#or my brain wrote a dream I guess

[innytoes]

From the subconscious that brought you the Quiet AU, it's time for Inny's Brain Comes Up With Another 100k fic she's never going to write while she's dreaming.

Okay so it's the Post Apocalypse. The apocalypse happened a few years ago, there was a horrible plague that makes you bleed from your eyes and maybe some other things, a lot of humanity was wiped out, chaos, destruction, blabla.

We start with Our Heroes travelling on foot. Luke is telling them this area seems familiar, and Alex and Reggie realise they're near where Bobby's family had a cabin. They decide to veer off because Alex remembers where Bobby hid the emergency key. Not that they haven't done their fare share of breaking and entering, but it would be nice to, you know, not have to.

Also maybe they want to see if Bobby is there. Because even though they split with a lot of bad blood between them over some stolen songs, the apocalypse makes you miss old friends.

Julie and Willie are like: um excuse me that is not a cabin that is a Log Mansion. It's three fucking stories. (It also had the exact layout as my grandmother's old house, because this is my brain, which is funny because my grandmother's house was very much not a log cabin).

And then SHOCK AND GASP Bobby comes out. He has the Trevor Wilson Beard and Man Bun and is just... staring like he's seen three ghosts... and two random people he doesn't know, I guess.

There is a big sappy reunion and a big talk and apology and blabla of course they can stay. There's more cabins around the place and they've made themselves a little farming community. They trade with the other little the towns in the area, but they haven't heard much from the bigger city in the while.

"Um yeah, maybe... maybe don't go to the city," Luke says. Reggie is very pale. Willie mutters about how there was plenty of stuff that could still be looted (as long as you don't mind all the dead bodies is left unsaid).

They settle in at Bobby's house and become part of the community, finding jobs. Willie does indeed go with some of the more brave individuals to the city to search for supplies. The whole community has like one working truck because gas is hard to find these days.

Some traveling trader comes by and he's basically on a giant sled on wheels pulled by huskies and predictably Reggie loses his mind and gets to play with the doggies.

There comes a night when Reggie can't sleep, so he's the only one awake to hear the car. Two cars. A group of four with two cars is bound to mean trouble, so he wakes everyone up because there's a high chance there's raiders.

The people are breaking in and Reggie goes downstairs to greet/distract them, playing the clueless guy, welcoming them and being like 'oh hey are you lost do you need help? We're looking for a bartender if you need a job' and basically being in the way and these four people are just so confused because they broke into his house and he's so cheerful about it.

One of them was injured and Reggie more seriously offers the first aid kit and just when they were about to be like 'fuck it let's just murder him and raid the place', where comes Julie and Luke with the shot guns. Meanwhile Alex, Willie, and Bobby were checking out their cars and alerting the neighbours about trouble and OH SHIT ONE OF THEM IS BLEEDING FROM THE EYES HE'S INFECTED.

Cue fuzzy chaotic time jump because I woke up with a dry mouth lol.

For some reason Bobby disappeared from the dream after this so maybe poor Bobbers got shot in the show down with the raiders. Or got hit by the car of the other three fleeing, leaving behind their infected friend.

The gang stays in Bobby's house, though, and slowly, Juke and Willex drift together. When they were travelling, they usually all slept together, but now...

Reggie, who is still grieving Bobby, and maybe blaming himself because he wasn't good enough at distracting the raiders, sees the other two couples drift together and decides to stay out of their way. He can't sleep anyway, since he was the only one awake to catch the raiders in the first place.

So he starts sleeping less, and less, spending less time with his friends because he wanted them to have time together... Pining because he's secretly a little in love with all of them, but they clearly don't want him.

Until he was suuuper stoked because he found a puppy. It was so cute, and he wants to show his friends, and they're so freaked out because Reggie, there is no puppy...

Turns out Reggie was hallucinating from lack of sleep, and he's so confused because he's CLEARLY HOLDING A PUPPY WHAT DO YOU MEAN and then the whole thing kind of comes out and not only is Reggie heartbroken when the hallucination shatters and vanishes, but he also confesses how he's in love them with but they clearly chose their partners and not him.

And both Juke and Willex are like: we've missed you, doofus, we love you, we didn't want to make you chose between us, we were scared you were mad at us for both flirting with you.

And they all live as happily ever after as you can in the post-apocalypse.

[wordsinhaled]

it was really only a matter of time until edwardian payneland happened and what if i channeled maurice about it. just a little

-

Charles is the son of the groundskeeper at St. Hilarion's School for Boys while Edwin is a pupil there. And he can't help but notice Edwin—how he’s nearly always alone, or else being harangued by the cruel older boys who call themselves his peers.

Charles privately thinks they hardly seem equal to him in poise or grace or manner. They are boisterous, brash, crass, violent, all overlaid with a veneer of false propriety, but Charles can see the cracks in it. He knows that sort by how they are inside, and they cannot be like Edwin at all. No, Edwin Paine's got a sad, drawn sort of look about him that Charles can't help recognizing. This lonely boy who feels somehow kindred in a way he can't put a finger on, but is pulled to him all the same, though by rights he'd do better to keep his distance.

Edwin often sits by the lake by himself, to read, or to do his assignments in the shade of the trees. Picturesque as a painting, he is. One day Charles dares to approach him, though he knows the risk in it—prepared to be rebuffed, rebuked for his untoward attention to someone he is meant to ignore; but the boy does not turn him away.

And so they become friends. Tentative, and then less and less so.

Together they explore the school's sprawling grounds, all of whose surprising hiding-places Charles Rowland knows by heart, having wandered them himself for years and made them his own refuge. The woods become theirs; the shore by the lake theirs; the shade of the trees theirs. The attic, where no one comes to look for them in the dead of night, also theirs.

And then one day Charles notices a group of boys surrounding Edwin. The usual cadre, and they're posturing, their voices loud in the autumn air. They’ve ripped Edwin's penny magazine from his grip and are tearing pages out of it, scattering them to be plucked up by the wind. Charles can do nothing else but step in. He shouts at them to back off, puts himself between them and Edwin, and gets himself thrashed for his trouble—but they, at least, finally leave Edwin alone.

Edwin, for his part, cannot believe Charles would be so reckless for his sake. Charles has not yet mentioned to him that he is used to this sort of treatment, and sees worse at home. They sit together in the boathouse by the lake, cross-legged, close enough for Edwin to dab carefully at Charles’ split lip and bleeding knuckles.

“You should not have done that for me,” he chides, though it carries no heat. “What will happen now?” He thinks word is sure to get back to the school, and there will be a scandal. Those boys, who so vocally despise Edwin, will hardly be quiet in their outrage, their humiliation. Charles’ father might be relieved of his post, and then Charles’ family will have to leave St. Hilarion’s. That is how these things go.

And what was it all for? For Edwin? How could it have been worth it?

“Doesn’t matter, does it?" Charles is saying, when Edwin surfaces from his troubled thoughts. "Couldn’t let them treat you like that. They had you five to one. And that, just ‘cause you’re different. I know how it is.” Charles’ eyelashes are very long, and the light turns his eyes a warm, deep amber as he talks fiercely, insistently, in defense of Edwin.

It’s terribly forward, Edwin thinks. And, despite every misgiving, he welcomes it. No one has ever fought for Edwin before. No one has ever spoken about him with such conviction.

Then Charles seems to lapse into pensiveness. “You didn’t have to…” he says softly. "All this." He gestures, with the free hand Edwin isn’t busy wrapping up, at the little bottle of antiseptic, the scissors, the roll of bandages and the cloths, all spread out on the floorboards between them.

“Of course I did,” Edwin says.

Really, he had not given it much consideration. He had had only the presence of mind to memorize the sight of Charles kneeling in the dew-damp grass, angry gaze still spitting fire at the backs of Edwin’s retreating bullies. He’d had blood in his bared teeth, and the briefest flash of desire had seared through Edwin—to kiss him. Merely in thanks, perhaps, but still, to kiss him.

He would know the warmth of Charles’ mouth. Fleeting, forbidden, it would sear itself into his mind for ever.

Of course, he had done no such thing; for he could not. Instead, he’d done the only thing he could do—bent low towards Charles, and squeezed his shoulder once, as if to say, Wait here for me. I will come back to you.

And as he'd turned on his heel and gone off in the direction of the infirmary, leaving Charles there with dusk encroaching, Edwin had hoped Charles understood his gesture for the indelible promise it was.

[whumpy-wyrms]

love being wide awake at 2am on a school night. good news is i’m almost done with tllr chapter 15

[mr-and-mr-diaz]

TO BE CLEAR TO THE RATINGS PEOPLE IN CASE YOU'RE PAYING ATTENTION AND COULD BE CONFUSED: I DIDN'T HATE THIS EPISODE BECAUSE BUCK IS BI, I HATED IT FOR BASICALLY EVERYTHING ELSE

Having said that, I'm still looking forward to the wedding episode (though the framing of buddie as dudebros is chafing like a sandpaper bra, they better have a goddamn drunk romantic moment when the inhibitions are down)

[skzms]

💌⊹°˖➴ don't wake me, i'm dreaming of home yang jeongin x f!reader x kim seungmin

summary: “Hey,” Jeongin protests, “boys and girls can be friends …” Jisung raises an eyebrow. “… and … boys and boys …” “Girls and bisexual boys in kinda codependent threeway friendships where they all spend more nights sleeping in the same bed than in their dorm rooms–“ Jisung trails off, and Jeongin groans. He grabs the fox plushie Seungmin won for him at the fair last year and hurls it into Jisung’s general direction before burying his burning face in his pillow. He doesn’t see his friends like that … right?

word count: 13.1k words

author's note: I did not plan to write this, but then I answered an ask and my love @stayconnecteed came into my inbox excited about seungyang and my brain just ... ran with it. I love this. where hyunibini was difficult to write, this poured out of me. I adore them. they mean the world to me. enjoy!

EDIT: I wrote a prologue! 🌃⊹°˖➴ in my dreams, i never have to be alone

warnings: college!au; codependent besties to lovers; a little bit of angst; mxm action, as usual; unprotected sex; panic attack? he's going through it; side minsung bc I'm me; mention of past vomiting and nauseau, not graphic at all

skzms masterlist // ko-fi

Jeongin takes the steps up to Seungmin’s third floor apartment two at a time.

His knuckles rap against the door in an anxious pattern, and stands back, rocking back and forth on his heels impatiently. He’s met with silence, then more silence. It doesn’t usually take Seungmin this long to open the door – and Jeongin knows he’s home. He always goes straight home after your and his social media management lecture.

He’s just about to take out his phone to text him when he hears faint noises from inside. He takes a step closer.

There’s whispering, but who it is or what they’re saying, Jeongin can’t make out. Something thuds to the floor. Then footsteps approach the door.

Jeongin steps back just in time before the door is ripped open.

“Jeongin!? W-what are you doing here?”

Jeongin raises an eyebrow at Seungmin.

“What do you mean what am I doing here, I practically live here.” Seungmin blinks, shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his hand still in a death grip around the doorframe.

“Just … didn’t know you were coming …”

“Well, neither did I, but I was in the area because I was at that coffee shop next to the Sigma Kappa Zeta frat, you know, the one where I forgot my charger last time. So I went there to pick it up and guess who I run into?! Bang Chan! And Felix, you know, the blonde, smart one from our business class – I think they’re hooking up by the way, there’s definitely a vibe there – and we got talking and– wait, you’re not listening are you?”

Seungmin had been nervously staring at him throughout his whole monologue, until a noise from behind him startled him into half turning around.

“N-no, I was listening, it’s just, uh, not the best time.”

Everything clicks into place for Jeongin very suddenly.

“You’ve got someone in there.”

He doesn’t word it like a question. It’s obvious now, the nervous tap of his foot, the way he’s holding the door closed, the … oh wow, the slowly darkening love bite on his collarbone, still glistening wet against his milky soft skin. Something in his guts twinges.

“Y-yeah, sorry,” Seungmin mumbles, runs his hand through his newly cut, short, black hair. It makes him look more grown-up, less than the boyish Seungmin from a year ago. Did he cut it before or after he started hooking up with people. When did he even find the time?! You and Jeongin basically lived at Seungmin’s apartment, and never had much more than the odd one-night stand with someone who wasn’t scared off by the fact that you were constantly glued to one another.

With a bitter taste in his mouth, Jeongin realises that that may not have been true.

“Ha, I can’t believe it,” Jeongin scoffs out, tries to swallow the awkward wobble in his voice, “I didn’t know you had it in you, Seung.”

Seungmin smiles awkwardly, shifts his weight again. Jeongin can basically feel the impatience rolling off of him. He wants him to leave. Ouch.

“Well, then I will just call Y/N and tell her about how I just secured us the Lee Felix for our group project …”

“That’s great, Innie, you go call her,” Seungmin says lamely, and Jeongin’s face starts burning. This is so awkward.

“Well, see you tomorrow. And, uh … have fun!”

He turns on his heels and speedwells down the hallway before he can embarrass himself any further. Have fun?! What the fuck is wrong with him.

His face is still burning when he pushes the door open to his room. He must be more flustered than he thinks because he accidentally slams it into the wall so hard it makes his roommate nearly jump out of his skin.

“Jesus, you need to start skipping the gym, Innie, you don’t know your own strength,” Jisung squawks from where he’s pretzeled onto his computer chair, one sweats clad leg clutched to his chest, some music project or another open on his old MacBook.

Jeongin just grumbles in return, toes his shoes off and throws himself onto his bed.

Jisung, ever as observant, swivels his chair around and gives Jeongin a sympathetic smile.

“Rough day?”

Jeongin sighs.

“Not … not really, just …” he sighs, sits up, “I just made a fool out of myself in front of Seung. He … had someone over.”

Jisung’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Like … had someone over had someone over?”

Jeongin nods. Jisung makes a face, like he’s impressed.

“Damn …”

Jeongin scoffs. Protectiveness flares up in his chest.

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

Jisung blinks at him.

“I’m not surprised that he has someone over, he’s really cute,” Jisung mumbles, and Jeongin feels the need to growl. Jisung barks out a laugh. “He’s not my type, don’t worry. It’s just …”

He falters, but Jeongin fixes him with another glare and Jisung pulls his other leg up, hugs them both against his chest until he looks tiny, swallowed up his chair, before he speaks.

“I just kinda figured … what with you and Seungmin and Y/N always being glued together …”

Jeongin stares at him blankly. Jisung sighs, like Jeongin is a child who doesn’t get it.

“I figured something would happen between all of you.”

“Hey,” Jeongin protests, “boys and girls can be friends …”

Jisung raises an eyebrow.

“… and … boys and boys …”

“Girls and bisexual boys in kinda codependent threeway friendships where they all spend more nights sleeping in the same bed than in their dorm rooms–“ Jisung trails off, and Jeongin groans.

He grabs the fox plushie Seungmin won for him at the fair last year and hurls it into Jisung’s general direction before burying his burning face in his pillow.

He doesn’t see his friends like that … right?

At least he didn’t in the beginning, when they all met during fresher’s week, sneaking away from the club to smoke a joint on the swings of the dark, empty playground in the nearby park. Or maybe he deluded himself back then, in an effort not to lose the only friends he had made so far, even if Seungmin’s big hands were warm and his smile bright and boyish, your legs were soft under his fingertips when he helped you climb up to the slide, your hair smelling like smoke and perfume. Fuck.

When he looks up, Jisung is still watching him, but he has his legs crossed underneath him now, his bag of weed paraphernalia on his lap as he pours some of the ground buds into a translucent paper.

“So, where were we? Codependent, sexually charged threeway best friendship …”

Jeongin growls for real this time, kicks his leg out in Jisung’s direction.

“Shut the fuck up, or I’ll tell Minho that you ripped a picture of him out of the campus paper and jerk off to it as if Instagram doesn’t exist.”

Jisung screams, blindly grabs for the fox plushie and throws it at Jeongin so hard the little plastic button nose actually hurts when it hits his cheek.

“You wouldn’t dare! And don’t judge me, it’s a good picture. Plus, it’s lofi. And I can’t accidentally like a 6 month old photo on his instagram as I cu-”

Jeongin’s eyes widen and Jisung goes pale.

“Which has definitely never happened!”

Jeongin cackles, loud and dirty. It makes Jisung pout at him.

“You know, I could just introduce you to him? I see him at practice three days a week.”

Jisung huffs out a sad laugh. He turns, rummages around in his drawers for a lighter, cracks a window open and lights his joint before he responds.

“Sure, because the captain of the best college field hockey team in the state and college heartthrob Lee Minho is really desperate to be friends with, let alone date, a reclusive, anime nerd music student. I’ll spare myself the humiliation, thanks.”

Jeongin sighs, but Jisung has already passed him his joint and turned back around.

“He’s pretty weird, you know, I have a feeling you might be just his type,” Jeongin mumbles around the joint in his mouth. He inhales the sticky flavour deeply.

Jisung doesn’t even turn around, only scoffs.

“Maybe you’d charm him with your big brown eyes, your decently sized dick and your loser rizz,” Jeongin muses. That at least pulls a giggle out of Jisung, which is enough for Jeongin. He smiles at the back of Jisung’s head and gets up to place the joint in the ashtray next to Jisung’s laptop, before he falls back onto his own bed.

