!

Meeting someone like Choso was never part of your plans and didn’t fit into them either, so you had never really considered what the both of you were to be anything long-term.

Nor did you ever stop to consider what he thought of your relationship.

You thought he’d lick his wounds for a few days and forgive you. However with each passing day the thought he might really be done with you sinks in more and more.

Regardless of the legion of frat guys who would jump at the chance to date you, the only guy you really wanted right now apparently wanted fuck all to do with you.

Ok so maybe you deserve the silent treatment.

A lot.

You never been that big of a bitch to him before. But you really had panicked when he showed up out of the blue with your parents on the way! Also if he didn’t go and threaten the DJ like he did???

You sighed.

No, even under more peaceful circumstances the end result was you weren’t going to leave to go to Yuji’s game. You couldn’t blame him for being furious with you as you knew how protective he was of his younger brother but you at least wish he’d hear you out.

Just for one last time and maybe you could make it up to Yuji too?

Get him a nice gift for missing his little league game and bake him chocolate chip cookies—without the nuts. You wanted to hear him adorably ramble on which would always be accompanied by animated hand movements while he gave you the rundown. Yuji often roped in Choso as well, who would be all too happy to play whatever role or prop Yuji needed him for.

Their identical grins, goofy and filled with joy never failed to put a smile on your face. A smile which came easy as there was never any demands put on you when you were with them. No pretending for the sake of appearances, no worrying about social standing and no expectations for favors.

With them you were just you and they had accepted you.

But had you accepted them?

Shit.

Yeah you had fucked up big.

You knew you needed to talk to Choso and if you weren’t all but certain Choso would slam the door in your face, you’d have half a mind to go pop up at his house.

Although maybe if Yuji ans—

“—Like HELLO!? Earth to Prez!”

Your train of thought abruptly comes to an end when one of your sorority sisters—Brianna—rudely snaps their fingers in your face.

Bitch.

She’d been bitter ever since she’d lost the presidency to you.

Elections were over so you didn't have to worry about staying on everyone's good side like you had been doing for the last 3 years of being super sweet and non confrontational. Even so, snatching up a fellow sister certainly wouldn’t make a good impression for a newly appointed president.

“What IS it Brie!?”

Turning to face her you had no choice but to keep your cool.

“Don’t give me attitude! You’re the one not paying attention, space case.”

Brianna huffed accusingly.

“Yeah, Brie’s kinda right Prez, you’ve been a little bit distracted lately.”

Another one of your sisters chimed in—immediately looking down when your eyes narrowed on her.

“Don't tell me the pressure is already getting to ‘Little Miss Legacy'? Or—”

Brianna flips her hair with a sly smile before continuing.

“—is it just that you miss your burnout stalker boy?”

“E-Excuse me!?”

Extremely disarmed by the allegation, you were not expecting in a million years the very person you were thinking of to be brought up like this by Brianna of all people.

“You know—you’ve been acting off since the brunch a few weeks ago and we used to be practically swimming in za—way more o’s than we paid for. You must have been doing something to get all that from that future convict and he must be pretty pissed with you if you haven’t been able to get anymore since.”

The rest of your sisters were gagged at the accusations Brianna was tossing your way as it was true that your supply had been dwindling. Their eyes darted between the two of you but mostly focused on you waiting for your response.

You ignore them though as all your ire was on Brianna.

This whore had some fucking nerve speaking about Choso like that.

The thought of knocking the smug look off Brianna’s face is almost too tempting —presidency be damned.

Yet your own guilt stops you.

Too little, much too late for you to be standing up for Choso now the way you had dismissed him so harshly in front of Brianna and the rest of your sisters just a few weeks ago. You could only be mad at yourself, your own actions showed them how to treat Choso.

That didn’t mean you were going to let her get away with it without a proper lashing though.

“Listen—Brie, Little Miss Legacy is busy juggling the presidency, a 3.8 gpa, volunteer work and planning every goddamn sorority event worth attending. As for you? Well I heard you’d been pretty busy these days juggling your creepy ass T.A. Noaya’s balls because you were going to fail Biology again for the third time—so do you really want to talk about pressure or whose fucking whom for what?”

Standing up for yourself wasn’t something you ever did in an effort to be likable and so Briana, as well as the rest of your sisters, were stunned into silence.

Even if her fucking for grades had been no secret, it wasn’t something anyone talked about out loud and yet you’d gladly air her out again for insulting Choso.

“Urgh, whatever! Anyways while you were daydreaming we were planning Jeremy's birthday party on Saturday.”

You rolled your eyes at the inattention to some random frat guy’s bday being the reason for this whole confrontation.

“Oookay and—?”

“—and we need you to get some more za from your stalk— er um, I mean your plug...”

Brianna quickly corrects herself seeing your eyes flare.

“Jermey wants a joint filled pinata and we don’t have nearly enough right now to roll all those joints.”

You suck your teeth in annoyance.

Of course it all had to come back around to Choso.

“I’m not talking to him right now. We’ll find someone else.”

Well it was half true, more like he wasn’t talking to you.

You tried not to pout and completely give yourself away at how much it really was affecting you.

“Well start again, Prez! You know his stuff is the best!”

“We already promised everyone we’d have it!”

“Please Prez!”

The rest of your sorority sisters chimed in.

“Yeah Prez it shouldn’t be a problem. Send him an ass pic or something, I bet he would respond to that.”

The rest of your sisters giggled in agreement.

Little did they know you had already sent Choso nudes 8 days ago, which when you checked Snap last just 10 minutes ago he still hadn’t opened yet.

You’d die before admitting that though.

“Fine. I’ll figure it out.”

“Knew you would Prez!”

Brianna tossed you a fake smile as she turned around and your sisters followed suit walking back towards the sorority house. The chatter now moves on to drink options as the previous conversation is instantly forgotten.

You still flip the bitch off behind her back though before you catch up to join the conversation lest these dumb bitches skimp out on drinks for more decorations and have you all drinking Monarch vodka again—gross, much more so than a mukbang video.

Plug!Choso who later that night has you laying on your bed staring at your phone suspended over you, your finger hovering over the send button.

What if he ignored you this time too?

Worse—what if he had finally blocked you?

Well all your messages had gone through so far even though his read receipts were off.

Choso hadn’t blocked you yet.

Only two days had passed since you last texted him but scrolling through your history the wall of blue taking over the entire screen had you feeling vexed.

Hadn’t Choso punished you enough?

Biting your lip in apprehension you hit send.

You almost dropped your phone on your face. Sitting up in your bed you stare at his text incredulously as the sticker shock of Choso jacking up the price by $150 hits you.

You deserved that, you supposed.

But fuck you knew you’d have to come up out of pocket yourself for the extra and you couldn’t admit to your sisters why the price had gone up so much again.

At least he was answering you though.

You threw your phone across your bed.

Well that went super.

You’d hope you’d have the chance to talk about things while he was responding to you, maybe get him to video call you? You knew he still wouldn’t be thrilled with you but you didn’t expect his responses to be that short once he finally answered.

Choso always over texted you if anything, sending paragraphs at times so these clipped messages were like tiny daggers pricking you with each one you received.

You didn’t think you could handle him being mean to you like this for much longer.

Getting a taste of your own medicine fucking sucked.

With a sigh you had decided to push it to the back of your mind. It was Tuesday and he wasn’t even coming until Friday.

That’s when you realized Choso implied he was coming to you.

As in your sorority house.

On Friday.

The night of the Barbie’s Dreamhouse Kegger.

Goddamnit.

Plug!Choso who shows up to your sorority house on Friday night just before midnight when the kegger is at its peak. Choso doesn’t give a single fuck this time around that he sticks out like a sore thumb with his dark tattered jeans, matching leather jacket, heavy eyeliner and metal piercings amongst all the colorful and peppy pastel attired party-goers.

Choso waltzes right through the front door like he owns the place.

“Oh! It's you! Finally!”

Flipping her hair behind her to show off her ample cleavage, your sorority sister Brianna bounces over to Choso who continues to look past her as his eyes scan the foyer.

To be honest he wasn’t even sure she was talking to him until she mentioned you.

“You’re the plug, right? Choso? Here for Prez, hmm?”

Brianna appraised Choso with a flirty glance and a smile.

“I’m Brianna, but everyone calls me Brie. She’s outside with her boys! I’ll take you there, kay?”

Her boys?

Brianna batts her eyes sweetly to complement her peppy demeanor.

Choso simply nods, appearing unphased as Brianna grabs him by the arm of his jacket to lead him through the sea of people crowding the hall and out to the backyard. The very same backyard where you had rejected and humiliated him to save your own superficial social standing just a few weeks ago.

Of course he hadn’t forgotten.

Choso noted this time though the expansive yard had a completely different vibe from the pretentious scene he’d walked into before. The backyard was now filled with pink inflatable decorations and rose gold plastered party supplies, trading the expensive crystal for matching pink solo cups and decorative flower displays for shotskis.

Yet Choso’s comparisons end once he finally spots you in the crowd.

Playing beer pong with some frat fucks, carefree like you had zero concerns (or thoughts of him) in the world as you taunted your opponents.

Choso’s eyes narrow when you—clad in a scandalously small pink sparkly tube top—brought a dainty manicured nail to your chest and seductively dragged it down your cleavage to tug at the hem of the fabric. The tops of your tits swell over the edge of the material provocatively as you tease the chance they might altogether spill out onto the table if you pulled any lower.

The plan worked and your opponents thoroughly distracted missed their shots much to your amused squeals and Choso’s growing irritation. His brow twitched as he noticed the rest of your outfit which barely provided any more coverage.

The matching mini skirt you wore rested low enough on your curvy hips to show the very edges of your thong but high enough on your thighs that your cheeks were nearly peeking out just from the slight bend you took as you aimed to take your next shot. Your pink jeweled belly ring (that he’d bought you) and gem adorned nude fishnets lead down to chunky hot pink glitter pumps only calling more attention to your lower half as they were illuminated by the outdoor tiki lights.

Why were you dressed like such a slut and letting those greasy shitheads drool all over you?

Your beer pong partner was clearly exaggerating his drunkenness for an excuse to feel you up as his hand rested dangerously close to the top of your ass as you took your next shot.

Were you that clueless?

Choso’s jaw clenches as you allow yourself to be pulled in by the shoulder tits first into a celebratory hug after landing a cup off a bounce, thus removing two. The way you’d casually let those assholes gawk and grab at you when you wouldn’t even make eye contact with him in public pisses him off like none other and reminds him why he had decided to cut you off after all.

This time though Choso doesn’t march over, masking his resentment with nonchalance as he considers leaving altogether.

Sure he needed the money—but it wouldn’t make or break him in the long run.

Keeping the big picture in mind, Choso had Yuji to think of and he couldn’t afford to catch a case over your slutty ass if he actually gave into the urge to knock some random frat fucker’s teeth out.

Yet Choso switches his attention back to Brianna when she returns with a beer filled cup for him and her sheer top unbuttoned even lower.

Oh?

Choso grins.

Plug!Choso who you finally notice standing near the back door of your sorority house next to—Brianna?!…urgh!

Her obnoxious high-pitched laughter loudly cut through the music and party chatter to draw your attention over.

What the hell was Choso even doing with her?!

You grit your teeth as Choso takes the drink. You watch as he reclines against the house and cheers cups together. Brianna is twirling her hair innocently as she flirts with him, giggling like an idiot.

One without an ounce of shame at that.

You seethe as she clutches onto his bicep pulling herself closer and resting her tits on his arm when she pretends to momentarily lose her balance.

Stupid cunt ass bitch.

You know it's just to spite you too.

Of course Brianna still didn’t know of the true nature of your relationship with Choso for certain but a backstabbing whore like her would try to fuck him solely off an inkling.

If anything just so she could say your ‘stalker’ was now hers.

She was just using him! Did Choso not see that?!

Your beer pong partner slides his arm around you to tell you it’s your turn again but you don’t even spare him a backwards glance as you shrug him off. Abandoning the game and ignoring his puzzled calls after you.

Truthfully it doesn’t even register as you are on your warpath with Choso and Brianna in your sights, stomping directly towards them like you were on a mission. You were too, as far as you were concerned, determined to break that shit up expeditiously.

Especially now as you see Brianna airdropping her contact info to Choso.

Stopping directly in front of them you’re far too tipsy to prevent your souring mood from spreading all over your face when they both seem to not notice you right away.

You loudly clear your throat.

“AHEM!”

Staring at Choso expectantly your lip curls when it's Brianna who greets you first instead.

“Oh Prez, my B girly! We didn’t notice you there!”

“Whatever, Brie.”

You sneer at her.

Although Brianna only giggles again, feigning innocence and leaning into Choso a bit more.

The whore was still touching up on him.

“I was just keeping Cho here company until we found you.”

Bullshit, they were searching fo– Hol’ the fuck up—CHO?!

Did this whore just call him Cho?!

That was your fucking nickname for him! Only you and Yuji were allowed to call him that!

Oh Brianna was just begging for that ass whooping, dying for it even.

Swaying on your feet, your buzz only intensifies your anger and folding your arms in front of you serves two purposes at the moment:

To keep your balance as you try to prevent your heels from sinking into the grass— but more importantly— because the urge to yank a bitch was escalating to the point your hands were now twitching.

You had drank way too much in your nervousness waiting for Choso.

You thought a quick round of beer pong would settle your anxieties as you’d been hanging out near the front door all day and night not knowing when he’d show up. However time had slipped away from you and one game had turned into three.

You didn’t even really know the guys you were playing with, just some random freshman!

Of course once you finally let your guard down Choso would not only show up but be hanging out with your biggest opp!

But what really had you about to crack—Choso was taking his sweet time in acknowledging you as he appeared to be more concerned with checking Brianna’s contact info than speaking to you right in front of him. “Ight, got it.”

Choso confirmed and slid his phone back into his jacket before pulling out a joint as he finally made eye contact with you.

THE FUCK!? HE ACTUALLY SAVED IT?!

Plug!Choso who stares at you with a condescending smirk as his eyes twinkled with sadistic amusement before exhaling smoke towards the sky.

You bite your cheek to hold back your angry tears, you weren’t about to give Brianna the satisfaction. She could fuck right the hell off as far as you were concerned, only wanting to speak to Choso who was currently looking at you like you were the one interrupting something.

“W-Why didn't you text me you were here?! I would have come outside!”

Your words fumble out of you drunkenly, not sounding one bit as smooth and unbothered as you hoped.

“For why tho? Don’t you have me silenced anyway, Prez?”

You stiffened.

Even if he wasn’t silenced right now you couldn’t deny you had previously silenced him before the last few weeks of trying to get him to talk to you.

“Yea figured—so thought it’d be best to come inside…”

Choso exhales smoke through his nose this time, leering down at you as he passes the joint to Brianna who eagerly takes it.

“You really think I’m still tryna wait for you?”

Choso’s words are crushing as the double meaning behind them is not lost on you. Parting your glossed lips you couldn’t even form a sentence as your mouth had gone completely dry.

Brows raised Choso is practically daring you to challenge him.

But you’re frozen.

Ironic, because his eyes are all but intensely burning into yours as his accusingly cruel question penetrated you like a hot knife to butter.

However, bringing you back, Brianna interrupts the moment—because of course she does—not being able to read the damn room nor handle the attention being away from her for 5 fucking seconds.

“You know Prez… You’re going to be pretty busy with all your responsibilities soon...”

Brianna taps her stiletto shaped nail to her lips in faux contemplation. Her smarmy expression gives away her true intentions resembling every bit of the evil bitch she is.

“...Annnnnd it won’t look good for our lovely new president to put herself at risk by getting us drugs, right? Sooooo, I was telling Cho here how I’m going to be the one taking over for you now.”

Brianna coyly tucks a few loose strands of her long tawny locks behind her ear.

“Who knows? I might be able to get a better discount than you too.”

Passing the blunt back to Choso she winks at him. Choso merely chuckles, shaking his head at the implications before taking another hit.

And yeah that’s what fucking did it alright.

More than ready to give Brianna exactly what the fuck she’d been asking for you wordlessly lunge forward to snatch her up by those raggedy ass microlink extensions she couldn’t stop touching.

However your trajectory is thrown when you feel Choso grab you by your wrist. Pulling you in towards him, the action confused both you and Brianna—who didn’t know how close she was to actually kissing dirt.

Choso passes the joint back to Brianna, telling her to keep it as a ‘sample’ he turns his attention back towards you.

“Come on Prez, I got places to be. Get me my money now before I charge your ass the full stack.”

You both leave Brianna standing there dumbfounded as Choso drags you back into the house.

Plug!Choso guides you through the crowd of your sisters that are all now much too drunk and self-involved in their own good time to care about the pierced n’ scary dark haired man towing their president behind him.

Reaching the staircase Choso motions for you to go ahead of him and you nod dumbly as you obediently climb the stairs trying not to trip.

Urging you along, Choso is right on your tail— quite literally, as he tries to simultaneously avoid staring at your ass cheeks jiggling out from under your skirt—but more importantly tries to keep any other wandering eyes below from getting a peek as well.

Choso places a hand on your waist, both to keep you from falling and to move you along quicker. Warm tingles radiate out from where his hands touch your bare skin yet he instantly releases you once you reach the top.

You can’t help but to pout at the loss of contact.

“Which one?”

Choso still feels all business though as he walks ahead of you like he can’t wait to wrap this up and get you the fuck out of his life again.

Plug!Choso who you usher into your room before closing the door. The party seems distant as only the faint sounds of the base bumping against the walls reach the sanctuary of your room. Still holding the knob you’re leaning with your back against the doorframe as your body is still pumping insane amounts of adrenaline through you.

Nearly fighting Brianna, Choso finally touching you, on top of being drunk had your mind going into overdrive especially since it seemed like Choso would leave as soon as the deal was over.

Would he really take the money and go just like that?

Choso’s face is unreadable as he strolls deeper into your room and casually looks around. You had always come over to his place and he would have never in a million years dreamed of being able to see your room in your actual sorority house.

It was so you though.

Tidy and adorned in your favorite colors, your walls are decorated with pictures of celebrities, friends and various moodboards. Not to mention it smelled like you. The scent of your sugary perfume with notes of vanilla and saffron assaulted Choso's senses making it seem a bit warmer in the room than it actually was.

“Yo Prez, the money.”

His patience for the situation is dwindling. He has to get out and fast.

Choso doesn’t know what he’ll do if he doesn’t leave soon.

Yet you were plotting the exact opposite and you couldn’t let him leave so easily now that you finally had him alone after all this time.

Armed with a plan you nod as you scoot by him and over to your vanity to retrieve the cash. Acting clueless as to which drawer you put it in, you search them all as you bend over to check one of the drawers at the very bottom.

Choso swallows hard.

Your ass–with plenty of curves to spare–is on display for him as well as your sheer pink thong that teasingly pokes out between your crystal studded fishnets.

You had to be doing this on purpose.

Swishing side to side your skirt raises up a bit higher with every shift of your hips while your thong strains tighter across the print of your fat pussy lips threatening to snap altogether.

Akin to a seductive pendulum as you sway before Choso completely entrancing him.

Only you could ever affect him in this way.

After what feels like years do you finally locate the money, a sizable stack of cash composed of 20 dollar bills.

“Found it! In the top drawer all along, imagine that!”

Smirking you plop down in your vanity chair crossing your legs not missing how Choso’s gaze lingered, even if just the tiniest moment, on your thighs.

“Took ya long enough…”

Choso mumbles. There's no real bite to his words this time though. He’s holding his backpack close to hide his half chub while he removes 3 hefty bags of kush from his backpack to toss on the desk beside you.

Reaching for the cash his annoyance is evident on his face when you jerk away from him. Leaning back and fanning the bills across your chest, you wave them tauntingly in the air.

“Stop playin’ around. Not in the fuckin mood, I swear.”

“Playing?”

You question acting coy.

“This is just business right Choso?”

You sat up as if you were taking this seriously at all and Choso is unamused as he reaches for the money again.

And you snatch it back yet again like a fucking brat.

“I’m practically dropping a stack on this–thanks to your new “tax” and all. How do I know if it's any good?”

Clearly your plan is working as you continue to push Choso’s buttons pretending you aren’t excited from him towering over you now.

“Cut the games, Prez. Ya know my shit is always pressure.”

You act contemplative as your eyes lazily travel up his tense muscular form appreciating the view after not seeing him for so long.

“Hmmm, do I though?”

Choso scoffs, growing tired of your games.

That’s all he ever was to you, a game.

“Like I said, just business. Or are you telling me you weren’t going to count the cash to make sure it's all there before you left?”

Damn. Well you got 'em there.

Choso rubs the back of his neck before letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Tch—let’s make this quick then, Prez.”

Plug!Choso who after grabbing one of the bags of weed off your vanity takes a seat on your bed. He shrugs off his jacket to retrieve a pipe from the inner pocket and impatiently extends his hand hurrying you with a quick beckoning gesture.

“Gimme your grinder.”

Rolling your eyes you haphazardly toss it over to him. However, unbeknownst to you, the top was loose and crumbles of kush spilled out of it and onto your bed when he failed to catch it.

“Nice looking out Cho, great catch.”

Even though the poor throw and loose top had been your fault, the fact he apparently couldn’t wait to fucking leave along with you still pissed with how he flirted with Brianna makes you lash out.

“You fucking serious right now? I’m always lookin’ out for your ungrateful ass.”

Obnoxiously you huff, crossing your arms and turning your head away from him.

Ungrateful? For what!?

He hadn’t been ‘looking out’ for the last month, he’d been completely ignoring you!

“Heh, like I didn't just stop you from turning that gouda chick into actual cheese from the way you went at her?”

You press your lips together firmly to keep from cracking a smile at his play on Brianna’s nickname. You’re honestly still salty he had even been around her at all getting so chummy. He’d always talked about how stupid your sorority sisters were, it didn’t make sense why he let her flirt with him like that.

You’re also mad he didn’t at least let you pop her one good time.

“The bitches name is Brie. You should know, you were ‘oh so concerned’ about saving her number and giving her a discount.”

Choso looks at you like you’re an idiot as he shakes his head. He stops packing the bowl to throw you his phone.

“Whose number?”

Frowning, you already know the passcode so you unlock it right away.

Sure enough there was no Brie nor Brianna in his contact lists. Not even her number showed up when you searched his phone for it in case it was under a completely different alias.

He’d never even saved it.

The smug smirk on Choso’s face tells you he knew what she was doing all along and got you all riled up on purpose.

In fact, Choso had recognized Brianna’s ploy immediately. You had previously mentioned something about an annoying n’ bitchy rival.

Besides, there was no other plausible reason for a dumb sorority bitch like her to be talking to him at all—much less throwing herself at him so aggressively.

“Doesn’t feel good now does it, Prez?”

Your face is on fire and you turn away from Choso totally humiliated. You had played right into his hands.

“Hmph! Don’t get cocky, I wanted a reason to beat her ass anyway.”

You puff your cheeks into a pout that Choso can’t help but to chuckle at, shaking his head at you again.

You were a huge brat that's for damn sure.

“Well, it certainly looks like you found one.”

You’re quiet finally as you rake over his words in your mind.

‘I’ve always been looking out for you.’

Not only did he not save Brianna’s number there’s a high probability he just kept you from being kicked out of the entire sorority and maybe school too. Fighting was a huge no-no and you could have gotten expelled. Apparently jealous with rage you were ready to risk it all at that moment without even thinking of the consequences.

Fuck.

Choso had in fact still been looking out for you—even when you didn’t deserve it.

Plug!Choso who accepts your silence is a sign of your defeat and after a few minutes you move from your desk to sit next to him on your bed as he finishes grinding and packing the bowl.

“Brats get greens this time.”

I’m paying a premium for all this shit, I better get greens.

But you hold in that thought, not wanting to give him any more lip in the moment as you’re the one left licking your wounds this time.

Like a gentleman Choso holds the bowl for you and lights it as you take a hit. He tries not to notice how well your glossed lips are wrapping around the phallic mouthpiece as searingly thick smoke flows into your lungs.

Damn, this shit was dank as hell.

You’re doing your best to hold it in but your lungs are burning as you watch Choso take a hit himself. Not being able to keep in your coughs for a second more you’re left signaling at Choso to ‘wait a sec’ when he holds the pipe out back to you.

Fuck, it was even stronger than what you remembered.

“See Prez? True pressure.”

You shrug at him trying to save face although your eyes are watering, already tinting a bright shade of red.

“Uhh duh, I always cough Choso. I’ll still need a few more hits to know for certain.”

Choso rolls his eyes.

You take another hit—a smaller one this time—before slowly falling back onto your bed.

Your eyes close as your high settles in and you debate on what to say next without fucking things up even more with your slick ass mouth.

However your concentration is diminishing quickly as your buzz makes your senses overly aware of Choso’s intense body heat radiating off him, your thighs practically touching.

The weed swirling together with the alcohol in your system makes you all the more sensitive. Your mind floats away as your gaze is hyper focused on how the lean muscles of Choso’s toned back and broad shoulders ripple under the thin black tee he wears.

God, Choso is so sexy.

Your legs squeeze together to calm the burning in your core just from the thought. You want nothing more than to drag him down to bed with you and melt into his embrace—but there's an invisible force field around him that you can’t reach.

You’re almost certain he would recoil from you if you tried now.

There’s a conversation you needed to have first but you didn’t know how to start it without fucking things up even more.

The result is an awkward silence that uncomfortably settles in the room as Choso finishes the bowl off himself.

Never one to smoke too much of his own product he’s only indulging now to temper his mood.

Choso doesn’t know why he’s still here, all good sense in him telling him to take the money and get the hell out. Yet he knows he’s hoping for something–anything–to show him you’ve changed even though all signs so far tonight have been showing him you haven’t.

You’re still cowering away from any accountability and he is determined not to give you an easy out this time.

And it’s for that exact reason Choso can’t look over at you right now.

Otherwise he’s sure to see your tiny pink top that had started to roll up exposing the glitter adorned skin of your underboob. Or how your slow exhales cause your soft stomach to dip temptingly showing off the pink crystal belly button ring he gave you.

The sight of your fishnets brushing against one another out of the corner of his eye alone is enough to know he wouldn’t be able resist grasping onto your supple thighs. God how he would relish the way his fingers would indent into them. He wanted to rip those slutty fishnets right off of you so his head could push your skirt up even further on your hips while he drowned himself in your wet cunt—not even stopping when you would cry from overstimulation.

Plug!Choso, who is thankful his distraction at long last comes in the form of the faded gray blue fabric by your pillow.

“Yo!..is that my shit?”

Eyes opening wide, you pale upon seeing Choso reach for the crumpled up shirt. Choso unravels the tee to confirm it is in fact his shirt—one of his favorite band tees at that.

“Oh, is that yours?”

Choso deadpans.

“So you listen to RHCP now?”

“Maybe…”

You grab it from him and toss it to the side less you break down and confess to him you had slept in it most nights. Not only have you slept in it but you do in fact listen to RHCP now, especially when you workout.

However with this Choso has hit his limit.

To him you hadn’t changed.

Could you not even own up to the tiniest of things?

He couldn’t let himself get sucked back into your toxic web, not anymore. The longer he stayed the more likely that was.

“S’all good, Prez. Keep it.”

Choso grabs his jacket.

“Listen, I gotta g–”

“—w-wait!”

You grab the other end of his jacket. You still find it difficult to find the right words but you had to say something.

It was now or never.

“W-Wait… ah, at least before you go…l-let me know how Yuji’s game went?”

You meekly ease into the question but see Choso go ridgid at the mention regardless.

For now he relents and stays seated. Although a few minutes pass before he speaks.

“He won, of course. MVP of the season.”

You smile genuinely at that but Choso isn’t looking at you— too pained by the memories that began to bubble up again like bile in his throat.

“Awe, that's so great! I knew he would! I’m so happy for him.”

Choso grits his teeth as he turns back to you, his anger evident in his entire being as every muscle in him flexes.

“Are you? So that’s how you treat someone you’re happy for? Really?!”

He doesn’t give you the chance to respond.

“Yuji’s a strong kid— much stronger than me. Honestly, I didn’t even think he minded you weren’t there as he was all focus and excitement to play that day—”

You let out a quiet exhale in relief though any consolation you felt was instantly shattered as Choso continued.