He lets Jisung’s clicks, the dim echo of his music that filters through his headphones, slip into the background and pulls out his phone, opens your group chat. He scoffs when he sees it’s still named after that stupid old meme you and Jeongin quoted every day last week, until Seungmin threatened to kick you out of his bed and apartment at 3am.

wait a minute, who ARE you? 🤔 from: me guess who just secured us THE lee felix for our principles of business group project you’re welcome

from: thing 1 🧍‍♀️ no way that’s incredible we’ll ace this

from: me ikr 😎

from: thing 3 🧍🏻 boomer ass emoji choice but ok

from: me shut up, you ungrateful child we’re meeting him on thursday I told him we could meet at yours, seung, hope that’s alright but basically we have two days to sort out our shit

from: thing 3 🧍🏻 sure but two days before your big game? Is that a good idea?

from: me it was the only day he could do it’ll be fine

At least that’s what Jeongin told himself.

from: thing 1 🧍‍♀️ maybe it’ll be a nice distraction we got your back

from: thing 3 🧍🏻 what she said

from: me anyone wanna get breakfast tomorrow?

from: thing 3 🧍🏻 have to meet my advisor at 9, but I can do after

from: thing 1 🧍‍♀️ 👍

from: me 👍

Jeongin sleeps like shit that night. He could blame it on many things – the leftover weed fumes in the room, Jisung’s snoring, the guy yelling in the quad at 3am, or maybe it’s his tiny, uncomfortable dorm bed and the absence of two warm bodies next to his.

But whatever it is, it means that he takes much longer than usual to peel himself out of bed, and by the time he makes it to the good cafeteria in your dorm building it’s already 10.

So he expects you and Seungmin, already there, sitting at your table the one in the back corner, next to the window that looks out over the Main Street because the three of you love spending hours sitting there between lectures, chatting, eating protein bars, and people watching.

But something makes him slow his pace, makes him take a detour to grab himself a coffee before he makes his way over, even though he never does that.

At first glance, he can’t tell what’s so off about the picture. You and Seungmin are sitting in your usual seats, you in the corner, leaning against the windowsill, Seung in the seat next to you. Your legs are slung over Seungmin’s, a habit you’ve always had. You always say it’s more comfortable and Jeongin would never admit it, as loudly as he usually proclaims that he hates skinship, but the fact of the matter is that nothing in this world calms him down more than the weight of your arm around his lower back, or your leg slung over his, or your hand on his arm. And the same for Seungmin, if he’s being really honest. Like as long as one of you is somehow touching him, he feels calmer. Jeongin often feels like somewhere along the way you all fused together, and now it’s like you’re sharing a body; pulling collars and jewellery into place, fixing each other’s hair, wiping bits of mascara from your cheek, pulling your hair into a ponytail before bed.

So it’s not that Seungmin’s hand, the one that he’s not using to prop up his chin on the table, is under the table, resting on your inner thigh, but something about the way his whole body is turned to you as you talk …

Maybe that’s what it is – the fact that you’re so attuned to each other, when usually, one of you turns the moment he steps in the room, like you can somehow feel his presence; making Jeongin’s heart feel fuzzy with romantic ideas of red strings and soulmate-ism (that he would rather die than tell you or Seungmin about; though Jisung tickled them out of him one night when they couldn’t sleep and smoked so much weed Jeongin felt like he was floating. He’d thrown up right after his confession).

Or maybe it’s the soft, private little smile on Seungmin’s lips, the way his eyes are glued to your face. Or the way his hand is further up your thigh than usual, his thumb rubbing strong, insistent circles into your inner thigh. Or maybe it’s you, sitting up, arching your back a little, leaning more into Seungmin’s space, saying something that makes Seung’s smile turn into a smirk, makes him angle his head ever so slightly, as if he wants to lean in …

Jeongin slams his backpack onto the bench opposite you and both you and Seungmin jump, though as soon as you see him a big smile spreads over your face. Seungmin leans away from you, blinking his eyes as if he was just woken up from a trance.

“Ah, Innie, finally!” you squeal, “we texted you like five times, we thought you were still asleep or something.”

Jeongin makes a non-committal noise as he places his mug on the table. Your casual reaction makes him feel off-kilter.

“Oh, he’s rude this morning,” Seungmin deadpans, and Jeongin sends him a glare. Seungmin’s eyes sparkle up at him. Out of the corner of his eye, Jeongin watches the trajectory of Seungmin’s thumb over the inseam of your jeans. Up, down, up, down.

“Shut up, dog,” Jeongin grumbles, “Jisung worked on music until like 3, and then when he finally did go to sleep he started snoring like crazy. I barely slept.”

Seungmin hums, something between sympathetic and sarcastic.

“Why didn’t you call me? You could’ve come over.”

Jeongin freezes, stares at Seungmin, but the latter’s face, as usual, gives nothing away. His thumb still going up, down, up, down on your inner thigh.

Jeongin blinks, shrugs, avoids your eyes, gets up without another word to finally get himself some food because his mind is swirling and there’s a bitter taste in the back of his mouth. What is Seungmin doing? He knows Jeongin knows he had someone over, but did he want you to know? Why did Jeongin assume you didn’t know …

Well, he thinks as he scoops a big spoonful of scrambled eggs onto his plate, up until yesterday he thought there were no secrets between you. But then Jeongin had accidentally disturbed whatever that was last night, and now he wasn’t so sure. Did you have secrets like this? Was he the only one without secrets? He never thought to keep anything from you, the three of you, that was kind of his whole world …

The thought makes his head hurt and his stomach cramp painfully, and he decides to shove it to the back of his mind for the time being, as he loads more eggs and a general helping of sausages onto his plate. He has practice this afternoon, he’ll need all the protein he can get.

The thought of practice, of the big game on Saturday — it’s enough to dwarf all his other worries. Especially when he comes back to the table and your leg is no longer in Seungmin’s lap, and you reach a hand out to lace with his before he eats, smiling so warmly, that he thinks maybe he just made all the tension earlier up with his sleep-deprived brain.

Under the table, Seungmin’s foot comes to rest against his calf, rubs up and down comfortingly.

“Stop scowling,” Seungmin remarks, “you’ll look ugly with wrinkles.”

Jeongin flips him off half-heartedly.

“When’s your practice today?”

Jeongin swallows a big mouthful of eggs.

“Whole afternoon. From 2 to, like, 6.”

You nod, your brows knitting together in determination. He loves when you do that, it’s adorable.

“Okay, then Seungmin and I will make sure we’ve got everything prepped for our meeting with Felix tomorrow. For the group project.”

Jeongin makes a noise of protest, but Seungmin glares at him, and you wave him off.

“We don’t have any classes this afternoon. Plus, you have enough to worry about, what with your scholarship riding on the game on Saturday.”

The reminder makes a cold shiver run down Jeongin’s spine. He tries his best not to think that way, but he has a terrible feeling about it all. Seungmin reaches out, tugs an errant strand of hair out of his face. His fingertips brush Jeongin’s forehead on their retreat.

“And you’re sleeping at mine tonight,” he announces. There’s no room for argument in his tone, his big, brown eyes staring right into Jeongin’s. “You always smoke weed with Jisung when you’re at yours, and my brother will kill you if he finds out you smoked the week before the game.”

“And weed makes you antsy,” you add, taking a sip from your coffee, grimacing when you find it cold, “and you’re already anxious enough about the game.”

Jeongin’s heart does a little somersault in his chest, heat bleeding out until his whole body is tingling with it.

“How would Minho know,” he mumbles, shoves more food into his mouth, hoping it will get him out of having to say anything else. Seungmin shrugs, sighs dramatically.

“He always knows, he’s scary like that.”

“Promise you’ll come to Seung’s after?” you ask, studying Jeongin with your stupidly intelligent eyes.

Jeongin nods, but you keep watching him for a second, like you’re trying to figure out if he’ll try to get out of it, to retreat into himself. You know him so well, it makes him feel sick.

But by the time he has made it through his classes, through Minho giving them all a stern talk about Saturday that gives him so much anxiety he develops a headache and then puts them through the most gruelling practice Jeongin has ever had to endure, he feels like there’s nothing left of him any more. Like if he retreated into himself now, he would just disappear.

So he gives himself 10 minutes in the locker room showers, lets 5 hot tears sear their way down his cheeks, and allows himself to acknowledge that all he wants is to sink into your and Seungmin’s safe arms.

He all but sleepwalks his way all the way to Seungmin’s apartment, and he thinks he only comes back to himself when the door opens, and he’s greeted by the image of you, in Seungmin’s hoodie, face bare and feet tucked into fluffy socks, and your face softens into one of understanding before you softly drag him inside.

The smell of Seungmin’s apartment hits him like home, as does the sound of the TV, chattering and sound effects from some variety show, the smell of Minho’s seolleongtang, the one he makes sure Seungmin has at least five servings of in his freezer at all times, wafting from the kitchen where the microwave is buzzing quietly.

“Jesus, what did Minho do to you?” Seungmin exclaims from the sofa, his voice teasing, but his concern still shimmers through.

Jeongin just shrugs, waves him off, toes off his shoes and drops his backpack on the floor right by the entrance, something Seungmin usually tells him off for. He stays quiet today. Jeongin must really look like shit.

You’re by his side again immediately, gently leading him into Seungmin’s kitchen, sitting him down at the little table. He meets your eyes, soft, worried, looking him over like you’re scared he’s hurt, before you trail a soft hand down the side of his neck and squeeze his shoulder.

“Let me get you some food.”

The microwave dings, and you busy yourself scooping some noodles into a bowl, adding slices of meat and spring onions, pouring the reheated seolleongtang. Jeongin just watches how you move around Seungmin’s kitchen, quietly and confidently. Watches how you pull the sleeves of Seungmin’s sweater over your hands so you don’t burn your fingers on the bowl as you get it out of the microwave. How you pull them up before you start assembling his food. How your hair falls into your forehead, how your bottom lip juts out as you focus.

He’s still watching when you turn around, the finished bowl between your sweater paws and a smile on your face, and place it in front of him, before turning back to get him a spoon and some chopsticks.

“Here you go,” you mumble, smile at him again, “eat up. We can make more if you need it.”

Jeongin turns around, spots the empty bowl in front of Seungmin, perched precariously on the coffee table that’s littered with books and paper, then turns to you, and he realises.

“Was this supposed to be yours?”

You’re already back in the kitchen, rummaging around the freezer for another one of Minho’s ubiquitous Tupperwares.

“Don’t worry, we got more,” you smile, “plus, Minho will be pleased if he checks Seung’s freezer next time and sees that most of them are gone.”

Seungmin grumbles behind Jeongin, but Jeongin’s heart still feels like it’s rabbiting in his chest.

“You know it’s his love language,” you just remark, and Seungmin sighs. “Let him take care of you, you know he needs it, too.”

It’s an easy remark, and you never shy away from naming the emotions both him and Seungmin are often too scared to. And this one they all know is true. Without parents, with their grandmother gone, Minho and Seungmin are on their own now. And if you asked Jeongin, he’d say they’re doing well. They take care of each other. And by extension, Minho takes care of Jeongin and you. Because he knows you’re important to Seungmin. Even though he usually pretends to be upset, complains that he has to meal prep twice as much because you always eat it all. Luckily, Minho has a colossal sweet spot for you. You don’t need to do much but smile and bat your eyelashes, and he forgets why he was mad in the first place. Jeongin always jokes that Minho would have a massive crush on you if he wasn’t so incredibly gay, which never fails to make Seungmin gag and glare at him.

Seungmin just grumbles behind him and Jeongin goes back to eating, a comfortable silence falling over the room. The TV still running in the background, the microwave buzzing as it heats up your serving of broth, you quietly humming as you cut up more spring onions. This is exactly what he was yearning for when he was in the showers earlier, and he basks in it.

Until he remembers the night before, that Seungmin invited someone else in, hooked up with them maybe on the very couch he’s lounging on right now, back against the armrest infuriatingly nonchalant with his stupid new haircut and his oversized t-shirt riding up, revealing a sliver of his stomach over the waistband of his sweats. How did Seungmin even meet someone to hook up with?! Was it someone from his clubs? Someone he met in one of the few classes you didn’t have together? Did Jeongin know them? You and Jeongin were here all the time. This was your rightful place, who was some random person to butt in, to make the vibes all wrong.

You must’ve seen him scowl into his now empty bowl because you walk over to him gently, run a hand through his hair. Jeongin melts instantly.

“Wanna talk about it?” you ask, quietly, “did Minho say something? Is it about the game?”

Jeongin scoffs. How ironic. He just shakes his head.

“Just wanna … turn my brain off for the night.”

You smile at him again. Warm. Sweet. Like molten honey.

“Sounds good to me.”

You slap his hands away when he tries to clean up his bowl, shoo him towards the sofa where Seungmin is waiting, patting the spot next to him. Jeongin collapses into it, lets Seungmin tug him in between his legs, deposit his head against his solid chest, his hand in Jeongin’s hair. He’s still angry, probably, but then Seungmin hums, a deep rumbling that reverberates from his chest through Jeongin’s entire body, and Jeongin lets his eyes slip shut, just for a minute. Though by the time he hears the water in the kitchen shut off and seconds later feels the sofa dip with your weight and feels your hand trace over his spine, he’s already half asleep.

When he wakes up the next morning, he instantly feels better. Sure, his body aches with soreness from practice, but the sun shining in through a crack in the curtains is making the dust dance in the light, and he can feel Seungmin’s warm body pressed against his lower back, the quiet sound of your breathing on the other side of the bed. He lets it lull him back into a lazy doze, half awake, half asleep, until movement behind him jostles him awake again an hour later.

There’s shuffling, tugging at the duvet, Seungmin’s ass pressing into his back. Jeongin hears your voice, barely above a whisper, murmuring something, then he hears as much as he feels Seungmin’s answering chuckle, his body shaking, a hoarse morning thickness in his voice.

He’s about to turn around, to announce that he’s awake, when there’s a shifting and then a wet noise, a quiet hum, then another, almost like …

Arousal lances through Jeongin’s body so fast it makes him nauseous.

You’re kissing. You and Seungmin are kissing right behind him. Holy fuck. Holy fuck?! When did this happen?! When …

Jeongin feels Seungmin stretch, body shifting against Jeongin’s back, the knowledge that Seungmin’s body is touching his as he’s kissing you making his rapidly hardening cock twitch in his boxers, and then he hears it again. The wet slide of tongues, a maddening hitch of your breath, a whisper of a high-pitched moan that makes Jeongin physically shudder, Seungmin humming, deeply in his chest, just like he had last night when Jeongin was resting on his chest but now into your lips. Your lips.

Holy fuck. It had been you last night. It was you who Seungmin was hiding in his apartment, you who he was messing around with, your spit glistening on the love bite that you sucked into his skin …

“Seung, stop,” Jeongin hears you whisper. You sound out of breath. Jeongin has to squeeze his eyes shut. He’s so hard it hurts, and his heart is thudding in his chest.

Seungmin mutters something unintelligible, and you say his name again.

“Come on. Maybe … maybe he’ll wake up,” Seungmin rasps, and Jeongin can hear the aroused excitement lacing his voice.

There’s more shifting behind him.

“No, not like this,” you murmur, “not now. After the game.”

They’re talking about him. Jeongin tries to control his breathing, but his heart is hammering so loud he thinks Seungmin might be able to hear it. But thankfully, Seungmin seems to be busy enough trying to kiss you again, if his warmth disappearing and a noise of protest, and then the soft sound of another kiss is anything to judge by.

But you don’t seem happy with it. You throw the covers back and get up and Jeongin screw his eyes shut as fast as he can.

“Seung, I said no,” you hiss, and then you’re stalking towards the door.

Seungmin behind him sighs, then gets out of bed as well, padding after you. Jeongin hears him say your name and an apology before the door to the bedroom falls shut, and Jeongin sucks in a breath and shoves his hand between his legs, pressing the heel of his palm against his aching cock.

He would question why the fuck he’s as hard as he’s never been before, but right now, he’s pretty preoccupied with the thought that his two best friends are fucking. Oh my god, you and Seungmin are fucking. Or is it more …

The throb between his legs is replaced but a slowly settling sense of heartbreak.

He doesn’t know what’s worse, if it’s just casual or if it’s serious. Because even if it’s just fun, it’s risky, isn’t it?! He would never … He would never risk your friendship like that. But you … clearly that wasn’t a concern for you. God, how had he not seen it. Had there been signs? How long had this been going on?

His whole body feels heavy with it, the heartache, the disappointment. He hears your and Seungmin’s voices in the kitchen, the hum of the coffee machine coming to life, and suddenly, he feels like he wants to cry.

Seungmin had wanted Jeongin to wake up. The thought alone … it’s so cruel. Or did he just think it would be the easiest way to break it to him? Is that what you meant when you said ‘not like this’ and ‘not now’? Were you planning on telling him then, after the game? The fact that you’re together, that from now on, it was no longer Jeongin and Seungmin and Y/N but Seungmin and Y/N. And Jeongin. If he’s lucky.

Fuck, is he going to lose his best friends? Is he going to lose this? Because surely, if they’re together, they won’t want to share a bed with him every night. He’ll have to spend every night back at his dorm, with Jisung.

Oh my god. He’s losing his best friends.

Through the tears burning on his eyes, he hears his phone buzz on the nightstand, where someone, probably you or Seungmin, plugged it in to charge last night.

from: Lee Felix hey we still on for 1?

Then, another one pops up.

hockey LEGENDS in the making 🏑 from: Minho 👹 you may have a day off today but if any of you fuckers so much as look at a drink or a joint or I see you’re online after midnight I am benching you, understood? Saturday is a big game, I need you all in tiptop condition

Jeongin curses, presses his heels into his eyes until he can see stars and the sting of tears disappears.

He can’t freak out about this right now. He has to focus on passing his class. And the game. The fucking game that not only will decide their national ranking but will also determine whether Jeongin can keep the scholarship that is the only reason he’s at college at all. They need to win that game. If they don’t, there’s a 80% chance Jeongin will not be able to come back in the fall.

He takes a few deep, steadying breaths, just how Chan taught them, back in his first year, before their first big game. Something about it regulating the nervous system and adrenaline or whatever. But thankfully, even if Jeongin doesn’t remember, Chan was onto something because it works. He gets his bearings, shoves his heartbreak into a neat little box and compartmentalises it into a far corner of his brain, and picks up his phone.

hockey LEGENDS in the making 🏑 from: me aye aye captain

to: Lee Felix yeah! I’ll send you the address right now

When he pads into the kitchen, there’s sunshine and fresh air streaming in through the open window, Seungmin is sitting at the table, scrolling through his phone, and you’re cutting up strawberries at the counter. You smile at him through the makings of a perfect day. He swallows down the nausea that threatens to overwhelm him.

“Hey, handsome,” you chirp, “there’s coffee in the machine.”

He forces a smile onto his lips, makes his way over next to you to pour himself a cup. There’s at least a foot of space between you, but it feels like he can feel the heat of your body in his soul. He’s trying so hard not to spiral, he doesn’t notice you’ve stepped closer to him until your hand settles on the small of his back.

When Jeongin turns, you’re hovering right in front of him, your eyes big and dark, your lips parted, glossy.

“Hey,” you murmur. You blink, smile at him again. Your one hand is still on his waist, the other is holding one of the strawberries you were cutting. Droplets of juice run down your finger.

“Want a piece?” you ask, your voice nothing more than a murmur, and Jeongin’s body reacts as if on autopilot.

His lips part and your heavy gaze falls down, glued to his mouth as you bring the piece of strawberry to his lips. And it’s like everything happens in slow motion, his tongue lolling out only the slightest bit, the taste of the fruit lacing his tongue, your finger dragging over his bottom lip, leaving a residue of juice his tongue darts out to chase on instinct. The brush of it against your fingers is barely there, but you watch it with a rapt attention, before your gaze flutters back up, your glassy eyes meeting his, your smile a nervous, shaky thing. You stumble back, return to your spot at the cutting board, and leave Jeongin reeling. He remembers he has to chew.

When he turns his head, Seungmin is staring straight at him.

“Well, that was easier than I thought!” Felix giggles, clapping his hands happily.

Three hours is all it took, one, for you to finish the entire group part of the project for your class and, two, to realise that Lee Felix is not only smart, but also incredibly good company.

To be honest, Jeongin has to credit you and Seungmin for just how easy today was. Because you did a lot of work yesterday while he was at practice; all the prep, most of the research, and even the bare bones of the powerpoint were ready by the time Lee Felix rang the doorbell and strolled into Seungmin’s apartment in his incredibly fashionable light wash jeans and a cropped band tee.

And really, the vibes were just right – the door to the balcony open, letting in the balmy late spring air. Bowls of salty and savoury snacks and the strawberries you were cutting earlier, as well as soda and water and coffee, at the ready, lofi music playing on the TV. Jeongin can’t help himself from being a little bit dramatic about how much all of it clashes with his mood.

Unfortunately, despite it all, you are his best friends. And you notice everything.

When you finish your work and Jeongin is still scowling, you heave a dramatic sigh before you turn and let yourself fall backwards, plopping your head right into Jeongin’s lap. Your legs kick out, and Jeongin distantly notices Seungmin wrap a hand around your ankle. He’s too distracted by you, staring up at him, with a gentle smile, before you reach up, running your fingers through his bangs. Your fingertips leave warm, tingling trails over his scalp.

“What’s going on? Worried about the game?”

Jeongin huffs out a humourless laugh, grimaces.

“The field hockey team? You’re on a team with Chan-hyung?” Felix asks, as he pops another piece of strawberry into his mouth.

Jeongin nods, your hand still trailing through his hair.

“Yup,” he lets the p pop in an effort to sound casual, as if he hasn’t been an anxious wreck for the last three weeks leading up to this game, but Felix doesn’t need to know that, “it’s important for the competition, as you know, but it’s also pretty much going to determine if I get my scholarship renewed for next year.”

Felix whistles through his teeth and Jeongin shrugs at him. Your warm palm wraps around the side of his neck, thumb swiping over his cheek, and he can feel himself blushing. The touch, the affection, is nothing out of the ordinary, and it always flusters him a little, but with a stranger right there, watching you and him so intently, it makes his stomach churn with a special kind of pride and something else he’s too afraid to name.

Felix just watches you and Jeongin, and smiles.

“I’m so glad you guys worked it out,” he hums, his eyes fond and friendly. When Jeongin just blinks at him, he laughs.

“You know, after the party … the jacuzzi …” he vaguely motions between Seungmin and you, wiggles his eyebrows, “which was really hot by the way.”

“Y-you saw?” Seungmin chokes out, and Felix giggles.

“Yeah, but just me and a couple of guys from the frat,” he reassures him, oblivious to the way your hand has frozen on Jeongin’s face, the way Seungmin has paled and Jeongin is just staring at him. “But you did kinda fuck in a jacuzzi at a frat party, so I’m assuming the exhibitionist part was intentional.”

You wince, scramble out of Jeongin’s lap in a pretence of laughter. It’s so fake it hurts.

In a fucked up way, Jeongin is suddenly very grateful you guys were making out in the same bed as him this morning, because if this had been the first time he heard of it? Being blindsided by the news in front of Lee Felix? He may have done something stupid.

“Anyways, I was kinda happy to see it. I always wondered if there was something going on between the three of you, since you’re always stuck together. I’m glad you finally worked it out, I think you’re all very cute together.”

Jeongin’s mouth tastes like blood.

He looks over at Seungmin, but Seungmin avoids his eyes and so do you. There’s a big fake smile plastered onto your face, aimed towards Felix, who is now packing up his stuff. It’s cracking at the edges, your hands shaking where they’re folded in your lap.

“Thanks for all your help, Felix,” you force out, your voice shakier than Jeongin has ever heard it. But Felix has the benefit of not knowing you, so he doesn’t notice, only sends you a blinding smile back.

“No worries, I’m sure we’ll get a good grade for this one! And if you ever wanna work together again, let me know. This was fun!”

And with that, he gracefully gets to his feet. Jeongin gives him a weak smile, waves his hand, but Seungmin barely manages to mumble out a goodbye. He seems to be frozen in panic on the other side of the table. You jump up, chatter with Felix all the way to the door, a slightly manic edge to your voice, until you chirp one last goodbye and the door falls shut.

The silence is deafening. Jeongin needs to get the fuck out of here. He’s on his feet before you’ve even made your way back into the living room. He slams his laptop shut, basically rips the charger out of the wall.

He hears you say his name, but he ignores it. He doesn’t look at you when he pushes past where you’re hovering in the middle of the room to shove both into his backpack that’s still sitting in the hallway.

With a curse, he realises his phone is still in the living room. He makes to push past you again, but this time you take a hold of his arm, your usually soft fingers digging into his skin almost painfully. When he catches your gaze, you look terrified.

“Jeongin, Innie, please,” you plead, “please, can we talk about this? I swear, we were going to tell you, we just–“

“I heard you this morning.”

It breaks out of him before he can stop it. Your eyes widen.

“I heard you this morning. I heard you kiss, right behind me. I heard you talk about me.”

“Innie, baby,” you whisper, and Jeongin scoffs. The sound makes hurt flash across your face.

“It’s fine, congratulations, I guess,” he spits, venom dripping from every word. He rips his arm out of your grip, stalks over to grab his phone off the sofa. Seungmin is still sitting there, his eyes glued to the carpet in front of him, his face an unhealthy shade of white. It almost hurts more, the fact that he’s not saying anything. Fuck, Jeongin’s heart hurts.

You take two steps towards him, but stop when Jeongin looks at you. Jeongin feels crazed.

“It’s not like that, I swear,” you try, pleading with with him, “can we please … we just didn’t want to bring this up before the game, but …” Jeongin shuts you up with a wave of his hand, a shake of his head.

“Yeah … I really can’t deal with this right now. So … ha … do me a favour? Just … leave me alone. Don’t contact me before the game. I really … I need to keep my scholarship. I can’t be distracted by this right now.”

“But …” you try one more time, and Jeongin snaps.

“Can you at least do that for me? Is that too much to fucking ask?” he yells, his whole body trembling. Seungmin flinches where he’s sitting, and even you take a few steps away from Jeongin, your eyes wide. You nod, jerkily. There are tears running down your cheeks. The sight of them makes Jeongin sick to his stomach.

Jeongin shoves his phone in his pocket, grabs his backpack from the floor, and he leaves. Slams the door shut behind him and takes the steps down two at a time, fuck the risk of tripping. He wishes he would, wishes he would break his ankle or something so he can’t play and lose his scholarship, so he can’t return, has to start over somewhere else, somewhere where he hasn’t lost the only two people who have ever meant anything to him …

He barges into his dorm room. Jisung jumps when he crashes through the door, but as soon as he sees the tears on Jeongin’s face, he’s on his feet, wrapping him into a hug.

Jisung drags him out of bed the next day. He forces him into his hockey uniform, presses a protein bar and a water bottle from their fridge into his hand and walks with him all the way to the hockey field, where he stops, places his hands on Jeongin’s shoulders.

“Okay, I know you don’t want to talk about what happened, but whatever it is, it’s going to be okay, okay? You’ll figure it out,” he says, with all the conviction he can muster in his tiny body, “and now you need to focus on the game. I don’t want to have to find a new roommate who will tolerate all my shit next year.”

Jisung’s attempt at a joke, the lopsided grin on his lips, it makes Jeongin huff out a weak laugh.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Minho walk onto the field and spot them. When he makes his way over, Jisung starts shaking like a leaf, but to his credit, he doesn’t budge from Jeongin’s side.

“Hi?” Minho asks, his eyebrows raised, scanning over Jeongin’s body like he’s checking for injuries, before he lets his eyes fall on Jisung. Jisung gulps. “You are?”

Jisung blinks rapidly, sticks out his hand halfway, then seems to think better of it and drops it by his side again.

“I-I’m Jisung, I’m Jeongin’s roommate,” he mumbles out, his cheeks a bright shade of pink. Minho watches him for a second, then sighs, sticks out his hand. He’s smiling, barely noticeably, but Jeongin can tell. Incredible. Somehow, Jisung has managed to charm Minho.

“Hi Jisung, I’m Minho.”

“I know,” Jisung whispers, almost too quiet for even Jeongin to hear. He cautiously shakes Minho’s hand, but when he tries to pull it back, Minho doesn’t let him. Jisung’s big eyes shoot up, but Minho just smiles at him, waits until Jisung relaxes and smiles back, before he lets go of his hand.

If Jeongin wasn’t so heartbroken, he would laugh. He can’t believe this is really happening. He wishes he could tell you and Seungmin about it. His heart aches dully.

Jisung next to him seems to remember why he’s here.

“Uh, J-Jeongin’s not feeling well today,” he stammers out. He does his best to look determined, as he pushes Jeongin in front of him by his shoulders like Jisung’s his dad and Jeongin is his sick kid. “So, please go a little easy on him today, okay?”

Jeongin half expects Minho to freak out, to ask if he’s sick, if he can play tomorrow, to ask what the fuck is wrong with him for getting himself sick so close to the game, scream about what he’s meant to do without his best defender – but Minho just grimaces, sighs.

“Don’t worry, I got it from here,” he says, not unkindly, giving Jisung a smile that makes Jisung’s face flush even more, “thanks for bringing him, Jisungie.”

And with that, Minho takes Jeongin by the shoulder, leads him away from a violently blushing Jisung who barely manages to mumble out a “b-bye” and leads him into the field.

“So,” he starts, once they’re out of earshot of Jisung, “do you want to tell me why my brother texted me earlier, asking me to tell him if you showed up to practice?”

Jeongin scoffs out a humourless laugh.

“I really don’t.”

Minho just looks at him. It’s the same look Seungmin gives him when Jeongin refuses to talk about what’s bothering him, one that always feels like they’re x-raying his insides, and he finds himself wishing for your soothing presence to whisk you away from them, stroke his hair until whatever it is bubbles out of him. But you’re not here, and Seungmin isn’t here, only Seungmin’s older brother, staring him down with eyes that remind Jeongin so much of his he has to look away.

“Listen, it’s fine, I’m fine, there’s nothing keeping me from playing tomorrow, so there’s no reason for you to worry, okay?” Jeongin announces. He shakes Minho’s arm off his shoulder, though he regrets it as soon as he does. He seems to keep doing the wrong thing these days. Minho is still looking at him.

“Okay,” he finally says, “but just for the record, I care about you, okay, Jeongin-ah? So even if I don’t worry about the game, I will still worry about you, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Then he cuffs Jeongin in the shoulder, so hard it hurts, and turns on his heels.

“Jisung’s bisexual, by the way,” Jeongin half yells after him, “and very, very single. His major is music, and he loves watching anime and eating sweet things. He gets a little nervous sometimes, but he’s the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. I’ll text you his number.”

Minho doesn’t react, only lifts his hand to flip Jeongin off over his shoulder, but Jeongin can see the tips of his ears turn red. His world may be falling apart, but maybe he can at least do Jisung a favour.

And he doesn’t know what gets him through practice and back to the field the next morning, early, for warm-up. If it’s the burn of his muscles, Minho’s iron will that he transfers onto all of them, or the threat of him losing his scholarship so close to the end of his degree. Or it’s his desperate need to be distracted because whenever he lets himself think too much, his heart starts aching so badly he wants to reach into his ribcage and rip it out.

But he can’t do that, so instead, he puts one foot in front of the other. He stretches, so his muscles don’t tear. He warms up his body so he’s lithe and agile. He slips into his shoes and regrips his stick. He hears when they turn on the music on the field, hears the bleachers slowly fill, hears chattering and shouting and laughing. He watches his teammates, all engaged in some form of pre-game ritual – Minho on his back on a bench, meditating, Chan doing jumping jacks, muttering to himself. Coach comes in and announces that it’s 30 minutes before the games starts.

20 minutes. Jeongin forces down a protein shake, almost throws it back up.

10 minutes. Minho looks at him, asks him if he’s okay and Jeongin brushes him off.

2 minutes. They’re walking onto the field under an overcast sky that threatens rain any minute, and Jeongin doesn’t even bother looking at his opponents’ faces.

1 minute. He scans the bleachers and there you are. You and Seungmin. Dressed in the team colours, cheering, staring right back at him. Jeongin thinks he can’t breathe. He doesn’t look your way again.

10 seconds. He tries to breathe.

The referee blows the whistle.

And God, he does his best. He’s focused, he runs. He tries to stay out of his teammate’s way. He throws himself into his defence with his whole body, ignores the throbbing pain when a ball slams into his thigh. He fights for it, he does.

By the first quarter, it’s 1-1. By the second quarter, they’re behind by 1. By the third quarter, the rain has started, and they’re behind by two. Minho manages to score one last goal in the last quarter, 3 minutes before the end, but it’s not enough. The final whistle blows, and they lost.

He distantly notices his team, most of them dejectedly talking to each other, milling around by the benches or talking to their friends in the audience, but Jeongin can’t move.

And it’s like the safe, dull bubble of adrenaline and focus Jeongin has been submerged in for the last two days pops and reality slams into him with such overwhelming clarity it punches the air out of his chest.

He can hear the opposite team yelling, celebrating, can smell the thick, clean smell of the dirt and grass trampled under his feet, can feel the cold rain as it gets heavier, starts dripping down his forehead, his hair, soaks him to the bone.

They lost. They lost. What is he going to do?! There’s still a chance they will recognise his efforts and give him his scholarship, he only has a year left after all, but the advisor was honest. “There aren’t many scholarships to go around. We have several sports teams, all of which have players worthy of this scholarship. If you don’t win, there are no promises I can make you. I’m sorry.”

He swallows the bile in his throat, but he lets the tears run. Nobody can tell anyway, with the way the rain is now pouring out of the rapidly darkening sky.

He has nowhere to go. How did he lose everything so fast?

There’s no one close enough to hear him when a single sob fights its way out his body. He swallows the rest of his tears, shoves it all down as far as he can, but his chest convulses, nonetheless, the adrenaline wearing off quickly, leaving him fighting to breathe. His ears are ringing so loudly he barely notices when two hands find his face, two others anchor him by the waist.

“Innie,” your voice, cuts through the fog. When he looks up, your face is right in front of his. You’re soaked through, make-up running down your cheeks, hair sticking to your forehead when you let it fall against his.

Jeongin tries to fight it, tries to put distance between you, but he finds himself trapped by Seungmin’s strong hands on his waist, solid, but soothing.

“Baby, it’s going to be okay,” you murmur, and it makes another sob escape him.

Seungmin’s hands tighten on his waist, one arm slipping around his middle to press Jeongin against him, and Jeongin realises that he’s not crying because they lost. No, he’s crying because he’s been in love with his best friends for years and the thought of losing you is worse than any gap year he might have to take, any job he might have to get to keep himself afloat next year. Because deep down, he knows that as long as he had you and Seungmin to come home to, he thinks he would’ve been fine. But he can’t do this on his own.