“But when I put him to bed that night. H-He..He’d asked why you weren’t there…He asked if you were gone now like our parents. Yuji wouldn’t believe you’d miss it otherwise.”

Choso struggles to say the last bit and maintain eye contact with you.

Every moment you gaze into his eyes though was pure torture as you’re racked with even more guilt.

“Choso I–”

“I’m so fuckin’ tired of all your fuckin’ excuses!”

You’re silent. It’s so strange to see him this upset you don’t know what to say.

“I’d ask you if you’d even considered the abandonment issues that kid already carries but you don’t. You don’t fill that fuckin’ superficial lil’ head of yours with anything beyond yourself!”

Finishing what he had to say, Choso gathers up his jacket and backpack, stuffing it full with the stack of cash on the vanity—not even bothering to count it.

Momentarily dumbfounded, you're scrambling from the bed to block his path.

“C-Come on, Choso! I didn’t want to abandon him or you! I tried to call you and I texted you so much these past few weeks to talk!”

Choso isn’t impressed.

“And not one text actually had the words ‘I’m sorry’ in it. Not that it would have cut it this time.”

You're reduced to silence for the umpteenth time tonight.

You wreck your brain knowing most of your texts had been focused on baiting him to respond to you but fuck—did you really not even apologize?

“But I am sorry!”

Choso’s gaze is cold and distant, so foreign in comparison to the warmth you’d taken for granted before.

“Whatever you say, Prez.”

There it is again. You’ve grown to resent the title, the job, everything about it.

“Just stop calling me that, okay?!”

You’re trying hard to fight back the tears that threateningly pool in the corners of your eyes.

“What...Prez? Why, it aint all that they cracked it up to be?”

“N-No… it’s n-not… I actually hate it and I hate being here.”

Your voice is hardly above a whisper as you direct your words towards the ground. You didn't want Choso to see your glassy eyes even if he’d noticed the cracks in your voice.

Plug!Choso who regards you with skepticism but curiosity nonetheless. So at long last you decided to be honest with both him and yourself aloud for the first time.

But it didn’t mean shit if you wouldn’t do something about it.

“Then quit.”

Choso says to you like it’s the most obvious answer in the world as your head snaps up incredulously.

“H-huh? W-What?!”

“You heard me princess— quit.”

Could you really just quit?

Truthfully, you had never considered it an option. The expectations put on you by your sorority sisters, your parents and the plans you had made for yourself had all led you to the commitments and responsibilities you had now.

How could you just let them all down by walking away from it all?

“Choso— I heard you..b-but I can’t, you don’t understand I–”

“—No, I understand better than you do, princess. You spent so much time with me and Yuji because you hate this sorority bullshit, you can’t stand any of these bitches and now you just agreed to be president of your own goddamn misery!”

Reading you for filth, Choso stares at you expectantly but you avoid his gaze.

Your nails suddenly becoming all the more interesting as you fumble with them.

“–Ight then.”

Choso doesn’t want to argue with you any longer.

You’re still full of excuses to his disappointment. If you wanted to be something you weren't that badly, then that was your own prerogative he decided as he brushed past you.

“N-No! P-Please, don’t leave Cho!”

There's clear desperation in your voice. You cling to him, burying your head into the middle of his back as your shaky hands weave their way around his midsection.

Choso is mid-twist on the doorknob.

He had all intentions of leaving if you still weren't being honest with yourself about things.

Still does.

Yet his determination is wavering from your hot tears begin to seep through his shirt and trickle down his spine. The warmth of your body—now flattened against his—causes your pert nipples to poke into his back while your delicate fingers wretchedly grasp onto his taunt abs like a lifeline.

Like you actually needed him in your life.

Fucking hell, you didn’t play fair at all.

But he couldn’t forgive you just to hurt him again and especially not Yuji.

“Let go.”

“No.”

“I said let go!”

“NO!”

Choso easily pries you off of him, spinning you around as your back slams against the door pinning you in place. His hands encircle your arms and extend out fully so he could put some distance between the two of you.

He couldn’t think straight when you were all over him.

Your world is a blur and in your crossfaded state you are left with vertigo at the sudden shift of positions. Both you and Choso are left panting at the intensity of it all.

“You don’t listen to anyone do you?! You just do whatever the fuck you want…”

Choso’s face is red with anger and your eyes—already reddened from your high—take on a deeper shade as you are now openly bawling in front of him.

“Tch, why are you the one crying? This is how you want things, right?!”

You shake your head, unable to communicate beyond your pitiful sobs.

Choso grows more and more frustrated as the guilt he is feeling battles with his more rational mind prompting him to still be angry with you despite your tears. Back and forth his mind races until it all bubbles over and—

“—You don’t think I know I’m not good enough for you!?”

Your teary eyes widen at the sudden admission.

Choso even startles himself with his own confession he’d been holding in all this time.

“But not Yuji...He’s already so much better than me! He’s gonna actually be something one day. He doesn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Your lip quivers and your pleas are almost unintelligible.

“I-I know…m’s-sorry…m-m’so sorry C-Choso!”

Choso exhales deeply and shoulders slump forward as he releases you, running a hand over his face and back through his raven locks.

You couldn't read his expression but you didn't want him to attempt to leave you again as you close the gap between you, arms encircling him once more.

Choso doesn’t push you away, yet to his credit he doesn't return your embrace either as he’s still torn.

“I-I missed y-you so m-much.”

Cursing the hold you have over him Choso can’t deny he still wants to be with you—but you both were at an impasse.

Nothing good would come from repeating the same cycle again.

There is no resolution if you still want to keep up a front.

“P-Please forgive me Cho—I-I love you.”

The sweet proclamation is accentuated by your pillowy lips spreading kisses over his chest while the tips of your fingers slip up his shirt to place feather light scratches at the small of his back.

Love, eh?

An unexpected revelation dawns on Choso and he is now resolved in what he has to do.

“Yeah princess, you really love me?”

Oblivious to the danger edging in his voice, you nod as you continue to coo affectionate words and affirmations into his chest. One of your legs hitches around his as you mold yourself deeper into him thinking he’d finally forgiven you.

Had he forgiven you though?

Well, not exactly.

A devious smirk appears across Choso’s features.

Choso had come to the conclusion that at the end of the day you were simply a terrible people pleaser.

Your stuck up bratty nature was merely a front of false confidence.

You tried so hard to become whatever anyone else wanted you to be, you'd lie to yourself and become utterly miserable in your efforts to appease those around you.

However, Choso knew the version of you he’d gotten when you’d been with him and Yuji had been the real you.

And he actually did believe you loved him— even if you had just forced yourself to say it in the moment so you could manipulate him into staying.

Sympathetic to your pitiful nature, Choso wouldn’t just abandon you.

But if you couldn’t do what was best for you, he would make sure you would himself.

PART 3

⋙ ©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

⋙ I'm about halfway through P3, its 5.5k already lol. stick with me though cause pt 3 is the nasty brat taming smut we all are waiting for! if i tagged you here i will tag you again for p3 but im still adding new people to tag list so lmk in comments or reblogs if you'd like to be added. trying to focus to finish this but my adhd might distract me into writing a quick gojo fic but if i do i will finish this right after!

⋙tags: (ps ty for all the sweet comments for those who joined my overall writing tag list yall legit had me in tears ilysm!) @nkogneatho @toji-girl-main @RoyaltyAndRoses @aydene @slowlyshycomputer @bontensbabygirl @yoonjinhusbands @anxious-chick @kashxyou @halosdiary @littlemochabunni @ryomens-vixen @buttercupblu @tonycries @lowkeyremi @strawberrygirl0 @crybaby-herbalist @rintcrous @bomboclakkk @anubisisthebomb @alwaysfreakingout @oeanonyme @chrys23 @spltbtch @uranometrias @officialsimpp @crispycatt @purple-obsidian my-jukebox @peachyharts111 @thedorklingqueen @sugurusprettygirl @scarasw1f3 @kgorethz @c1truswh4re @madaqueue

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 1 year

Text

*NSFW* How to train your pet Human pt. 3 (Yandere!Alien x GN!Reader)

CW: Dub-con, mild psychological distress, mind break, dead dove fic

Part 1, part 2

Kirtch slumped over his friend's standing chair, miserable and mopey.

A tall creature, taller than even Kirtch, sighed dramatically, sauntering around their depressed friend with a smaller horned being crawling behind them.

"I don't understand what I'm doing wrong." Kirtch whined pathetically in Jaudna's native tongue. Jaudna made a gurgling sound with the soft spot on their head, the closest human equivalent being someone rolling their eyes. They sprawled across their lounging seat, motioning for their pet to stay on his knees.

"I'll tell you exactly what you've done wrong. You pampered them too much."

"I punish them!"

"You punished them for their escape attempt. That was it. You've allowed your pet to test your authority in plenty of ways after that."

The man on his knees pleaded with his eyes to be let up, but stayed perfectly still, like he wasn't alive. Kirtch noted Jaudna's pet's demeanor with discomfort. That discomfort only lasted until he imagined (Reader) in that same position, looking up at him with their large dewy eyes, waiting so patiently to be held by him... his discomfort was replaced by jealousy.

"You don't understand, (Reader's) such a sweet little pet, and whenever they struggle they're so cute about it. I just can't understand why they aren't happy."

"Humans' minds are incredibly flawed. According to the few psychological texts I have gotten my claws on over the years, their memory is not set in stone like ours, it is fickle and easily manipulated. One of my books referenced a case in the nation called 'The United States of America' where nearly the entire country fell into panic over an imaginary evil, because a few doctors used a phoney science called 'hypnotism', a practice they believed could help recover forgotten memories, on a bunch of children, but accidentally implanted false memories of abuse, leaving the children traumatized, believing that they had been victims of a horrific occult."

Kirtch looked to his good friend nervously. "Are you implying I do something nefarious to my pet's mind?"

"No, I'm showcasing an example of how stupidly easy it should be to train your pet to love you." They tossed a book into Kirtch's hands, the cover printed with a photograph of a wild looking man, with fluffy hair and dark, hateful eyes. "Hypnotism isn't the only creative way humans have learned to reprogram each other."

Kirtch almost threw the book back, but saw Jaudna's unnamed pet still sitting so patiently for his master, and the pain in his body where his heart may have been throbbed again. "Thank you.. Jaudna."

(Reader) had waited for what they assumed to be well over an Earth day, alone in Kirtch's quarters, waiting for his return. The only company they received were the employees who brought their meals, speaking down at them in a language they didn't know, but could understand the disgust. It had been over a month since their fight with Kirtch. Every day since had been nothing but hell, feeling like their heart had been ripped out, they laid in their bed cage, only moving when necessary, allowing themselves to hide away inside their own mind.

The main door opened again, and (Reader) could hear Kirtch's long, graceful steps as he passed through the study and into the bedroom. "(Reader)? Are you still in bed?"

In an act of defiance, (Reader) kept their mouth shut, pulling the blanket tighter around their shoulders. But it was of little use, as Kirtch easily lifted their purposefully dead weighted body out of the bed.

"I'm sorry I was gone for so long, pet, but I had to see an old friend for advice." He carried (Reader) back to his desk, sitting them in his lap, fighting to hold them upright as they flopped about limply. "(Reader), please sit up so I can take off your shirt."

He began working on the wrists, the intricate metal cuffs with multiple buttons that almost acted like locks, and (Reader) subtly straightened their back to give him better access to the neck corset thing, thankful to finally have it off for a couple hours at least. (Reader) had grown to find it somewhat elegant the past few months, but it still was an incredible pain in the ass.

Feeling the air on their neck was bliss, and (Reader) immediately ran their fingers over their skin. (Reader) breathed a deep sigh, relaxing their body unintentionally. But almost as soon as their hands left their throat, a new collar was latched into place, a loud mechanism clicking as it tightened, stabbing the back of their neck with what felt like a fixed needle.

(Reader) cried out in pain, sprawling out their limbs on reflex, pushing themselves out of Kirtch's embrace and onto the floor, lying naked on their knees as they clawed at the collar, desperate to relieve the pain.

"What?? Why?" Their voice was barely audible through their sobs.

"I'm so sorry my pet, the pain will end soon, wait-" Kirtch pushed a button on what looked like a remote, and (Reader) could physically feel the rush of liquid enter their body, then the pain lightened, leaving (Reader) almost euphoric in it's absence.

"What is this? Why did you do this?" Betrayal laced their tone, and Kirtch looked almost on the verge of tears, but he stood still, refusing his urge to scoop up his little pet and beg for forgiveness.

"I know now that I didn't train you correctly, and for that I am sorry. I've given you too much leeway, and that is why you've been so unhappy." He took a ragged breath, thumbing the controller as he thought out his words. "I didn't want to do this, but I care about your happiness. This is for the best."

"So you put a shock collar on me?" (Reader) asked incredulously, spitting venom.

"No, nothing barbaric like that!" Kirtch looked hurt, flinching as he almost dropped onto his knees to comfort (Reader). "I just need to convince you that you're happy here with me, just as I did the first night you were here, to help you release your stress."

(Reader) remembered the shot he gave them, that first night when Kirtch used a toy to get them off, the hormones he artificially added to their body to make them feel pleasure, and then thought about the pain in the back of their neck. The color drained from their face. There were only two options; plead or double down.

"You can manipulate me all you like, I'll never be happy here." A tear escaped as (Reader) transformed their hurt into anger. "I deserve someone who will love me, not as a pet, but as an equal. Because I am a human fucking being. And we have partnerships. We don't jack off our pets, we do not love our pets like we love the people we have sex with, because that- that is not okay! Why did you.." (Reader) couldn't stop themselves from crying, looking up to try to at least slow the waterworks.

The silence between them was loud. (Reader) turned away, wiping away their snot with their bare arms.

"Pet, noun; a domestic or tamed animal kept for companionship or pleasure. Adjective; denoting a thing that one devotes special attention to or feels particularly strongly about." (Reader) looked up, horrified. "Your's may not be my first language, but I feel I had a pretty decent grasp on my understanding of what a pet is."

Kirtch placed a hand over his face to hide his expression.

"You'll be happier once this is all over. I promise."

"You son of a-!" (Reader) couldn't finish their sentence, more fluid passed into their spine, followed by an immediate sense of emptiness. Extreme anxiety flooded their body, causing severe stomach pain almost instantly. They collapsed, holding onto their midsection, their bare skin clammy. "What? Why?"

"No more talking back to me, pet." Kirtch kept his voice steady.

(Reader) cried out, rapidly becoming exhausted from heavy nothingness filling their body. "Please.. stop.."

Kirtch nodded, appearing relieved. He pushed another button, and the emptiness ebbed away, leaving (Reader) numb.

"I don't understand why you're doing this." (Reader) weakly grumbled, too tired to pick themselves up.

"Because I want you to be happy."

"I'll never be happy with you."

"Why?"

"Because! I deserve to be loved!"

"I love you-"

"Fucking liar." (Reader) snarled, knowing that this would cause them to be punished again, but needing to get in the last word. Kirtch looked so miserable, so crushed by (Reader's) words, but they felt vindicated by his pain. They needed to twist the knife deeper.

He smiled, so sadly, and grabbed a blanket, bending onto one knee as he covered his pet. "I love you, (Reader)."

Their heart clenched, and their face flushed. Immediately they searched his hands for the remote. "S-stop that."

"I love you."

Chemicals pumped into their neck, making (Reader) feverish and causing their thighs to ache. Their breath hitched, and tears of betrayal escaped. "I hate you."

"I know."

More pain gripped their throat, regret causing physical discomfort. "Why are you doing this?"

His smooth shelled fingers caressed their jaw, tenderly cradling (Reader's) face as though he needed them. Kirtch's touch sent shivers across (Reader's) skin, and they couldn't tell if it was because of the collar or their loneliness, but they wanted to pull him closer, make him touch them more.

"I will live for much longer than you. I will watch you grown old, and die. Even then, I will still love you. You are the most incredible creature I've ever met. I don't mind if you push me away, and slap at me. I just want you to be happy, at least most of the time." His head grew closer, his hardened face almost brushing (Reader's). "Let me make you happy."

'I need to fight back. Make him pay! I'm practically a slave! He bought me! I'll never see my family again because of him!'

(Reader) leaned forward, mind melting through their ears from the intense heat, and smashed their lips onto where his should have been.

All rational thoughts were drowned out by the intense need. They needed him, his love. (Reader) was aware of the sound of buttons clicking, but they couldn't stop, crawling onto Kirtch's body, feeling the edges of his joints scraping their back as his hands hungrily roamed their body, wanting to touch everything.

They would have felt ashamed, knowing how aroused they were, their exposed body touching Kirtch's stomach. Sweat was clinging to (Reader's) skin, and their eyes drooped stupidly. The only thing they could think of was relieving themselves, and wanting to see Kirtch relieved as well.

"Are you going to fuck me?" (Reader) whined between wet kisses, drunk on his touches.

"I will, if you want me to."

Their mood shifted, frustration beginning to surface again. "No. If you love me, wouldn't you want me?"

Kirtch sighed, fiddling with the remote behind (Reader's) back. "I do not have the same nervous system as humans do. We only engage in sexual acts for the purpose of procreation."

Shame shocked (Reader), sobering them up instantly. "Oh. I- I am so sorry." (Reader) moved to get off of Kirtch, but was held in place by the much stronger being.

"I will, to make you happy."

"No, I'm sorry! It won't make me happy knowing you aren't feeling good. I'm-I'm sorry, please let me go."

Kirtch pressed the button again, watching his pet's face darken and their mouth go from frightened to slack jawed. "Knowing you are feeling pleasure, from me, and only me, will bring me more joy than I can express." His cloak was ripped away, revealing his gorgeously colored exoskeleton. Kirtch gripped (Reader's) face tighter, forcing his blue tongue deep into their mouth, bursting with pride at the sounds (Reader) was making.

"What do you want me to do?" Kirtch asked, not intending on sounding like he was teasing them, but Kirtch craved the sound of their voice begging him.

"Please.." (Reader) swallowed their drool, feeling the hormones pumping into their brain, but too horny to care. "Please fuck me."

The spot on his pelvis where a human's genitals would be split open and a long, slimy cock revealed itself, growing behind (Reader's) back to a horrifying size. (Reader) only became aware of his erection when it fell forward, slapping against (Reader's) ass and lower back. In their intoxicated state, they turned back to look at what had suddenly touched them, and their eyes grew large in surprise. "Is that..? That's too big..."

Off balance and tipsy, (Reader) turned around, still sitting on Kirtch's abdomen, so that they were facing his exposed dick, and touched it experimentally. It was ridiculously huge, but because of the hormones being injected into (Reader's) neck, they were ravenous, using both hands to pump up and down on the shaft as they stuck the thin tipped head into their mouth, tasting Kirtch passionately. Kirtch was beyond elated, watching his precious pet so needy for him.

Kirtch picked (Reader) up, moaning at the popping sound as he pulled their mouth away from his body, seeing nothing but love in (Reader's) eyes as he spun them back to face him, and slowly began lowering (Reader) onto his naturally lubricated member. "Keep looking at me."

(Reader's) mind was hazy, and it felt like they were about to die, saliva and alien fluids leaking out their mouth and down their chin. Their internal voice had gone silent, the amount of tampering that had been done to their brain left (Reader) devoid of rational thought and intellect. "Yes sir." They barely got the words out as Kirtch entered their body, sliding into their needy little hole easily and without resistance, ramming himself in so their pelvis smacked into his shell with a wet plop, bringing (Reader) to a climax just from entering.

"Smile for me, pet." Kirtch cooed joyfully, loving how (Reader's) body spasmed, before slowly lifting them up, revealing the trail of their combined wetness stretching between their reproductive organs.

(Reader) smiled, reacting on autopilot as they rode out their orgasm, practically biting off their tongue when their sensitive body connected with Kirtch's again. "Ahhh, I already came! Stop!!" Their words cried for relief, however their voice and smile demanded more. It was too much, and (Reader) did want a break, but it also felt amazing, and that dirty little part of themselves that was desperate for love needed their body to be abused.

Kirtch bounced (Reader) on his cock, fucking them like a toy, regretting that he didn't have a camera rolling to capture just how adorable his pet was in his hands. "Look at how happy you are, pet! Don't you want to be this happy all the time? Don't you always want to be happy, with me?"

Kirtch greedily pushed the button again, peppering (Reader) with kisses as they came again, their sticky juices splattering on his stomach. The squelching sound of (Reader's) bruising body getting fucked by the hard as steel monster beneath them was music to Kirtch's ears. He had, embarrassingly, read the book his friend had lent him, and knew now how humans used pleasure to keep brainwashed people by their side. But it wasn't just pleasure, it was that feeling of connection. He had thought about what (Reader) had said, that humans don't jack off their pets, and that made sense, for animals that did not share the same level of intelligence as an adult human. What (Reader) needed, was to feel equal, to feel like they weren't just a pet, but a partner. So how would they feel, if Kirtch ejaculated so deep into their body they were still excreting his cum weeks later?

"I'm going to mark you as mine, (Reader)." It was a lie, his species did no such thing, but the look of unbridled joy on (Reader's) cross eyed face, the loopy smile that twitched as tears poured down to their chest, was a sight that made it worth lying.

"Are you cumming? Are you cumming in me?" (Reader) slurred, barely holding themselves upright in Kirtch's grasp.

"If you promise to be a good little pet." Kirtch could hold out for as long as needed. His species did not have sex for pleasure, so there was no sense of urgency when they needed to release. He could have continued going for hours, if he hadn't overdone it with the collar. (Reader) was on the verge of passing out.

"I promise! I promise to be a good pet! I promise!" (Reader) exclaimed, colliding their lips back onto Kirtch's as a string of hot sperm shot up into (Reader's) body, a fluid so thick it was practically glue, leaving (Reader) feeling physically full. Kirtch couldn't help but push the button again, seeing his pet overflow with adoration for him.

"I love you, (Reader), I really really do."

Kirtch whispered sweet nothing's into his pet's ear as they passed out, then carried them to his bed, tucking in their swollen body, not minding the mess. (Reader) really was the most beautiful and adorable little pet in the entire universe. He doubt that he would ever get another pet after (Reader) was gone. He sat on the floor, rubbing circles into their tear stained cheeks, smiling contently.

Of course, the next day Kirtch would have to use the collar, showing (Reader) how bad they truly felt inside when they refused to get out of bed, and while it was awful making them cry when they tried to refuse to eat, it was for the best. Kirtch knew it wouldn't take long for (Reader) to graduate from needing their collar, and that soon they would always be by his side, begging him to pick them up and play with them. It didn't matter whether (Reader) needed cuddles or needed to be filled with his seed, Kirtch would overuse that remote until they desired his touch all the time.

He didn't mind the glassy, doll like glaze to their eyes, the change in their speech, the way they began crying whenever it looked like Kirtch was unhappy, or how they stopped pushing him away. After months of flushing their system with artificial love, Kirtch knew that his pet was happy with him. And that was all that mattered.

#yandere #yandere alien #yandere alien x reader #pet human #cw dubcon #mind break #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #cw mind control #part three

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badgerbl00d · 1 year

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captain's girl

☆ characters: akagami no shanks

☆ up next: tbd

☆ summary: shanks has always had a soft spot for you but as he spends more time around you that feeling intensifies- he's fallen, and hard.. how will he confess?

☆ a/n: i lost the ask that originally submitted this but i loved this prompt! so so cute and always lovely to write for my favorite captain.. shanks nation rise!

Shanks hadn’t slept in days.

Shanks- an emperor, had been a pirate for decades and he knew well what it meant to be selfish. To be faced with all the treasure and beauty in the World and it not be enough until one had it all to himself. But he’d only ever seen it. In allies and enemies alike he had seen that corrupting burning want- no, need for something that drives one nearly mad. He’d seen fellow seamen be consumed by this bubbling and boiling desire that had always sickened him to think about.

And then there was you. Beautiful, strong-willed, and unafraid of pirates and men and danger and swords and, all of the sudden, he began feeling the symptoms of that dangerous selfishness. He’d watch you laugh with Benn, or cook with Lucky, or play cards with Yasopp and his chest would tighten. His nerves would begin to ebb and flow in uncertainty and the terrifyingly unfamiliar feeling of jealousy began to sprout within the captain of the Red Haired Pirates. He’d spend hours poring over a potential solution– something to make it go away. But everything he tried was useless. Any slight progress immediately crumbled the moment you walked by him. He’d found a nice girl on an island and flirted with her, buying her drinks, treating her special as the rest of the crew began to pour into the bar. It was working! She liked the same music as him and thought he was funny. But then you’d walked in with Beckman, your perfume immediately recognizable to him and he folded. You were entirely captivating to him, and bless him, he tried to listen to the girl in front of him and feign interest in what she was saying but all he could focus on was the sound of you laughing and thanking the men who were sending drinks your way. On a separate occasion, he’d taken a different approach. You were in a particularly cheeky mood and not the most prone to taking orders, so he got frustrated. He leant into that frustration, barking at you for not listening. But you just rolled your eyes and begrudgingly got up to do what he was asking. As you walked past him, you raked a fingernail across his chest and offered assistance if he needed “any help de-stressing.” And with a wink you were off. After that little incident, he could hardly sleep and was quite literally plagued by (very inappropriate) thoughts of you and decided it would be best if he didn’t do anything for a while. This had been going on for months now. A one sided game of cat and mouse that Shanks did not want to be playing, after all, he wasn't used to playing the role of mouse. Shanks was a man who always got what he wanted.

But he was realizing there was no escape. Constantly you teased him, tempted him, lured him, all to act like nothing the next moment. His head was spinning. Just this morning, you ran into him at breakfast and asked if he wanted to go into town with you. He came up with some half assed excuse and tried his hardest to keep his composure when you pouted at his and said, “Pretty please?” He went up and moped in his office, going over all those moments when he felt that now familiar ache in his chest– that throbbing pain that felt like his swollen heart was being mushed up against his ribcage and had been making his daily life on the ship, oh, so inconvenient.

Like a few months ago when, in your typical fashion, you’d put together a small band out of the rag-tag musicians on the crew. An upright bass player out of your intel gatherer, a drummer out of one of Hongo’s assistants, some brass players that you put through a very selective audition, and, of course, you as the singer. He remembers walking out after having a few drinks with those of his men that he was closest with and hearing the sound of your voice singing a soft jazz tune. ‘I wish you bluebirds, in the spring…..’ his heart picking up a bit, and him leaning over to look at the band playing, ‘To give your heart a song to sing, and then a kiss…’ Him rushing down the stairs and urging the crew to dance, asking Lucky to get behind the bar and start making cocktails and drinks, ‘But more than this, I wish you love’ anything so that he could sit and listen to you. He remembers the boyish surge of energy that coursed through him when you shot him a playful wink. A thank you for entertaining your antics and encouraging your little band of criminal musicians.

Or last week, when you stopped by his office (he’d begun spending more and more time locked in there attempting to find reprieve from your presence which was quickly becoming all too much for him to be around) and knocked on his door in the way you always knocked on any door. Three rhythmic little taps, always quiet and polite. “Come in!” he’d said, forcing his voice to steady itself like his heart wasn’t crawling up into his throat. “Hey Shanks– I have something for you.” You made your way to his desk, dropping a little parcel on it before going to lay down on the couch in his office, a seat he always kept open for you. It was just an old leather chair, but he knew how much you liked it. He opened up the parcel, watching you pull out a cigarette and bring it to your lips, holding it droopily between them as you dug around in your jacket for a lighter. He finished unwrapping the gift, a compass falling out. Gold and the initials R.H.S. engraved in the back. The glass had been carved out so that it was angular and there was a detailed inking of the ocean in the back, and the north arrow was dark red. He turned it over in his palm, “R.H.S.?” he asked. “It’s funny, huh! Red-Hair-Shanks,” you laughed, “It made Benny crack up so I snatched it. They wanted $15,000 for it! Like hell was I gonna pay that…. Hey, do you have a lighter?” You walked back over to him, leaning on his desk, looking down at his face, batting your eyes at him all doe-like. He felt like he might faint. 'Benny' he felt a pang of jealousy but smiled to himself at the nickname. Beckman hated nicknames but you'd started calling him Benny and for the first time ever there was no protest from the man's lips. You'd wiggled your way into all their hearts like that- helping Lucky with groceries and keeping Yasopp company when he drank more than he could stand.