He doesn’t break down there and then, something in him making him stay strong as long as he’s out here, with half the school watching, but he heaves another dry sob. His head falls to your shoulder, and you shush him quietly, run a hand through his soaking wet hair, before you step back and take his hand.

“Let’s get you home, okay? You need to warm up.”

He hadn’t even realised he was shivering, his uniform clinging to his body like a freezing cold second skin.

Jeongin peels himself off Seungmin, who makes a sound of protest, but Jeongin just waves him off and starts walking in the direction of the exit. From across the way, he catches Minho’s eye. Minho looks concerned, his brows furrowed, but Jeongin waves him off, tries to give him a smile that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes. But Minho nods, points at his phone, mouthes something about calling him tomorrow, before he disappears into the changing rooms with the rest of Jeongin’s team.

You didn’t talk about it, but they’re already halfway to Seungmin’s apartment when Jeongin realises where they’re going. The walk is silent, you and Seungmin trailing behind Jeongin, not daring to take his hand when he just pushed Seung away so roughly. Jeongin tries not to acknowledge how badly he wants to hold your hand, how desperately he aches for your reassuring touches, the warmth of your hands, the solid grip of Seungmin’s. But you just … walk.

When the door of Seungmin’s apartment finally falls shut behind them, when he has shoved off his shoes, dropped his stick, Jeongin doesn’t know what to do. He stops in the hallway, watches as a drop of water drips down from a strand of hair and onto the linoleum like he’s not in his body, just a third party, forced to look through his eyes at the mess he’s made of his life.

“Innie,” you murmur behind him. The sound comes through him as if his ears are stuffed with cotton wool. “C-can I touch you?”

He raises his head, meets your eyes; your big, warm, loving eyes that hold his entire world. He’s shivering again, he realises, his whole body trembling, with cold, with pain, with god knows what. You look so worries. He nods shakily.

You take his hand, lead him through the living room, into Seungmin’s bedroom and into the ensuite. Seungmin is right behind you, a hand hovering over Jeongin’s back, fingertips brushing against his when Jeongin stumbles on a shoe he can’t see because his damn eyes are still blurry with tears.

Once you’re in the bathroom, Seungmin steps around him, and into the shower, turns on the water.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, okay? You’re freezing,” you hum, and Jeongin just nods. He dimly realises that, somewhere between the field and here, he has stopped resisting – has stopped pretending like this isn’t the only place he will ever find peace. He trusts you, he always has. He fears that that will never change, that he’ll let you do anything, even if it means falling in love with Seungmin and breaking his heart.

So he doesn’t resist when you tug first his jersey, then his undershirt over his head, leaving him bare. He doesn’t try to contain the shiver when you let a palm run over his chest. He feels a hand at his feet, realises it’s Seungmin, lifting his foot to peel his socks off before he gets up and pulls his own soaking wet shirt over his head. Jeongin’s breath catches in his throat, his eyes roaming over all the newly exposed skin, more than he has ever had the privilege of seeing. Miles and miles of silky white skin, dusty brown nipples, a smattering of thin hair over Seungmin’s pecs.

Seungmin steps closer. His deft fingers find the waistband of Jeongin’s gym shorts, hooking into them as he looks Jeongin right in the eyes, and Jeongin almost forgets to breathe.

“Don’t worry, you can keep your underwear on, but you need to get out of these clothes, or you’ll get sick,” Seungmin murmurs gently, and Jeongin just nods, blearily, lets Seungmin shove his shorts down, help him step out of them. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees you shove your jeans down your legs, and Jeongin thinks he might pass out. It’s too much, so much skin, so much of your bodies that he’s been trying not to think about for the last two years …

Seungmin shucks his own jeans and socks off and takes Jeongin’s hand, leads him into the shower, makes sure he doesn’t trip, steps under the hot stream and drags Jeongin against his chest. The sensation of the warm water on his ice cold shoulders makes Jeongin gasp and Seungmin hums, rubs his hand up and down his arm, turns him around until he can wrap his arms around Jeongin’s middle again.

But when he turns, Jeongin comes face to face with you. You, water running down your face, down the column of your throat and then down your body that’s naked except for your underwear and Jeongin can’t help but look. You say his name again, delicately, softly, and he looks up. Meets your eyes. He’s helpless. He’s in love.

Seungmin’s fingers scrape over Jeongin’s abdomen, presses himself closer against Jeongin’s back. You take a step forward, until your chest is pressed against Jeongin’s, and Jeongin’s body sings, but doesn’t dare breathe. He doesn’t dare hope that this is what he thinks it is, that there is a chance …

Your fingers find his face, cradle it into your hands like it’s the most delicate thing in the world, whisper his name, again, like a prayer, and then you’re kissing him. Love shivers through his body like someone electrified his veins.

Your lips are soft. Cold but rapidly warming from the water. Your fingertips trace the shape of his face and Jeongin gasps into the kiss like he forgot how to breathe, his hands helplessly pawing at you, every new inch of skin he has never felt before making his stomach swirl with need. But then Seungmin starts pressing kisses over the span of his shoulders, warm lips dragging over wet skin, fingers still lingering over his stomach, and your tongue presses into his mouth and Jeongin’s mind empties. His eyes roll back into his head.

“Jeongin … Innie …” Seungmin rasps into his skin, voice shot. He presses a featherlight kiss behind his ear before he leans closer, breathes his next words right into Jeongin’s ear. “Baby … you were always meant to be a part of this.”

Jeongin keens into your lips, throws his head back against Seungmin’s shoulder, who wastes no time peppering kisses over Jeongin’s cheeks and jaw, before he gently, controlledly, spins Jeongin around in his arms, your arms replacing Seungmin’s around his middle, your lips Seungmin’s on his shoulders. Seungmin’s hands are more insistent when he grips Jeongin’s face, presses his forehead against his, but Jeongin couldn’t pick a favourite way if he tried. Seungmin dips forward, brushes his lips over Jeongin’s and Jeongin can’t do anything but hold his breath, wait patiently, helplessly, for whatever Seungmin is going to do with him.

“Baby, we love you,” Seungmin murmurs, hoarsely, before kissing Jeongin for real and Jeongin sobs out a moan. One of his hands surges forward, grabs Seungmin by the waist, pulling him flush against him, until he can feel his hard cock rubbing against his, sending sparks of bliss searing through his veins. He has no idea when he got hard, but of course, he has. How could he not. He licks into Seungmin’s hot mouth, reaches his other hand behind, blindly reaches for you, drags you closer, too, until Jeongin can feel nothing but you, you, you. This, right here, is everything he has ever wanted. He knows it now.

If this is a dream, he hopes he never wakes up.

But it’s too real to be a dream, even he knows that, and it only drives him more insane. The hot water cascades down his chest, Seungmin’s fingers dig into his jaw, prying his jaw open to lick into him deeper, to devour him from the inside out, his hips rutting grinding into his subtly, your fuck your now bare tits are pressing against his back, your hand travelling down, scratching your nails down the barely there bumps of his abs, until … until …

Jeongin moans pathetically into Seungmin’s lips when your hand slides between him and Seungmin, wraps around his cock over his boxers, palming him until his breathing is so heavy he can barely kiss Seungmin any more.

When you tug at his hips, pull him, so his back is resting against the tiles, he lets you, Seungmin following, reattaching his lips to Jeongin’s, kissing him like he can’t get enough, something that’s simultaneously so unlike and so much like him, it makes Jeongin smile madly into the kiss.

He’s so distracted he only barely registers his boxers being pulled down, soft fingers digging into his skin, lips pressed to his thighs, travelling up, lingering on the thick, dark blue bruise left by the hockey ball, until something mind-numbingly hot and wet wraps around his cock, and he has to dig his nails into Seungmin’s waist where he’s holding him close to stop himself from coming right then, his whole body shuddering violently with the pleasure that races through him.

Seungmin pulls back with a wicked grin on his slick, swollen lips, smoothes his palm over Jeongin’s shoulder, down his chest, follows Jeongin’s eyes as they travel down and–

Jeongin has to screw his eyes shut, his head thudding back against the shower wall, and take a steadying breath. Seungmin giggles, kisses his jaw, noses down his neck. When Jeongin chances another look down at you, he moans pathetically and nearly cries. You’re smiling at him, somehow, still, even though you’re on your knees – for him, he thinks breathlessly – your pretty, sweet lips wrapped around Jeongin’s cock, fingers holding him by the base, your other hand splayed over his thigh. His hand is shaking when he reaches down, cups your cheek, wipes away a stray tear that escapes the corner of your eye from the stretch.

You blink, and then you swallow him down further, and he can feel it not only in his cock but also the hand holding your face, and it drags moans out of him he never thought he was capable of. Blearily, he brings his free hand to his mouth, trying to quiet himself down, so Seungmin’s neighbours can’t hear, but Seungmin won’t have it. He tugs his hand away, replaces it with his lips.

“Shh,” Seungmin mumbles, “none of that. Let us hear you.”

The words, the domineering rasp in Seungmin’s voice – it’s so fucking hot, Jeongin nearly loses it, his cock throbbing in your mouth.

“I w-won’t last,” he stutters, sucks in a breath and moans again with an extra delicious bob of your head that makes your tongue drag along the underside of his cock just right.

“You don’t have to,” Seungmin murmurs, presses a wet kiss against the corner of Jeongin’s mouth, “we just want to make you feel good.”

He swipes the pad of his thumb over Jeongin’s nipple and Jeongin melts, collapses against Seung’s shoulder, holds onto him for dear life and just takes every ounce of pleasure, lets it burn through him until there’s nothing left except you and Seungmin, right here, in this moment.

It doesn’t take long for him to feel the familiar tug of his orgasm in the pit of his stomach, and it’s like you can tell, because you pull your sinful lips off his cock, climb to your feet with the help of Seungmin’s helping hand, and pull Jeongin into a dizzying kiss. He can taste himself when he licks into your mouth, salt and musk and something else, and he briefly wonders what it would be like to taste Seungmin there.

Seungmin’s hand wraps around his cock, all long fingers and tight grip and jerks him off, hard and fast, just how Jeongin likes it, like he somehow studied Jeongin’s brain and figured it out, and it doesn’t take a minute before Jeongin is coming, spilling hot and thick all over his hand, over the shower wall, legs nearly buckling, desperately gasping out loud moans that you swallow, leaving him heaving out desperate breaths in the aftershocks, his whole body alight with tiny fireworks of pleasure.

When he finds his ability to speak, he tries to speak, to mumble something about you not getting off, but Seungmin kisses his words off his lips, saying something about this being about Jeongin, not them. Seungmin chuckles when Jeongin promises you he’ll let you sit on his face, let Seungmin ride him as hard as he wants the next morning, a sweet rasp to his voice when he murmurs “I’ll hold you to it.”

He doesn’t put up a fight when Seungmin turns him around to shampoo his hair while you carefully wash his body, both of your hands so gentle, so soft on him that it makes tears prick at his eyes, but his exhaustion is too overwhelming, his orgasm having only made the heaviness of his muscles more prominent. You deposit him against the shower wall and he watches, with a lazy grin, as you and Seungmin wash each other, as the simple act of it devolves into hot kisses, then wandering hands, Seungmin’s hand between your legs, his cock in your hand. His own cock kicks valiantly because God, you look better together than he could’ve ever imagined, and the noises Seungmin pulls out of you make all the porn he’s ever watched pale in comparison. You pull Jeongin in for a kiss before you come, allow him to swallow your moans just like you swallowed his as you shake through your high, before Jeongin kisses Seungmin instead, batting his hand away and stroking him until his calm, collected Seungmin comes all over his hand with a choked moan, hips twitching, fucking his – long, beautiful – cock into Jeongin’s hand.

When you’ve both come down, Seungmin presses a soft kiss to Jeongin’s temple, you press one to his lips, and then Seungmin shuts off the shower. You wrap Jeongin in a towel, rub him dry, and everything else is as it always is, this part the same domestic bliss it has always been, except while you brush your teeth you tuck yourself under his free arm, your head resting against Jeongin’s shoulder, and Seung’s foot is hooked around his leg where he’s perched next to the sink.

When he crawls into bed, he lets out a deep guttural groan, one that makes you giggle and Seungmin nudge him with his foot.

“Move over,” he mumbles, and Jeongin throws him a look. Usually Seungmin sleeps in the middle, wedged in between you and Jeongin, feeding on your cuddles in a way he would kill you if you ever told anyone else. When Jeongin doesn’t move, Seungmin digs his fingers into Jeongin’s side, until Jeongin screeches and scoots into the middle of the bed, right into your waiting arms.

You wrap yourself around his back and nuzzle your nose into the hair at the back of his head and hum happily. Jeongin wraps his arm over yours, pulls you closer, relishes in the giggle you breathe into his skin, and watches Seungmin get into bed, turn to him and pull the covers up to his nose. He looks adorable. Jeongin has never been so in love.

He lets the big smile that wants to take over his face, do just that, and the flush that creeps up Seungmin’s ears, the rapid blinking of his big brown eyes – they only make him smile more, until Seungmin is so flustered he huffs and turns around and turns the light off. That makes Jeongin bark out a laugh.

They settle into silence, but Jeongin can’t sleep. His whole body is thrumming with everything, a quiet, gnawing worry in his heart, about what will happen with his scholarship, though the simple knowledge that this, this home he has built with his best friends, isn’t going anywhere, is making him feel like maybe he will be okay. But it’s still all so new, so confusing, yet it feels so right …

You say his name quietly into the darkness, and he turns around.

Seungmin immediately cuddles himself into his back, which makes Jeongin smile.

He can just about make out the contours of your face, the sparkle of your eyes in the dim light.

“I just wanted to … It doesn’t feel right not to acknowledge it,” you mumble, pat around the sheets until you find Jeongin’s hand, lace your fingers with his.

“We never meant to exclude you, I need you to know that. That thing at the party … it just … happened. One second we were giggling and messing around in the jacuzzi and the next we were kissing and it was so sudden and so intense … but then it kept happening and it felt so right, but …” you take a deep breath and Jeongin squeezes your hand. Seungmin’s hand slips under Jeongin’s shirt, fingers caressing the skin of his stomach, “we didn’t know how to bring it up and you were so stressed about the game and,” you chuckle sadly, “and we were scared you wouldn’t feel the same, or think we were weird and then what … we’d have to figure out how to do this without you. Maybe we’d lose you altogether.”

Jeongin sighs, lets his hand trail you up your wrist, your arm, until he traces it over the soft swell of your cheek, relishes in the way you lean into his touch.

“I thought I was losing you,” he mumbles, and you sigh, press closer, until your breath is on his lips and his heart is in his throat.

“Never, Innie, never.”

You press a kiss to his lips, and before you can go back in for more, he realises he never said it back. The thing that he has known all these years, but never allowed himself to acknowledge.

“I love you, too,” he rasps out, and you freeze in front of him, where you were just going to kiss him again, “b-both of you. I think I’ve been in love with you since the day we met. I thought you could never feel the same.”

You laugh, light as air, right into his lips, and suddenly Seungmin is hovering over him, staring down at him incredulously.

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” he asks, and to his credit, he sounds almost angry, “you dumb boy, why didn’t you say anything?!”

Jeongin stares up at him, only manages to shrug helplessly.

“We … were flirting with each other. With you. I felt it then, Y/Nie did, too. But you …” Seungmin takes a steadying breath, “you didn’t respond. You were all standoff-ish, recoiled when we touched you. So we didn’t … so we … fuck, Jeongin …”

Giddiness fizzes through Jeongin’s veins so fast it makes him lightheaded.

He pulls Seungmin down, slams his lips against his, before he flips him over kisses him into the pillows until he’s panting, before dragging you closer to kiss you, too.

He’s in love with his best friends. They love him back.

He gets the email about his scholarship two weeks later, at the dinner turned frat party Chan’s frat hosts for the hockey team and their friends.

He wasn’t even going to read it then, but he knows he won’t be able to relax if he doesn’t. He nudges your leg with his toe and you turn immediately. He turns his phone, you read the title of the email and your eyes widen. You nudge Seungmin and mumble it to him and he stares at Jeongin with big eyes, motions for him to read it. So Jeongin does.

“Dear Mr Yang, after having seen your dedication to the field hockey team of blablabla … oh my god,” his breath stutters. Both you and Seungmin and also Felix, who is sitting a few feet away, next to Chan turn their head to him.

“What?! What is it?”

Jeongin looks up and grins.

“We are pleased to count you as one of our scholarship recipients for the next academic year!”

You squeal, scramble up, fling yourself into Jeongin’s arms, nearly knocking him off his chair in your enthusiasm. Felix squeals, too, claps his hands happily and Chan hollers the news into the room until Jeongin is surrounded by his team, though his hand is solidly caught in yours.

Seungmin somehow finds his other side, his hand slithering up Jeongin’s spine and making itself at home at the back of his head, before he tugs Jeongin in to kiss his temple. He doesn’t kiss him in public. Something about it being too personal, just for them. It makes Jeongin’s heart skip a beat.

“I knew they would see just how much you do for the team,”

Seungmin mumbles, and Jeongin beams.

He has his scholarship. He’ll be able to graduate. Summer is about to start and he will spend it on a roadtrip to the coast with his two best friends, who he is also allowed to snuggle and kiss and who love him more than he knows. His whole body is fizzing with happiness.

“Where’s Minho?” he asks into the room and Chan looks around, then shrugs.

“Kitchen, probably.”

Jeongin extricates himself from the group, makes his way to the kitchen.

“Minho! Guess what! You won’t have to find a new defender next– oops“

Whatever Jeongin expected to see when he pushes the door to the kitchen open, it’s not this.

Minho is … kissing Jisung. Scratch that, he’s making out with Jisung, who is perched on the kitchen counter in tight jeans, his legs possessively wrapped around Minho’s waist, Minho’s hands somewhere under Jisung’s cute little cropped sweater. Jeongin swears there is eyeliner smudged around Jisung’s eyelids. When Minho pulls away, he does so with a sigh. He wipes his mouth nonchalantly, but his ears are burning, and he blinks at Jeongin almost nervously.

Jeongin laughs. He can’t help it. He looks at Jisung and he looks so happy, sitting pretty with Minho between his legs.

“You don’t have to find a new defender. I got my scholarship extended for next year,” Jeongin announces with a grin. Minho’s mouth falls open, and then he takes two big steps towards him and pulls Jeongin into a bear hug. Jisung squeals, jumps off the counter and throws his arms around them both.

“Yay, congrats, Innie!” he yells.

Minho peels himself off Jeongin and Jeongin laughs, reaches out to ruffle Jisung’s hair.

“You’re just happy you don’t have to find a new roommate.” Jisung scoffs, cuffs Jeongin in the arm.

“Not like you’re ever home anyways.”

And Jeongin can’t argue with that.

Jisung mutters something about celebrating, skips out of the kitchen in the search of a keg or something bubbly to drink, leaving Minho and Jeongin alone.

“Congrats, Jeonginnie,” Minho says, pats Jeongin’s shoulder again.

“Thanks, Dad,” Jeongin grins, and Minho rolls his eyes. There’s a brief moment of silence.

“So, …” Jeongin starts, “you and Jisung, huh.”

Minho huffs out a laugh, turns around, busies himself throwing away a stack of paper plates from dinner. His ears turn red again, and he avoids Jeongin’s eyes. Lee Minho is flustered. Jeongin never thought he’d see the day. Jeongin gives him a stern look, crosses his arms over his chest.

“I hope your intentions for him are good,” he intones in a fake, fatherly baritone.

Minho groans, throws a balled up paper towel in his direction. It doesn’t even reach Jeongin.

“No, but seriously, are you serious about him? Because I don’t know what he told you, but I can guarantee you, Han Jisung is not one for casual.”

Minho turns back to Jeongin, crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well, I don’t know if you know this, but neither am I. So, yes, I’m serious about him. I like him a lot,” he sighs, but he’s smirking, “him and his big brown eyes and his decently sized dick and his loser rizz.” Jeongin breaks out into a full belly laugh.

“Oh my god, I can't believe told you about that.”

Minho grins.

“And just for the record, his dick is more than just decently sized,” he smirks, waggling his eyebrows at Jeongin and Jeongin fakes a gag. “Gross, didn’t need to know that,” he shudders.

He hears Jisung yell something from the cellar, then Chan answering and his heavy footfall down the steps. Jisung must have found something worth lugging into the living room.

“Hey, aren’t you meant to be the one giving me the shovel talk? Since I’m dating your brother and all?” Jeongin suddenly asks, and Minho scoffs, but there’s no bite to it.

“I hate to break it to you, but you, Y/N and Seung have been dating in every sense except for the name since the day I met you. Plus, you’ve always been disgustingly gone for each other.”

Jeongin can’t help the blush that creeps up his neck.

“Also, which of you is going to break up, hm? I’m pretty sure none of you could live without each other at this point.”

Hearing Minho talk about them like that makes giddy love bubble up in Jeongin’s chest. And he’s probably grinning like a maniac, if Minho’s amused laugh is anything to judge by.

“See? Case in point,” he announces. Somewhere in the living room there’s a thud, then loud cheering. Minho grabs a stack of solo cups from a cupboard and makes for the door.

“Now let’s get back out there before they start celebrating without you.”

skzms masterlist // ko-fi star dividers just for me by the lovely @lunarvue - thank you, my love!!

🔖 general taglist: follow and turn on notifications for my library account: @skzms-library 🔞 I monitor ages over there, just like I used to do with my taglist. I will block minors and ageless blogs, and you'll have to message me again to get unblocked. so just have your age in your bio before you follow!

[earlysunshines]

love at your door

minatozaki sana x fem!reader

synopsis: you wake up on the couch to find out that it’s actually not your couch and oh my god why is your hot neighbor sitting across from you watching tv???

warnings: sana is a FLIRT ; reader is a loser ; sana is a losersexual ; pacing is iffy but it’s bc i wanted it to be short ; alcohol ; anything else i didn’t mention ; not proofread so prob spelling errors idk i wrote most on my phone

a/n: based off the time i got drunk and fell asleep in the wrong room… anyways my love for sana will NEVER DIE guess who’s BACK.

you wake up with a groan, face smushed against a cushion that's definitely not yours, and the first thing that hits you—aside from the dull pounding in your head—is the faint sound of a tv playing in the background. 

slowly, you crack your eyes open, blinking against the morning light. you finally realize you’re not in your room, and the couch you're sprawled out on… also not yours.

you sit up too quickly and regret it immediately, head spinning, the room around you momentarily blurred. but then it sharpens, and your heart nearly stops when you spot her. sana, your neighbor—your gorgeous, gorgeous neighbor that you’ve been eyeing since you moved in—sitting across from you on her armchair, completely unbothered with her legs tucked underneath her, eyes fixed on the tv but clearly aware you’re awake now. 

she’s holding a ceramic mug in one hand, and for some reason, that little detail makes everything so much worse.

because—how did you end up here?

you glance down at yourself and, of course, you’re still in your luigi costume from last night. the tight green tank top clings to you under the denim overalls (one strap purposely loose and falling off your shoulder because you’re desperate for attention in these trying times) which you had decided to wear in some ill-fated attempt to look “hot” while still committing to the theme. you had succeeded, at least you think, judging from the compliments you vaguely remember through the drunken haze of the halloween party. but now, under sana’s gaze, you suddenly feel a lot less confident about it.

“jesus christ,” you mutter, rubbing your temples, trying to piece together what happened. “what—”

“morning sleepy,” sana says, finally looking over at you, lips curling into a small, amused smile. “you came stumbling in after the party. i figured it was safer to let you crash here than send you back to your place like that.”

this has to be a nightmare.

her voice is casual, like this isn’t completely mortifying for you. like this isn’t the exact scenario your sleep-deprived, engineering-major brain has dreamed up in countless fleeting moments when you’ve caught glimpses of her in the hallways (well, you figured you’d be in a less embarassing scene) but now it’s real, and your heart is thudding painfully loud in your chest, and you can’t decide if you want to disappear or if you never want to leave.

(the first option might be the smartest)

you clear your throat, pushing down the urge to bury your face in your hands. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t—i didn’t mean to crash here like that. i must’ve been drunk out of my mind i— fuck, nayeon, that bitch… im sorry my friends they’re—“

“don’t worry about it,” she waves off your apology, taking a sip from her mug, her gaze briefly dipping down to your outfit before flicking back to your face. “i never knew luigi could look this good.” she adds, a smirk playing on her face that renders you weak.

you feel heat rise to your face instantly, and you’re pretty sure it’s not just the aftermath of all the alcohol you consumed last night. her words hang in the air, teasing, but there’s something else in her tone that sends a jolt through you. something that makes you suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed you feel, the snug fit of the tank top and the way her eyes had lingered on your exposed skin just for a second.

“uh—” you start, but your voice comes out strained, so you clear your throat again, scrambling for a response. “thank you…?”

she grins at your awkwardness, a soft, almost mischievous smile that only adds to the rising tension in the room. “you’re welcome.”

you force a laugh, trying to ignore the way her gaze makes your skin tingle. “right, well… thanks for, uh, taking care of me. and not letting me do something even more embarrassing.”

“more embarrassing than this?” sana raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your discomfort. she gestures toward your outfit with a nod, and you can’t help but huff a laugh this time, the tension breaking just a little.

“point taken,” you mutter, swinging your legs off the couch to stand, only for a wave of dizziness to hit. sana’s on her feet in a second, steadying you with a hand on your arm, her touch gentle but firm.

“easy,” she murmurs, and you freeze, suddenly way too aware of how close she is. her hand lingers just a second too long, and when she finally lets go, you feel like you can breathe again—but it doesn’t stop your pulse from racing.

her eyes dart down to the base of your neck and the intensity of her gaze is amplified.

“quite a hickey, huh?”

“what?” you had to be drunk drunk. you can’t recall anything about kissing girls, you’re not the type to be like that when under the influence. “that’s— i can’t even remember.”

“had fun, didn’t you?” sana looks back into your eyes, making you shrink despite her smaller frame. you feel sorry, you want to apologize for something you can’t even remember—you have no clue why. she’s just your neighbor. she’s the neighbor down the hall that greeted you kindly when you had moved in to town. the same neighbor that you had to blink multiple times at before realizing she’s not a fairytale princess that’s creeped out of the books.

you glance at the door, needing an escape, even though a very large part of you doesn’t want to leave just yet. but standing in her living room in yesterday’s clothes with your head still buzzing is doing nothing for your nerves.

“i should, uh, probably go,” you say, pointing vaguely toward the door.

sana steps back, giving you space, but her expression shifts into something playful as she watches you. “right. but hey—if you ever need a place to crash again, my couch is always open.”

you blink, not sure if she’s joking or if there’s more to that offer. but before you can overthink it, you nod, mumbling a quick, “thanks, i’ll keep that in mind,” before heading for the door.

and just as you’re about to step out, sana calls after you, her voice teasing, warm. “hey, luigi.”

you pause, turning to look at her.

she leans casually against the doorframe, eyes glinting with that same playfulness, and she gives you a slow, once-over before her lips curve into a smirk. “seriously. never knew luigi could be this hot.”

your heart stutters in your chest, and all you can do is laugh, a nervous, breathless sound, before quickly slipping out the door, your mind buzzing as you head back to your place.

sana always caught your eye, but now… now you’re pretty sure you’re never going to stop thinking about her.

—

the whole day you’re quite literally losing your mind. as soon as you crash onto your bed when you get back home, you cringe at how much of an idiot you are, and at the fact that you accepted every single drink handed to you by nayeon.

and then the next day, you’re still replaying the entire morning in your head—how sana’s words lingered, the way her eyes had flickered over you with that teasing smile. it’s been driving you to distraction all day. you couldn’t focus during class, barely heard a word your professor said, and by the time your last lecture ends, you’ve come to a decision.

you’re going to do something about it.

(you’re undeniably an idiot, but everyone in your circle knows that anyway.)

so after class, you stop by the small flower shop near campus. it’s not something you’d typically do—flowers and chocolate, that’s so cliché, right? but somehow it feels like the right move. sana had caught you completely off guard yesterday, and maybe it’s time you do the same.

you have a small conversation with the florist, who recommends her favorite assortment of tulips. you don’t want to do too much, so you settle with yellow tulips, their petals delicate and bright. simple, but thoughtful (you hope).

next, you pick out a small box of chocolates, nothing fancy but enough to show you’ve put some real thought into this. because somehow, leaving things the way they were feels unfinished.

you can’t possibly just leave it like that, you can’t have the only real memory and meaningful interaction between you and sana consist of you flat out drunk and at a loss for words.

you’re already a loser as it is, and especially when sana is around—whether that’s when you two both end up at the mailbox together, with you losing the ability to speak when she simply smiles and compliments you; and also the simple greetings when you two arrive at around the same time on wednesday’s and thursdays (not that you take note of it—you definitely do). 

when you get home, you scribble out a short note on a small card:

hi sana,  

thanks for letting me crash on your couch yesterday. i’m really, really sorry. 

here’s a little something as a thank you. hope you like tulips.

and chocolate.

– luigi 

you read it over twice, fighting the nervous energy bubbling up inside you. it’s playful, casual, but maybe—hopefully—it’ll make her smile. you take the flowers, chocolates, and the note, placing everything neatly in a small brown paper bag before heading down the hall.

when you reach her doorstep, your heart is pounding. you place the bag gently on the ground, adjusting the flowers one last time so they look perfect. then, you take a deep breath and knock, firm but quick, before spinning on your heel and rushing back to your own place.

you barely make it through the door before the nerves fully hit. your heart races, and you lean back against the door, letting out a heavy breath. what if she doesn’t like it? what if it’s too much?

but before your thoughts spiral too far, you hear the faint sound of her door opening down the hall, followed by the quiet shuffle of her picking up the bag.

there’s silence for a bit before you hear the door close again, earning a sigh of relief.

if your friends were to find out literally everything that had happened in the span of less than forty-eight hours, they’d tease you until you had to move out again.

—

the next night, you’re at your desk, buried in the engineering assignment youve been given that same day. something about fluid dynamics, a dense problem set that has you scribbling equations and checking graphs on your laptop. it’s not exactly easy to focus—your mind keeps wandering back to sana, the flowers, the chocolates, and really just everything about her. every time you think about her, a small smile tugs at your lips, despite the headache that’s building from the workload.

then, out of nowhere, you hear a knock at the door.

you blink, glancing at the clock. you’re not expecting anyone, and for a second, you wonder if you imagined it. but when the knock repeats, you push your chair back, setting aside your notes. still a little distracted by the assignment, you take your time getting up, stretching briefly before finally heading to the door.

when you open it, there’s no one there. just silence, the hallway empty. but as you glance down, you spot something on the floor—a folded piece of paper. your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help but grin as you bend down to pick it up, already knowing who it’s from.

you unfold the note, and sana’s handwriting greets you:

so, you’re kinda cute even in that luigi costume—i couldn’t stop thinking about you

(i think you’re cute in uniform and not) 

though i have to ask—what’s with the hickey? did luigi have a little too much fun?  ;)

anyway, i liked the flowers. i liked the chocolates too. 

but i think i like the person giving them more.

you should come over in five minutes if you’re not too shy. i mean, you weren’t that shy the other night ;)  

– sana <3

your face heats up instantly as you read the hickey line, hand instinctively reaching to touch your neck. there’s no way, right? you don’t remember—

then it hits you. fuck. it wasn’t a hickey. nayeon had bullied you about how you ran into something that night at her party, some broom? wall? maybe momo elbowed you? or something. you’re not the type to just fuck random girls, not when you’re loyal to your neighbor that you utter maybe three sentences a week to if you’re lucky. but the thought of what had happened that night isn’t even important because now your mind’s racing, thinking about how sana’s teasing you. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you all giddy and nervous.

you reread the note, feeling that familiar nervous excitement grow. come over in five minutes if you’re not too shy. your pulse picks up. there’s no way you’re saying no to that.

without bothering to change out of your hoodie and sweats, you grab your keys, locking the door behind you as you head down the hall. your heart’s still racing, and your mind’s swirling with a mix of nerves and anticipation as you stop in front of sana’s door.

when she opens it, she’s standing there with that same playful smirk—sultry, seductive, and somehow so cute at the same time. her eyes gleam like she already knows exactly what’s going through your mind. 

"took you long enough," she says, stepping aside to let you in, her voice warm, teasing. "for a second, i thought you’d be too shy to show up."

you huff a laugh, shaking your head as you walk inside, glancing around her apartment again. “i’m– i’m not.” it sounds unconvincing, but the woman in front of you thinks it’s adorable.

she quirks a brow, then smiles at that, closing the door behind you. "good to know." she says, handing you a small glass of wine and suddenly everything is a little bit too intimate. 

the two of you end up sitting on her couch, the tv still softly playing in the background like it had been the other morning. the conversation flows easily—there’s that natural comfort between you now, even with the teasing tension that lingers under the surface.

she talks about herself and you talk about yourself too, piquing both your interests. small talk grows into something bigger and you two enjoy the newfound information you’re both learning about each other. you’re breaking the ice, maybe easing into the cold waters in comparison to splashing into it.

“so, about that hickey,” she says, leaning back into the couch, her grin widening as she glances pointedly at your neck. her leg crosses over the other and she holds the glass in her hand near her lips, a small smirk tugging at one corner. “i’m just saying, it looks a little suspicious.”

you roll your eyes, your face heating up again. “it’s not a hickey. i swear.”

“uh-huh,” she teases, clearly not letting it go. “sure it’s not.”

“apparently i hit a broom or wall—something like that.” you shake your head, laughing lightly, but there’s an undeniable pull between you two. 

the way she looks at you, the way her smile lingers a little too long, and the way her knee brushes against yours every now and then—you have to hold yourself back from saying and doing a lot of things. it’s in the way her voice lowers when she speaks, soft and reeling.

you spend the next hour just talking, laughing, sharing random stories about classes, her teasing you about your engineering homework, and you teasing her back about her terrible taste in tv shows. every time she smiles or laughs, it feels like a small victory, something you want to keep chasing. and every time you speak her eyes are in deep contact with yours, spiking your heartrate without fail.

eventually, the conversation lulls, and there’s a moment of quiet where she looks at you, her eyes softening just slightly. “you know,” she murmurs, “i’m really glad you came over. this… was nice.”

“yeah,” you say, smiling back, your heart racing in your chest. “it was.”

“i always thought you were really cute,” she says before sipping on her white wine, “but i’m not a chaser.”