“Sure do, sweetheart,” he maintained his typical flirty cadence but failed to sound as confident as he usually does. You shot him a look. He sheepishly handed you the lighter but instead of taking it you leant over further, beckoning for him to light the cigarette for you. He swallowed and brought the lighter up to the cigarette, the two of you making eye contact as he lit it. You blew a playful puff of smoke at him before making your way back over to the sofa. You laid across it, kicking your shoes off and pulling a magazine from his shelf. “Playboy? Really?” He gave you an embarrassed grin and shrugged. You made a mental note that this magazine had been left open on a photo of a bikini-clad girl that looked an awful like you. Pervert, you thought. You put the magazine away and sunk further into the chair, taking long drags of the cigarette, filling up the room with smoke. Shanks was trying not to stare a hole through you and limited himself from looking over in your general direction. You were so at peace, your legs draped over the arm of the chair and your hands above your head. An hour passed like this, the two of you sharing a silence that was only peaceful on your end. Shanks sat at his desk pretending to be deeply interested in a blank piece of paper and mulled over possible topics of conversation. He was trying not to beat himself up over his newfound shyness- he was like a teenage boy talking to a girl for the first time. When he finally got the courage to ask you about your most recent errand he was cut off before he could even start.

“Y/n!!! Help me with dinner, eh?!”

Lucky. You groaned sitting up, remembering that you’d promised to help him out with tonight’s dinner last week. “Sorry, Captain,” you said, putting your shoes back on, “I’d love to stay and fog up your office a bit more but duty calls.”

He nodded and got up, nearly running into you. “Ah, sorry princess,” he said, guiding you gently out of the room with a hand on your back.

“Try not to miss me,” you’d said, taking the cigarette out of your mouth and placing it in his. He furrowed his brows in equal amounts of confusion and sexual frustration. “Lucky won’t let me smoke in the kitchen,” you explained. You shot him a wink and were off.

He took a short puff of the cigarette before taking it out and staring at it between his fingers. Your red lipstick stained the end of it. He took a very self indulgent inhale before setting it down on an ashtray in his office. It was the first time he’d smoked in a while.

He hadn’t remembered it feeling so good.

He was late to dinner that night and even Benn had indicated some degree of worry about his captain, asking if he was alright.

Shanks knew this couldn’t last forever– that he would have to do something before he lost his ability to lead his ship entirely. But then, of course, there was what happened yesterday.

Some rookie pirates had convinced themselves it would be a good idea to try and loot your ship. You’d been out on the deck helping Beckman with some chores when the first group of them climbed overboard. Neither of you had particularly expressive reactions– after all, you could tell within a few seconds that they were neither strong nor experienced. Still, it was the general attitude of the Red Hair Pirates to avoid conflict as much as possible. So when they wrapped rope around your wrists and held knives to your throats you and Benn didn’t flinch. Some newer recruits had sounded the alarm which eventually led to the rest of the crew making their way lazily out onto the deck. Shanks emerged from his office, reading glasses still on and laughed at the sight.

“Yasopp– take a pic, will ya!?” he laughed, slapping him on the back, “Benny we’re gonna hang this up in the dining hall!”

Benn rolled his eyes and you smiled. It took another several moments before you realized that your body was feeling more and more weakened by the moment, but when you finally felt a dullness creeping up your legs you noticed that the man holding you was a devil fruit user. The Neru Neru no Mi you believed it was called, Sleep Sleep Fruit. Fatigue started to wash over you and you stumbled forward slightly. The laughter on the ship immediately ceased and Benn called your name. You tried responding but instead fell back, landing against your assailant's chest. Yasopp and Lucky both brought their hands to their pistols, and Benn had taken a more offensive stance though it was clear the effect was starting to weigh on him as well.

“We’ll kill them both,” one of the looters had yelled. Yasopp shot Shanks a look, waiting for some kind of command. “Yasopp–” Shanks started, but he hesitated a moment. If his sniper made any kind of mistake it would be your life taken instead. Before he could react, your captor had drawn the knife down your arm, smirking at the cry of pain you let out as your arm was coated in red. “Shoot him,” he said, gaze turning black. You passed out, though whether it was from the pain or the effect of Shanks’ emperor’s haki on your weakened body was unclear. But the last thing you saw before blacking out was the haunting anger on Shanks’ face.

You woke up a bit later, your head throbbing and your arm bandaged. “Holy shit,” you muttered, “What happened?” Hongo and Beckman were sitting by your bed talking to each other and Lucky, Yasopp, and a few others were playing cards.

"You passed out from the effects of the devil fruit," Benn explained, "And you got a nasty cut on your arm. But Hongo says you'll be healed up by the weekend."

You blushed, somewhat embarrassed that you were the only one to have been injured. "What happened to the other crew?"

Benn shot you a half-smile. An expressive mixture of pride and shame. "The Captain took care of it. Honestly all we could do was watch, we all know better than to get in his way when he gets like that. Never seen this ship so bloody, that's for sure."

You grimaced, "Suppose they won't be messing with us again?"

Benn laughed, "Definitely not."

“Hey, Y/n!” Lucky called out, “Want anything to eat?”

You sat up, pushing yourself to the edge of the bed and grabbing the glass of water Benn offered you, “Yeah, Luck. I’ll take anything, honestly. Where is Shanks?” Benn sighed and looked over at Yasopp who was giggling like a twelve-year old. You got the message.

“Maybe we should tell him it’s obvious? And it’ll fix things?”

Benn shook his head and leant back in his chair, “Nah, it would crush the guy. Maybe if you say something to him, though?” You thought about it for a minute. You'd talked with each other before about the captain's feelings. How he acted every time he was around you. Benn added that he'd never seen him like that before, "Buggy's given us stories about how he used to be around girls. He'd run the other way when a pretty lady talked to him. He's obviously gotten over it since then but it's sort of nice to see him like this."

"Can't blame him," Yasopp added, winking at you, "You're about the prettiest thing on the sea."

Yasopp was still laughing about it, over a game of cards with Lucky and Hongo. You appreciated their company while you rested.

“I don’t know guys. You know I love him just as much but will it be weird? I mean– no offense, but this ship isn’t really the ideal romantic setting. And what if he plays favorites?”

They all laughed at this, “He already is, sweetheart!”

“Just tell him!”

“We’ll have a big ol’ wedding!”

You rolled your eyes and asked to be dealt into the card game they were playing. Lucky came back with a bowl of soup for you. Laughter was filling up the small medical room and it echoed down the hall...

Shanks’ crush on you was astoundingly obvious and what was more surprising was how he had been moping about it for the past four months. He was now in his room, shrouded in embarrassment. Half of it stemmed from the generally well known fact that Shanks and his crew were untouchable- or at least, should be. And the other, perhaps greater, half from the fact that you'd ended up hurt because he’d hesitated. It also didn't help that he had doubted Yasopp at all- he knew he never missed. He’d spent the evening drinking a bottle of whiskey to himself and replaying other embarrassing faux pas he’d committed in front of you. The bottle of empty whiskey sat in front of him on the desk and the sun had long set. He got up, feeling miserable, and decided to head to bed. He grabbed the empty bottle, pausing before he grabbed it. Your cigarette from a week ago sat in the mauve ceramic ashtray on his desk (also a gift from you– you’d said it reminded you of his “ugly pants”). He stared at the lipstick still staining the white paper on the end of the cigarette. His chest tightened and he looked out the window of his office. You were out on deck, your arm bandaged up, hauling some rope into a metal bin. He smiled to himself- an injury like that was no excuse for chores. You looked gorgeous. A white glow surrounded you from the beaming moonlight up above. Your hair was messy and flowed freely around your face shifting the shadows that fell on it. He knew, suddenly, that he had to talk to you. That in all his embarrassment and emotion and confusion about his feelings, he’d neglected to check up on you. He set the bottle down and grabbed the half-smoked cigarette, slipping it into his pocket. He paused at the door, momentarily enjoying the nerves that were coursing through his body. How long had it been since he last felt excitement like this? There were moments at sea where he realized that, thanks to his age and experience, he no longer felt those pangs and throes of youthful worry and excitement. But this? This was new and he was reeling like never before. He was submerged in uncharted waters and all of a sudden that spark of adventure that follows every pirate flared up inside him. Shanks closed the door to his office behind him, taking a deep breath.

You wrapped up the rest of the rope and threw it into the container, before taking a seat on it. Closing your eyes and taking a moment to yourself. It was rare to have a night so quiet. You could hear the faint sound of laughter and talking coming from below the deck. The ship was slowly rocking back and forth.

“Mind if I sit next to you?”

You blinked your eyes open to see Shanks standing in front of you. It still surprised you how a man of his size and power could sneak up on you so easily. It was a nice reminder of how in control he actually was of everything around him. It put you at ease to know you were in such responsible hands and guidance.

“You feel ok? It’s my fault I should’ve–”

You smiled at him, “What? This? I’m fine, Captain– I’ve dealt with much worse, that I can promise you.” He frowned at that, “That’s not a good thing, Y/n. I don’t like thinking about you getting hurt.” You shrugged and ruffled his hair, “I’m a pirate. A Red-Hair Pirate. It’s bound to happen. And you’re not perfect either. Believe it or not. What’s going on with you lately? So sappy.” You knew very well what was going on with him.

Shanks smiled and looked down at the floor. This was it. Now or never.

“Y/n… You know that, well, women love me and- and that I love women,” he started. Your smile dropped.

“M-hm.”

“Uh,” he rubbed his neck sheepishly, like a child getting scolded, “Well, I guess what I’m trying to say is that you’re not like other women.”

You looked at him, “Are you sure about that?” You looked unamused. He steeled himself– he was an emperor of the sea, goddamnit, you were just a woman! Just a girl on his crew.

He knew that was a lie.

You were his girl on his crew. And he was being eaten alive by your existence, completely consumed by the thought of you. He couldn’t live another day without relieving himself of his constant torture and the emotional suffering you put him through. He couldn’t wake up another morning without you next to him, begging him to sleep in a bit longer and asking him to hold you tighter. He couldn’t spend another night watching you laugh and smile and be the most beautiful, enchanting thing in the world and not call you his. You were his, not through ownership but through love.

“Alright! Damn it, woman, you’re so intimidating.” Your smile returned.

“I love you,” he sighed. It wasn’t as dramatic as either of you had pictured. He said it like he was simply reminding you.

“I love you, Y/n. And I have for months. Since I first saw you– since you first started giving me random antique shop gifts and coming into my office at the most inconvenient times and filling it up with smoke. I can’t look at the color red and not think of you. That’s my color, damn it! And yet– I see red and think of the brand of cigarettes you like and the lipstick you wear and the way your laughter sounds and the color of your nail polish. I can’t listen to music and not think of you. I mean- you’ve come on board and turned everything upside down. My men, my violent men, are playing jazz on Thursday nights! Lucky’s new favorite thing to drink is Cosmopolitans and Yasopp is taking daily showers and, christ, Benn’s new nickname is Benny and he likes it! Everything I have reminds me of you. This is basically your ship now. And I love it. I love how you're everywhere. And I- I need you. I want you but it's more than that- I need you.”

He took a deep breath and looked at you for the first time in weeks. You laughed- at him, and grabbed his hand. His cheeks turned bright red and he felt like a teenager again. You squeezed his hand, “F-i-n-a-l-l-y.” He took a moment to sound out your spelling, and smiled somewhat defeatedly. He laid his head down on your shoulder and mumbled into you, “Was it obvious?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned your head against his. It was refreshing to touch him without it being strange or feeling unnatural. To just hold one another and understand that that was all it was– a touch. That before either of you said anything and broke this mundane, normal silence everything was perfect. There was no room for mistake or anxiety or insecurity. There was just the mass of red hair on your shoulder ticking your neck and your arms wrapped around his. But you figured he’d suffered long enough.

“Very,” you said, answering his question, “There’re a bunch of betting pools regarding when, and if, you’ll confess. Though you don’t make a great effort to hide it. Looks like Benny’s gonna make some cash tonight.”

He shot up, somewhat offended, “I do hide it! I’ve kept my distance from you and treated you like everyone else.”

You laughed and sat him down on the bin next to you, “No, you haven’t. I’m your favorite. And though you have been avoiding me, when you’re around me your face is pink and you lose all that playboy gusto you think the ladies like. Plus you have those magazines lying around. It flatters me how much I resemble some of those models.”

His mouth fell open at this, realizing he had left it wide out in the open. You smiled at this, but said nothing. It was quiet out again– everyone had gone to bed early, tired from the day’s commotion, an unexpected change of pace from the typical mundane life of a pirate at sea that normally consisted of chores upon chores upon chores. The sea was calm tonight, almost eerily so. You rested your head against Shank’s shoulder and closed your eyes, it was quiet again. You could tell he was itching for a response. You smiled, enjoying the effect you had on him.

“I love you, too.”

You felt Shanks tense and opened your eyes, turning to look at him. He had a stupidly large smile plastered on his face. He was so damn handsome. His hand slid up your back and came to rest on your neck. He gently pushed your face toward his, a smile creeping up your lips, and tested the waters. You closed the gap, closing your eyes as you kissed your captain, shifting forward and finding your way onto his lap. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck and you could feel him smiling against your lips. Shanks broke the kiss, pulling away after giving you a few more pecks.

His arm sank down to wrap around your waist and pull you in even tighter. He rested his forehead against yours and looked down at your lips, plump from the kissing.

“You’re mine,” he said.

“Yours.”

He sighed, relief flooding his body. You rubbed his neck, "Guess I wasn't as obvious as you, hm?" He laughed and squeezed your hand, "No. God, I was terrified. What an awful feeling."

You smiled. You were getting tired, and your arm was throbbing. "Wanna come with me to see Hongo? I think my arm should get re-wrapped." He nodded, standing up. You walked toward the infirmary, while Shanks stood back for a moment. Waiting awkwardly.

"Shanks?"

His name had never sounded so lovely. He was worried, "Should we tell people yet? The crew- I mean."

You laughed, and kept walking, "I think they'll figure out on their own. After all, I suspect that I'll be greeting them tomorrow morning with your shirt on."

He watched you walk on ahead a bit more before following after you, scooping you up in his arm and pressing kisses to your face. Shanks dropped you off outside of Hongo's door, letting you go in on your own. 'I want tonight to be just us,' you'd explained. Word does travel quickly on a ship. He waited outside the door, listening to you and Hongo talk while he rebandaged your arm. His chest felt warm and full, not with the previous tightness he'd experienced but full with satisfaction.

A familiar ebbing flow of egoism spread through his body. It was nice to be reminded of who he was. An emperor of the sea with one of the highest bounties of all time. A man feared and respected across the world. Wanted by the world government and untouchable to anyone. Almost anyone. Your voice bubbled up over the sound of his thoughts for a moment. His confidence had quickly reinstated itself.

After all, Shanks was a man who always got what he wanted.

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nyursi · 9 months

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𝐂𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐑!ㅤpart one.

꒰ † ੭‎ㅤNSFW 18+ㅤ(MDNI)... in a series of successful heists, the infamous cat burglar is finally caught and is left with the mercy of his victims to decide his fate.ㅤノㅤnot proofread.

ᡴꪫ‎ TODAY'S SPECIAL!ㅤdiluc, zhongli, heizou, (here, part one) alhaitham, dottore, and wriothesley (part two)!

WOULD YOU LIKE SPRINKLES? (っω=`)ㅤm!rdr, degradation, tummy bulge, biting, breeding, impact play, petnames, hair-pulling, public sex, and more.

ㅤ ⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝

THE DARK NIGHT HERO'S NEW QUOTA...

featuring impact play, hair pulling, exhibitionism, (semi) public sex, and diluc.

killing slimes and dealing with drunkards both day and night quickly became a boring routine for diluc. but he finds such creatures easier to deal with more than a certian eye-patch wearing man.

so when he hears of the burglar who causes trouble nation after nation, finally arrived in mondstadt, diluc can't deny his curiosity.

the name he made for himself was quite odd, never actually thinking a cat burglar would come to life. but life has its ways. and in the nature of life, it's only normal to take hold of this situation. diluc deserves a break anyway.

and now here he is; thrusting relentlessy into the warm heat of the damned 'cat burglar' who attempted to rob him. wanton whines of different octaves escaped your drooling lips, and claws extracted to find purchase on the cobble walls of diluc's manor.

"dumb boy, who were you trying to fool?" your sensitive ears twitched when diluc spoke so close—even more when he grazed his teeth light as a feather against them. "n- no one!" you whined, wiggling your hips.

a tip too tempting to ignore was given to you a while back, claiming that the house ragnvindr had riches to spare for little ol' you. too bad that mister diluc had a tip himself, though much more eye catching and valueable. as half of the mondstadt ladies would fume with jealousy, wishing it was them being split apart by diluc's cock. and not some nimble cat eared boy.

your eyes welled with tears when a stern hand yanked on the hair from your scalp, eliciting a humiliating moan.

god, everything about him is so... big!

from diluc's reputation, wealth, to his physical attributes, diluc as a whole was domineering.

cheeks flushed an embarassing red when your eyes met his, and your tail swished out of your control. "pl- please... 'm close!" such desperate pleads fell on deaf ears, as diluc had no intention to listen to your words.

he counted mentally, giving you time to shut up. and when you didn't stop your dumb begging?

"ahn!~" your eyes widened when a harsh smack landed on your ass, causing your whole body to jolt forward. diluc took ahold of your temporary weakness, and forced your chest to meet the cold stone wall.

with your hard nipples and swollen cock rubbing on such an odd texture, the pleasure of it all caused you to near an orgasm. "you moan so sweetly," diluc grunted, planting his hands on your hips roughly.

"it could compete with the grapes in this yard."

oh yes. was it too embarassing to mention that you never managed to sneak in his manor at all? what was a stupid kitty like you doing anyway, wearing a suspicious cloak and prowling about diluc's courtyard.

he seized you then and there.

it's too bad a 'skilled' burglar like you was caught before your plan was in action.

"but unless you want to get caught, i suggest you tone it down." your eyes fogged with lust as diluc shoved his fingers down your throat, coating them with your saliva.

then you came. harshly. your cum splat against the wall, and rubbed against your skin as diluc went faster. course, your little cock was still between your body and the stone, forcing you to take the pleasure that hurt.

diluc soon followed, covering your insides with a creamy white, one that you wanted inside you forever.

one thing you knew now; no money in diluc's manor would ever compare to the treasure below his belt.

ㅤ ⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝

RE-AWAKENING OF THE GEO ARCHON...

featuring biting, breeding, double penetration, frottage(?), and zhongli (but morax).

it was no secret that the geo archon was the scariest of all. but with his charming looks, you somehow thought a similar personality would follow.

oh how wrong you were.

"please morax, have mercy on me!" you landed on your knees, body quivering as you felt morax's cold stare upon you.

he tsked, shaking his head. "weak mortals like you shouldn't be making the decision here." morax cooed at you with pity, running his rough palms over the top of your head.

an accident it was, really. for you to stumble upon his abode—and bask your greedy eyes to the glory of his shining hoarde. a large pile of gold and other trinkets was enough for you to trudge forward and grab an armful of wealth.

with your mind focused on the heavy riches you were carrying, your feline ears couldn't hear the heavy footsteps of this hoard's owner.

you were one of the unlucky few, as this den was ruled by the geo archon himself. morax.

"are you defective? surely these little ears of yours are much more sensitive than that of a humans." he mused, eyeing your trembling body.

an uncontrolled whimper broke your silence. morax was scary, definitely! but he was far too mean for your liking. but you had no choice other than to pray that he would forgive you.

"well," he started. anticipation built every second, and you were hung on his every word. "there is one way you could repent."

and here you were; laid limp in his arms. boneless as you eyed his large dicks, both erect and leaking. rubbing against your hole. you attempted to look away, but morax quickly took ahold of your jaw. "don't look away, this is your own doing, boy."

morax nipped on your ear, making you yelp. "oh don't whine, that was nothing compared to this."

in a split second, one had slid in entirely, leaving not a single inch uncovered. he was buried to the hilt. and you were full. morax wasted no time and quickly began to find rhythm, while you haven't even adjusted to his size.

"a-ah! wait please!-" it was an odd yet pleasing sensation, morax's cock rubbed against places you've never touched before, making you see celestia. "m-moraaaaaaax!~"

uncontrollable tears dripped down your red cheeks when his other dick was forced against yours. he wrapped his hand against both, and began moving it up and down. squeezing your heats within his palm.

the size difference between you two made him laugh; saying something about 'it barely counted as a cock, and how it resembles a pathetic pussy instead.'

your hips twitched, mind reeling. mouth wide open yet no sound escaped when you felt air breeze on your leaking tip once again, as well as the similar pressure against your hole.

morax bit your shoulder, and at the same time he sunk you down on both of his cocks. "i knew it, a boy like you was made for this."

he plowed upwards and his hands brought you downwards, kissing your prostate in a harsh and quick manner, like he wanted you to orgasm quickly. "gh!- gonna... gonna cum!"

eyes squeezed shut and toes curled, cum spurted out and landed on your face. but morax didn't stop. not until he fucked you full.

"you're gonna be a pretty kitty knocked up," he said, taking an arm beneath your knees and forcing them to your ears. "pregnant with my eggs."

"i'll breed you again and again," morax grunted, in a final thrust his cum quickly flooded your insides. "until you learn not to steal."

it's a shame you can't get pregnant. but no worries, morax will make you feel like you could!

ㅤ ⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝

A DETECTIVE'S LUCKY LEAD...

featuring orgasm denial/ruined orgasm, dry humping, face fucking, and heizou.

you were a bit too confident in your abilities. it's not your fault! all of your previous heists were succesful, but it did make you believe you were untouchable.

so you didn't think twice sending a hint of your location to inazumas detective. not like he was gonna find you anyway.

that's what you believed.

and how wrong you were.

"what? didn't think i'd believe your little trick? with a slimy cat like you as my target, i have to take every given opportunity." heizou sighed, as if he was disappointed in you.

currently, he had you pinned with your back to the wall of some random abandoned building.

"you really had me stressed, you know? what do you have to say for yourself, kitty?" he looked into your eyes, smirking when you couldn't answer.

you were ashamed. even more so when shikanonin had begun to grind against you, your clothed cocks twitching with pleasure from the friction. "mmngh..." your eyes averted to the ground.

heizou grabbed you by the thighs, bringing you up. in a quick reaction, you quickly wrapped your legs around his waist. this allowed him to grind i to you harsher, hips moving in a tandem. "i can feel a wet patch down there, what a slut you are. i bet you dreamed of getting caught!"

"no! i-i didn't!" you shook your head violently, tearing up from both his mean words and thrusting. to prevent any moans to leak out—you bit your lip.

with every second that passed by, your erection quickly fought against the tightness of your pants. "aww, you're hard?" heizou cooed, flicking the tip of your cock.

"ahn!~" you flinched when he continued his assault on your dick, non-stop flicking and slapping, causing your back to arch from the wall. "he-heizoou! nooo!" mindless babbles with tears in your eyes from the painful pleasure, a shiver of pleasure ran down your spine.

but as quick as that feeling came, it quickly went as well. you were left heaving from the ruined orgasm, tail curling around heizou's arm.

"stop whining, naughty cat burglars like you don't deserve to cum." you heard the sound of a zipper being undone, as well as fabric falling to the floor. "but if you're really thaaat desperate,"

he paused.

the detective grabbed the top of your head, and forced your face against his bulge. "then suck, like a good kitty."

with a determined fevor— you suckled on the delicious bulge through his boxers. soon taking his hung cock out, and wasting no time taking it into your mouth.

you slurped, and hollowed out your cheeks, using your tongue to trace every vein down heizou's impressive shaft. but he was too big. you had barely taken in half of it! and that wouldn't do.

"you really are useless, aren't you?" heizou sighed and took matters into his own hands (literally.) he grabbed the back of your head, and pushed his hips forward. making you swallow the whole thing.

"mngh!" the both of you grunted, heizou sighed out in pleasure, feeling his cock head reach the back of your throat.

the waterworks flooded when he began to thrust in and out. you felt the heaviness of his dick on your tongue everytime he moved, and archons was it amazing. hearing heizou moan and even whimper because of your mouth sent butterflies to your stomach, and you wanted more.

so despite the trouble you had breathing, you pushed on to bring the detective to his orgasm.

work hard to get the delicious, savory, creamy, and rich milk from heizou! it'll cure your sore throat right away.

vanillaclaws 2024.ㅤdo not repost.

#diluc smut #diluc x male reader #zhongli smut #zhongli x male reader #heizou smut #heizou x male reader #bottom male reader #male reader #x male reader #sub male reader #uke male reader #sub reader #bottom reader #male reader smut #っω=`)ㅤ⎯⎯ㅤmy works...#( ୨୧‎ )ㅤcat burglar!

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 4 months

Text

Mine. || Simon "Ghost" Riley

For @glitterypirateduck's “GhostChallenge” writing challenge! I used the following prompts:

9. Alternate universe 100. You're Price, Gaz, or Soap's sister/brother 12. Brothers best friend trope 71. Reader or Ghost rescues the other from a bad date (but 'bad' is used very loosely) 34. Ghost in gray sweatpants. Just. Gray. Sweatpants. 90. Thigh riding 13. Car sex (also loosely) 48. "Is that the best that you can do?" 99. "You're mine."

Rating: E Words: 3.2k~ CW: smutty, thigh riding, no piv, no kissing, mean!Simon, toxic!Simon, fuck buddy!Simon, jealous!Simon, stalker(ish?)!Simon, possessive behavior. Tags: afab!reader, you/your pronouns but no Y/N, rugby AU, friends with benefits/fuck buddies, unrequited feelings (or are they?), toxic-ish relationship?, lying, manipulation?, secret relationship, brother's best friend, creating/baiting jealousy. Summary: Ghost is a cocky, mean rugby player that you can't help but be pining over. But maybe it's not completely unrequited. OR Simon ruins your date with someone else because he's jealous. a/n: I had a plan. I executed said plan. Profit?

Having grown up in a rugby family, you were given little choice but to attend all of your brother's games, both as a wee lad, a young man, and, now.

You were there, with your remaining sisters and your mam, for every single one of Johnny's games, back from when he was a wee one that couldn't even do a proper tackle and would fall in the mud, to now, picked to join the national team.

This means, however, that you've spent your entire childhood, teen years and now young adulthood, surrounded by the lads from your brother's many teams, but, especially, the ones he met as a teen and made a lasting friendship with: John "Cap" Price, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, and Simon "Ghost" Riley, the bane of your existence.

Johnny's had them over for birthdays, holidays, sleepovers... Not to mention the times you've gone to pick him up from training and were allowed into the locker room, only to get an eyeful of too much bare skin on all those men as they paraded around half-dressed; in towels; in underwear, or even in less than that.

It became a matter of time until you gained someone's attention. No wonder, pretty lass like you, with your sweet smiles and playful quips... coming to pick up your bulky winger brother, of course you'd catch someone's eye.

Kyle Garrick is the team's Hooker... but he's also known as a manwhore, the town bicycle, or whatever you wanna call him. The lads all know that if they go out drinking, Kyle is not going home alone, and, worse, they know that Kyle could and would seduce their cousins, sisters, mothers, and girlfriends, if not kept in check.

That's part of the reason why Johnny nearly had a fucking aneurysm when he caught Kyle outside the locker room three days ago, with a hand pressed against the wall beside your head, looking down at you with a smug little smirk on those perfect lips of his.

He knew what was happening, the way Kyle was looking down at you, the way you were looking up at Kyle, smiling all cutely, backed up against the wall, while his own teammate put the moves on you and talked about taking you out, his free hand gently playing with the strap of the dress you were wearing.

Johnny, however, missed the way Simon, who was standing right behind him, stiffened up and bristled at the sight of Garrick flirting with you. You didn't though. You caught it as soon as Johnny cleared his throat next to you with a "Should I pull up a chair and wait fer ye to be done?". Simon's eyes were glued to you, his brow set, his jaw clenched...