“is that right?”

“unless you count me responding to your apology, then yes.”

you laugh, setting the empty glass down. 

“well,” you begin, biting your lip. “i like to pursue.”

“quite forward isn’t it?”

“you invited me over for wine, it doesn’t get more forward than what you’ve brought to the table.”

“is that so?” sana hums, tilting her head. she bites the inside of her lip, looking at you with narrowed eyes. “i think it can get more forward.”

your breath hitches in the slightest and you can tell sana’s noticed when she lets out that signature chuckle. 

“well, i think it’s time to end the night. you were working on assignments prior, no?” you frown at the suggestion.

“i— yeah, you’re right.” 

there’s a knowing smile on her lips, but you ignore it and stand up with her as she walks you to her door. 

“i had a great time pretty girl,” she puts her hand on your forearm while saying it, her touch burning your skin. “hopefully we can be much more forward next time.”

you laugh. “i like the sound of that.”

“mhm, goodnight.” she says, grinning at you before meekly closing her door.

you purse your lips before walking down the hall and reaching your door. your hand lingers on the doorknob before you turn it and head in, feeling a sense of regret.

…

sana hears a knock at her door ten minutes later, turning off the sink and drying her hands before walking over to see what’s up. 

the moment the door opens and sana sees you standing there, the look on her face is priceless.

“what—” she starts, raising an eyebrow, clearly confused, but before she can finish, you step forward, your hand reaching out to grab her forearm gently. you pull her just a little closer, your heart pounding as you look at her.

“i want to be more forward,” you admit, voice low, the question hanging in the space between you.

for a second, she just stares at you, wide-eyed, before a soft laugh escapes her. she gets it now. “oh, we’re moving pretty fast, aren’t we?” she teases, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “take me out to dinner.”

you grin, and she hesitates for a beat, but then she nods, and it’s enough—enough to send your pulse racing, enough for you to lean in. before you can close the distance, though, her hand comes up, fingers lightly brushing the base of your neck, and you feel her shiver as she touches you.

“you say that like,” you pause, observing the surprise and allure in her features. “like you didn’t eye-fuck me the other night.”

her cheeks flush as her fingers linger on your skin, and you catch the way she bites her lip, trying to hide her own smile. you don’t wait any longer.

you lean in and meet her lips with yours, melting into it just as she does. 

it starts soft, just a gentle press of your lips against hers, but it quickly deepens as sana lets out a quiet, surprised sound that turns into something more—something she’s clearly enjoying a little too much. her hand moves to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, and the way she kisses you back sends a thrill through you.

before you know it, she’s dragging you inside, one hand still tangled in your hair, the other guiding you back toward the couch. the door closes behind you, but you barely notice, too focused on the way her lips move against yours.

when you finally pull back for air, she’s breathless, grinning like she’s just won something. “you should’ve been this forward earlier,” she teases, her thumb brushing against the side of your neck.

“yeah?” you ask, a little breathless yourself, but you can’t stop smiling.

“yeah,” she murmurs, eyes flickering down to your lips before she leans in again, kissing you slower this time, savoring it. sana is a great kisser, the type of kisser that leaves you wanting more and more. after a moment, she pulls back, just enough to whisper, “maybe you should stay a little longer.”

you can’t help but laugh softly. “you sure you can handle that?”

“please,” she says, eyes twinkling with that familiar mischievous look. “you weren’t that shy the other night.”

“well i was drunk and—“

before you can even finish your response, she’s kissing you again, and this time, you’re more than happy to let her pull you even closer.

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

˖✧ Through my eyes

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: Karen explains Mary and Arthur's story to you. Saddened, you're convinced you could never compete with her until the man in question proves you wrong. ✦ Warnings/Tags: Self-depreciation from both sides, kissing, comfort, fluff. Reader has been with the gang for a year. Use of Y/N. ✦ Words: 3k ✦ a/n: This is the answer to this ask by the lovely @crystalofmoon19. I really hope you'll like it, dear! And thank you for your support, you've been really sweet to me and my work! As always, I got carried away and wrote way too much. And as always, please reach out to me if you spot any misspellings. Also idk why I made this in Colter, guess I just feel way too hot rn and want some fresh snow + Arthur's coat is perfect for comfort. Credits. Arthur's pic is from my playthrough. Other pics are not mine found them on Pinterest. AO3

“And in the end, she rejected his proposal, then a few months later, sent him a letter telling she was marrying some wealthier gentleman!”

Your mouth hangs open in the air. Karen’s words enter through your ears and create a nice little nest for themselves in your brain. You had no idea. No idea Arthur had been this close to being married. That their relationship had been so strong, that, according to hearsays, he had reached his lowest after their break up, drunk most part of the day, fighting the rest of the time, obnoxious to everyone, even Dutch and Hosea.

“Y/N? You’re okay, there?” Karen asked you, disappointed her big reveal had left you reactionless.

You focused your gaze back on her. Her blonde hair is softly litten up by the setting sun, her breath exhaling a puff of steam as she breathes. Colter is a cold place, and it probably felt even colder because of the morose mood of the gang. You suddenly remember you’re supposed to be shocked. You are, of course, but in a very bad way. Not in an “Oh my God, I can’t believe this Karen, so much gossip!” kind of way.

How could you ever compete with that?

“Yeah, I’m alright. God, I had no idea so much happened between them.”

“Oh, trust me, it was definitely his biggest love story. Never saw him get into someone else after her. Not even Mary-Beth! Could you believe that?”

No, you couldn’t. You weren’t sure why but every word from Karen felt like an enormous stone falling into your belly and dragging you deeper and deeper into the sea. Your silly little crush on Arthur, when you first joined the gang a year ago, had turned into a way stronger attraction. Denying it at first, you had little by little let your emotions win, cherishing every moment with him, thanking Dutch for assigning both of you to the same missions, loving the quiet evenings where he would just sit next to you around the campfire to scribble in his journal while you would do your little hobby on your own. Silent most, but enjoying each other’s company, and so, so peaceful.

More than your emotions, you even had let your imagination take the lead, dreaming about a selfish future with him, seeing it every time he would give you a smile, or laugh at one of your jokes. A happy Arthur, relieved from his obligations, enjoys life's simplest joys. A house, a garden. Maybe a dog, considering he had loved having Copper. A marriage even. And why not a child? If he would feel ready. Something in you was telling you he would be a good father.

But now, you felt like this dream was rotten, condemned.  Like a broken match. The fire, the very thing it’s designed for,  not being able to be lit. Would never be lit. A wasted potential.

You tried to continue your gossiping chat with Karen, voice light but gaze elusive as you peeled the potatoes you were supposed to prepare while discussing, tedious tasks often ended up less difficult this way when you were working with the other girls. But behind your seemingly normal smile and hollow words, a haunting thought was hanging on to you as strongly as a rock trapped in a thousand-year-old iceberg. 

Arthur never fell in love again after Mary Linton.

Night had definitely fallen on the frozen mountains. After your endless vegetables centered-chores, you had helped Mr. Pearson turning them into a decent meal, his incessant blattering about the Navy giving you some sort of distraction. During dinner and after though, once you didn’t have any goal or job left to do for the day, your conversation with Karen came back into your wandering mind, her speech playing again and again like a used gramophone record.

Never fell in love again...

Sitting at one of the corners of the big cabin you had been sleeping in for the past few days along with the girls and some other gang members which mainly served as a common space, you were looking outside by a dilapidated window. A frozen World spread out before your eyes, every inch of surface covered in snow and ice, the landscape ending up looking like it was coated with a thick strange substance —dark blue colors Queen of this gloomy, misty horizon.

Arthur had returned from a very busy hunting day with Charles. Thanks to them, meat had been added to the vegetable paradise of a meal, resulting in a better-than-usual supper. He should have felt cheerful, but his mood wouldn't lighten. 

He had spotted you from across the room, noticing the hurtful absence of your smile on these sweet lips of yours. Smile he secretly loved. Lips he secretly fancied. 

Hesitating for a long moment, debating with himself, a self-depreciative rambling turning in his head like a well-oiled motor, he had ultimately decided to join you and investigate. Something pretty important must been bothering you, because loosing your usual little grin and eating your plate all by yourself really wasn't in your habits.

Approaching you, his boots and spurs clicking and stomping before you could see him, he plants them in front of you, standing there while his eyes lock on your face.

“Miss Y/L/N? Is everythin’ okay?”

“Oh, Mr Morgan. Yeah, don’t worry. Everything is great.”

He doesn’t believe you and honestly, you wouldn’t have convinced yourself either. And Arthur is a stubborn man. A stubborn, and caring one. He leans against the cabin's old creaky walls, on the other side of the window.

“Come on, don’t lie t’me girl. Everyone noticed you’re not in your right mind.” He honestly doesn’t know about everyone, but he surely did. His words are accompanied by a small, polite smile.

“I don’t think… I don’t think you’re the right person to talk about it.”

Arthur’s entire body froze. The hands he had on his belt as always when he was comfortable, flew to his chest as he crossed his arms, his thick winter coat folding with difficulty. His encouraging smile flattened, his brows pleating in a harsh frown.

“Erm… Alright, I get it. I won’t bother you, I guess.” 

Without loosening his arms, he pushed himself from the wall, taking a step to leave you some space. You couldn’t have missed it. This change of behavior, the hurtful expression he had displayed, as if he was truly pained by your words. Disappointed, maybe even shameful to have thought he could help you at all. He was just a sad, ugly bastard, after all.

You felt like you could hear all of it from where you were, and see it in the shadow that had taken his face and the gigantic mass that seemed to have fallen on his shoulders.

No, you didn’t want this. Didn’t want him to feel like that because of you and your stupid feelings, or your own dark thoughts.

“Wait, Arthur!”

He turned around the second you talked again.

“I’m sorry it’s just…” You sigh and look at him with an uncertain expression, knowing your next words were going to be risky. “It’s about you and Mary Linton…”

His eyes turn into two literal plates, his mouth slightly opening in outer astonishment. This was really not what he had in mind. You could have been sad because of a hundred logical reasons, the death of Davey and the loss of Sean and Mac, the complete fiasco of Blackwater, the hundred of dollars lost, the terrible and tough conditions of the Grizzlies plunging everyone into an unbearable cold and a threatening famine.  Not mentioning Hosea’s alarming coughing, Dutch’s mysterious decisions, and Micah as a whole.

But you, out of all these things, were worried about Mary.

Once his eyes had grown as round as they could, they got back into an interrogative expression, the wave of surprise over.

“Wha’…?! How d’ya even know ‘bout her?”

“Karen speaks a lot when she’s bored…” You briefly explained, trying to sound detached.

Arthur rolls his eyes to the Heavens. Of course, folks talked, and you had to know about it all at some point. But this wasn’t ideal at all. He would have preferred to tell it to you himself, at a time he would have felt comfortable doing so, with his own words. He didn’t want this to change anything between the two of you.

“And erm… What exactly bothers ya?”

You open your mouth to speak, but your words are jammed. Explaining that you feel jealous of what the both of them had shared would just come down to confessing your feelings for him plain and simple. 

You felt completely stuck. 

He’s right there before your eyes, the very source of all your worries and your every joy. Looking at you with those confused blue eyes, wondering what is happening in this pretty head of yours. But the words still won’t come out.  You feel more and more powerless, and instead of a sound, your eyes take over to get something out of your body, slow and sad tears filling them like a lonely glacier fills a mountain lake on its own.

Arthur’s usual frown furrows, his wrinkles more visible, contrasted by the shadows from the warm lights of the fire. Suddenly, his internal melancholic speech shuts down, as if the view of a single tear streaming down your cheek were absolutely intolerable to him. No worries nor anxious self-restraints crosses his mind —it’s now only instinct. He sees you crying. He has to help you. This is as easy as that.

His right hand reaches to you by itself.

It feels warm but coarse. This big, big hand on the side of your face.

“Oh, Y/N. Don’t waste those pretty tears for a sour-faced idiot like me.” His thumb gently wipes the drops of sadness that had overflowed from your two delicate lakes. “Come on, les’ jus’ talk about this somewhere quiet.”

Arthur gently uses the hand he had on your cheek to wrap it around your shoulders, solid arm gently pushing you up. He then leads you through the door, other members throwing curious gazes at the both of you.

But he doesn’t care. His priority, right now, is your well-being, and some privacy to allow him to finally whisper things in your ears he should have a long time ago. Not in front of everyone. Not with the other men looking at your sparkling eyes, and listening to the change in his voice he knew would crack, his usual intimidating persona crushed into a million pieces with only the sound of your own. Or with the other girls hearing the oh-so-important words he had to say. No. You would be the only one to witness this. 

He had brought you to the barn where the horses were kept. The snow was falling lazily, a few flakes passing through the holes in the dilapidated roof. The place is enveloped in a heavy silence, as if it was muffling every sound coming from the outside.

Once Arthur had closed the big wooden doors behind you and before he could do anything else, you finally burst.

“I shouldn't cry, I’m so sorry Arthur, I just… She looked like an incredible woman, so beautiful a-and distinguished, and me well… I'm just… me.” Your eyes fell to your feet. You like everything was coming out of you all at once and you couldn't contain it anymore.

“Stop it.” 

“How could I ever mean something to you? You've been with her for so long and even proposed to her and… and never fell in love again after her and…”

“Stop it, Y/N!”

Arthur cut your blabbering panic by pulling you against him. He held you so tightly you were almost crushed by his powerful arms, but it felt so good. Like he was holding together all the little pieces of you that had cracked, melting them with his warmth and molding yourself again with it.

“Now you l’sten to me, sweetheart. I don’t want ya to say things like this ever again.”

The sudden use of the pet name soothed your heart immediately. You buried your face into the furred collar of his big winter coat, the hairs tickling your nose. There, you can feel a little bit of his bare skin, your cheek finding shelter against it.

You stopped talking.

You just wanted him to continue to. His deep voice seemed to come directly from the inside of his chest, and you could feel it vibrating before actually hearing it.

“Ya know I’m no… Am no poet or, or good with words like Dutch…” He started, visibly unsure of what he was going to say. He’s relieved he had initiated the hug, this way, with your face in there, you couldn’t see his. The worried expression it was carrying, like a burden. “But lemme tell ya just how much I care about ya. Oh, my sweet girl.” 

This is it. He tries not to but his low tone begins to tremble. It’s so strange. It feels like forever since that happened for the last time.

“Yeah, Mary has been a real’ important part of my life, I won’t lie to ya. But it was so long ago, gorgeous. So long ago.” 

He knows he won’t shed a tear. He never cries. But his hands shake. His vocal cords vibrate in a vulnerable, softer, and higher-pitched quaver. His body tenses, heart as fast as if racing with a million wild horses galloping in the Great Plains. Even if his words couldn’t explain just how much you meant to him, you could have guessed by how you were affecting his entire flesh.

“Ya know what? It’s true. Our story ended badly. I never fell in love again after her.”

You sigh, more tears wetting your face and his blue coat, this truth so hard to swallow.

“Until that morning, when I saw you brushing Boadicea’s mane; your hair all covered in hay, the brightest smile I ever had the chance to witness on that sweet face o’ yours. That day, I knew my stupid foolish heart had done it all over again.”

You let out a single chuckle mixed with tears and emotions, so relieved. Even when you felt like you were at your lowest, he succeeded at making you smile.

“Grimshaw had forced me to groom all the gang’s horses to “get used to camp’s work”. Must have looked terrible.” You remembered with a smile, details of your first encounter with Arthur flooding your mind.

“You looked like a goddamn Angel, honey. T’was like the sun was shining jus’ for ya. Jesus, I knew it was too late for me.”

You pulled back from him just a little, enough for you to look at him in the eyes, but not for him to let go of you. Now that they had found you, his hands, still slightly quivering, refused to let go, their place on your back and behind your head feeling so natural and right. Your eyes behave the same way as them but with his face. He looks so moved that you have to pinch yourself internally to make sure you’re not dreaming this whole thing; never in your life you had seen him like this.

“I love you too, Arthur.” You confessed back to him, fingers cupping his cheeks in a delicate touch.

You had to stand on your tiptoes to reach his face, but his arm helped you, your lips gently discovering themselves, brushing against each other in a soft and shy caress. Even if both your mouths were chapped by the biting cold, it was the most gentle kiss you had shared in your life, a satiny embrace that left you completely dreamy and light-headed.

The snowflakes silently swirl around the both of you, Nature the only witness of your souls melting into each other.

Opening your eyes again after this moment out of time, you're met with the happiest smile Arthur ever had on his face. He looked like and idiot in love, and you were sure you looked exactly the same.

“Please darlin’, don’t ever compare yourself to her ever again. What’s in the past stays there. And I wanna have a future with you.”

Your dreams sprang back straight from your heart to your mind. The visions you had about the both of you were more alive than ever, reinforced by his own needs shared with yours.

“You’re sweet, you’re funny, you’re so smart and stunningly gorgeous. And, you wan’ a proof?” He playfully asks you, taking his hat off his head, a thin layer of snow falling from it.

Turning it over, he carefully pull a piece of paper out, hidden between two leathered segments in the inner part of his hat. His cut and reddened fingers unfold it and he gives it to you, his big smile turning into an embarrassed and sheepish one.

It’s a sketch of you.

You’re mesmerized by the details of it, the blades of hay messily tangled in your hair, the sparkling in your eyes, the exact clothes you were wearing that day. This smile, you’re more than certain he drew it way more beautiful than it really is. Arthur even had added some lines traced from your head to the end of the paper, as if you were the Sun itself and were emitting your own light.

This was impossible this was the same person as you, her beauty was too radiant and fascinating.

But no matter what you thought about yourself, seeing his work curled your lips in the exact same way as yourself on the drawing. With snowflakes replacing the twigs, you had turned into the living recreation of it. Arthur laughed when he noticed, and realized just how much he had loved you and continued to since that morning from a year ago. He bent towards you to put a small kiss on your forehead.

“Arthur it’s… It’s beautiful.” You find it difficult to find another word, speechless once again. 

You also had no idea of how talented at drawing nor attracted to you he was. This day definitely was full of surprises. You chuckled fondly before taking a last look at your portrait and giving it back to your lover. But Arthur’s large palm wrapped around your hand.

“No, please, keep it. This way, you’ll always remember how you look through my eyes.”

More tears threaten to escape your own, even though those were a direct extract from the immeasurable happiness you were experiencing.

“And... Now that I don’t have to hide myself while sketching ya, I’m going to draw lots of new ones.”

tagging: @a-court-of-valkyries Thank you for reading all of this! Also, I didn't know this was a thing but if ever you want to be tagged in my works too, let me know! It would be my pleasure.

[fandom-go-round]

bg3 companions + their reactions to finding out they knocked up fem tav? 👀 (for the ladies we can say they're trans or it's magic)

I wrote my boy first because he’s the best, can you guess who it is? Hint: He’s my first romance. No guess for you lovely requestor because you know too much LOL

Also I’m ignoring cannon endings here because we want to end up happy with babies. No angst here, begone!

Warnings: Implied Sex, Implied Sexual Situations, Pregnant Tav, Babies, Pregnancy Thing (Morning Sickness)

Astarion:

At first, he thinks that you’re joking. Vampires can’t have children after all, that’s a pretty basic fact. When you’re insistent, part of him wants to accuse you of cheating, as much as it pains him. That’s a part of him still tainted by Cazador and he muffles it as best he can. Astarion is going to insist you go to a healer together; if you’re not pregnant, something must be going on you need help with. When Shadowheart confirms you’re with child, he’s at a loss. Astarion doesn’t know what to say, truly.

After the initial shock, he goes on the hunt for anything and everything about human-vampire babies. The records are hard to find and some are locked far, far away but he finds them all. He can be very persuasive after all. It’s in one of these books that he figures out how you two made a baby; he’s going to be very careful taking your blood from now on. Speaking of, Astarion will refuse to drink from you while you pregnant, no ifs ands or buts. This is a firm boundary for him, even if you smell more and more delicious the farther along you get.

The pregnancy is hard and Astarion is afraid he’s going to lose you. The birth is especially gruesome and it’s only because of Shadowheart and Halsin that you’re alive. He wants to resent the baby for how you suffered but he can’t, they’re just too perfect. He’s afraid of getting too close, of tainting this little thing but you refuse to let him be apart. The first time he holds your child he weeps and it’s over. Astarion is always going to struggle with his emotions and feelings about being a father but never about how much he loves them. Also, he’s completely in charge of their wardrobe; you’re going to have the best-looking baby in the entire city hands down.

Gale:

Gale was always on the fence about kids. Sure they’re cute but they’re also loud and he struggles to take care of himself, let alone a little squishy creature. That doesn’t mean he’s upset when you tell him you’re pregnant, not at all. He’s just doing furious calculations in his mind and it looks like he’s crashed. Give his brain a moment to reset and he’ll give you a large grin and lean down to kiss you. Tara is the first person the two of you tell and she’s excited, vowing to be the baby’s protector. Gale loves her even more which is quite the feat. His mother is next and she immediately starts offering help. He just can’t get over how perfect his family is, it feels like a dream sometimes. 

He takes a very technical approach to your pregnancy, like everything. Gale is reading all of the baby books and using all of the tracking charts he can get his hands on. He even goes to talk to midwives, wanting an expert opinion. It’s very sweet of him but you have to remind him that all babies grow at their own pace. He just wants to be the best dad he can and for him, that means more information. It is funny to watch him change a diaper for the first time but he never backs down from a challenge! Maybe he can use magic…?

He’s a mess when you actually go into labor. Gale swore he would be with you the entire time and then passed out in the final moments. He wakes up to a healthy baby and immediately starts crying. He enjoys being a dad, especially teaching your child new things. Your kid is going to have a huge curious streak that Gale will feed with vigor. He doesn’t consciously want your kid to be a wizard but would be overjoyed to have more in common with them.

Wyll:

Wyll is over the moon, as surprised as he is. Kids are something that he’s always wanted to have eventually and with you, his favorite person? What could go wrong? Of course, he’ll hear out your concerns if you have any and can have difficult conversations around pregnancy and child birth. One benefit of being a noble is that he has resources to help; whatever you want will be yours. He’s nervous to tell his dad but once the older man starts to tear up, he knows that he’s made a good choice. Wyll wants his family to be whole and happy.

He’s a chronic hoverer, as cute and frustrating as that is. Even in the early stages of pregnancy Wyll will try to do everything for you; moving a trunk? He’s got that, don’t strain yourself. Trying to cook dinner? Let him help you love. Be firm that you can do things yourself and he’ll back off. Just know that when you turn to ask him for help he’ll be waiting in the wings to be your hero. He’s also a pro at helping you figure out cravings. Wyll won’t complain if you wake him up in the middle of the night to go get something from the kitchen. He loves wrapping his arms around you from behind and rocking together; you being in his arms is his favorite thing.

He’s a trooper during the birth, being there the entire time. It takes a long time and he does worry but he encourages you and is your personal cheerleader. He can’t stop smiling after the baby is born, tracing their cheeks and forehead. As much as it would be funny to say Wyll struggles with being a dad, he really doesn’t. He loves your child so much, you’re surprised he never brought up kids in the first place. He is very much the definition of doting father but don’t let that fool you, he takes no disrespect, especially towards you. You’re the ruler of the house and Wyll is your backup. He’s the perfect mix of fun and strict dad. Now if he can convince you to have others…

Karlach:

Karlach is over the moon when you find our you’re pregnant. She had noticed you felt off and encouraged you to go to the doctor. Neither of you were expecting the baby news, as silly as it sounds. That doesn’t stop her form immediately lifting you up with a loud ‘whoop!’ and spinning your around the room. She loves babies! She loves you! This is going to be great.

She insists on redoing a room just for the baby. Even if their crib is going to be in your room for the first few months, Karlach wants your kid to have their own space. She paints the walls, builds all the furniture, everything. She asks for you opinion on decorations and doesn’t do anything without checking with you first but it’s her labor of love. It’s also her project for when she gets anxious thinking about the future. What is something goes wrong with her heart? What if something is wrong with the baby? What is the birth is too much for you? All of these thoughts get washed away in making the baby’s room perfect and then she goes to talk to you.

Karlach helps as much as she can during the birth aka you kick her (lovingly) into the hall to go grab towels so she stops hovering. When she gets back the baby is almost here and there’s no time to panic, just watch with wide eyes. She thinks you’re even more of a badass for going through all that and asks to hold the baby fist. Karlach cries holding them; they’re so cute and small and they’re the perfect mix of the two of you. She’s defiantly going to be the fun mom and there will be moments where it feels like you have two kids to scold. She takes safety very seriously, however, and is the first to lecture about stranger danger. Your kid will never feel unloved or unsafe, Karlach swears it on her life. This is her family now and no one else can have them.

Lae’zel:

Lae’zel struggles with the news that you’re having a baby. Partly because she never thought that she could have kids and the other part because she’s terrified about being a mom. She wasn’t raised in a traditional Faerunian way; no where on the continent can be compared to being raised Gith. She needs time to process on her own and it’ll be a few days before she comes back ready to talk. Take her concerns seriously and, if you truly want to keep the baby, she’ll raise them with you. She loves you after all.

It takes her a bit to understand all the changes your body is going through. It’s horrifying and amazing to watch your stomach swell and she loves gently cradling your bump as it grows. She doesn’t know what to do about the crying, except when someone else makes you cry. Then it’s easy: she wants to kill them. That usually makes you laugh and you’re able to talk her out of bodily harm. You do have some nice shop discounts now. Lae’el is very much your guard dog and she fulfills her position with pride.

The entire birthing process just shows Lae’zel that you’re the strongest person she knows. She’s completely impressed by how you handle everything and has a new respect for moms everywhere. She still thinks it’s gross and inefficient but badass all the same. Lae’zel is a strict mom but soft in her own way. She’s still learning to be kind to herself and the world around her. Your child will never feel the brunt of her frustration or confusion; they will, however, be able to swing a sword much too young. She beams with pride the first time your child beheads a training dummy and you know, deep deep down, that the two of them going to be trouble.

Shadowheart:

She starts to notice the signs before you do, honestly. At first it’s little things; you’re tired quicker, you’re more sensitive to certain smells. The big one is that you start to get morning sickness, frequently. Shadowheart finally sits you down after the fifth morning in a row over a bucket and checks you over. You’re pregnant all right, not doubt there. She’s going to be as surprised as you; you were both good about protection. Surprise baby!

She’s fairly neutral about kids. She never thought that she would have any, serving Shar, but now there’s a little more appeal to them. The pooping and crying she could live without but the idea of there being someone made up of the two of you? Shadowheart likes the idea more than she would admit out loud. She starts researching pregnancy healing the midwifery right away; she doesn’t have a lot of expertise with babies but she is a healer.

Shadowheart insists on delivering your baby herself. She wants to be a part of this and while you’re going to be doing the hard part, she wants to support you. If you have an issue, she will relent but has to be in the room. Your delivery is flawless and as she holds the bloody baby in her hands, she feels full. Of love and hope and excitement, all those emotions she once would have sworn off. For the first time since you’ve found out you’re pregnant, she’s excited to be a mom. She’s a strict but loving mom, teasing her kid and embarrassing them in public (just a little, like a cheek pinch). Shadowheart loves singing to your kids, something neither of you knew until now. Your house is full of love and laughter and singing, just perfect.

[ckret2]

Chapter 46 of human Bill Cipher frantically wishing he was still locked in the Mystery Shack and not getting his wish:

The Eclipse: Part 4

Gravity has fully disappeared from Gravity Falls and Bill finally learns why the Axolotl traveled all the way to Earth to see him. And meanwhile, Ford's in mortal peril.

[SUPER IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE: if you're reading this, it means that I've edited chapters 6&7 to make them compatible with The Book Of Bill but I have not edited this chapter yet.

Before TBOB came out, in chapter 7 I wrote that the Ax's deal with Bill was "I'll give you a different form (a human body) in a different time (dropping you a thousand years in the future) so you don't have to see your old enemies" and then Bill stole a time tape to come right back to the 21st century. I've now edited ch 6&7 to make the Ax's deal with Bill "I'll drop you off in Theraprism" and then Bill escaped via reincarnation.

However, this chapter refers to the OLD version of ch 7. That's because there are not physically enough hours in my life for me to do all the editing I want to do as fast as I want to do it.

Things Bill & the Axolotl say in this chapter contradict TBOB and contradict what the new ch 6&7 say. The conversation they're having DOES NOT accurately reflect the fic's current plot. Don't freak out. I'll fix it when I can. - (note added Sept 7, 2024; will be removed when it's no longer necessary.)]

####

There were only two ways to remove a pair of magic friendship bracelets. Either both wearers had to consent to removing the bracelets; or one of the parties had to die. The bracelets weren't active if they were only being worn by one person, and a corpse wasn't a person.

The moment Dipper's soul left his body, the thread connecting the bracelets turned visible again.

Bill immediately yanked off his bracelet. He considered just letting it go, reconsidered considering that Dipper's ghost would probably tattle to Mabel, and carefully, slowly reeled the thread in. Without the magic active, it was just normal embroidery floss. The Axolotl's gravitational pull didn't make Dipper's body heavy enough to break the line, but if Bill jerked it just a little too hard, it would snap.

Bill heaved a sigh when the body was close enough he could grasp its wrist. He grabbed Dipper's head and snarled in his dead face, "This is why I told you to get in the cave." He wrapped the bracelet around and around the tree trunk and Dipper's forearm, muttering to himself, "But does anybody listen to the all-knowing immortal dream demon who's seventy times older than their entire universe? No! No, what could it possibly know! Surely we'll get better ideas from the brain-damaged hick who married a raccoon—"

An immense voice said, "Hello."

Bill froze. He slowly turned away from the beast above Gravity Falls.

The voice said serenely, "Look at me, you 8-karat coward."

He slowly turned toward the beast above Gravity Falls. He swallowed hard, steeled himself, and dragged his gaze up until he met the Axolotl's eye and he was gently tugged into the time and space between time and space. "Oh, heyyy," he squeaked. He forced a pained smile. "Didn't see you there! Haha, hi! Wow! Imagine running into you in this dimension on this planet, crazy."

"Yes, crazy," the Axolotl agreed.

"This isn't a regular part of your commute! I guess you've got some time off," Bill said. "Work must be going well!"

"Pretty well. I scheduled an extended lunch break," the Axolotl said amiably. "How's being human going?"

Bill shot the Axolotl a dirty look.

The Axolotl continued to give him a perpetual smile. "Happy New Year, by the way."

"I'll kill you."

"No you won't."

"Okay look, let's just cut to the chase," Bill said. "Go on. Tell me my punishment."

"Punishment?"

"For! Coming back here instead of staying when you dumped me in 3012. I skipped time while on parole. That's obviously why you're here." He looked down, shielding his face with a hand and squeezing his eyes shut. "So stop wasting my time and tell me how much trouble I'm in. I'm a busy guy, I don't wanna drag this out."

"Well," the Axolotl said, "it appears to me that you're locked in your enemies' home, you can't use doors, and you need to be handcuffed to a child to go outside. Is that enough 'trouble' for you?"

Bill opened one eye. "Wait, so." He looked up skeptically. "You're saying I won't get re-executed for breaking the rules. Or—or get stuck in a worse body."

"No," the Axolotl said. "You'll answer to no jailer's voice; what you do now is your own choice. I moved you by a thousand years to free you from your killers' fears. If you decide then to return, it's your own second chance you burn."

"Ohhh. See, I assumed this entire situation was a... prison... thing. Considering the..." He gestured vaguely at his body. "The flesh prison." 

"It's a body. Not a prison. You aren't being imprisoned."

"'Not a prison' my base, if it's not a prison then why can't—" He caught himself before he asked a question, and took a deep breath. "So, there are no rules against coming right back to where I left off."

"Though I think your plan is clunky—not my circus, not my monkey."

"Oh. Okay, great." Bill planted his hands on his hips, straightening up properly for the first time since the Axolotl's arrival. "Huh. How 'bout that. Spent the last two days worrying for nothing!"

"You? Worried?"

"Of course not, I wasn't worried for a second," Bill said. "So if you're not here to punish me—that doesn't explain why you are here."

"Are you asking?"

"You know I'm not."

The Axolotl stared at Bill, patiently awaiting a question. Bill stared at the Axolotl, patiently not asking one.

The Axolotl caved first. "I wanted to make sure you hadn't burned down the dimension yet."

Bill pointed sharply at the Axolotl. "Hey! Hey!"

The Axolotl gave him a look like a toothless gumball learning how to smile.

"Not funny! Seriously, now!"

"I came because you called."

"Wh— When did—?" Bill cut himself off. He thought back to the day he'd spent locked in the bathroom. He recalled the desperate plea for salvation he'd painted on the ceiling. He buried his face in his hand. "That... that was a joke. False alarm."

"I gathered," the Axolotl said.

Bill peeked between his fingers. "But, I did call for rescue. Therefore. You're here to rescue me."

"No."

"Why n—! You said I'm not supposed to be in a prison! You've seen what these humans have done to me!"

"You aren't a prisoner," the Axolotl said. "You're a kidnapping victim. That's outside my jurisdiction."

Infuriating—but it told Bill something important: in the Axolotl's eyes, Bill's captivity wasn't just. And Bill didn't consider the Axolotl any kind of god—he didn't consider anyone any kind of god—but the Ax had a lot of pull in the multiverse when it came to defining the universal concept of justice. That was promising. 

"But I do have a keen interest in your case. I wanted to check in on your progress."

Bill gave the Axolotl a questioning look. "'Progress.'"

The Axolotl said nothing. Bill waited. The Axolotl simply continued to smile. "You haven't asked a question yet. Usually you can't wait to get rid of me."

"Under the circumstances," he gestured again at his body, "I didn't think I could afford to waste it."

"I see. However, I do have a meeting I need to get to."

What was the most important thing he could ask. What did he need to know the most. "So... if I learn my lesson or complete my sentence or—whatever I'm supposed to do... will you turn me back into a triangle?"

"I can't and won't do anything else. I've completed my obligation to you," the Axolotl said. "Whatever happens to you from now on is up to you."

That could mean anything from "you're stuck as a human forever and will die in less than a century" to "there's a secret spell on you and when you meet its conditions you'll automatically turn back into a triangle" to "you're already a triangle, you just need to believe in yourself." All Bill knew was that he wasn't getting any help from the Ax.

"It's been a pleasure as always," the Axolotl said. The world slowly began to move again as he gently returned Bill to the dimension he'd come from.