That's what he gets.

Simon, whom you've had a massive crush on for years now, who you pine for, whose attention you crave... and who only ever comes to you for a quick lay...

Simon, who rolls over after sex and tosses you a towel while he's putting on his clothes, telling you to 'hurry up' so he can take you home.

Simon, who always stares at you like he's going to eat you whole every time he lays eyes on you.

Simon, who chugs half of the ice cold water bottles he's given during breaks in practice, and uses the rest to douse himself in water to keep himself cool.

Simon, who knows how your eyes always get drawn to his legs and his bulge in his uniform, and rolls up his shorts before doing lifts, just for you.

Simon, who comes to pick you up whenever you call him, tipsy, from some bar or club when going out with friends.

Simon, who sends you 'u up?' texts at 2 in the morning when he's drunk.

Simon, who scoffs and chuckles whenever you breach the 'us' topic.

Frankly, you're not even actually trying to get with Kyle, especially not with his reputation (nothing against him, it's just not for you), but you needed to do something.

You're tired of waiting around for SImon to get his head out of his arse. You're not a toy, you're not going to stick around and be 'friends with benefits' with him, except barely friends, and with little benefits.

He's getting what he fucking deserves.

You didn't anticipate, however, how upset Johnny would be at the idea of Kyle taking you out. In fact, it was poor planning on your end because from the moment Johnny saw you with Kyle, he attempted, multiple times, to convince you not to go out with him... And if the DMs Kyle sent you are any indication, he also tried to talk Kyle out of it.

On the other hand, Simon didn't once try to intervene. Despite the look he shot you on Tuesday, he did not in fact reach out to talk to you, even now, as Friday comes along and you stride into the restaurant, hanging off Kyle's arm...

There's nothing from him. No texts, no DMs, no calls, nothing... So you guess that it's done, over. He got the memo, finally...

Your phone starts buzzing inside your bag while you and Kyle are halfway through sharing your appetizers. Looking down at your phone, you narrow your eyes when you find Simon's number ringing.

Really? Now? You don't think so.

So, you hang up.

Only for it to start ringing again immediately after. Simon. Again.

Grunting, you end up picking up. "What?"

"I'm outside. Let's get out of here."

You're hyper aware, suddenly, that the host has sat you and Kyle by the windows overlooking the car park... And you can see a car with its headlights on pointing right at you.

"I don't think so."

"Then don't think. Just do what I'm telling you."

Bossy, as always, that's how Simon is. Everything is on his terms, never on yours.

"I'm having dinner." You fight him, as always. This push and pull of yours has been going on for three years now... And Simon always wins. It makes him cocky.

"Not with him you're not. So you better get out here before I go in there and embarrass you."

With a sigh, you nod. "Fine, I'll be right there."

Turning off the call, you turn to Kyle, explaining you have to leave. His brows knit together and he looks at you with puppy eyes, asking why, and, short of a proper explanation, you do the same thing you've been doing to Johnny for the past three years: you lie.

"Johnny said he got a bizarre text from our mam and he tried calling her and she isn't replying."

"She's on these new sleeping pills, so she might have just knocked out while watching telly..."

"But he's worried, and he's on the other side of town, so he asked if I could go home and check on her..."

And Kyle, as much of a manwhore he is, he's also a gentleman, and is one of your brother's best friends. If your mam might be feeling sick, he's, of course, driving you home and helping! He was raised right.

As you leave the car park on the passenger seat of Kyle's BMW, you're hyper aware of the familiar Range Rover trailing you down the road, always a couple of cars behind, but always there... always lurking.

You reach your childhood home in record time, and start fumbling for the keys inside your clutch while Kyle trails up behind you to the front door. "I think I've got this from here, Kyle."

"No way, I love your mum like she's my auntie, if she's not doing well, I'm here to help,"

"No, really, it's okay, I'm sure she's fine..."

"Love, really, I'm not leaving you like this, not before I make sure that she's alright-"

Suddenly, a large, pale hand comes to grip Kyle's shoulder from behind, Simon's eyes shining in the darkness of the night, barely illuminated by the light by the front door, before his full face reveals itself.

Like a Ghost. That's his nickname. Fast, stealthy, there when you least expect it. Both in the rugby pitch and out of it.

"Don't worry, mate, I've got this." Simon announces, causing Kyle (and you) to freeze.

"You're here too?" Kyle asks, seemingly surprised, just as the taller fullback player removes his hand from his shoulder.

"Johnny called me too. Was worried about her being alone if mam wasn't doing well," Simon says naturally, as if he isn't also lying through his teeth, though his eyes never leave yours, catching and not planning on letting it go.

"Okay... well..." Kyle says and looks back and forth between you and Simon, seemingly catching the weird vibe between you, before he nods. "I'll go home then. Text me?" He asks you. "We can have a rain check."

Gulping thickly, your gaze slowly moves back toward Kyle, and you nod with a soft smile. "Yeah, yeah. Of course." You say softly and move over to kiss his cheek, before watching Kyle go back to his car and pull off.

You're turning, keys now in hand, to unlock the door when one of Simon's large hands grabs yours, stopping you. "What are you doing?" He asks you.

"Going home?" You retort as you look up at him, feeling the warmth of his fingers wrapped around yours, clutching lightly. "Ye can go now. Congratulations, you ruined my date. Yer work is done."

Simon chuckles and takes a step closer to you, tilting his head at an angle and regarding you with those dark, deep brown eyes of his, the same ones that always make you feel like he's trying to burn you with his gaze.

"That's cute that there, sweetheart." The Mancunian tells you before he lets go of your hand and pushes you along with a hand on the small of your back, away from your front door. "Get in the fuckin' car." He orders and uses his eyebrows to point at his jeep, his voice carrying the same strong tone that he reserves only for bossing his teammates around during practice.

You know better than to defy him. So you tuck your metaphorical tail between your legs and you nod, moving over to his Rover. He opens the door for you and helps you up by gripping a hand around your forearm, the other bumps you up by the back of the legs.

"How'd ye know where we were?" You end up asking once Simon has driven away from your street, your eyes locked on his as he drives, finally daring to take a proper look at him under the orange light of the street lamps you pass by.

Black hoodie, grey sweatpants, and some kind of running shoes. Those stupid bloody sweatpants... The same ones he usually wears when he shows up at your door, or you at his, or when he goes to get you from work or nights out...

You know he did it on purpose... To pick the most slutty outfit he has as he comes to break up your date with Kyle. The annoying grey sweats that hang off his lip, that hug his thick, muscular thighs, the ones that he never wears boxers under, to make sure you can catch the dick print in the fabric...

And his stupid blonde hair all spiked up with hair gel... It used to be brown, matching his eyes, but he bleaches it now, the idiot... You want to be mad at him, you really do... But when he glances over at you while he's driving, you can't really.

"Garrick's predictable," Simon says, his tongue spitting vitriol as he utters his teammate's name. You'd think he hates the bloke... and right now he might as well do. "Takes birds to the same 5 or 6 places every time. Your brother and I split up to cover half of them each." He explains.

Scoffing, you cross your arms over your chest. "The two of ye have no right." You tell him, scolding him over interrupting your date. "I'm a grown woman."

"Right. That's what you told Johnny. Don't try to use that shite excuse on me." Simon tells you as he turns on the blinker and pulls over.

You haven't driven long. Less than 2 minutes. You could climb out of the jeep if you wanted to and walk home.

"It's not an excuse." You retort as you glare at him, keeping your arms tightly crossed over your chest.

"Right, because you want me to believe you really want to go out with Kyle? Or, let me guess, you 'can change him'?" Simon asks sardonically and laughs as he pulls off his seatbelt.

"I didn't say that." You retort. "I simply said that I can do whatever I want because I'm a grown woman.'

"No..." The blond says in a sarcastic tone. "You... did it because you wanted my attention... And you got it, sweetheart." He replies as he reaches over and unbuckles your seatbelt for you, his hands wrapping around your hip and back, tugging you over the gearshift onto his lap.

"I weren't trying to-" You reply, pushing back against his chest, but only half-heartedly, allowing yourself to be dragged onto him.

"Sure you were. But Gaz, really? Is that the best you can do when it comes to making me jealous?" Simon quips as he makes you straddle his left thigh, bringing you down to sit on it, the gusset of your panties pressed against the warm material of his sweatpants.

His stupid, muscular, hard thigh, the same one you can't help but drool over when you watch him in his tiny rugby shorts during practice and in the proper pitch...

You can feel the taut muscle, even through the fabric, the wait his leg flexes as you straddle it, the way he presses the weight of it against your core, and his fingers dig into your hip before dragging you back and forth.

You bite your lip hard to contain a moan, though he notices the way you're trembling, enjoying the look in your eyes, the way your body warms up, the way your back arches up. It puts a sick smile on his lips, one you wanna wipe off.

"It worked, didn't it?" You reply, trying your best to suppress the pleasure from showing on your face, and instead trying to seem smug. "You're here, right? Came to break up my date for a reason..." You say, clinging onto your little 'gotcha' moment...

Only for Simon to ruin it. "Oh that weren't jealousy, darling." He replies, his smirk beginning to grow into a proud, mocking grin, his dark brows rising and his cheeks puffing up with his smile. "I have no reason to be jealous."

Simon begins rocking you faster and harder against his hard thigh, causing you to whine and mewl, the pleasure building from the friction between your cunt and his thigh.

Your clit is slowly and steadily catching on the fabric, making you tremble and twitch atop him, feeling the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten as it always does whenever Simon starts playing with your clit like this.

"No, actually... Don't have a reason to be jealous about anyone." Simon replies as he leans toward you, pressing his nose against yours so he can properly look you in the eye. "Not Garrick... not Price... not any of those coworkers you're always talking about... nor your old uni mates..." He trails off.

"Simon..." You grumble, bucking your hips against him, wanting to chase your orgasm. How does he do this to you every time? Make you so horny, make you throw away all rationality, make you give in to him?

"I know, sweetheart, I know... Feels good, don't it?" The large man coos at you as he helps you rock against his thigh faster and faster, your hips stuttering and your legs beginning to tremble on either side of him as you steadily grow closer and closer to coming.

"You know what else I know?" Simon teases as he leans over and uses his teeth to nip at your neck and earlobe. "I know that I'll never have a bloody fucking reason to get jealous over you... because You're Mine." He tells you, his tone surprisingly authoritative.

There's something in that claim... the way he finally says the things you've wanted so badly to hear him say... Your climax crashes into you and you go limp against him, your head falling onto his chest and your jaw going slack as you moan incoherently.

"That's it..." Simon coos at you and gives you a couple of pats on your thigh, sliding his hand up over your ass, covered in a new dress you bought on purpose for your date with Kyle. Your cunt is throbbing inside your panties, your walls clenching around nothing and you know you've left a bit of a wet spot on Simon's sweatpants.

"You got off on that, huh?" He teases you in a mocking tone. "Been wanting to hear that for a while now, have you?" You can hear the smirk on his lips as you try to catch your breath and calm your racing heart. He's so fucking mean...

"Piss off, Simon." You retort and pull off him, pushing against his shoulders with both hands and moving pack to the passenger's seat. "Take me home." You say in a huff.

"Of course, sweetheart." Simon replies, his voice still smug and a large shit-eating grin on his lips as he bites his tongue, turning back onto the street.

After Simon pulls over in front of your house again, you hop out, fixing your dress and stomping back toward the house, displeased with his behavior. With him using your feelings for him against him. With him.

His phone rings, echoing through the speakers in the Rover. The small screen on the dash displays Johnny's contact name as Simon is watching you frustratedly fumble for the keys inside your clutch again.

"Been to all three spots. Did you find her?" The Scot's voice comes through the bluetooth speakers as the Mancunian watches you, running his fingers over his thigh where you left a wet stain on his sweats.

"Yeah, mate. Been keeping an eye on them. Kyle didn't try anything and he just dropped her off at home." He replies, watching you for a moment longer.

"Thanks for lookin' out, mate. 'm going for a pint right now..." Soap announces.

"Cheers," Ghost says in a nonchalant date, watching you finally find the keys and open the door, heading inside and turning on the hall light. "You owe me one, had a date planned but spent my evening going after your sister."

"Yeah... yeah... I owe ye." Soap retorts. "Come out me with me, then, 'm sure ye can find a bird at the pub." He offers.

"Nah, mate, 'm knackered. Going to get a good night's sleep." He says and watches you turn to glance at him (or more so his car) through the open door before you turn away again and visibly huff, closing the door behind yourself.

Simon shakes his head, snickering under his breath and saying goodbye to Soap before hanging up the call and grabbing his phone to shoot you a quick text.

"Ur brother is @ pub. Let me in."

Then, he stashes his phone back in his pocket, not even waiting for a reply.

His eyes return to the door and wait patiently, just a couple of seconds go by before you're opening the front door again. Simon smiles seeing that, turning off his car and hopping out.

His girl is so obedient.

[ Ghost Challenge Masterlist ] || [ My Masterlist ]

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beiasluv · 1 year

Text

forbidden fruit | Charles Leclerc

a/n: new to the f1 communityy 😬 apologies for any term or idea i got wrong. female!reader. no proofread! enjoyy 🤍

summary: the princess of mercedes and the prince of ferrari, what could possibly go wrong?

“y/n! y/n! she’s in her last turn! leclerc’s trailing behind! can he do an over take?”

splashing champagnes and listening to the dutch national anthem were never your favorite of winning a podium, but who cares?

you were on P3 and charles leclerc was not.

perhaps retelling the story of your rivalry with the monégasque driver would take a whole frustrating, aggravating, and lengthy year for us to get through; and perhaps it was for the best to leave it where it is, never to be touched, but to reminisce with a needle of cringeness poking through your heart.

although an honorable mention to verstappen, for taking the lead role of leclerc’s personal favorite rival.

it was all an inchident, of course.

smirking back to the driver in a flashing, scuderia ferrari, red fire suit, you could only feel your ego bubbling to the top of your throat. charles leclerc was staring. and staring hard. what a shame you couldn’t even take out your phone and take a snippet of his raging glance. what a fun sight for the whole news headlines to see.

‘charles leclerc, envy and jealousy…’

of course, he couldn’t lash it out. how could he? would the handsome, young, and talented ferrari driver want to ruin his reputation in the media? obviously, not.

of course, you knew it all too well. every day you wake up with the tip of a knife, aiming at your throat, ready to nick you anytime you take a wrong step on the luxurious path of an f1 driver. being the only female driver on the grid makes your life a thousand times more challenging.

but who were you to be a nitpick?

the media loves drama. we all do. perhaps it was a little bit more entertaining to see what you are wearing when the races had gone wrong. what hairstyle were you wearing for the big race? or, maybe, just which driver you were dating on the grid this season?

never once you could escape the dating questions or all the bullshit misogynistic attitudes from the journalists, press, media, and, well, …you name it.

perhaps you have to give it to leclerc for never going easy on you just because you are of a different gender.

“congratulations on P3, y/n,” max turned towards you and gave you a pat on the shoulder; simultaneously, bringing you back to reality.

“t- thanks.”

—

“you win this one, l/n.”

he took off his helmet, and clutched it loosely to his side. the cheeky smirk plastered on his face. the eyes searched for the depth of yours.

only you knew how much pain it was for him to force his lips to create such a soft and fake smile for the thousand camera lenses, waiting to catch the two rivals lacking. bumping into leclerc after the race, fresh and full of adrenaline, alone in the hallway of the track was never an enjoyable experience to endure.

“good race, leclerc,” you muttered out as many PR and drivers walked past you two.

“same to you.”

what a shame your PR manager ushered you out for the media room before you two could give a shot of throwing hands - elegantly, of course.

—

“good work on the qualifying round, l/n. return to the garage. over.”

“copy that,” you tapped your headset, notifying the engineer of the prestigious mercedes team.

driving for mercedes in f1 could count as your biggest dream since the karting days. and the race won against ferrari was a - personal - success.

slowing your baby down, and pressing the brake mechanism of the car, you came to a halt as the friction overpowered the tires. one or two seconds later, you could hear the mercedes team rushing and scurrying over to your parked position to collect you back to the mothership.

“take her back, guys!”

the screaming of your fans nearby erupted as you ascended out from the cramped space of your f1 seat. taking your helmet off, and waving to them; you gracefully jumped down from the car and headed towards the mercedes headquarters.

a long walk, but who are you to make a fuss?

an f1 driver should have no problem walking a couple of miles. oh but how annoyingly a group of fans quickly crowded over you and blocked your ways…red flags, horses, and charles leclerc faces. clearly, you knew whose fans they were.

fussing, grabbing, and pulling, you were harassed, unfortunately. autographs, hats, pictures, postcards, and questionable stuff were pushed into your face.

“y/n! please! sign my shirt!” “get the hell away from charles!”

“charles deserved p3 today!” “l/n!! l/n! say hi to my dad! he loves you!”

trying to fulfill all of their requirements, you realized you had found yourself in the sea of scuderia ferrari fans. it is an unspoken fact that you were the rival of charles leclerc; you could say some fans were more enthralled by that fact than others.

“y/n! what do you think about charles? are you guys dating?”

sometimes you hate technology. the cameras pointing at you reminded me of the knife you carry mentally with you every day. it could gain you thousands of thousands of likes in a few tiktoks or perhaps get ready to say goodbye to your f1 position.

“…we’re not talking. in any complicate way,” smiling through the pain you signed the cap that was shoved into your face. gosh, mercedes. where was your security?

your patience could only last so much until one fan decided it was worth it to grab your hand and pull you down for an instagram-worthy photo. and he possibly thought the best way to execute it was to, firstly, seize your waist. how thoughtful of him.

“fuc- please don’t-”

“y/n! i love you!”

man-child was not having it. sweaty and clammy hands could send chills down your spine if you didn’t know.

“please-”

smile through the pain. smile through the pain. it was all part of the job, at the end of the day. the fans still won and you were just a doll for f1. breathe in, breathe out.

he pulled his iphone 7 out of his pocket, painfully slow; slower than the ferrari’s pitstops. his side was squished to yours. the cologne, the smell, the sensory, everything-

“hey, hands off.”

you could say it was the first time you were glad to see charles leclerc from your entire life; wearing his race suit sluttily around his waist. leclerc - being leclerc - stunned his fans, leaving a big hole in the crowd around you.

he was reaching out for your waist; surprisingly, in a way you were pleased, and pulled you out of the red crowd. and just like magic, the security came rushing in and ushered the mob of fans away from the scene.

wearing that stunned face of yours, you regained consciousness and your rival emotions. clearing your already cleared throat, charles took it as a signal to let go of your waist. how suddenly you realized it was all happening over the armor of your fire suit.

thank god.

“..thanks”

“no need to thank me,” the competitive tone made its way through his annoying lips again. scoffing, he looked at you with his hand clutching his helmet by his side, “i don’t understand why they need to adore you this much.”

how rude.

“for the record, they are your fans, leclerc,” you scoffed offendedly, and your hand found its natural place on your chest; clutching for dramatic effect.

“what did i do to deserve such loyal fans, l/n…” not even looking at you he smirked under his nose. “they shouldn’t be acting this way, no?”

he looked over at you, seeing you in your distressed state and a chuckle left his lips. the cameras settled on the stands far away in the distance and stared at you two, they were definitely on.

shit.

this is going to end up in the headlines.

—

“check out your new title…” your manager cleared his throat as you nervously waited.

“you can’t just leave me hanging here!”

placing your phone in your lap your hands returned to the comfort of the steering wheel. twisting and turning, you maneuvered your mercedes inside the driver's garage.

“calm the fuck down! i’m pulling out the source for accuracy,” you swore you could see your manager rolling his eyes. “wait for it…‘charles to the rescue. mercedes and ferrari, love or rivalry?’”

“shut up.”

“i can send you the links.”

“please don’t,” you sighed as you looked over your shoulder to slide into the parking lot like a distinguished f1 driver. “…the devil works hard, but the media works harder, or what?”

“we could use a little PR for mercedes, y’know?” the crackled chuckle left your phone.

please.

“the signal is shit in the parking lot, i’ll see you at the paddock. bye.”

“alright, be quick.”

gathering your bag and phone, you checked your face one last time in the rearview mirror and opened the car door. unfortunately, the infamous ferrari entered the parking lot with its signature roars, as you stepped out of your car.

the devil had worked hard once again. walking to your trunk, you kicked it open and snatched some of your essential stuff for the race. and who would’ve thought charles leclerc could park his car in under 20 seconds?

not to mention, it wasn’t straight. (oops)

getting out of his car, he checked his hair and fixed his shirt. obviously, aware of the paparazzi lurking around the track’s garage for the big day, and hoping to sell a couple of pics for something a little more than a couple of bucks. perhaps an even better price for them if they caught you and your rival having a ‘friendly’ chat.

don’t get close to him. don’t get close to him.

“what a coincidence,” leclerc approached your mercedes as he locked his ferrari with its infamous beeping.

“how so?”

smirking back at him, you slammed your trunk closed and shut off; locking your car in the same manner. catching the glimpse of his eyes you made it your personal goal to escape him as fast as you could possibly can.

flicking your head away and taking off, the path inside the track was as empty as you hoped it could be.

“slow down, i just wanna talk.”

“leclerc.”

“you walk too fast,” you swore if you looked back and he is grinning. “you trying to escape from me?”

fuck.

“got a problem with that, leclerc?”

his dark green eyes met yours after you decided the risk was below the ‘manageable’ level to turn around.

“no,” he grinned at you. how you wish you could smack it off of his face. “i jus’ want some company while walking to the track, no?”

company, my ass.

clearing his throat, he looked at you, “you’re a pretty good rival though.”

gaining a nod and a smirk from you leclerc was cut short of his run time as his PR manager came to collect him to the ferrari garage. how sad. his messy hair, the confidential wave, and two eyes met yours one last time before you decided to head to the mothership of your mercedes headquarters.

big trouble, y/n. big trouble.

—

“y/n, we neeed to talk.”

the paddock was usually quiet upstairs, all the mechanics and engineers spent their time in garage down below. only toto, george, lewis, your manager, and their managers, and - obviously - you would spend time up here. also. is every private manager in the world annoyingly scary and friendly at the same time or what?

sitting down next to you on the black sofa of the mercedes headquarters by the pitch, you were face-to-face with your lovely manager.

clearing your nonexistent anxiety, “…yes?”

“look…the media is starting to notice your relationship with charles…”

“and..?”

“and,” he crossed his arms, “we need to work on keeping this situation private…it could affect your reputation. maybe after the soft launch phase is over, you can publicize it…if you want to, obviously.”

the fuck?

“…what are your thoughts?”

he looked into your face, not a single thought behind it. somehow the racetrack outside the notoriously big, shiny window of the mercedes paddock suddenly gained your attention, and he restored to snapping his fingers in front of your face.

“what-? oh right- for fuck’s sake! we’re not in a relationship!”

“and what about those paparazzis’ pictures? I thought we agreed on sharing every ‘public’ detail about your life with me?”

“first of all, privacy. second of all. you believe that?! anthony! you’re my manager, i would’ve told you if i was dating a ferrari driver!” grabbing a quick breath,

“do you think i want to date the reddest of all flags on the grid?!”

“yeah? but that’s not the impression the media got,” he said. “even max! max verstappen thought-”

“who cares what max thinks!” you thrown your head back on the sofa.

“PR could be good, but we don’t know if it’s going to blacklash-”

george russell. he walked up to you two arguing on the black sofa and smirked at you; clearly, he heard your talks about ‘the reddest of all flags on the grid.’

“shut your mouth, russell,” sighing sarcastically as you could and you turned to your manager, who was having the time of his life.

“I’m not saying anything,” he raised his hands defensively, grinning the shit out of the corners of his mouth.

“I’m a driver, not a play doll you could match-make for the team’s reputation. hell. doesn’t charles have a girlfriend?”

anthony pulled out his phone and scrolled through ‘something,’ “yes…charles…has a girlfriend, PR relationship?”

“what do you mean?”

putting his phone away, “doesn’t matter. but what the media care about is to get a story out of nothing.”

“…and?”

“you have a reputation of being a private figure, and you're an expert in keeping it that way. we just need to do that until the end of the season.”

george chuckled sarcastically, "she seems angry at us, guys.”

“i am. and i’m not dating anyone for mercedes. done,” you stood up from the sofa and beelined towards the door. “also. i’m telling toto.”

and someone finally heard you this time. the whole room’s atmosphere seemed to tense up as someone entered the door.

toto wolff.

“is there a problem, y/n?” toto asked as george smirked at the unfolding situation.

you swung your head towards the origin of the sound and cleared your throat, “your employee, mr. wolff, is trying to matchmake me with a ferrari driver.”

toto chuckled.

toto chuckled?

“so there is something between you and charles?” he raised his eyebrow at you. expectedly, george was holding his laughter in for his dear life.

“why does everyone thinks that we’re dating?! even toto?!”

“so you’re not dating leclerc?”

“no!”

congratulations. you have successfully crashed onto the sofa once again, groaning your pain out.

“she’s lying,” george chimed in.

“I. am. not.”

how surprising that george’s back kissed the sofa as you tackled him jokingly down. a moment of silence for toto to watch many of his best drivers tackle each other like it’s a normal day in kindergarten.

“are you sure you are not dating, leclerc?”

last straw. you clutched your bag and left george dysfunctional on the couch. walking past the room, you glanced back one last time and said with the best sarcasm, “i’m not. and I’m not dating him for mercedes. done! I’m a driver, not a doll!”

slamming the door shut, you headed for your private driver’s room.

"she's angry at us…” george chuckles nervously; obviously, with a hint of joy.

“no shit sherlock”

—

edit: part 2

part 2?? reblog, like, whatever the heck you want would be appreciated 😘

today’s a great day to take care of yourself, lots of luv 🤍

2K notes · View notes

trulyhblue · 4 months

Text

STARGIRL

Georgia Stanway x Reader

Warnings — smut 18+, buildup, mean! Boyfriend! Kind of toxic! Georgia, dom/sub dynamics, drinking, partying, jealousy, strap, millie bright hate but not hate but pls I love you millie bright so flirt with me x, kind of dumb reader but like she actually doesn't know, praise kink, degradation kink, breeding kink.

_______________________

Your dress had hitched to an unethical height, but the state of your tipsiness provoked a desolated ignorance accompanied by the thunderous beat of the club. Grace was behind you, swaying her hips with yours, the two of you celebrating your most recent win with the Lionesses.

The room was crowded with dancing bodies, mashed together with the concoction of sweat, alcohol, and oblivion. You had seen Less, Ella and Niamh nearby only a while ago, and an ample group of your teammates were sitting in the back corner surrounded by a booth, projecting their triumph in the form of the burn down their throats, the drinks they nursed holding to a product of victory.

“Ugh, I'm so sweaty,” Grace whined, loud enough in order to be heard over the booming rave. “I need a drink.”

“Same, let's go.” You nodded, feeling the girl’s hands snake around your waist, pulling you closer to her figure as the crowd collapsed further into your figure.

The two of you sauntered through the crowd, giggling at the mob of people struggling to find enough space to properly function. Your cheeks were stained a vibrant pink from the flush of adrenaline. Grace was humming along to the tune in your ear, her arms still holding onto you tightly so that you wouldn't lose each other.

It wasn't often that the team went out for drinks, especially not the likes of such a mix of the different friend groups. Lucy and Keira weren't set to go back to Spain for another three days, and most of the girls would seek refuge in the comfort of their own beds tonight, as the match held in Wembley sought itself in the midst of the WSL.

Georgia and you were set to leave for Munich two days from now after spending the last two weeks preparing and playing for your national team here in England. While Gee had transferred from City a while ago, you had only just moved to Bayern from Chelsea, where someone like Grace had become your closest friend in the WSL. As one of the younger players on the team, you wanted to make sure the debutant felt welcome and comfortable in the senior squad, despite her training with the team long before her match debut.

Over the last couple of months, you had been working really hard in order to aid your club to victory, but after the nasty blow in the Champions League, and some defeats sprinkled here and there throughout the season, this night was long awaited.

Once Grace and you had finally woven your way through, you were quick to find refuge on Georgia’s lap, leaving Grace to sit on the opposite side of the booth next to Mary. Gee found her hands secured on your waist, ignoring the way your hips wiggled in her lap.

“Having fun, are we?” She asked, watching as you hummed in reply, taking it upon yourself to take a sip of her drink. You failed to notice your girlfriend's fimble hands tugging down the fabric of your skirt, hiding the notion by massaging your thighs and kissing your exposed shoulder.

The enriching taste of lemonade made you turn to straddle her, holding the drink up to her lips while the straw was still lingering close to yours.

“You’re not drinking?”

“I’m driving us back, baby.” Gee shook her head. “Do you want me to get you another drink?”

You thought to yourself before slowly reaching down to where your girlfriend’s collar met her throat, toying with the cloth in your hands before pressing your lips to her pulse point, letting her take the drink, placing it back on the table as you ran your tongue along the column of her throat.

“Y/N, baby.” You heard Gee mutter. You lifted your hips off her lap, combing your hair out of your face as you counted to speckled freckles on Georgia’s cheeks. She took out her wallet, handing you her card. “Do you ‘wanna go buy yourself something? The girls and I were ‘gonna go play pool over there if you want to meet us there.”

“Do you want anything?” Shaking her head in reply, keeping a prolonged stare down the trajectory of your low-cut top. You tugged at the bottom of her shirt, letting your hands roam freely across the waistband of her trousers. Rocking your hips, you found Grace already standing behind you, grabbing your hands and leading you over to the bar.

It wasn't unusual for Georgia to brush off your public affection like that, especially when you were obviously tipsy, and the lingering eyes of your friends were all at your disposal. If you had kissed her in a secluded corner of this club, she would've taken you up against the nearest wall as fast as she could. She had been eyeing that dress — or moreso the skin it was hardly concealing — and wanting so desperately to take you home and show you how much she loved you.

The games against Sweden and Italy were both masterclasses on your behalf, and Georgia was merely waiting for the right time to reward you for scoring in both of them.

“You need to get a room.” Grace teased, her eyes peering back to where Georgia shamelessly looked at your arse. “No wonder the fans found out so quickly.”

You turned to face the younger girl, a smirk adorned on your face. “Two months was a struggle in itself.”

Gee and you had tried to keep your relationship well out of the media. But after your move to Munich, and a few too many proper English celebrations, the media had caught on to your affection and adoration for each other far too quickly than what you had hoped. Nevertheless, both of you sprinkled your private lives into your Instagram every once and a while. Save some photos of you that Georgia was not willing to share with the world.

“No, I know.” She replied, pivoting through the crowd. “But it's cute. Traumatic for me… But cute.”

You used Georgia’s card to buy yourself and her two lemonades and Grace a drink of her own. Grace’s regard for your relationship was an unusual sentiment because while you strived to hold your private life out of the fame and publicity of football, there was an inevitable spark between the two of you that fans caught onto long before you ever thought of Georgia in the way you do now.

Despite what is displayed, you were two very reserved people, with Georgia being the more talkative of the two of you when it came to interviews. You loved your social life — your friends both at home and away. However, there were many differences that distinguished a shift in personas.

You liked to push the boundaries. If you could test your luck, it was impossible to tempt you otherwise. Georgia liked routine. You didn't mind testing the waters and going with the flow. Life was more enjoyable that way.

At least for you.

Georgia had watched you make your way to the bar, hoping you’d return with something a lot less strong than what you had been downing previously. Grace was hung by your side, the younger woman holding onto your arm with giggles leaving her lips. Gee waited for you to inch down your skirt before following Mary and the others over to where Leah was lining up for a game of pool.

“Any reason you're easing off the drinks tonight, Stanway?”

Millie was lingering by the group, nursing her own drink while Rach and Lucy talked beside her. Georgia shrugged, moving her hands to her pockets as she watched Leah take the first shot against Keira.

“I'm driving home.”

Millie snorted. “Will you make it home?”

If Gee was drinking, she would've choked. “What?”

“Well, you were pretty much eating each other’s faces off just before. Figured you couldn't wait.”

Georgia shrugged again. She wasn't too keen on the conversation, especially when the topic didn't deem either you or her in the highest regard. Everyone knew that Georgia wasn't into that type of PDA, but it was also noted that given the right reasons, she’d be worse than you.

“You’re a lucky one, Gee.” The Chelsea Defender clapped the Midfielder on the back, downing the rest of her drink. “Enjoy your night.”

Millie left Georgia to stand a few feet away from the rest of the group — leaving her to mull over her teammate’s words. For some reason, she couldn't shake Millie’s comments off. What did she mean — enjoy your night? What was she implying? Of course, she was going to enjoy her night with her girlfriend. Of course Gee was lucky, but why was Millie saying that? Normally, these comments were used as a compliment, and with Millie’s best intentions, everyone knew she was only pure. But when Georgia saw the way the Chelsea player flung her arm over your shoulder upon your return, talking down at you amid the booming music, something in Georgia flicked.

Everyone had gotten progressively more drunk as the night went on, but you were fully immersed in the way everyone was interacting, holding your own conversation with Millie, who was going on about some football thing happening at Chelsea.

Leah was swearing at Keira, who was cheekily laughing away at the ratio of her balls to Leah’s left in the game. You had left Georgia’s drink in front of you, and you continued to keep it by your side as you watched the bickering between Lee and Keira transpire.

“You're a right cheat, Walsh, go home.” Williamson quipped, shoving Keira playfully by the shoulder. The Barcelona player poked out her tongue, jabbing the Arsenal protege's side. “Oh, cry me a river, Leah. You're just a sore losers who’s downright shit.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Oh, piss off.”

“You first.”

“Right give someone else a go!” Lucy called, her accent slightly rasped and slurred. She scanned the room, looking straight across to where you and Millie stood. “Go on, you two. Show ‘em how to play normally.”

You felt yourself sober up a little from the attention of everyone’s stares. You felt your ears go a bit red, shaking your head by the time Millie had already picked up her cue.

“I'm no good at it.” You spoke.

Georgia watched you saunter over to the side of the table, using your arms to lean, stabilising your ditzy figure. She could tell by the blush across your face that you had sobered up significantly, but she knew that the alcohol still held a prominent hold over you.

“It’ll be an easy win for me then, gorgeous.” Millie taunted, readying herself for the first shot. You shook your head, caving by grabbing the spare cue Keira was holding, all while Georgia looked on with her hands fisted in her pockets.

She wasn't usually the type to get like this. Georgia and you held great independence in your respective lives. Both of you enjoyed letting the other do stuff without the prodding of the other. You trusted each other too much to breach any boundaries, but if there was one thing Georgia had trouble keeping to herself, it was her jealousy.

Millie took the first hit, causing the object balls to cascade across the green fabric. Leah was standing behind you, muttering something into your ear. You stood there with your figure half leaning against her, the other half fidgeting with the cue.

“Wait, so, I don't remember-”

“Well, don't be asking Leah for advice,” Keira’s teasing voice came from nearby. “She’ll just tell you how to lose.”

Leah looked utterly exasperated, glaring at her best friend with annoyance plastered across her face. “Oh, give it up, Walsh, will you?”

“Alright, Milton Keynes, it's okay to admit defeat, y’know.”

The England Captain marched over to a laughing Keira, punching the girl’s shoulder. Everyone watched in amusement when Keira retaliated, using her arms to poke Leah in the ribs.

You were left fiddling with the stick, laughing along at the sight in front of you while internally pondering. You had never properly played pool before — obviously with friends, of course, but never taking it as far as playing by the rules. You had no idea what strategy to use, or what ball you were meant to hit. It wasn't like anyone cared, but the perfectionist in you just couldn't wrap your head around it.

“Give it here.”

It wasn't until you felt familiar arms wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you instantly closer to her hips. You let yourself fall limp against her, chewing on your bottom lip as you stared at the game you were clueless at.

“I don't know how to play.” You spoke, handing the cue to your girlfriend, who took the stick from you, moving her head down to your shoulder, letting her breath fan over your neck as she spoke.

“How ‘bout I show you then, hm? I’ll teach you.”

You sighed at the goosebumps running down your neck, nodding as Gee kept you in front of her, maneuvering the two of you in a way that made it possible for her to play while keeping your arse against her hips. You watched as Millie made the next move. Georgia waited for a moment, letting everything station before proceeding. With one arm circled around your waist, she bent over to make the next move. You felt her body press into yours, stuck between the table and her.

After her shot, she slotted back upright. She leant down once more, combing back the loose hairs that framed your face.

“How are you feeling, Baby?”

Her voice was deeper, more grounded by the time of night.

You couldn't help but look up at her, licking your lips as you nodded. “Good, why?”

Georgia held your hips, moving them so that they were glued to the table. “Just wondering, pretty girl.”

Her body loomed over yours, her arms sanctioned on either side of you as Millie thought through her next move. You tried to conceal your neediness, the feeling of Georgia’s body pressed against yours sending heat down your spine. “Gee.”

“What is it, baby?”

You struggled to focus, hoping Millie would hurry up so that Georgia would move away from her unrelenting pressure.

You managed to swallow your whine as her hand moved to fondle your thigh. “Nothing.”

It was soon Georgia’s turn, the game becoming more fluent as both sides successfully slotted in balls left and right. Though, as the game went on, you could feel your girlfriend grow more and more handsy. After every shot, she’d kiss the alcove of your neck, whispering a sweet nothing about how you looked, or the way you felt against her, that was borderline testing the innocence she often preserved out in public.

“Looking so good tonight, darling…”

“Can't believe you're all mine, babygirl…”

“So perfect for me, all to myself…”

In between turns, Georgia let you lean on her, loving the way you sighed at every ounce of affection she would give you, making sure it was obvious enough for Millie to catch on, while discrete enough for you to not feel like it was truly public for anyone to actually notice.

You nearly lost it when she slotted her hand in between your thighs and squeezed them while you kept a watchful eye on the game in front of you. Her body covered your back, hiding her obvious display of desire by letting you push your arse against her front.

“Feel so good, don't you?”

“Georgia, please.”

“You're doing so well, baby. Might have to reward you for being so good.”

You should've known that she would keep a straight face the whole time, refusing to give you the reaction you so desperately hungered for by the ache between your legs. You had tried everything as she massaged your shoulders, and whispered passive teasing that sent shivers down your neck. Despite your honest belief that Georgia was unfazed by your antics, she made it clear that your actions were heard when she dug her hands into your hips.

She had beaten Millie by an easy mile, though she did not bother to make any celebration, instead looking down at you, grabbing the back of your neck and kissing you softly.

“Can we go, Gee?”

“Why, baby?” She asked, a knowing smirk plastered across her lips.

You whined for the first time that night, making sure Georgia heard it by lifting yourself up to her height. “Just want you right now.”

“Want me? But I'm right here.”

“Georgia, please. I need your help.”

That was enough for Georgia to bid everyone good night, sending farewells as quickly as she could while you tried to forget about the growing arousal in your core. By the time you had both gotten into the empty car park, your lips had started to attack hers. Georgia pretty much coerced you into the car, moving the driver's seat all the way back so that you could sit comfortably on her lap.

She shut the door promptly, knowing that her tinted windows were enough to hide the way her hands played with your arse, your clit immediately rubbing against her hips.

You started tugging off your shirt, leaving your breasts on full display. Georgia couldn't even register the sight before you grabbed one of her hands, pulling it towards your nipple, groaning at the way she pinched it.

“Where is your phone?” You uttered, moving your chest closer to Georgia so that your tits were pretty much in her face. She took one of your nipples in her mouth, moaning when you moved your breasts around her face, making them bounce erratically with the lack of bra you had worn. She grabbed her phone from her back pocket, handing it to you without a second thought. You didn't waste any time in pushing back, opening the device before swiping to the camera, hastily pressing play on the video, and moving the phone so that it showed your tits in Georgia’s mouth on full display.

“You’re such a good girl for me.” She groaned. “So thoughtful, aren't you? Gonna watch this when you're not with me. Need to see these tits every day, don't I? Gonna watch you every day.”

“Need you to fuck me, baby. Need your cum in me so bad.”

You grabbed the top button on her shirt, moaning out when Georgia grabbed both of your tits, sitting upright and playing with both of them with her mouth and hands. Her cold rings pressed into the delicate skin of you nipples, the distant pain of her pinches making you squirm irresistibly in her lap. Your skirt had ridden up to your hips, where your g-string went exposed to the camera’s lense.

You moved across to the console, using your spare hand that wasn't tugging Georgia’s hair to find a hair elastic, though you graw impatient when Gee stopped kissing your breasts for you neck. Instead, she found the all-too-familiar toy hidden neatly underneath the lube you definitely wouldn't need, and you moaned as your hand squeezed around the strap that you pulled out once Georgia pinched your nipple once more.

“Haven't used this one before.” Your girlfriend whispered, nibbling dark, callous marks across your neck. “Bit too big for your small little hole, darling. It can't fit, can't it?”

“Try it, please.” You muttered, unbuttoning the woman’s pants and letting them fall to the floor. You buckled the harness around her waist to the best of your ability, giving up when Georgia took over, letting you discard the short, flimsy fabric of your skirt. “Make it fit.”

“You're so desperate for my cum, aren't you darling?” She rutted, fastening the harness so the strap only just missed your folds. “Want me to fill you up with kids so bad, don't you? Want me to make you full and pregnant, yeah?”

You moaned. “Want to have your babies inside of me. Fill me up, please. So bad, baby. Need your help cause it aches.”

Georgia bunched your hair up into a makeshift pony, pushing you down so that your mouth hovered over the strap. Your arse in the air, your tits kneaded by your own hands. Georgia moaned at the sight of you so desperate, the notion of the camera recording making it all the more sporadic.

You wasted no time licking the dick, holding the base of the silicone toy with one hand, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked the tip and first quarter of the strap in your mouth. Gee pulled your hair, letting you move up and down on her dick. The vibrations of your gagging mixed with moans made her sigh at her newfound, growing release.

“Fuck, keep going, Y/N.” She groaned. “Just like that.”

You continued until tears pricked your eyes. You could tell by the way Georgia’s grip on your scalp tightened and your tongue flicked along the tip, your cheeks hollowing and allowing more of the strap to fill your throat. It didn't take long until Georgia’s breathing had staggered. Short, uneven breaths mixed with erratic sweet nothings. You pushed yourself down her dick one last time, feeling Gee’s body collapse from all tension as her orgasm washed over her. You pulled yourself up, wiping the spit and cum off your face with your fingers, prodding them towards your mouth. Georgia watched you lick them clean, rolling your head back at the taste alongside the subtle pang of your throat.

The car windows were not only tinted but misted due to the humidity inside the vehicle. Your hips shadowed the strap, Georgia falling back into the rhythm of toying with your hips, kneading them as she kissed your neck.

You could feel the ache between your legs grow at the sight of your girlfriend beneath you, maneuvering you to where she wanted you most, giving you incredible amounts of pleasure at your disposal. You were starting to moan at the simplest of movements like the way she gripped your hips, or the way she licked over the bruises down your neck and chest. The last piece of clothing you had on was your underwear, Georgia now discarding her shirt so that you were both in states of nudity. Sweat beaded from your forehead.

Your legs started shaking from the mere want for the woman below you. It didn't take you long for your desire to take over as you grabbed one of Gee’s hands, slipping it down your stomach and along the fabric of your underwear. You painstakingly pushed her hand underneath, letting her move her fingers up and down your folds. The slick covered them instantly, and she rolled her head back when you began to rock on her hand.

“Do you feel how wet I am, baby?” You asked, Georgia nodded. She watched you bounce up and down, grateful at the way Gee pushed one of her fingers into you, letting you ride it in short pulsates. You whimpered when she entered her second finger, crying out when she entered her third. Georgia took one of your breasts in her mouth, groaning as you bobbed up and down. You felt your pussy clench around her, your arousal coating her fingers each time you pushed deeper into your strategic strokes. Georgia continued to hold one of your hips, helping your shaking legs hold yourself up as you neared your climax.

“Fuck, you're such a slut, aren't you?” Georgia uttered, her fourth finger nudging your clit as you sunk in once more. You rocked yourself back and forth now, relishing the way your nub ran itself over her hand, the coil in your core tightening as your climax neared.

“Grinding on me at the pool table cause you're so needy for me… everyone could tell that you just wanted me inside you. You made sure to show everyone who you belonged to.”

You were a blabbering mess. Your stokes became sloppy, your legs non-stop shaking as your body tensed at the pleasure running through you. Georgia curled her fingers inside of you, assaulting your clit as you struggled to keep your pace. There was no way you could reply as all your thoughts were focused on the sounds of your juices being leaked out from your hole, Georgia’s fingers forcing them in and out as she spoke to you in rasps. Your noises became pornographic, and you no longer cared about the thought of someone hearing you.

“Need me to do everything for you. I didn't even need to fuck you dumb. All I need to do is bend you over.”

You could finally feel your orgasm washing over you when Georgia pulled her fingers out, laughing at your instant cry out.

“Aw, baby.” She muttered, wiping your sweaty flyaways out of your face, tears fell from your eyes, your cheeks reddening as you fell onto her lap, your legs no longer able to hold you up. You looked down at your girlfriend, finding no remorse on her smug face.

“Why didn't you cum, pretty girl?” She tutted, pulling your body up from her chest so it was exposed to her view. You shook your head, fully dumbfounded at her actions. It wasn't like you had done anything wrong.

“I— Gee— I’ve been good.”

You sounded pathetic. Normally, if you had been a brat, you’d have said that as a joke to put on an innocent facade and get the sex you had desperately craved. You would pretend to be nice and suck her dick or eat her out just because you had done something to provoke it. There were countless times when Gee had edged you for doing something provocative, but tonight you had no idea why she had done it.

“Really, baby? You think so?” You looked at her with the saddest eyes you could muster. “You sure you've been good all night?”

In terms of your sex life, you had your fair share of dominant and submissive moments, but with Georgia, you found yourself subbing out to new extremes. Your girlfriend would do anything for you, on and off the pitch. You could act dumb and she’d fuck it out of you. You would fall over on the pitch, cry out even if it was a fair play, and Georgia would be the one receiving the yellow for defending you. When you were at a bar, or anywhere for the matter, and felt someone look at you in even the slightest wrong way, Gee would hold you in front of her and make sure you were always safe in her arms.

But Georgia could be mean, even if you hadn't necessarily done anything to make her mean. She usually got like this when you had hugged someone for too long, or made a joke about yourself that she thought was too far.

That made it all click.

“Are you jealous?”

Georgia scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You can't flirt with Bright then bend over for me two minutes later.”

She grabbed your waist and lifted you, switching positions so that you were lying in the driver’s seat and she was hovering above you.

“I wasn't flirting. I was talking.” You moaned at the contact of the strap’s tip brushing against your folds, moving up and down as Georgia’s hands massaged your arse.

“She called you gorgeous, you know.” You felt her breath fan over your face, her lips ghosting down your neck. “Said I should enjoy my night with you.”

“She did?” It was probably not the right way to phrase that response, but it didn't seem to phase Georgia anyway. “We were just talking, Geor-”

“I bet she wouldn't fuck you as good.” Georgia spat, using one hand to circle your clit. You threw your head back, moaning at the small discomfort from your prior denied orgasm, writhing at the sudden pressure on your sensitive nub. “If I showed her all the videos of you screaming my name I doubt she’d try that shit again.”

“Georgia…”

“What videos would I show her, hm?” Georgia started dragging one of her fingers into your pussy, beginning with slow, painful strokes that squelched with the sound of your juices. “Maybe she’d like the mirror one. Y’know, when we won against Wolfsburg and I fucked you in the bathroom?”

“Fuck, please Gee.”

“You were so hot in that one… bent over like the slut you are… came three times for your three goals.” She added the second finger in now, speeding up just a smidge all while kissing over your chest. “Do you think she’d like if I sent that one?”

You moaned at the third finger, tears pricking your eyes as Georgia entered your pussy hard and fast, enjoying your pleas and begs through mindless mumbles. You were so far gone that everything she was saying was only making you closer. The sound of her voice was enough to help you closer to release.

“Or maybe I should send the one after your first game with Munich.” She snarled, admiring the darkened marks on your neck. “Do you remember who we played against that game?”

Of course you did, you thought. The game has been one you were stressing over for weeks in advance. You and Georgia had only just moved in together, and there was significant pressure on you to succeed and prove to everyone that you could perform under intimidation.

“Chelsea.”

“Good girl, baby, that's right.” She cooed. “Scored in the first fifteen minutes, and I had to reward my Stargirl for that. That's what they all used to call you, didn't they? She called you Stargirl back then, now it's me who says it, isn't it?”

That was enough to push you closer to the edge. You gripped hard onto her shoulders, crying out as you felt your climax rush over you.

“How bout I send both those videos… show her who I enjoy my night with. Fucking you for being mine.”

“I— I'm yours, Gee. Fuck, please, I'm-”

The release left you reeling. You felt your orgasm leak out all over Georgia’s hand, your head falling against the headrest as you rode out your high with her consistent deep strokes in and out of your pussy. You didn't care about the mess you were making, nor the inflammatory noises you had been making as soon as you felt Georgia touch you. Your body shook from the much-needed release, and by the time you had somewhat caught your breath, the familiar pressure on your nub resurfaced.

You cried out, whining when the silicone dick entered your folds. Georgia looked down at you, kissing you passionately to silence your post-orgasm conscious. She made sure that you didn't push her away before moving the tip of the strap into your hole, smirking when you stretched open for her like you had been calling for it to be filled.

“Gee, its too big, I can't.” You whined, squirming as your hair stuck to your skin. Your girlfriend held your hips down, lowering herself down to where your pussy clenched around the toy as it moved.

“You’ll take it.” She growled. “You said it before. If you can suck me off I can fuck you with it.”

She kept an even pace as her hips finally reached yours, the strap filling your pussy with your slick. Your eyes were firmly clasped shut, your whines filling the car as the aching pain slowly turned into lust. Georgia waited for you to start rocking on it gently. The way you rode her dick so desperately turned her on to extreme lengths. She was somewhat surprised that you could take the length as well as you were, and when your hips met hers, and she felt the toy being bounced on, she realised that she had been still for a few minutes. She wanted to feel bad, but she knew that teasing was good for your ego.

“Gee, can you move?”

Georgia caught sight of the camera, the video still recording the vulgar sight. She groaned at the sight of your shaking legs, and the way you could go longer see the strap that was filled in between your legs. The camera showed the way your tits bounced so perkily every time you tried to gain friction. Your body was enclosed by Georgia’s arms, her thighs overlapping yours, her muscles on full display. Sweat beaded off both of you, moans cascading from your puffy red lips.

With one hand holding her up, she grabbed her phone that was sitting by the console. Her sudden movement sent shockwaves through you, causing you to scream out when the strap pushed into you impossibly closer. Georgia positioned the phone so that it was leaning on the seat, right where the strap was. When she knew that the angle caught all of your body, she lifted her lips slowly before pounding into you.

Your cries were music to her ears, and she thought it sinful to cover them with her hand in fear of being heard. If anything, people would be blessed with the sound, for she thought if heavenly. Your sounds mixed with her groans mixed with your slick against the strap. If any other size, Georgia would move even faster, but her pace was already hard, and you struggled to keep up as your pussy clenched around her.

“So gorgeous.” She uttered, feeling you near your climax for the third time that night. “Such a good girl for taking it.”

“Fuck, Georgia-”

“Gonna fill you up so that you get pregnant, baby. You tell me when and I’ll fill that beautiful body with a baby of our own. Fuck, you’d look so hot with our baby.”

You couldn't even begin to speak, your moans now babble, your speech completely incoherent. Georgia could feel her own release overcoming her, but she waited knowing that you were only seconds away.

“My pretty girl.”

You cried out her name for the last time, your cum coating her cock as she rode out both your high with sloppy deep strokes. You were in a state of pure bliss that you didn't even have the energy to push her off your overstimulated clit. Though, from all the times before, Georgia knew you would be sore, and after keeping still and waiting for both of you to even your breathing, she began to pull out.

You winced, waiting for Georgia to discard the toy and hakt the video before pulling her body into yours.

“I love you, Gee. No one else, baby.”

“I know, my pretty girl. I was only joking.”

You couldn't help but laugh, finding that statement ludicrous. “Yeah, alright, Stanway.”

“Okay, touche.” She replied smugly.

Maybe Millie was right — Georgia couldn't wait till she got home. And she did enjoy her fucking night.

_______________________

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killerlookz · 2 months

Text

You and Your Friend | Joost Klein, Ski Aggu

description: joost klein x f! reader, ski aggu x f! reader- Upon seeing each other for the first time in a year after a hook-up, lingering tension remains between you and Joost, leaving his friend Aggu to decide to play matchmaker for you two in a rather unusual way.

content: 18+ smut, mdni, threesome, unprotected PiV, cream pie, oral (both m! and f! receiving) spitroasting?? i think that's what its called, a little orgasm denial, f!overstim, a tinge of jealousy (less than I originally planned cos its been a min since i wrote something without angst lol), drinking, aggu being a complete sneaky little bastard/kind of convoluted plot bc of it, mentioned that reader has moved to LA but no nationality or country of origin is assigned to them. not super proofread

THIS FIC CONTAINS RPF AND HAS BEEN TAGGED AS SUCH... IF THAT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE DO NOT INTERACT, PLEASE BLOCK THE RPF TAG AND MOVE ON. DO NOT SHARE MY WORK ON OTHER SOCIAL MEDIAS OUTSIDE OF TUMBLR EITHER IN SCREENSHOTS OR IN ITS ENTIRETY.

word count: 9095

The bitter taste of liquor drips down your throat, an uncomfortable warmth invading your abdomen as the liquid reaches your stomach. Your muscles tense, your eyes forcing shut, an involuntary twitch trembling through your nerves. With a groan of disgust you slam the shot glass down on the marble counter in front of you, your eyes finally opening as you do so.

Music thumps around you, pouring from expensive speakers throughout the impressive expanse of the house you currently stood in. Party-goers intoxicated on the finest substances money could buy surrounded you, their loud voices almost rivaling the music.

Since moving to Los Angeles parties like this had become your thing, mansions in the hills that you could't dream of affording had practically become your second home. Vague connections with the music industry, and being a friend, of a friend, of a friend had managed to get you in just about anywhere. You were working your way up to becoming a well-known socialite, minus the usual rich parents and nepotism.

Parties like this were usually your thing, making drunken connections and inching your way up the city's social totem pole, all while having the time of your life. Today seemed different, the liquor wasn't hitting you the same, the music didn't sound right, and engaging in conversation felt like a chore. Being fresh-faced and hot in Los Angeles, you had become far too used to the world being yours, but not tonight. Tonight the one thing you wanted was too far out of your reach.

Last year one of your friends suggesting a surprise vacation had landed you in Berlin, and a night of clubbing had landed you in bed with a particular Dutch musician. His name was Joost, relatively unknown outside of the Netherlands at the time, he and a friend who called himself Ski Aggu had been out celebrating having a number one hit in Germany. It felt like fate that he had ended up at the same club where you had been, and it didn't take much for him to charm your clothes off. Both he and Aggu were far different than the musicians you had met in the states. Confident, but not full of themselves like you had been used to, both men had actually given you the time of day, they were interested in you beyond what you could do for them sexually. Truth be told you would have been happy to go home with either of them that night, and you wondered if Aggu had been the one to take you to bed if you would even be in the predicament you were in now.

You and Joost had kept vague contact since the night you hooked up, how could you not? He was an exceptional lay, fucking you like the two of you were long lost lovers, making you cum over and over until you collapsed into a whimpering mess in his arms. It felt far too sweet for a one-night stand, and, perhaps stupidly you had thought there was something more there. Hence, your lingered contact, an occasional text here and there to catch up on how things had been, a phone call on an even rarer occasion.

You hadn't exactly expected him to blow up in the way that he did in the year since you last saw him, a spot competing on Eurovision, and a subsequent disqualification put fame right at his finger tips. Still, even with his newfound success, and much less "low-key" life, which had resulted in your contact with him reaching a screeching halt, you still refused to believe that you were nothing more than a one-night stand. That fact alone had made tonight just about impossible for you. Never in a million years had you expected Joost to be in the States, let alone one of these parties, this was your territory. But, there was no denying that was the case as you tried your hardest to prevent your gaze from wandering across the room towards where you knew he had been standing. You tried your hardest to rack your brain on who he could have known here, but after his stint as a Eurovision contestant, you shouldn't be so surprised, sure he now had connections far wider than you could imagine. Though, you found it charming how he still traveled with that same group of friends he had when you met him in that tiny club in Berlin. And certainly seeing Joost again would be a much more charming experience if he had actually bothered to glance your way at least once tonight. But you had no such luck.

Leaving your empty shot glass on the marble countertop, you decide to drag yourself off to another part of the home, somewhere where it isn't so crowded, where you can have some space to think, to breathe. Usually on nights like tonight, ironically enough thinking was the last thing on your mind, but now, you had felt like you needed somewhere to escape to where you could hear your own thoughts. Maybe then, in the comfortability of your the presence of nobody else but yourself could you once again bring out that messy party girl who was screaming to be let out of you.

An empty bedroom had become the perfect place for you to wallow in your self-pity for the time being. The music still thumped in your ears, albeit more muffled now, and the voices of party goers were nothing but a dull hum. You let yourself fall onto the large bed, your body hitting the thick, surely all-too-expensive comforter. You stare at the ceiling, contemplating your next move, never in your life had you felt like this when it came to a guy. Never had you let yourself second guess whether you were worth a man's time, of course you were worth it. But with Joost, you couldn't help but lose the self-assurance you always had, for once, you found yourself actually caring about what someone else thought of you. Your stomach churned at the thought, getting all self-conscious over a guy you barely knew was surely a major blow to your I don't give a fuck reputation. For the first time since you had moved to Los Angeles, you had been humbled.

"Oh, shit." A vaguely familiar chuckle travels from where you think the door to the bedroom is. The accent in the voice is apparent, even in those two short words, enough for you to be almost-certain of who now occupies the bedroom with you. Almost-certain isn't enough, however, and straining slight due to your tipsy nature you sit up from where your back rests against the bed.

Your suspicions are immediately confirmed upon getting a glimpse at the other person in the room.

"Aggu!" You grit your teeth, attempting a smile, and immediately you regret your decision to address him by name, positive he had probably completely forgotten who you are. You cross your legs and sit up straight.

Aggu smiles back, leaning against the door frame,

"Am I interrupting something?" He asks, a little confused, but amusement still written all over his face. "Waiting for Joost?" He laughs. He did remember you.

"Joost?" You scoff, trying your hardest to pretend that the idea of you wanting anything to do with Joost was ridiculous, "No." You shake your head, hopefully hiding your bitterness behind a polite smile, "I didn't even know he was here."

Aggu smirks, forcing a tension into the room. Watching as his lips curl your jaw clenches, your fingers digging into the thick fabric of the comforter.

"Blödsinn." (nonsense) His tone is disapproving as his arms cross, you don't understand a what he says, not that you can concentrate much on whatever comes out of his mouth with the way his bicep muscles strain against the tight fabric of his t-shirt. You wonder briefly if he has always been this fit, if you had been too busy drooling over Joost last time you saw him to realize.

"Sorry," Aggu chuckles, clocking your lack of comprehension, "I mean to say you're full of shit."

"What," Your eyes widen, muscles tensing, "No, I'm not." You're instantly defensive, which you're sure gives yourself away entirely.

"I have working eyes under those ski goggles" He uncrosses an arms, pressing a finger under his eye, tapping twice. There's an odd sweetness about his condescension towards you, like he's slowly, wordlessly beginning to understand your situation.

"Hm?" You hum, barely loud enough for him to hear, your eyebrows furrow for a moment- right, your face returns to a more relaxed expression, you had forgotten about his ski goggle shtick, and perhaps you could consider yourself lucky for the only two times you had seen him in person had been without his goggles.

"Unless it's me you've been oggling all night." You and him both know that isn't true, you can tell in the way he speaks, it's more of a suggestion. You shrug, letting a sheepish look fall on your face in pretend innocence.

"Joost and I... only hooked up that one time," You say, your voice indicating you had little regard for the situation, perhaps you weren't such a bad liar after all, "But maybe I wish it was you who I had gone home with instead." At least that wasn't entirely a lie, at least even now Aggu seemed willing to give you the time of day, even if he had only stumbled into you on accident.

You let your eyes widen, suddenly looking up at Aggu from your spot on the bed through batted lashes, a pout forming on your well-glossed lips, and there she was, that messy party girl inside of you, finally crawling her way out. Slowly, you uncross your legs, letting your thighs part slightly, though not quite enough to get a glimpse of anything up your skirt.

"Ja?" Aggu's eyebrows raise as he slowly lifts himself from against the door frame, walking towards you. "Guess you don't feel the same about that night as Joost does then."

"What do you mean?" The words fall from your lips before your brain can even catch up, and she's gone, the simple sentence knocking you down once again. Had Joost actually enjoyed that night as much as you did?

"Joost isn't the type to kiss and tell." His arms crossing again, he's much closer to you now, "But after a night like that I think he had to."

"A night like..." You're suddenly worried about what Aggu had heard about that night, trying to remember if anything particularly crazy happened, nothing stood out, though maybe you and him did not have the same threshold for what would be considered "crazy."

"Don't want to say too much," He trails off for a moment, letting his mouth once again curl into a smirk, "Just something about the best sex of his life."

Your entire body is hot, burning, the best sex of his life? You could say the same, and the expression that forms on your face threatens to let Aggu know as much.

"Yeah?" You let a smirk settle on your face, your confidence finding you once more, "Can't say he's the first I've heard that from."

"So, you're really not waiting for Joost up here? No plans to relive that night?" Aggu asks, like he didn't believe you the first time you said so. You simply shake your head in response. "A shame for him then." Aggu says matter-of-factly, "Not interested in topping your performance from last time?"

"I'm afraid he's the one who isn't interested." Your vulnerability surprises you, but you cannot say your intentions are entirely pure, thinking if you told the truth, that his best friend didn't seem to be interested, your chances with Aggu would increase tonight. If you can't have one, why wait around and deny yourself of the other?

Aggu shakes his head, "You sound certain."

"Believe me," You sigh, "I've got the memo, no response from him in weeks and he hasn't even looked at me since he got here, I'm certain."

"Maybe I wouldn't be so sure," He teases, "Jealousy is an excellent motivator,"

"Jealousy?" You perk up, interested, immediately picking up what he was putting down.

Aggu nods slowly, "And if it doesn't end up as a motivator, I'm sure we'll have a good time either way." He seems so much taller now that he stands right in front of you, lustful eyes staring down at your spot on the bed, "I get my best friend laid, I get laid, and you get laid, looks like we all win."

And why have one or the other when you could have both?

"Right," You murmur, choked in the moment, "Winners." Your luck had suddenly turned, the prospect of what was in store for you tonight makes your muscles tense, your thighs squeezing together, forced shut from their parted position.

Aggu's hand slips to your chin, his thumb pressing against your lips, you're like putty in his hands the moment he touches you.

"Ah," He smiles, noticing the way you melt under him, "You weren't lying when you said you wanted me to take you home."

"Not at all," You breathe out, your muscles relaxing, allowing yourself to enjoy the warmth of Aggu's touch. You lean into his hand, and pucker your lips, pressing a kiss to his thumb. Aggu drags his finger against your bottom lip, pulling it down and forcing your mouth into a pout,

"C'mon," He urges, "Let's go downstairs before we take things too far."

You nod, staring up at Aggu silently, waiting for him to help you up. He does so quickly, reaching a firm hand out for you to grab.

The music becomes more apparent as Aggu leads you out into the hallway, even more so as you head back down the stairs to where the bulk of the party-goers reside.

It's almost embarrassing how quickly you're able to spot Joost, though not fully allowing yourself to wallow in the shame of how desperate you were for him, you chalked it up to him not having moved too far from the last place you had seen him.

Joost doesn't seem to notice you and Aggu, however, as the pair of you step in the room, your hand still in his.

Sparked with an idea, you rip your hand from Aggu's, instead turning toward him. You ruffle your hand through your hair, before lowering your fingers to your lips, swiping a thumb hard enough to just barely smudge the color that stains them. Lowering your hands even farther you slip one of the straps of your top down, letting it hang off your shoulder.

"What's that for?" Aggu asks over the music.

"Giving myself the I just had sex look."

Aggu snakes a hand onto your waist, "Maybe I should have just fucked you upstairs then."

His straightforwardness knocks the breath from you for a split moment,

"The time will come," You say sweetly, reaching a hand up to ruffle his hair, attempting to get him to match your mild state of disheveled.

Aggu's eyes flick towards Joost, who's sitting on a couch across the room with his friend Apson, who you remembered vaguely from last year.

"Why don't we go take a seat, hm, looks like there's room for only one more."

You bite your lip, ready to fully lean into the jealousy act.

With his arm around your waist Aggu walks you over to where Joost had been sitting, still even with the assurance of someone who knew actually knew Joost leading you, you can't seem to quell the small pang of anxiety that rings somewhere deep inside you.

Finally it seems Joost takes his first good look at you tonight, a look of amusement on his face as he sees you walking over with Aggu.

"Where have you been, man?" Joost laughs, averting his gaze from you, speaking solely to Aggu.

"Around," Aggu responds flippantly, "Hey, you remember y/n, right?" His grip tightening around your waist, "You two met last year." With his free hand Aggu points between the two of you.

Joost's eyes widen, clearly unsure of what game Aggu was getting at here,

"Ja- uh ja," Joost clears his throat, his eyes quickly darting to you, "Nice to see you again." He nods, an uncomfortable smile pressed to his lips.

"You too," You respond cautiously, feigning disinterest, only a polite grin gracing your lips.

Aggu takes a seat next to Joost before grabbing your hand,

"C'mon sit down," He urges, pulling you onto his lap. After you're settled on his lap Aggu turns towards Apson, "Hey, Appie you remember y/n too right?"

A large grin forms on Apson's lips, a chuckle threatening to spill from his mouth,

"Ja, oh I remember." You watch as Apson gently judges Joost, his elbow poking at Joost's ribcage. You suppress a smirk as you realize how far news of you and Joost's hookup had spread in his friend group. Joost sends Apson a quick glance, one that says knock it off, but it doesn't tame the smile on his face.

"So," Joost speaks quickly to avert the topic from Apson's recollection of the night you and Joost had hooked up, "How have you been?"

You nod, humming pleasantly, "Good," you pause for a moment, racking your brain for what else to say, "Life's been, fun. How about you, things seem interesting in your world."

"Interesting is-eh, definitely a correct word to describe it." He agrees, "I'm grateful though, you know, with everything, it's cool."

"Absolutely," You lean back on Aggu, letting your back rest on his chest, letting your ass settle in his lap, "You must be tired from everything, no?"

Joost shakes his head, "Overwhelming a little," He pauses, "But not tired, I have good stamina." Oh he sure did, that you knew for sure.

"I see Aggu has been busy too," You pull the conversation away from Joost, "You have a new album coming out soon, right? Oh what's it called again?" You ask, turning your head down towards Aggu, placing a hand onto his chest.

"Wilmersdofrs Kind," Aggu smiles, a hand sneaking its way around your front and onto your thigh.

"Ah, and what does that mean?"

"Wilmersdorf's Child." He answers, "You know, Wilmersdorf, is an area of Berlin, maybe next time you're in Germany I could show you around." His grip tightens on his thigh.

"Oh Aggu," You gush, "You are such a sweetheart. I'd love for you to take me sightseeing." Normally, acting like this towards someone you barely knew would make your stomach churn, but the way you notice Joost clenching his jaw when you flick your eyes in his direction makes all the over-the-top flintiness worth it. Besides, it wasn't like it was a challenge to flirt with a man as good looking as him.

"Speaking of traveling," Joost pipes up, "Have you ever been to the Netherlands?"

The muscles of your mouth pull upwards, funny how eager Joost seemed to talk to you now that you were sitting on Aggu's lap, the pair of you flirting aggressively.

You shake your head, "No, never." Keeping your responses short, you don't want to give him too much too soon.

"Have you ever thought about coming to the Netherlands?"

"Depends," You bite your lip, "Do I get to have you as my tour guide? Or are you too busy for me now, Mr. Eurovision." You tease.

"Never too busy, If Aggu doesn't mind me co-opting his tour guide position." Joost shoots Aggu a glance, the pair of them communicating silently, though you cannot quite read either of their expressions.

"Never too busy?" You ask, "Could have fooled me."

"Y/n," Aggu lightly scolds, gripping your thigh

"Um," Apson speaks all of a sudden, "I think I'm going to go-uh- over there, I think Alanis was calling my name." Apson loosely points in a random direction, one where Alanis certainly is not standing. But without another word he's hurrying off the couch. The three of you watch as he scurries off into the direction he pointed in before returning to the conversation.

"What?" Joost furrows his eyebrows, and in an instant you're ready to abandon the whole jealousy act now that you have an opportunity to let Joost know exactly how you had been feeling. But Aggu's fingers gripping into the flesh of your thigh make you think twice, perhaps letting your frustrations out right now would further harm your chances of the night ending the way you want.

"Nothing," You purse your lips, "Just seem like you have a lot on your plate."

"I don't mind making time for you, if that's what you want." And all of a sudden your mouth goes dry and you're not so sure you're talking about traveling anymore.

"Yeah," Aggu interjects, "I'm sure she'd like that," His hand traveling closer to your inner thigh, forcing your body to tense up, "And, I don't mind sharing my position as tour guide." I don't mind sharing are not exactly the words you want to hear out of Aggu's mouth, after all the entire point of this was to make Joost jealous. But you trusted Aggu to read Joost better than you could, even if it did disappoint you how quickly he loosened up on the jealousy act.

"Joost," Aggu speaks again, "Why don't you move over so y/n can actually have a seat."

"Oh," Joost whips his head around to look behind him, realizing with Apson's absence the seat next to him is open. "Ja, sure."

You turn towards Aggu, confused, but all he responds with his cocking his head in the direction of the now empty seat between him and Joost.

Admittedly, a little disappointed, you lift yourself off of Aggu's lap, settling onto the couch. Still, Aggu's hand immediately returns to your thigh.

You're suddenly very aware of yourself, your position between Aggu and Joost, and you wonder if this had been the plan the whole time, if Aggu had intentionally wandered off upstairs in search of you, if he even had any intentions of trying to make Joost jealous in the first place. Had they planned to share you this entire time, from the second they laid their eyes on you tonight?

The thought has you sucking in a sharp breath, one that clearly concerns the both of them,

"You okay?" Aggu asks, caressing your thigh.

"Yeah," You assure, nodding, more than okay, but you decide to pounce on this opportunity to get the two of them away from the crowd, "It's just kind of loud, do you think we can continue this conversation upstairs?"

Joost and Aggu share knowing glances, "Of course," Joost affirms.

You're back in that bedroom, those four walls suddenly feeling familiar as you find yourself back on the bed once more.

"Aggu, can you close the door? It's still kind of loud..."

Aggu, having just barely walked in the room obliges, shutting the door behind him as he passed through the doorway.

Your body tenses at the sudden realization of you being alone with Aggu and Joost, unsure of how to take this where you want it to go. But as your eyes flick between the two of them a familiar feeling sinks in you, the world is yours once again. You settle into your spot on the bed, feeling a little bad for whoever this bedroom actually belonged to. You lean back, propping yourself up with your forearms, your legs still hanging off the bed.

"Are you two just going to stand there?" You giggle, a little surprised that both of them seemed to be frozen in place. Joost looks around, unsure of himself, his line of sight meeting Aggu as he turns to the side.

Aggu cocks his head towards you, "You first," He smirks in response to Joost's uncertainty, "Show her how bad you want her." Want you?

"Yeah," You catch your bottom lip in your teeth, "Come show me." You let your eyes settle on Joost. He seems so much taller than usual as he walks towards where you rest on the bed. You can't help but part your legs almost instinctively, allowing him to stand between them once he gets close enough.

You await his next move as you stare up at him through your lashes. Joost quickly looks back at Aggu once more, motioning with his head for him to come closer,

"Sit behind her, so she can lay on you." It felt a little strange to be talked about in the third person, but it only affirmed that tonight was about you, both of them there for no other reason than to please you.

Aggu agrees, making his way to the bed, sitting behind you, resting on his knees, positioning himself so one leg is on either side of you. His hands are familiar as they find themselves on your torso,

"C'mon," Aggu urges, "You can lay back, Hasi." (bunny)

You let Aggu prop you up with his body, no longer relying on your forearms for support, you're more upright now. Aggu's breath is hot against your neck, the tickling sensation sending shockwaves through your nerves, forcing a twitch from you.

"She's so sensitive," Aggu chuckles, noticing the way you squirm from nothing but his breath grazing your flesh.

"Don't I know it," Joost smiles, clearly remembering this wasn't the first time you had found yourself in such a position with him. Joost reaches a hand forward to hold your chin between his fingers.

"Lay back a little more," He says, a request to both you and Aggu, one to which you both oblige, letting your body slip down further as Aggu adjust's his position. "Good," Joost smiles before patting your thigh with his free hand, "Now bend your legs for me, schatje." The nickname makes your heart skip a beat, recalling his past use of the word. You oblige without a word, kicking off your heels and pulling your legs from where they hang off of the bed, shuffling further back against Aggu so you have enough room.

Your skirt slides up your thighs as you bend your legs, knees now pointing upward. Joost removes his hand from your chin, sinking down to his knees in front of you, his eyes more at level with your crotch now than with your face. It's nothing he hasn't seen before, but it had been so long, you're left feeling exposed, especially as the flimsy fabric of your lacey thong left very little to the imagination.

A content smirk rests on Joost's face as he slides a hand up from your ankle to your calf, taking his time to caress your skin. As Joost slowly teases the lower half of your body, Aggu takes it upon himself to work on your upper body, his hands sliding to the bottom hem of your shirt.

"Arms up," He simply says, and no questions asked, your arms are in the air, allowing Aggu to pull your top over your head. Your back briefly parts from his chest to allow him to fully take your top off, discarding it somewhere on the bed. Your decision to forgo a bra tonight only leaves you even more exposed.

Joost's averts his eyes from your inner thighs, a look of content settling on his face,

"Missed seeing this pretty body," His hands slip up higher on your legs, "Imagination could only get me so far."

The implications of Joost's statement makes your head spin, he had been thinking of you, just as you had been thinking of him.

"Isn't she pretty?" Joost prompts Aggu,

Aggu hums in response, though it comes out more like a low growl as his lips near your neck, "Absolutely gorgeous."

Sitting up a little higher on his knees, Joost begins to press small kisses to your legs, beginning just above your ankle, up to your knee. Each tiny peck against your skin increases the tightness that builds in your abdomen, desperate to feel Joost against your heat as his head inches closer, and closer.

By the time Joost reaches your inner thigh, his small pecks have turned into sloppy, generous kisses, using his tongue more than he was his lips. Aggu made similar work of your neck, nipping at your flesh with his teeth before carefully soothing each bite with his tongue, finishing off each blooming red blemish with a prolonged kiss.

Only a few minutes into this ordeal and you were already a mess, squirming and whimpering before either man had properly touched you.

You feel Joost's hands on your outer thighs, pushing your skirt up to your hips. Your panties or what little of them there is are on full display, Joost's tongue darts out of his mouth, wetting his soft pink lips at the sight.

A hand falls from where it rests at the hem of your skirt, lightly grazing your fabric-clad crotch, causing you to suck in a gasp. Joost chuckles at your reaction, his hand returning to the thin lace. Joost presses a thumb to your clit, rubbing slightly through your panties. The sensation is barely stifled by the fabric, his circular motions sending jolts through your entire body, each action only making you crave him more.

With each gentle rub you feel your arousal growing, the tight lace pressed against your hole growing damper by the second. You buck your hips forward, desperate to feel more of Joost.

"So impatient," He clicks his tongue.

"I think a year is long enough for me to wait," You sigh.

"What do you think Aggu?" The mention of his name has Aggu pulling away from your neck, "Should we make her wait any longer?"

"Nhn-nhn," Aggu's chin bumps against your cheek as he shakes his head in disagreement, "Give her what she wants." A breath of relief exits your lungs at Aggu's words, "I want to hear how pretty she sounds as you fuck her on your tongue."

"Can't argue with that," The pads of Joost's fingers finding their way to the crotch of your panties, swiftly pulling them to the side. The air that surrounds you is cold against your wetness, forcing you to clench around nothing. "Relax," Joost mumbles, "It's just me," head creeping forward toward your inner thighs.

A sudden kiss against your clit forces a sharp breath down your throat. Joost continues to tease with small kisses until his tongue flattens against you, licking through your soaked folds, the action completed by his lips capturing your swollen bud, lightly sucking.

His tongue was just as perfect as you had remembered it being, immediately forcing you to buck your hips forward to feel more of him. Joost is able to read your cues, pressing his tongue harder against you, his movements becoming more forceful as he continues to lick at your folds.

In the meantime, Aggu had returned his lips to your neck, continuing his pattern of biting and sucking. The sensation of both his and Joost's mouths working on such sensitive parts of your body is enough to make you worry about cumming entirely too prematurely.

Aggu's hands make their way around to your front, his large palms groping at your breasts, squeezing at the supple flesh. While one hand continues to palm at your tits, the other pinches the hardened surface of your nipple between his fingers. The feeling forces you to arch your back, pushing you further onto Joost's tongue. A strangled squeak is all that can escape your throat in response.

Joost's tongue laps at your slit with all the intent to bring you to orgasm as quick as possible, eager to give you just exactly what you want. But you're determined to make this moment last as long as possible, unsure of when the next time you would have the pleasure of being with two men such as Joost and Aggu at once would even be.

Still, your desperation to deny your orgasm for as long as you can, doesn't stop the way your legs shake under Joost's touch. His tongue so skillfully applying the perfect amount of pressure to where you need him most.

Joost momentarily stops his careful licks to fully press his mouth to you, once again letting his lips surround your clit, first softly kissing, then sucking at the sensitive nerves. Your hands find themselves tangled in Joost's hair, dancing between pulling at the strands, and pushing his head further down on you, begging him to apply even more pressure.

Joost presses his tongue to you once again, licking down to your aching hole, first teasing around it before dipping in. You groan at the sensation, hips bucking as you fuck yourself on Joost's tongue.

Aggu takes advantage of how low Joost's mouth is on you now, a hand trailing from your breast down to your mound. Careful to not get in Joost's way, he places a single finger to your clit, rubbing soft circles.

You cannot believe the pleasure you're feeling, unlike anything you had experienced before. Both Aggu and Joost seemed exceptionally skilled at what they were doing, as if they had known your body forever, knowing exactly what to do to push you closer and closer to the edge.

It's almost a struggle to keep your legs open, the only thing keeping your thighs parted was Joost's head between them. You don't know how much longer you can hold out, not with the way your entire body trembles with pleasure, both Joost and Aggu trying their absolute hardest to reach that state of bliss.

"You close, sweetie?" Aggu mumbles against your neck, the vibrations from his vocal cords sending shivers down your spine. You don't really even have to respond, not with the way your unrelenting moans speak for you. "It's okay, you can let go baby, I'm sure Joost would love to feel you cum against his tongue."

Aggu's words conflict you, wanting to cum for Joost's sake, but wanting to hold out for your own. Your eyes screw shut, knowing you won't be able to hold off much more.

Aggu's once-soft circles against your clit soon speed up, becoming rougher, all but begging you to cum for him and Joost. Your body is so tight, your pussy clenching around the warmth of Joost's tongue, with a final whimper you're sent over the edge, squirming in Aggu's gentle grasp as you reach your high.

"That's right," Aggu mumbles, sensing your orgasm, your body trembling above him. You cannot control the sounds that escape you, they're dirty, like something straight from a porn, except for you they were real, one hundred percent the result of Joost and Aggu's touch.

Your twitching begins to slow as your orgasm rolls over you, your breathing becoming labored, head falling back against Aggu's shoulder. Your legs quickly fall from their bent position, hanging off the bed once more when Joost finally removes his head from between your thighs.

Joost's glasses are fogged, and the most content look is pressed against his lips, which glisten from your release. His tongue glides over his glossy lips, before pulling in with a happy hum,

"Just as good as I remembered."

You need a moment, unable to speak as you catch your breath, slumped against Aggu's chest.

"Don't tell me you're tired out already," Aggu chastises.

"No," You sigh, your chest rising and falling rapidly, "Just need to catch my breath."

"Oh," Aggu whines, almost mocking, "Can you catch your breath while you get on your hands and knees for me, schatz."

You nod quickly, lifting yourself from Aggu's chest and rolling over, plopping stomach first on to the comforter. The mattress dips slightly as Aggu shifts positions before getting off the bed to stand behind you.

"C'mon," Aggu taps your ass, "You can get up."

Slowly, you rise up from your position laying flat on the bed, resting on your forearms you get onto your knees, arching your back, forcing your ass into the air.

"Good," Aggu muses, his hand smoothing over your ass, allowing himself a moment to ogle at the sight in front of him.

The mattress dips again, the movement drawing your curiosity, raising your head. Joost now shared the bed with you, shuffling to sit in front of you on his knees.

"Think you can take us both?" Aggu asks, the sound of metal snapping behind you, which you recognize as a belt buckle unclasping.

You swallow, head trailing up to look at Joost, his hands reaching for the buckle of his own belt. You blink a few times, processing the thought, both of them at once.

"It's just a simple yes or no schatje," Joost removes one hand from his belt to place his palm to the top of your head, lazily petting down your hair and to your cheek. You lean into his touch, nodding,

"Mhm," You hum, "Please." You arch your back a little more, head slipping down, leaving Joost's grasp.

Joost's eyes leave yours, flicking to where you presume Aggu is, giving him a nod.

"Okay," Aggu sighs, his hand settling at your waist, "Let Joost start first."

You continue to stare at Joost through heavy lashes, watching as his hands play with the large metal buckle of his belt. You bite the insides of your cheeks at the prospect of what's to come, Joost's fingers slowly slipping into the waistband of his jeans, then his boxers, pulling them down at the same time.

Your breathing loses its pace for a split moment as Joost's cock springs free from the confines of his clothing. He grips the base, palm slowly sliding up its length until he reaches the tip, his thumb circling the slit, spreading the small clear pearl of pre-cum around the soft pink flesh.

"Up on your hands, a little higher," Joost says, your current position so low on the bed making what he wanted to do impossible. Eager to take him in your mouth, you straighten your arms, resting the weight of the front half of your body in your palms. "Perfect," He mumbles, hips rocking forward until the tip of his cock reaches your lips.

You let your tongue slip forward, just barely parting your lips, licking the slit ever-so-slightly, gathering the salty taste of pre-cum in your mouth.

"Come on," Joost says sweetly, "Open those pretty lips," Guiding his cock with his hand on the shaft, he drags the tip over your lips, urging you to open up. You have no desire to tease him, simply lowering your jaw to take him into your mouth.

You let your lips capture the tip, sucking slightly, immediately making Joost groan before you've even taken him all the way in. His hips buck forward, pushing himself further into the warmth of your mouth. As he pushes into you, you point your tongue upward, licking a stripe against the vein that runs down the bottom of his cock.

He doesn't push all the way into you, stopping about three-fourths of the length of his cock before rocking his hips backward, pulling out of your mouth.

At the same time, Aggu's hands find themselves at the waistband of your skirt, slowly pulling it down to your mid thighs, your panties following shortly after.

Aggu mumbles something in German, but from the tone of his voice, you can assume whatever he had to say was good. His palms find there way to the back of your thighs, both his thumbs pressing against your cunt. The feeling of Aggu touching your already sensitive pussy causes you to whimper, sending vibrations down the length of Joost's cock as he pushes himself back into your mouth, making him mutter.

Using his thumbs Aggu spreads your folds, then running a single thumb through your arousal, teasing slightly. As his thumb just barely hovers over your entrance you instinctively rock back, wanting to feel him inside you.

"Joost was right, you are impatient." He teases, "Lucky for you, I can't wait any longer."

You're unable to respond, not as the most of the length of Joost's cock is down your mouth, tip teasing your throat. Both Joost and Aggu at once already felt all to overwhelming, and Aggu wasn't even inside of you yet.

You jolt forward once you feel the tip of Aggu's dick, slip through your folds, gathering your wetness. Your sharp movement forward forcing Joost further down your throat, causing you to gag and quickly pull back.

"Careful," Joost warns, "Don't need to take so much." Despite the dirty situation you're in, Joost's caution to keep you comfortable is oddly heartwarming, only urging you to want to pleasure him further.

With no warning from Aggu, he pushes into you, causing you to once again moan around Joost.

"Fuck," Aggu mumbles, already seeming content, with just the tip inside of you. With a strong grip on your waist, feeling like his fingers are about to bruise your soft skin, Aggu continues to push his hips forward, slowly allowing you to take him. Your eyes shut tight as you stretch around his length, your fingers gripping the comforter at the initial sensation.

Both you and Aggu let out a deep breath as he bottoms out into you, having finally adjusted to him. Just as slow as he pushed into you, Aggu rocks his hips back, pulling out, allowing you to feel all of him against your walls.

Aggu groans, "So good," He sighs, "Already is perfect, sweetie." He thrusts into you again, a little harsher this time now that you've adjusted to him. His thrusts push you further onto Joost's cock as he's attempting to pull out of you, causing Joost to pause for a moment, allowing each of their paces to adjust to match each other, so they aren't playing an awkward game of tug-of-war with your body.

After a few strokes each of them are able to synchronize with each other, both of them fucking into you, and pulling out at the same time.

Your knees are already weak, your wrists sore from the position you're holding yourself in. Every single sensation feels all too overwhelming, you could just collapse right then and there, into a trembling mess on the bed. Though you won't give up so easily, needing at the very least to be fucked by Joost too, no matter how bad you'll be squirming and whimpering under him.

Joost soon begins to lose pace with Aggu, his breathing becoming more present, his heaves in and out filling the room. You're sure he's going to be finishing down your throat any second, but in a move that surprises you, he entirely pulls out of your mouth with a final groan. The action forces you to look up at him, wondering why he had decided to stop. His lips are parted, glasses slipping down his nose as he looks down at you, you can see his eyes full of lust even through thick lenses.

You pout slightly, your gaze being enough of a question to prompt an answer from Joost,

"Focus on Aggu, liefje," He urges, chin cocking upward in Aggu's direction, "Didn't want to spoil my turn with you." His mouth quirks up in a smirk. Lazily, you nod, unable to even really think about that now, not as Aggu slams into you at a now more vigorous pace,

"Might get that turn soon," Aggu grunts, his tone indicating a clenched jaw and gritted teeth. The sound of Joost's breathing escapes your ears, now only able to focus on the filthy noises Aggu's movements produce. The sounds of your slick coating Aggu's cock with each thrust, the smacking of his hips to your ass, his low grunts and your strangled moans, it makes the booming music from downstairs sound like nothing more than a dull whisper.

Joost looks down at the two of you in amusement,

"You're so good," He beams, "She's good isn't she?" His question pointed towards Aggu

"Fucking perfect," He agrees, "So wet and warm," His palms tighten on your waist, "Pussy squeezing me just right."

You're drunk on their simple praises, and as Aggu's newfound grip on you only pulls you further back onto his cock, you're unsure of how much longer you'll be able to hold off. With each forward thrust Aggu hits the perfect spot inside of you, fucking you like he knew your body intimately.

"Aggu," You sigh, "I think-"

"Uh-uh." Aggu tuts, cutting you off, "You can't"

His small command is enough to almost bring tears to your eyes, unsure you could control your impending orgasm at all.

"I'm sure Joost would much prefer if you'd make a mess on him instead," Aggu coos, "Think about that, baby, could you hold on for him?"

You can't make any promises, but an unsteady hum of agreement leaves your lips, your fingers digging so hard into the comforter they ache.

"Don't worry," He breathes, "I'm almost there." The slaps of his thighs against yours losing a rhythm, his strokes becoming long and lazy. You're almost there too, and as you clench your jaw and shut your eyes you can only hope that he finishes quick enough that you don't have enough time to reach your orgasm.

And in almost an instant your wish is granted, Aggu reaching his orgasm with a drawn out groan. He stops thrusting, keeping himself bottomed out in you, his hips pressed right against your ass as he finishes into you, warm ropes of cum coating your walls. He can't keep his balance much longer, nearly folding over on top of you as his chest rises and falls against your back.

Your pussy clenches around him, aching at the now lack of stimulation. Aggu steadies himself, placing his hands on either side of you to relieve some of the weight on your back. As Aggu regains his composure he places small, slow kisses to your shoulders, before slowly lifting him self up.

You whimper as Aggu slowly pulls out of you, feeling his release drip down your folds.

"All yours," Aggu lets out a low chuckle, "I'll leave you two lovebirds alone once I catch my breath."

Lovebirds didn't exactly seem like an apt word for you and Joost now, but still the phrase brings a slight warmth to your cheeks.

Joost chuckles back, his palm finding your cheek,

"You need a minute?" He rubs soft circles to your lips with his thumb.

"N-no," You stutter out, truthfully, needing him as soon as possible. Despite Aggu stopping, you know the second Joost touches you'll be close again once more, and you're desperate for your orgasm.

"Okay" He whispers, "Get on your back, liefje. Lay against the pillows."

You let out a sigh of relief at Joost's preferred position, at least letting you relax into the bed. Your legs slightly confined by your clothing still pulled at your thighs, you slowly crawl up the bed, turning over to lean against the thick, surely unnecessarily expensive pillows.

You return your vision to Aggu once more who's slipping his belt back through the loops on his jeans, then ruffling a hand through his hair, his composure mostly regained by now. A large grin spreads against his face, "Enjoy your night." He winks towards the two of you, leaving the room.

"Is that Aggu's idea of playing matchmaker?" You let out a tiny laugh. Joost chuckles in return, furrowing his eyebrows,

"Yeah- I-uh think so. Is there a match here to be made?" Joost moves closer to you, a hand pressed against your thigh. His words make you tense,

"I don't know," You sigh, "Was pretty mean of you to ignore me when you got here tonight." You're half teasing, half serious.

"Ignore you?" He asks, an eyebrow raising.

You let your lip fall in an exaggerated pout, nodding.

"Oh," He whines, almost mockingly, "I'm sorry," He shakes his head, "I didn't hurt your feelings." His hand raises higher up your thigh, "Arme meisje." (Poor girl)

His patronization is sweet in an odd sort of way, knowing that beneath his mocking exterior he is actually apologizing for ignoring you.

"Let me make it up to you now, hm?"

"I'd like that." You breathe out, settling further onto the pillows.

Joost smirks, "I'll do that then," His hands finding the waistband of both your skirt and panties, slipping them down the rest of the length of your legs. Once the remainder of your clothes are discarded, Joost works on his own, pulling the white graphic t-shirt he wears slipping over his head. He's just as gorgeous as you remember, wanting nothing more than to feel every inch of his soft flesh. You marvel at his half-naked body, littered with tiny tattoos.

"Come here," You whine, needing him closer.

Joost obliges, leaning forward to hover over you, his hands placed on either side of your body. You're close enough to kiss him now, and you want to, straining your neck to life your head up so your lips can meet his. Joost gets the memo, saving you the strain and lowering his head just enough until your lips touch. You forego small pecks, immediately engaging him in a passionate kiss, one that only riles you up further. You can just barely taste yourself on his tongue, causing you to groan into this kiss as you steady yourself with your hands to push forward and deepen it. His lips are soft against yours, it feels good, you wonder briefly if it would be possible for him to make you cum just by kissing you,

The two of your are already so worked up, wordlessly agreeing to skip the teasing and foreplay as Joost taps your knee, urging you to bend your legs for him. You agree, getting a small glimpse of how sore your muscles will be tomorrow as you move your legs.

Joost breaks the kiss to sit up and watch as he lines himself up with your entrance. He's positioned between your legs, resting on his knees, grabbing the base of his cock.

"Ready?" He sighs, the tip sliding through your folds, causing your body to tremble, pussy fluttering. He only needs a nod from you to begin, pushing into you.

Immediately the pressure is building up inside of you, and with the way that Joost groans above you you know that neither of you are about to last particularly long.

Like Aggu, is first strokes are slow, getting you used to the way you stretch around him. Though it's hard to keep a slow pace as he slips against your walls, slick with a mixture of his saliva, your arousal, and Aggu's release. Soon enough his thrusts build up force, immediately pumping himself into that perfect spot inside you.

You're taken back to that first night the two of you hooked up, his prior experience with you only making him more skillful with his thrusts.

With the pace he builds up with his thrusts, his glasses slip all the way off his face, lightening the dirty moment with a small laugh from both of you as they land on your chest.

"Sorry," He chuckles. You grab the glasses from your chest, gently placing them beside you on the bed.

"Don't be," You grin, "Just a testament to how hard you're working."

And working hard he was, the both of you drinking in the sensation of each other.

"Fuck, liefje," He groans, "You're even better than I remember."

You have to admit you feel the same, as hard as you had tried in the last months to remember the sensation he brought you, nothing could top the real thing.

"Fuck how am I supposed to go back to the Netherlands without this." He cracks a small laugh.

"Guess you'll have to take me with you." You tease,

"Don't tempt me, baby. I'll have you on the next flight out there."

Your briefly imagine the prospect, it was hot, being reckless in such a way, leaving your whole life for some dick, though you couldn't put it past yourself.

With another stroke, your jaw clenches, your body suddenly feeling much tighter than before, a sharp sensation building between your thighs.

"I think I'm close," You're disappointed you aren't able to hold out much longer, but with all the anticipation of the night, you can't exactly blame yourself.

"Good," He exhales, "Good, that's okay, make a mess on my cock baby. I'm close too."

You cannot deny him of that, not when he clearly wants it so bad. His thrusts become more pointed as he reaches his orgasm, they're sharp, and small, barely taking the time to pull out by any substantial length before shoving himself back inside of you. He leans forward a little more, hitting into you at a new angle, the base of his cock dragging against your clit as he pulls out. The newfound sensation is enough to throw you over the edge with ease.

A few pathetic curses leave your mouth, before your vision starts to blur, your orgasm gripping control of your entire body, dulling all of your other senses.

"I'm cumming- fuckfuck." You whine, your pussy beginning to spasm around the length of Joost's cock, gripping him just right to send him into orgasm.

"Shit," He grits, "Me too," His movements sloping entirely as his release starts to pour into you.

Your body trembles under him, tingling with complete and utter pleasure as the two of you both ride out your highs, uncontrollable smiles plastered on both of your faces.

With a few final pumps Joost collapses on top of you, trying his best to keep the full weight of his body off of your chest. Though the weight of him on top of you is comforting, especially as you wrap around your arms around him, his naked flesh sticky with sweat. Despite him being inside of you, you still desire to feel him closer.

A familiar feeling creeps into you, one you cannot tell if it is good or bad, but you know tonight will only force the crush you had developed on Joost in the last year to become more insatiable. You had gotten lucky tonight with Aggu deciding to get between the two of you, but now you needed to figure out on your own how you could possibly make him yours.

"So," You sigh, "Still willing to be my tour guide?"

#joost klein x reader #joost klein x f! reader #joost klein rpf #ski aggu x reader #rpf #joost klein #ski aggu

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orcelito · 1 year

Text

My favoritism is Obvious

Tfw I spent all the rest of my money buying bow upgrades for The Boy

In an entirely predictable move, I'm pretty sure he's my favorite

#speculation nation #engage spoilers/#he's like a mix of my favs from two other games. felix and takumi lol #he even looks like felix. though his personality couldnt be more different lmfaoo #but that same sort of Little Brother Syndrome that both felix and takumi have...#never feeling like they can surpass their elder brother.. feeling Jealousy about it... & other feelings for felix but this aint about him #combine felix's appearance with takumi's bow skill (& slightly more pathetic mannerisms) and U get alcryst #alcryst is so... sopping wet pathetic. the absolute most pathetic boy in existence #putting himself down CONSTANTLY. extreme sense of inferiority to his Model Crown Prince brother #alcryst keeps making comments about being a waste of space and i wanna take him by the shoulders and tell him #YOU ARE AN AMAZING ARCHER. BEST IN MY ARMY. INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT MEMBER. I LOVE YOU.#he looks So cool when he's not literally prostrating himself for unknowingly shooting at the divine dragon. lmao #but yea he's everything i love in a fictional character. Angsty boy with elder sibling issues. apparently that's a constant for my favs #also I HAD HIM WITH LIEF. IT WAS SUCH A GOOD COMBO. BUT THEN THEY TOOK MY RINGS AWAY 😠😠😠😠#dont worry alcryst i'll get ur emblem ring back. at some point...#also between the upgrades and engraving on the killer bow. it now has a 67% crit rate #which is kind of INSANE. this is a bow of Fuck You #i love having archers that are a death sentence.#even better is that with 'canter' he can go up. one-shot someone. then dart back behind the line #he's got a decent defense but at the end of the day he's an archer. a glass canon. GOD i love him so much #both as a unit and as a character. sopping wet tissue of a boy. i love him

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meazalykov · 22 days

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so so kind

lea schuller (platonic) x lena oberdorf (romantic) x reader

summary: your jealousy blinded you from the support you had all along

warnings: jealousy, injury

the weight of the match against wolfsburg hangs heavy on your shoulders as you step onto the pitch, the red and green spreaded across the crowd gives you motivation.

normally, the energy from the german stands fuels you, pushes you to play harder, faster.

but today, the noise fades into a distant hum, overshadowed by the anxiety gnawing at the edges of your mind.

you’ve played for bayern munich frauen for a while now. it's been four years since you left arsenal as an eighteen year old, hoping to find something new outside of your childhood club.

every time you wore a bayern kit, you felt right at home.

but today feels different—unsettling.

lena, your girlfriend, isn’t on the field with you. her mcl and acl injuries wil her on the sidelines for nearly the entire season, and the absence of her steady presence beside you has left a void.

ever since she transferred from wolfsburg to be closer to you, her girlfriend of three years, you were excited to have her as a teammate. a little too excited.

when she got injured during the national break before the olympics, your heart broke for her. she is the last person to deserve that robbery.

but still, it’s more than just missing her support; it’s the knowledge that she’s out there somewhere, watching, unable to join you, unable to share the intensity of the game and having to watch instead.

lena likes watching games, but she hates watching when she knows that she should be out there. you feel the same for her.

as you take your position in midfield, your eyes involuntarily search for lena on the bench. she’s sitting there, her leg propped up, her gaze fixed on the pitch with a look of hope. hoping that bayern will win– you don’t think that you’ll get used to that look, considering that lena was your rival for years.

your heart aches seeing her like this, sidelined when you know how badly she wants to be out there.

but before you can dwell on it, you catch sight of lea standing nearby, sitting beside your taller girlfriend and laughing at something lena said.

lea didn’t start this match, so she sat comfortably on the bench planning to watch the first half before being subbed on in the second.

lea’s always there, isn’t she? always so close to lena, so touchy and affectionate in a way that feels foreign to you.

it’s not that you don’t trust lena—you do, more than anything. but the friendship between lena and lea has always made you uncomfortable, even though you know it’s irrational and stupid of you to feel.

a few weeks ago, it was a casual evening at giulia’s after a long day of training. everyone was relaxed, laughing, and enjoying the moment.

but as you stood by the kitchen, pouring yourself a drink as sydney begged for you to try a pastry that she made, you couldn’t help but notice lena and lea across the room. they were sitting close together on the couch, lena’s arm draped casually over lea’s shoulders as they talked, their heads bent close in conversation.

they were smiling, laughing at some private joke, completely at ease in each other’s company. lea smiled brightly as lena suddenly bursted out in laughter at something.

the sight of them like that, so comfortable and familiar with each other, sent a very sharp ache through your chest. you felt a knot form in your stomach, a mix of jealousy and insecurity tightening around your heart. suddeny, sydney’s pastry wasn’t important or on your mind.

you knew it was irrational—lea was lena’s best friend, nothing more—but that didn’t stop the doubts from creeping in, from making you question your place in lena’s life.

you tried to shake it off, and tried to focus on sydney again, but the image of them together wouldn’t leave your mind. it felt like a dark cloud had settled over you, dulling the joy of the sunny evening.

you forced a smile when sydney turned around from the oven and handed you the brownie in a pink napkin, pretending everything was fine, but you could feel your mood slipping, the heaviness settling in your chest as you chewed on the chocolate dessert.

too busy staring at your girlfriend and her best friend, you didn’t notice some of your closest teammates, georgia and sam, coming to sit next to you on the kitchen island.

georgia and sam had always been perceptive when it came to your feelings. they followed your gaze to lena and lea, then looked back at you, their eyes softening with understanding.

“y/n,” sam said quietly, her voice low enough that only you could hear, “you okay?”

you nodded quickly, not trusting your voice to stay steady.

“yeah, i’m fine,” you replied, but even you could hear the unconvincing tone in your voice.

“come on, we can see something’s bothering you. what’s up?” georgia raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. she gently nudged your shoulder.

you sighed, knowing there was no point in trying to hide it from them.

“it’s just–” you couldn’t say, but instead nodded toward lena and lea.

sam expressed an “ohh” facial expression, while georgia nodded her head.

“i know they’re just friends, but sometimes i can’t help but feel… i don’t know– jealous? i don’t know.”

georgia and sam followed your gaze again, watching lena and lea for a moment before turning back to you.

“i get it,” sam kerr said softly. “but you have nothing to worry about. lena’s crazy about you, everyone who knows her can see that. and lea? she’s known lena since they played at essen. they’re close, sure, but they don’t have feelings for eachother– if i knew or suspected that i would tell you. you’re the one lena’s in love with.”

sam’s words were comforting, but the ache in your chest didn’t fully ease. “i know that,” you whispered, more to yourself than to georgia and sam.

“it’s just hard sometimes, seeing them so affectionate like that.”

“trust me, y/n. lena’s yours, and she wouldn’t trade what you two have for anything. see– she's looking at you right now.” georgia says.

you look over at lena and she smiles at you, waving and happy seeing you in conversation with georgia and sam– she doesn’t know what you’re talking about though. all you do is give a light smile before lena turned away to talk to tuva, who sits by lea and lena.

“thanks, georgia and sam. you guys don’t understand how much i needed to hear that” you nodded, giving a light smile at them as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“anytime,” sam replied with a smile, then nudged you playfully.

“i would suggest talking to them about it.” georgia adds on.

“i can’t– lena’s gonna think i am a jealous insecure freak and will leave me. i can push it down, don’t worry.” you ramble.

“don’t. that's how resentment starts. don’t be mad at me, but i think that is happening now.” georgia said with concern.

at this point, sam gave a sympathetic smile before walking away– being called by klara in another room to check out something.

“you think so?” you ask.

“yes, you need to talk to them as soon as you can. now come on, let’s get back to the fun. no more people watching.”

you managed a small smile, letting her words sink in as you tried to push the insecurities aside. it worked, temporarily.

back to the pitch– the whistle blows, signaling the start of the match, and you push everything else aside, focusing on the game. you will not let their moment affect yours here. if your mistakes from that cost you a loss for bayern, you’d risk your starting spot next game.

for a while, you’re lost in the rhythm of the game, your focus sharp, your movements precise. you channel all your energy into the match, letting the intensity of the game distract you from everything else. the ball at your feet, the opposition pressing, the cheers from the bayern crowd—it’s all that matters in this moment.

you dribble around a few defenders in green before shooting the ball. you put your hands up when the ball reaches the back of the net– goal!

everyone gathered around you for a hug. you smiles in joy before jogging back to your spot.

lena smiles at you and puts her hands up in her heart. you stop jogging, now walking, and put your hands up into a heart as well. a camera captures you putting up an “L” with one hand and your other hand making an “O”.. fans will obsess over this later.

after halftime, you’re on the pitch when lea comes on. you didn’t show any emotion, hoping that lea makes an impact like she usually does on the pitch. you’ll give her that– she is a damn good striker.

after wolfsburg conceded a corner kick, you stood by the back post.

the ball is kicked by giulia and you unplant your feet– thinking of going for a header.

the ball soaring through the air toward you. you leap up, determined to make the play, but lynn from wolfsburg shoves you mid-air.

it’s a hard, intentional shove, and you’re caught off balance.

time seems to slow as you lose control, your body twisting awkwardly in the air. you crash into the goalpost with a sickening thud, pain exploding in your head, the metal reverberating as you flop onto the ground.

the world goes blurry, and the sounds around you fade into a muffled haze. you’re vaguely aware of hitting the ground, of voices shouting around you, but everything is distant, as if you’re underwater or in a cave far from society.

nobody noticed at first, since the ball was kicked into the goal by lea. she didn’t care to celebrate when she noticed your injury.

you were barely moving, which freaked her out internally.

a voice cuts through the fog in your head—lea’s voice. she’s there, crouched beside you, her hands on your shoulder, her face pale– just like yours– but with worry.

“stay with me, y/n. stay awake,” she’s saying in german, her voice shaking slightly.

you try to focus on her, but it’s hard, everything spinning and out of focus. you catch a glimpse of her wide, panicked eyes, her grip on your hand tight, almost desperate, as if she can keep you tethered to consciousness by sheer will.

the weak hand of yours touches lea, signaling that you have no energy to talk. that knock fron lynn took all of the wind out of you. it was rough, the yellow from the referee proved that.

you’re dimly aware of the medics rushing over, of being lifted onto a stretcher, but all you can think about is how lea is holding your hand, refusing to let go until she’s forced to step back. her concern, her fear, is palpable, and it cuts through the haze of pain and confusion.

it’s a stark contrast to the distance you’ve been trying to maintain, a reminder that maybe, just maybe, you’ve misjudged her and her intentions with your girlfriend all along.

later, when the dizziness has faded and you’re back in the locker room with an ice pack on your head, guilt gnaws at your gut.

lea didn’t have to help you—she could have stayed on the sidelines since you wanted distance from her, but she didn’t. she was there for you, just like she’s always there for lena. and that’s when it hits you: lea has never hated you. she wasn’t trying to steal lena away from you. you’ve been so blinded by your own insecurity that you couldn’t see it. you’ve let your fears create a wedge between you and lea, and it’s been unfair to both her and lena.

you know what you have to do. so, after the match, you ask lea to your house. she would probably be there anyways, since it you and lena’s shared home in the bavarian countryside.

luckily, lena had a doctor’s appointment at bayern– so she had to stay behind and encouraged you to go home since you’re tired from the match.

it’s awkward at first with lea, the two of you sitting across from each other in the cozy living room, the tension thick in the air.

you internally freak out when you realize that you’ve never had a real conversation with her before, not like this. now, the words feel heavy on your tongue.

you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. the silence in the room feels heavy, almost suffocating. you’re sitting across from lea, her eyes steady and patient, waiting for you to speak.

this conversation is long overdue, but it’s hard to find the right words. finally, you break the silence.

“lea, i– i need to be honest with you about something,” you begin, your voice wavering slightly.

“i’ve been carrying these thoughts around for a while, and i think it’s time i finally tell you– or rather ask you.”

lea’s expression is gentle, her gaze encouraging. “you can tell, or ask me anything, y/n.”

“do you like lena?” you ask, your eyebrow knitted together as lea’s face fills with confusion.

“as my best friend, yes, anything more– i don’t.” lea answers, not trying to show that she is nervous about the upcoming conversation.

“it’s about… about how i’ve been feeling lately. about you and lena. i know it sounds silly, and i’m trying to work through it, but—” you pause, struggling to find the right words.

“seeing you two together, so close, affectionate and so comfortable, it stirs up this weird knot inside me. i keep thinking, what if one day, lena decides she doesn’t need me anymore? what if she doesn’t love me anymore? what if she… decides she’d rather be with you?”

lea’s eyes widen slightly, and she opens her mouth to speak, but you hold up a hand to stop her. you need to get this out, to lay everything bare.

“i know it’s irrational,” you continue, your voice cracking. “i know you’re her best friend and that there’s nothing more between you two. but every time i see you two together, laughing and being so affectionate, it feels like a reminder that i might not be enough. it’s like there’s this part of me that’s afraid lena might see something in you that she doesn’t see in me. and that thought… it terrifies me. i don’t want to be fooled, if there are feelings between the both of you– just tell me and i’ll get out of the way.”

you look down at your hands, unable to meet lea’s gaze. the vulnerability of your confession makes you feel exposed, raw.

“i’ve been pushing you away because of these feelings, and i know it’s not fair to you. i thought that if i kept my distance, i wouldn’t have to deal with these insecurities. but the truth is, i’ve let it affect my relationship with lena, and with you– and it’s not right.”

lea’s silence stretches on for a moment, and you’re not sure what she’s thinking. when she finally speaks, her voice is soft but firm.

“y/n, i had no idea you felt this way. i’m really sorry if i’ve contributed to those feelings. but i want you to know that lena and i have known each other for years, and yes, we’re close, but that’s all it is—a close friendship. our friendship doesn’t change the fact that lena loves you. she’s never looked at me in that way, and she’s never given me any indication that she wants anything more than what we have as friends.”

you glance up, meeting her gaze. there’s sincerity in her eyes, and it’s a comfort. “but you’re right,” lea continues.

“i’ve seen how much lena loves you. it’s obvious to everyone around us. i care about lena deeply, and because of that, i care about you too. i’ve always wanted us to get along, but i didn’t know how to close the distance between us.”

“i’ve been so caught up in my own fears that i didn’t see things clearly. i’m sorry for the way i’ve treated you.” you swallow hard, trying to process her words.

lea reaches out, placing a comforting arm over your shoulder. “i’m glad that you found a point to start talking about your feelings now. i want us to be friends, y/n, and i want to support you and lena, not be a source of conflict.”

your heart warms as you listen to her. “thank you, lea. it means a lot to hear that from you.”

lea smiles, a warm and understanding smile. “there is no problem, i promise. we both care about lena, and that’s something we have in common. we can use that as a way to become close.”

you nod, feeling a sense of relief and clarity that you haven’t felt in a long time. “yeah, i’d like that. thank you for being so understanding.”

“anytime,” lea says with a reassuring nod. “now, there is just one thing—”

your heart sunk, afraid of what lea might say.

“you have to talk to lena now about this.” lea says, firmly.

“i will.” you swallow.

when lea leaves your home, you feel lighter.

just a couple of minutes later, lena comes through the door. relieved seeing you resting on the couch.

you and lena are curled up on the couch in your shared apartment, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of a lamp. darker from when lea was there. the day has been long, and the tension between you has only recently begun to ease after your conversation with lea.

"are you okay? I saw that hit you took from lynn earlier, is there anything you need?" lena asks, rubbing your head.

she hated that she could only stand and watch as the medics surrounded you earlier. she was glad that you had lea, sydney, pernille, and georgia watching over you.

lena’s presence beside you feels comforting, then it feels the same as it did before your conversation with the blonde german. what if lena doesn’t react so kindly?

your girlfriend isn’t mean, so you take a deep breath, preparing to share your feelings with her.

"I am okay--- but lena,” you start, your voice quiet but steady.

“i need to talk to you about something that’s been on my mind.”

lena looks at you, her expression soft and attentive as she plays with the hair in your ponytail. “what’s on your mind, love?”

you hesitate for a moment, then continue, “it’s about you and lea. i talked to her earlier and for a while i’ve been struggling with how close you two are. it’s not that i don’t trust you or anything—it’s just— i’ve felt this knot of jealousy and insecurity whenever i see you two together. i know it’s irrational because you;ve been friends with her since even before we knew each other, but seeing you so close with her, it makes me wonder if there’s something i’m missing.”

lena’s eyes widen with concern, and she reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face that fell out of your ponytail.

“y/n,” she says softly, her voice full of warmth. “you’ve been feeling this way? i had no idea.”

you nod, trying to hold back tears.

“i’ve been pushing myself to stay calm and rational, but it’s been hard. i guess i just needed to hear it from you. i need to know how you really feel about lea and why you two are so close.”

lena pulls you closer, wrapping her arms around you in a comforting embrace.

“lea and i have been friends for a long time, longer than you and i have been together. she’s like a sister to me. we’ve shared so many experiences, and that bond is deep and meaningful, its not going anywhere. but that doesn’t change how much i love you.”

you rest your head on her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her body against yours.

“i understand that, but sometimes it feels like i’m competing with that bond. it makes me question if there’s a place for me in your life where i’m not overshadowed by your bond with her.”

lena kisses the top of your head, cheek, and nose– her touch tender and reassuring.

“you’re not competing with anyone, y/n. my friendship with lea is important, it doesn’t come close to what i have with you. my love for you is different—it’s deeper and more significant. our relationship is something i cherish and prioritize above all.”

you close your eyes, letting her words sink in. “i needed to hear that. thank you for being so understanding. it’s just hard sometimes, seeing how easily you connect with her. maybe i didn’t understand because i’ve never had a close bond with a friend like you do with lea”

lena pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, her gaze intense and filled with sincerity.

“i want you to know that my connection with lea is like that of family. it’s a bond that’s been built over years, and it’s special, but it’s not a reflection of how i feel about you. there’s no comparison. my love for you is above anything else– ever since i met you”

the taller girl takes your hair out of your ponytail gently– your hair falls down from the hair tie and she runs her fingers gently through your hair, her touch soothing.

“if you ever feel uncertain or insecure, please talk to me. i want us to be open with each other. and remember, you’re my priority. nothing and no one will ever change that.”

you nod, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. “i will. i just needed to know where i stand with you.”

lena smiles, her eyes warm and loving. “well you aren’t standing now– but you’re sitting right here, with me. and that’s exactly where we belong.”

you lean in for a kiss, feeling the connection between you deepen. the reassurance and physical affection from lena makes you feel grounded and loved.

authors note: wrote this on vacay but had to fix a ton of it since it was originally on my phone LMAO

my master list is here if you want to read more fics <3

#lena oberdorf #lea schüller #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #gerwnt #bayern frauen #bayern munich #germany nt #meazalykov #woso imagine #woso soccer #womens football #lena oberdorf x reader #lena you're missed #lea schuller x reader

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pinkexpertnerdghost · 1 year

Text

Watch and Be Amazed!

Lyney x Gn!Reader

Synopsis: As a simple person with a boring job, you set out to travel the nations. You attend a renowned magic show only to be suddenly placed in the shared spotlight with the magical duo.

GIF by @c6jpg

{ i'm still exploring Fontaine but quick heads up on mentioning new locations, dw its spoiler free about the archon quest}

General: SFW, fluffy, magic tricks, Lyney being extra and sneaky, feat Lynette

A/N: i love him. Cheeky little guy with his equally cheeky little grin mulkin cat- I didn’t think I’d like him this much but he easily sneaked himself into my heart already also because I recently got him- I just wanna squish him (endearingly)

“ Voila! And now in its place are our feathered friends taking flight!” The magician exclaimed as a small swarm of doves flew out of his hands. Just seconds ago, he held a gorgeous bouquet of arranged daisies and prisma like roses, complete with adorned white ribbons and lace. The small bush of green and flora had simply vanished and transformed into a mass of white feathers.

Your awes become a droplet in the sea of gasps and astonishment from the people around you . Pushing yourself to the end of your cushy seat, you stare ahead in amazement and curiosity.

Even though you sat some rows away from the front seats, you were mesmerized by the trick. You were certain the bouquet had practically melted and shifted into the cocoon of feathers. At least, that’s how it appeared to your eyes.

Trailing the doves as they flew above the audience, you unconsciously let out a small laugh of joy like that of an entertained child. The doves flew around freely, some reaching high atop the Opera House’s stretching ceiling and some flew closer to the audience barely grazing above their heads.

You had been traveling for weeks, as you were lacking some excitement in your mundane life as a simple shop clerk. It had a well off pay and the owner was kind. Yet every passing day became more boring than the last. Soon enough, the days would weld and mend together in your memory as a tapestry of a lackluster pattern. You were afraid it would overshadow a great portion of your lifetime.

As a shop clerk, you had seen many travelers coming and going, talking about the beautiful sceneries across the rest of Teyvat they have witnessed, varies dishes you’ve never tried before being described as mouthwatering, the wonderful cultures, festivities and traditions people from around this world took part in. It had always left you in a state of entrance and jealousy for them, as they would have the freedom and determination to see the worlds wonders with their own eyes.

Seeing your yearning gaze and saddened expression when the travelers or adventurers left through the front door, your employer had generously given you some vacation time. You were one of your boss’s most dedicated workers, often swooping in for a fellow coworker if they fell ill or couldn’t make it otherwise. You have done more than enough to earn yourself this time off.

And so, you took your life by the rings and were off into the road. Traveling from one nation to the other and to the now where you were. In the seat in one of the most impressive buildings you have ever seen.

From the moment you boarded off the Aquabus; the little guides being one of the cutest beings you’ve ever seen; you oogled and awed in the splendor around you. Fontaine had been one leap of a cultural shock for you. Sure, sometimes you moved boxes of bits and bobs of Fontaine imported trinkets onto shelves, but seeing this much advanced technology was a bit exhilarating as well as a bit imposing

However, something there was something that immediately caught your eye when walking about. On a bulletin board was an array of multicolored posters and newsletter, but the bright red one with a grinning cat in the hat caught your gaze immediately.

“ Come and behold A magical performance performed by renowned Magicians Lyney and Lynette! ”

The names struck a cord in your memory. Ah, that's right! You had heard a great deal about a very specific Magic show in Fontaine. You remembered it being brought up a good number of times back in the shop. The way people would sound excited and how they could barely contain themselves trying to describe a magic trick as best they could.

Since you were in the area you had managed to investigate it and wound up purchasing a ticket to go see.

“ Back to the stage my feathery entourage!! Being in the presence of such a wonderful audience is indeed riveting, but I’m going to need the spotlight back to preform the next trick, haha!” The magician Lyney said with a pleading laugh. The doves seem to have understood them as they all flew back onto the stage. From either side of the giant velvet curtain, the flew behind it disappearing into the shadow.

“ For this next trick, I’m going to need a hand!” He exclaimed while putting his hands on his hips. He then put a hand on his forehead and looked around the area while squinting his eyes. From the right side of the stage came another person. She had on a similar uniform to her twin brother, adorned with teals, blues and grays. It was a counterpart to the reds, pinks, and plum Lyney wore in his intricate performer’s outfit.

Yet they both had the motif of that same toothy grinning kitty you saw tagging the corner’s of the promotional posters.

Lynette had walked behind Lyney and tapped his shoulder twice with a stoic expression. Lyney had turned dramatically around on his heel, immediately stopping his dire search for help.

“Ah, It seems as though Lynette has come to the rescue!” He cheered and with a grateful hand gesture divided the audience's attention to Lynette. She stood there facing the crowd with a curt expression. Lynette seemed to be the polar opposite of her brother. While Lyney was loud, extravagant and energetic, his assistant and sister was quieter, docile and seemed unmoved with the theatrics. However, to you she was as equally impressive as the red Magician.

In an earlier trick where they’d pull objects directly out of flat cards, Lynette had elegantly swiped off a parasol, a tea cup with piping hot tea given the steam, and an adorable hat with that grinning black cat. All while keeping a calm disposition as if she knew everything and anything that was to come. It boggled you how she managed to slip the illustrations to real physical objects.

But then again, the Magicians never reveal their trade secrets.

Lyney tapped his cheek before he spoke again. “It seems as if we will need a little more help to perform this magic trick, wouldn’t you agree Lynette?”

Lynette simply nodded.

Lyney’s shoulders relaxed as he twirled around to face the audience. He held his hands behind his back as he paced back and forth. His eyes never leave the audience.

“ For this trick, It will require three people.”

There were very quiet, almost inaudible murmurs and whispers in the crowd. You paid them no mind and kept your eyes focused on the stage. In your mind, you were guessing how the next trick would go.

Lyney stopped center stage.

“ I can see your enthusiasm and excitement! In that case, I shall pick one person from the crowd who will help Lynette and I out!” He said with a jovial grin. His cat-like eyes scanned around the crowd. After this, many people kept their eyes on the Magician scoping out for an available assistant.

Seeing as you weren’t in the first row or a local, you have settled that your chance of being picked was slim. So instead of paying attention to the main stage and spotlight, you turned your head from side to side. Envisioning the lucky person who would be fished out of the ocean of filled seats. Perhaps it would be the beautiful woman with quite the attractive headpiece sitting a row down from you. Or maybe, it would be the little boy three five seats to your left practically bouncing in his seat chanting to let it be him.

The choice could be anyone but yourself.

“ You my dear! Could you help Lynette and I out with this trick?” Lyney’s voice resounded once more.

Your eyes squirted suddenly as a bright source of light was now trained above you. Sinking back onto your seat, you turn to face the stage.

Those cat-like lilac eyes stared directly into your own [E/C] ones. Alongside with the deep royal purple eyes belonging to his assistant Lynette. Looking around and behind, you noticed the two people beside you glance at you with slight surprise.

You pointed at yourself just to make sure. You didn’t know if you made a face with the sudden surprise of the spotlight, but Lyney chuckled in amusement.

His eyes crinkled slightly as he nodded, his hair bobbing along with his head and sturdy hat. His laughter made you feel a bit fuzzy in the chest. Maybe you were just starstruck.

“ Yes you. If it is alright, could you perhaps follow the staff by your row to escort you on stage?” He said, extending a hand to a person in a theater mask and green vest standing at the end of the row. His lilac eyes never left you.

It was hard to say, but you could assume he was silently communicating with you. His soft eyes were patient and still, unlike his theatrical energy he demonstrated earlier.

‘ Are you okay with this? ‘

He didn’t mind the sudden recess of silence, in fact it only added to the build up to the magic trick. It wasn’t long until you blinked, breaking yourself out of your star-stricken surprise.

You nodded at Lyney, to which he gripped the brim of his hat quietly tipping it to you with a satisfied grin.

“ Very well, please follow the staff down the aisle while we set up on stage!”

After squeezing down your row and next to the staff member with the mask, you followed them as they led you towards the stage. The staff member was kind enough to guide you through the dimly lit place, your eyes were examining the person. Their mask is what stuck with you, you’ve never seen anything like it. It was both beautifully crafted yet it gave you a small chill of danger and mystic. It was probably made for this purpose of the show.

No elemental magic of those who wielded visions, but instead a tightrope thinly strung between reality and fantasy.

The stage was elevated but after climbing up the stairs onto the polished stage. Lyney beckoned you to come up next to him. You shuffled closer, both your hands behind your back fidgeting in a nervous manner.

The spotlight was now back onto Lyney and Lynette and now you as well.

“ Might I know the name of the new assistant I’ll be working with temporarily?” He asked as he now faced you. Lynette came to his side, her violet eyes glazing over you with relaxed attentiveness.

You felt your mouth become a bit dry. “ I’m [Name].” You spoked normally.

Lyney bowed, taking off his tophat bringing it close to his chest.

“ It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, dear [Name]” He bounced back up, flipping his hat back onto his head.

You shifted on your foot and that seemed to have caught the attention of the magical duo.

“ Hmm, are you perhaps nervous?” He asked. “ It is quite alright. Whenever the light is trained on you, the feeling of stage fright comes at you like the onslaught of tidal waves.” He said, in a non projecting voice. He still sounded loud enough for the audience to hear, but his words weren’t exaggerated in a way to make you feel queasy. Instead, it sounded like he was cheering you on, a little push of confidence he would share with you.

Maybe you were overthinking it. He is a performer so its his job to turn up the charm towards the audience.

Lynette had subtly sent you a reassuring little smile. She walked up next to you and stood by you now.

“ Perhaps, you may just have some butterflies in your stomach. It happens to the best of us!” He spoke. His gloved hand came up to you.

“ May I have what’s in your side pocket?” His eyes shifted down to your right pocket. Confused, you reach down into your pocket and feel around. There was a smooth and flat object that you didn’t remember having there, so you slipped it out.

In your hand was a playing card. It wasn’t an ordinary playing card. It looked to be one of the card props that belonged to the two Magicians. Figuring he wanted it back; without you having the faintest Idea of how it got there in the first place; you handed it to him.

He grabbed the card and raised it up to his face to inspect it.

“Aha! Just as I thought. You had made a bundle of these pesky little butterflies.” He slipped the card back to his palm. He twirled back to face you with a triumphant smile as if he’d found a treasure chest. “ Fear not, for I will rid you of this troubling kaleidoscope!”

With that being said, he tossed the card over your head.

Or at least, a zipping card was what you were expecting.

Instead, a small little tornado of little butterflies escapes from Lyneys hand. They fluttered around you in a tunnel-like pattern.

Completely forgetting about the audience, you craned your hand up and stared in awe. Looking closely, some butterflies had little trails of violet shimmer. The butterflies themselves didn't seem to be real butterflies. On some you managed to see the wings to be made out of the back of playing cards.

The butterflies dispersed out onto the crowd, until each one vanished without a trace.

“Now then, are you feeling better?” Lyney asked, both hands on his hips.

You nodded with a smile on your face. The small pit of nervousness was now reduced to a grain.

“Wonderful! And, it seems as if you have magic in you yourself, what luck!” Lyney exclaimed. Lynette all the while silently side eyed her brother and his antics.

“Now then if you may follow Lynette, she will guide you to this next trick or a trio.” he smiled.

Lynette had raised a hand to you in order to take it. You complied and took her hand as she led you behind the curtain.

“ Are you okay? I know Lyney can be a bit over the top, but if at any point feeling bad, let us know.” Lynette spoke calmly to you.

“ I’m alright now. I just wasn't expecting to get picked.” You said honestly.

Lynette nodded. “ It's like that for most who get chosen.”

She guided you towards a little box which was decorated with a little four pointed gold star in the center. The box was relatively small, reaching from the ground to knee level

“ When they take the box you’ll have to stand on it. I’ll stand in my own box next to you. Just follow Lyney’s instructions.” She said,

“Also, brace your feet after the curtain falls.”

You listened closely and nodded.

“Alright. Got it.”

Lynette hummed.

Behind the big red curtain you heard the crowd laugh and clap.

“And now for the anticipated trick, shall I have my two assistants step back into the light?”

Lynette and you came back onto the stage. Again in the limelight, you noticed the two boxes parallel to each other.

“ For this next trick, both my assistants shall switch their places before your very eyes.” Lyney spoke calmly.

“But wait a moment. This is a simple trick one could accomplish by simply walking across the stage to the other boxes. This trick is sounding more like a runway show than magic.” Lyney sighed in defeat. In a quick one eighty mood switch, Lyney perked up and raised his chin high.

“ But no, dear spectators in the crowd. This trick shall be done with neither of my assistants leaving the confines of their one by one area!” Lyney exclaimed, flapping his little side cape in the process.

Lynette turned and gave you a look, a very specific look. You took it to get on the box and you walked over to the one closest to you.

“ Now then, a little tent shall fall on top of both of them. Switching places without jumping, walking or running is a lot more exhausting than it sounds.” As soon as he said that, above you began to descend a festive red tent.

It slowly descended until the dark velvet of the inside tent obscure your vision of the crowd and them of yourself. You could only hear the echoing voice of Lyney as the crowd was now fully silenced in anticipation.

The words of Lynette rang in your mind, as you looked down to your feet.

“ For you see, the most can happen within the blink of an eye.”

You felt the box underneath you dip slightly. Barely enough time to even gasp, you had fallen through the solid box beneath you. Quickly you bent your knees and positioned yourself to be able to absorb the momentum of your fall.

Once landing soundly, you looked up to see how you had fallen. In the ceiling was a rectangular indentation of a trapdoor.

You heard a ‘psst’ to your right. There you say Lynette making a quick hand gesture to switch places; motioning to you and the spot beneath her feet.

Speeding over to her, you took little but key notice in your new surroundings. The walls were barren, the air had slight dust, and light from the stage lights barely made it through the miniature nooks and crannies of the floorboards. You were underground.

Once getting to where lynette last stood, you waited. Looking around where you stood there was a small ladder behind you.

Suddenly a similar trap door like the one where you initially stood, swung open.

Taking this as a new signal, you climbed onto the ladder trying to make as little noise as you could. Once above ground, the trap door that was once open shut, making the ground below you stable enough to stand on.

“ As such, a walk across this stage could be reduced down to none!”

You heard a harsh step down onto the floor followed by a snap of a finger.

The tent around you was pulled back up at lighting speed leaving you stunned in place. The crowd ahead was looking back and forth between the place where you once were and to where you are now. A roar of whistles and claps was heard.

Looking to where you once were, stood Lynette waving at the crowd. The same stoic expression on her face.

Lyney came skipping up to your side.

“ How are you feeling dear [Name]? I hope you aren't too disoriented by the little trip you took.”

You looked at him, he had a proud grin on his face. The light shown down was overshadowed by the brim of his top hat. And yet, his eyes and distinguishable teardrop mark on his right cheek made you feel all sorts of flustered all over again.

Then again you noticed just how packed the Opera is. You had forgotten momentarily that there was an audience. The showers of cheers came down like a bolt of lightning striking the still water.

“I’m fine, just a bit perplexed.” You shook your head trying to process what had just happened in what felt like a fraction of a minute.

“ Oh my, it seems you may have been slightly shaken when vanishing from one spot to the other.” He hummed.

“ That's it! I shall make it up to you! But I’ll have to get you back to your original box.” He said tapping his curled up hand onto his open palm.

He stood up onto the tips of his toes, as from your height atop the box managed to put you at a larger distance from him. Figuring he might tell you something , you leaned down slightly.

“ When the tent drops on you once more, close your eyes. Don’t open them until you hear me say, Hat. Trust me, I’m sure this trick will put a blinding smile on your face.” He said quietly, a hand placed by his mouth blocking it from the audience ahead.

You weren’t sure what he meant or what would happen but somehow, you trusted him. Maybe it was his pretty face, charming personality, or simply because a famous and professional performer.

A little breathy chuckle escaped him before he leaned away and waltzed back to the front and center. Something about him smiling and laughing made your heart almost pop.

You internally battled these pestering thoughts; You were just starstruck! A celebrity crush, don’t let it get to you. Especially in front of a massive crowd watching your every move!

You took some short breaths in and faced ahead onto the wall behind the audience. You didn’t want to let this confusing feeling consume you.

“And now, one final trick before our amazing temporary assistant bids adieu.” He sighed. From his chest he pulled out a white handkerchief he blew into. The crowd laughed at his little mopping gag.

“ It was a pleasure to have you on stage with us, [Name].” He said before swiping the used hanky away. It disappeared into red and white sparks into the air.

The tent above you descended once again, and the moment you found yourself in the shaded confines you closed your eyes. You could only listen to what was happening around you.

“Now then, why don’t we send our new friend off with a grand finale?”

The surrounding noise of the crowd murmuring came through as buzzing. You felt the ground once more give out underneath you. Holding in your breath you prepared for what may have come next.

Something, or someone caught you. You felt the sudden mass underneath you, and suddenly there was a small breeze passing into your face. Your eyes squeezed shut the entire time.

Suddenly, you felt your feet touch a solid floor. You stood up, the person letting you go as you stabilized yourself.

“ And so, they shall appear where they once were at the drop of a hat!”

You heard it. Cracking open one eye you see once again a velvet curtain of a tent. Blinking, adjusting to the light, the tent was pulled up.

This time there was some cheer for a few seconds. The sudden Huhs? And murmurs slowly began to take a hold of the audience. Curious as to the mood shift you look around you.

Lyney, no longer wearing his signature tophat that had been left sitting on the floor.

Where Lynette was supposed to be, she was no more. Instead, there was a small top hat lying top down on the box.

Lyney, surprised, went over to the hat.

“Lynette? Oh Lyneeette? Where did you vanish off to?” He took the hat and looked inside of it, as if his sister were inside the hat.

You were slightly puzzled at first. Where on Teyvat could she have gone? Your doubts were suddenly clouded by an obvious truth.

This had to be part of the show.

So you kept your eyes on the male twin, anticipating what he will do next.

Giving up in calling out to his sister, still holding onto the small hat in his hands, he walked over to where you stood.

“ It seems that she won’t show herself unless we make her appear out of this hat. [Name], if you would.” He then extended the small hat in my direction.

You delicately grabbed the brim area closest to you. Lyney let go, and you looked inside the empty hat. The material felt slightly heavy but the intricate seamless pattern woven into the pitch black fabric made you closely look at it.

You heard a small tapping noise, you looked back to the magician as he tapped the back of his hand. Putting two and two together, you quickly flip the hat upright.

You mimicked Lyney’s motion on the hat’s top about three times.

The first tap, colorful feathers floated to the ground.

The second tap, petals of flowers twirled on their way down.

The final tap, a deck of prop cards spilt out and crashing against the stage floor with clicks and claps.

“Looks like she isn’t in there.” Lyney quipped. You were once again thrown into utter confusion. The comedic way the crowd gasped after one object came after another object from the empty hat. At some point the reactions of surprise slowly turned into snickers and giggles of amusement.

Lyney placed a hand on his hip and scratched his chin. “ Try doing it again with the hat upside down. Maybe, a different approach will convince her to come out.”

So, you turn the hat over. Sneakily taking a small peak inside, and as you suspected it was empty.

How does he pull these things off? Seriously! How?!?

Replicating your previous action, you tapped the brim.

A small puff of smoke and confetti made you step back. Out of the hat a cat sprung!

Or was it a cat?

It was a big cat face attached to a coiled spring.

It was cute! It had the signature toothy grin the show’s mascot had, yet it had it turned upside down in a frowny face. One eye has a teal star and the other has a teal teardrop. It even had a little bowtie making it a very fashionable cat creature.

It turned to face you as its ears twitched. You’re eyes locked with its own strange one and you found yourself in a staring contest….with the giant cat head on a spring of all things.

“ Oh dear, it looks like Bogglecat seemed to have answered instead of Lynette” Lyney laughed.

Tip Tap Tip Tap

You and Lyney turned to face Lyney’s hat that had just shook slightly on the floor.

Poof!

The hat had blasted up into the air and below the hat there was Lynette. Slightly obscured by the turquoise colored fog.

“ Here I am.” Lynette spoked up.

Grabbing the brim of Lyney’s hat she tipped it and bowed before the audience. The audience clapped and some people even stood up from their seats.

The Bogglecat in the hat leaped from your hands and jumped over towards the spotlight where Lynette was. Lyney came running over to you and carefully grabbed your now free hand.

“ C’mon, the audience is waiting for the final bows.” He hushed at you with that permanently charming smile of his. His pale blonde hair bounced along as he urged you to join him and his sister. With no reason to refuse, you ran along with him. You felt the corner of your mouth curl up in a giddy smile. Now unafraid of the public you stood in the bright lights with your chest held high.

Lynette tossed Lyney’s hat into the air, landing it perfectly on Lyney’s head. The cat in the hat jumped right into Lynette's hand. Once she caught it, she twirled it around in her hand like a skilled juggler. The cat suddenly vanished inside the hat, and the small hat now was held against her head.

“ This has been Lyney and Lynette’s Magic show! Thank You all for watching!” The three of you held hands; Lyney at the center, Lynette to his right, and you to his left. Lifting your hands up, you three did a dramatic bow. This audience applauded one final time for the performance. It was the loudest applause you had heard during your time in the Opera Epiclese.

Slowly people had started to leave the theater, with the front entrance reopened many people had started to trickle out into the lobby. This left fewer and fewer people in the main room, the Opera house becoming

You were preparing to step down the stage staircase until you heard someone call out to you.

“ Wait, [Name]! If you could spare a moment?” It was a voice you had quickly grown familiar with.

The top hat with the plum colored ribbon, the pale blonde tuffet that covered just above his right eye, and that teardrop marking beneath the same right eye. Lyney came speedily towards you, his sister Lynette following a bit behind. Unlike him, she calmly walked over and that stoic expression on her face felt a bit more done than what you had seen.

“Hm? What is it Mister Lyney?” You stopped and asked politely. Looking over the male twin you glanced at his sister “Miss Lynette?”

“That was a splendid performance you made on stage! You went along just swimmingly with our act.” Lyney gushed.

Once again you felt flustered. Out of all things, a professional magician complimenting you on a magic trick? You scratched your cheek.

“ I was just following you guys. Really, if anyone should be taking compliments it is you two!” You spoke with enthusiasm. “ The way Miss Lynette pulled out the items right off the cards, or when you made my ‘ stomach butterflies ‘ disappear. It really was a treat to see!” You felt your face getting a bit warmer as you continued to spill your excitement into words.

“ This will definitely be a nice memory I won't be forgetting any time soon!”

Lyney chuckled and even Lynette’s eyes grew slightly larger with interest.

“ You’re too kind!” Lyney chuckled, his pale face getting the slightest bit pink in the cheeks. “ I don’t believe I’ve seen your face in our crowd before. Are you maybe a tourist coming from a distance to see our show?”

You nodded. “ I am as a matter of fact. I don’t get out much to say the least.” You confessed.

“ I’ve heard about your magic show for some time now, traveling groups have brought it up time and time again. Fontaine was my next destination so I took the opportunity to come see it myself.”

You smiled gently. “ This was my first legitimate magical performance I had the fortune of attending. Not to mention getting randomly selected to participate! Thank you for the fun time, Mister Lyney and Miss Lynette.”

Lyney and Lynette listened with great interest.

“ I see. Thus, making this show a memorable experience for you was all the more rewarding then.” Lyney took off his hat and brought it to his chest.

“We are both happy to have put a beautiful smile on your lovely face!~” Lyney very gently lifted your hand. Bringing it close to his face, he placed a small almost ghostly peck.

Okay. Now you definitely felt your face may have caught on fire.

Lyney might have noticed your sudden flustered face. The sneaky magician sent a very brief wink with a smile. Not just any smile. This smile had a more feline nature to it; as if he enjoyed seeing such a reaction from you.

He lowered your hand back down, and flipped his hat back onto his head. That cat-like smirk was nowhere to be seen anymore. Innocently smiling at you, he laughed. It sounded slightly nervous.

“ Well, if you will be around Fonaine for a while longer, find us by the Aquabus station. We might just have spare time to show you around!”

Slipping your hand behind your back, you tried to reply to his friendly invitation.

“ Mhm! Aquabus station. Go it!” you spoke in broken segments.

Oh dear, maybe it's time you’d step outside for some fresh air.

“ I think I should get going now. Who knows how long the people traffic is in the lobby now. It was great meeting you. Your cat mascots are cute and now I shall leave” You had begun to word vomit as you were shuffling away.

“ Bye bye!”

Facing away from the magic duo, you speed walk down onto the carpeted floor. Not daring to look back, you heard the sound of an amused giggle and an exasperated sigh.

“ Are you proud of yourself? You almost made them faint with your antics.” Lynette tipped the back of Lyney’s hat. It fell forward and off but he had quickly caught it before it hit the ground.

“ Hey, I just wanted to make evening a little more magical is all. It was the most I can do from withholding them back from leaving"

"Right. And you had to tease them until they were red in the face."

Lyney stared at his sister for a moment, until he thought.

He felt a small hitch of embarrassment in his chest realizing something.

"I- Uh, didn't go to far with the card letter, right?" He nervously asked.

Lynette sighed and shook her head.

"Brother, most of the time you don't even need the spotlight to be over dramatic."

Once you were outside and looking up at the sky. The skies were different in every spot you had been. Here in Fontaine, you could barely see the twinkling stars.

As you sighed contently, you made your way over to the hotel you had planned to stay in for the time. As you shifted you felt something shift alongside you in your sleeve. It was cold and smooth.

Surprised, you dug into your sleeve.

It was a playing card. A prop playing card.

“ I hope you had a magical Evening, [Name]. Meet me by the bench near the potted flowers by the station at noon tomorrow. If you show up, best prepare for I still have tricks up my sleeve that will leave you dazzled! “

There was a little doodle of a toothy grinning cat.

A/N: Should I make a part two? Idk maybe. EDIT: PART TWO HERE

#i wrote fanfiction because I can nothing is stopping me from expressing my sheer love and happiness for this little magic man #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin lyney #genshin lyney x reader #fontaine #lyney and lynette #lyney x reader #lyney genshin #genshin imagines #genshin oneshots #genshin fluff #fluff #genshin fanfic #fontaine siblings #lynette #lyney

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