"Wait!" Bill called. He needed to know—was he still a triangle, somewhere on the inside, buried beneath all this flesh and bone? Or had the Axolotl's transformation rotted him to his core—was he now nothing but a human through and through? If he wasn't being punished, why had his suffocating soul been smothered under a blanket of meat? If he wasn't being punished, why had his own corpse stared him in the eye as if it didn't recognize him? "Just one more question before you go!"

"If you have the time. Up to you."

If he had the time? Bill's eyes darted around. Why wouldn't he have the time, what was he missing—?

His gaze locked on Ford. Floating twenty, thirty feet out from the cliff's edge. Oh.

Bill let the Axolotl's gravity drag him to the edge of the cliff before digging a hand into the ground, holding himself in place. Bill was safe; Dipper's body was safe, and his soul could float home once the Axolotl was gone. But when the Axolotl was gone, gravity would immediately come back—0 to 100, just like that—and Ford was dead.

And the Axolotl was already turning away. The millions of axolotls in the water below followed, moving through and out of the lake as though the lakebed didn't exist, migrating in the Axolotl's wake.

Ford was unsuccessfully trying to swim through the air back to land. Several useless feet of cable from his infinity belt floating around him from trying to fling it at the cliff. The best he could do was stretch an arm toward land.

He met Bill's eyes. The only other time Bill had seen Ford this terrified was when he'd threatened to torture the kids.

Bill looked at Ford, looked at the Axolotl—nearly too far to shout to—and looked down. By now, the future death he'd witnessed earlier was so close that Bill could see more than the blood to be left on the rocks. He could see the body—gray hair, tan overcoat, broken. It was just a few moments away.

Stanford Pines was about to die. Bill Cipher was innocent. Dipper was his witness; Dipper, honest goody hero type, could verify that Bill not only repeatedly told them both to stay away from the thing in the sky, but also warned them to anchor themselves right before totality. Everyone at the shack knew he'd protested, knew he'd warned them, knew he'd begged to stay home. There was no possible way Bill could get blamed for this.

And once Ford was dead, none of the idiots in this town would ever find a way to destroy Bill.

Up to you.

Bill didn't stop to think.

He kicked off the edge of the cliff.

He could see, hovering in the air like a golden arc amidst a dozen blurry failures, the path he needed to jump to reach Ford. The Axolotl's tail was already soaring over the town, his sky blue fins rippling like vast, slow sails. If Bill reached Ford before the Axolotl's influence was completely gone, he could fly them over the lake and they might both survive. 

They collided. Bill had to fling an arm over Ford's shoulder before he managed to get a grip on his lapel; Ford seized Bill's hoodie in both hands. Ford demanded, "What are you—?" He fell silent as their trajectory took a sudden sharp turn from south to east.

"The lake!"

Ford nodded. Why could come if they both survived. He could already feel weight grabbing onto his limbs. He spared a split-second glance down, but with half the lake floating in the air he couldn't tell if they'd cleared its banks yet. "Have you ever learned to swim?"

"You have to learn?!"

Ford prayed, if Bill drowned, that he was a mortal, and that he wasn't the kind of drowner who dragged other people down with him. "Cross your ankles as tightly as you can, cross your arms over your chest, land feet first in the water—better to break your legs than your neck—do not tilt your head, eyes on the horizon—" And that was as much emergency survival advice as he could give before gravity returned in full force.

This wasn't the first time Ford had plummeted into a deep liquid from an irresponsible height over the past thirty years. The hit was softer than he expected—the turbulent lake hadn't settled back down into its normal water pressure—but he also sank far deeper than he expected. Streams of bubbles raced past his vision; maybe it was just the power of suggestion, but he could have sworn they looked like transparent axolotls.

As soon as he had his wits about him, he threw off his coat, tugged off his boots, and kicked his way toward the surface.

Bill didn't.

This actually wasn't so bad, he thought, with a calmness that definitely came from being such a rational level-headed fellow and not from being in shock. Sure, all the air had been forced out of his lungs and his body was screaming in airless panic, but he wasn't his body, was he? This felt just like floating. He would miss floating again.

What was he supposed to do now.

He'd seen humans swim. He tried kicking his legs. He felt stupid. But, he decided—again, with a calmness that definitely was not from shock—that looking kinda stupid was probably preferable to drowning. Although he was curious what drowning felt like. Had he ever drowned a puppet before? He couldn't remember. Didn't seem bad so far.

He surfaced.

Ford was already on shore, on hands and knees, desperately coughing out water, his lungs burning. He collapsed in the sand. It took a couple minutes for him to reach the point where he was breathing more than he was coughing, and another minute of heavy breathing before he had the energy to look at the lake again. Bill was floating on his back about fifty feet away, very still.

Ford croaked, "Bill," coughed again, and tried a little louder. "Bill?"

Without otherwise moving, Bill raised one arm and gave him a thumbs-up.

Ford dug into what energy reserves he still had, shuffled back into the water, and swam over to Bill. "Are you all right?"

Bill gave him a dazed look, opened his mouth, and exhaled a cup of water. Then he started coughing. 

Ford grimaced. "Let's... get to shore." He took Bill's arm to tug him toward dry land.

Bill flailed upright and shoved him off. "Don't—" Hack. "M'fine. I l—" Cough. "I like floating." He lay on his back, shut his eyes, and said shakily, "Don't touch me."

Ford treaded water for a moment, considering that. Bill looked like he'd got the hang of floating enough that he wasn't an immediate drown risk, so Ford said, "I'll... be on land."

"'Kay."

Ford swam to shore and sat cross-legged in the wet sand to wait, staring down at his hands. The Handwitch's ring was a bright indigo blue again, no traces of darkness within the cabochon, as though the lake water had washed it clean.

Should he go do something useful? There weren't many places Bill could go, except to shore; it wasn't like he was at risk of escaping. But then if Bill did make it to land while Ford was distracted, he had a chance to make a run for it without the bracelet—

Ford stood up. "Bill! Where's Dipper?!"

Bill raised one arm and pointed up.

Ford looked at Gravity Peak. A small speck high above, Dipper was looking down over the cliff's edge. Ford waved to him. Dipper waved back. Well. That was inconvenient. Maybe Ford could restrain Bill with the infinity belt's cable in the meantime. (He reeled the cable in while he was thinking about it. He was fortunate it hadn't tangled on anything while he was underwater.)

"We have to rendezvous with Dipper. Get over here."

"Just leave me."

"Not an option."

Bill let out a pitiable whine, but, after a moment, managed to figure out a way to slowly paddle-kick his way toward land.

When his heels hit sand, he rolled over, crawled onto land, and lay down. "Gravity," he groaned. "I hate gravity."

"I'm not too fond of it myself right now." Ford's limbs felt like lead. Some combination of spending a day and a half in steadily reduced gravity, the exhaustion following a near death experience, and waterlogged clothes. "Where are the enchanted bracelets?"

Bill lifted one hand from the elbow and pointed toward the cliff again.

That'd be just Ford's luck. All the same, he said, "Really?" Bill would hide them if they were on him.

"Yes, really. Whaddaya want, a strip search?" He gestured vaguely toward his body without lifting his head. "Go ahead. 'M not moving to help." His arm flopped back down.

Ford decided that was a bluff he did not want to call. "Fine. We'll put them back on when we rendezvous with Dipper." If Bill tried to escape, Ford wasn't sure he was in any condition to chase; but then Bill didn't seem to be in any condition to run, either.

"Surprised you wanna wear matching bracelets with me. If I'd known, I woulda made you a friendship bracelet." Under his breath, Bill muttered at the sand, "But m'sure it'd've been a waste of thread."

Ford decided it was more prudent to hold his tongue. "Can you walk?"

"If I have to." For as difficult as Bill made getting to his feet look, one would think he was being subjected to the gravity of Jupiter. Ford offered his hand; Bill smacked it aside.

"Well. My raft is still in the cave behind Trembley Falls, so we'll have to borrow a boat." Ford pointed toward Tate & Backle's Bait & Tackle at the far end of the lake. "Think you can make it that far?"

Bill—barefoot, soggy, and slumped like he had the whole weight of the world on his shoulders—gave Ford the most pathetic look he'd ever seen Bill wear. Ford empathized completely. But Bill only sighed and said, "Let's get going."

####

Tate lowered his magazine to give Ford a critical look. "Dr. Pines," he said. "You get caught out on the lake when the gravity came back?"

"Something like that."

He shook his head. "Shoulda listened to the news."

"The news?"

"Dad's been making public warnings since yesterday. 'Stay anchored and keep your head down.' Reckon you must've missed it."

"We've... been camping." He'd have to ask Fiddleford about that later. "Listen—do you have a boat we could borrow? It's an emergency. We were separated from Dipper and we have to get across the lake."

Tate raised his hat just enough to give Ford a look that told him exactly what he thought of his merit as a guardian—Ford figured he deserved that—but then stood with a sigh. "All right, I'll see what we've got."

He paused, then gestured behind Ford with his chin. "Who's the lady?"

Ford turned. The shop's door was propped open and Bill was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed tight, staring blankly out across the lake. "Er—Goldie. She's... staying in the shack a few weeks."

"Hm." Tate raised his voice. "Ma'am?"

Bill didn't budge.

"Ma'am—Miss Goldie?"

That time he turned to give Tate a faraway look. "Me?"

"Yes, uh—you're soaked to the bone. Would you like to borrow some dry clothes?"

"Oh." Bill considered the question for a little longer than necessary. "If you want."

Ford explained, "She inhaled a lot of water."

Tate nodded. "Think we've got some out-of-season stock in the back, there might be something big enough for..." He caught himself before insinuating something about a lady's weight, and mumbled, "Well, it'll do." He headed to a door behind the counter, paused, looked Ford over, and reluctantly said, "I s'pose you can get something too."

####

Tate had a motorboat in good working order, so he let them borrow it, with a stern request to have it back by the end of the day. And so they set out—Ford in waders that went up to his chest, a bandana he really hoped was keeping his embarrassing neck tattoo hidden, and a t-shirt that said "The worst day of fishing is better than the best day of court-ordered anger management classes"; and Bill in a makeshift skirt Tate had apologetically improvised out of a beach towel, a sweater depicting a pine tree constructed out of fish that said "MERRY FISHMAS", and a pair of novelty slippers shaped like rainbow trout.

"I'm never giving these shoes back," Bill informed Ford as they crossed the lake. "I don't care whether we buy them or steal them. They're hilarious." It was the nearest thing to personality Bill had demonstrated since landing in the lake.

Ford supposed he was in no position to tell Bill he couldn't keep them, considering that Bill had... well.

Well.

Ford should say something about that. He didn't know what. He didn't know where to start. (Bill's question came back to him: if Ford didn't believe anything Bill said, why did he keep trying to pry information out of him?)

(Because, he realized—beneath thirty years of every nerve in his body screaming "DON'T TRUST HIM"—part of him was still hoping Bill would say something he could believe.)

Ford cleared his throat. "It's... impressive that you didn't panic while you were underwater," he said awkwardly. "That must have taken remarkable self control."

"Oh. Eh." Bill spread his hands vaguely. "I wasn't really paying attention to what was happening. I was thinking about other stuff."

Ford blinked. "While you were drowning?"

"It wasn't a very severe drowning."

Ford huffed.

This was probably a conversation he should have later—Bill's brain only appeared to be half on—but, if they had it later, Ford wasn't sure he'd get anything but yet another polished lie. 

And so he steeled his nerves and asked, "Why did you save me."

Bill didn't answer. He stared silently at his rainbow trout slippers.

"Bill—?"

"Hold on," he said. "I don't know, just—give me a minute to make something up."

It was the first time in a month and a half—the first time in years—that Ford was absolutely certain Bill had just told him the truth.

And not just about his intentions to lie to Ford—but about not knowing why he'd saved him.

It meant there was no secret master plan, no manipulative ulterior motives, no cunning illusions. It meant Bill had endangered himself just to save Ford.

There was a universe where Ford then said, "I didn't think you meant it all those times you said you wanted to be my friend again," and where Bill lied—both to Ford and to himself—"I didn't think I meant it either." It wasn't this universe, because neither one of them wanted those words out in the world. Yet they still hovered around them, unspoken.

It didn't make Ford trust Bill. It didn't make Ford like Bill. Bill was still everything he'd ever been—liar, conman, tyrant, torturer—and Ford still hated him for all of it.

But. It meant that for the first time in a month in a half, a muscle between Ford's shoulder blades that had been knotted tight with fear could finally loosen and relax.

Ford was safe.

####

(I first had the idea for this chapter nearly a year ago and I've been dying waiting to post it. I hope you enjoyed, and I can't wait to hear what y'all think! And to those of you in the path of totality, happy solar eclipse this Monday! I totally planned it this way. I did not.)

[sugaryplum]

𓏲⋆. THEODORE NOTT FICS HALL OF FAME 𓈒 ⭒ ݁ .

so this summer marks a year since i started obsessing over this stupid stupid handsome beautiful amazing of a character and it is actually insane. i always used to have phases for different characters and it changed like every two weeks but for the past year it's been him and him only. embarrassing. but well – i've read a lot of amazing pieces of fiction about him so here i am to give some appreciation! these are my favourites with top notch writing and plot and portrayal of the character and everything else!!! in no particular order

spring breaks loose by @fangisms GOD i love her work!! she also wrote darling socialite which is possibly even more amazing (and i actually requested it hehe and i love it so much)

next we have @cassiopeiasdaughter (this is really just a list of my favourite authors here) with mirrorball (requested by me again, this is also maybe just a list of stuff i requested, i am shameless with this) and this cute little drabble about theo and the reader's cat <3

honestly i could just write everything i said before about everything that's coming next. i looove when @veryberryjelly does these events and here's my favourite one of these!!

this is smut and i feel weird recommending something smutty but its a really really well written thing so you need to read it if you like this type of thing

so i don't normally like to read series but i loooooved kiss with a fist by @theostrophywife!!! (sorry i can't find the og masterlist post in my likes to link it but you'll find it)

@patrophthia has some amaaaazing fics! love is sour grapes and take you to the basics and these plot bunnies and genuinely anything else by her! there's i think this fic set in the summer that i can't remember the name of. and the one based on "bewitched" by laufey! so good! and my favourite way of writing theo's character like ever

laughs in the courtyard is the cutest ever and i think one of the first fics i've read about theo?

these headcanons are straight out of my dreams!! often reread them just to have him more visualised in my head and some parts feel literally straight out of my brain

so i don't read angst almost at all, i like sweet and nice and happy things but moonlight & masks as well as mio, both in kind of the same vibe i just adore! i guess war angst i don't mind. especially when it's so good!

now this is kind of toxic and manipulative theo but i loooove control freak<3 i linked part two but obviously start with the first. both awesome

and last by not least @artytaeh is probably my favourite author here right now!! this masterlist has no misses only hits <3 you gotta read it all right now. again, this portrayal of theo and everything else is just perfect

okay thank youuuuuu for reading and i hope you read everything on this list because it's all fantastic! bye bye kiss kiss goodnight

[fyodere]

omegle sexting with Fyodor. ♡

midnight confessions.

“ I hope nobody catch us

but i kinda hope they catch us ”

— LES

﹙ 🦇 ﹚── parings: fyodor dostoevsky x fem!reader ♡

₍^. .^₎⟆ ── content warnings / tags : nsfw content (mdni), college!au, fyodor is mean, nasty absolutely filthy smut, reader is a freshman, fyodor uses the pseud ghost face online, light corruption kink, sexting, petnames, degradation, fyodor is a sadic, dirt talk, light dom/sub dynamic, implied catholic guilt, fyodor is a creep perv ♡

﹙ 🔪 ﹚── synopsis : Why you were still awake? It was the middle of the night, and the student dormitory rested in the silence of the moonlit hours. However, your insomnia and a restless curiosity propelled you into the vastness of the internet. Your idea was curious but fitting for the moment. You decided to venture into anonymous chat sites, just like you used to do in your adolescence. Maybe that would be enough to make you sleepy.

Of course, there was a chance you would encounter a creep in those forums. But at this point, who cared? The night was incredibly boring; you needed to take the risk, needed to seek excitement.

﹙ 🩸 ﹚── author's note : GUESS WHOS BACKKK i wrote this listening to my late night texts playlist so the content here is JUICYYY i can’t get enough of pervy fedya content so HERE I AM also i had the idea to write this thanks to this one fyodor fanart i hope you enjoy it <3

2:27 am

 

You huffed, pulling your blanket up to your nose. You turned, in an act of courage, to your clock, hoping you had seen the time wrong. But no. Oh, no! It was still the middle of the night. Your body was exhausted, but your mind was racing, processing many thoughts that could cross your mind.

 

You shouldn't be awake. It was late at night, and college life was wearing you out. Amidst books and assignments, you found yourself immersed in a sea of responsibilities that seemed never-ending. The dark circles under your tired eyes betrayed the sleepless nights and quick naps during classes. But on that night, even though you knew you needed rest, something kept you awake. Perhaps it was the anxiety about the unfinished final project, or the feeling that time was slipping through your fingers. Lying in bed, you wondered if sacrificing your sleep and health for academic success was worth it. In the silence of the night, you reflected on your choices and questioned if this was truly what you wanted for your life.

 

In the quiet of the room, the faint moonlight revealed a common scene: scattered notes, open books, and tired eyes staring at the ceiling. No one should be awake at that hour. Not your senior, Dazai, or Atsushi. And even if they were awake, who are you to disturb them? Amid tight deadlines and academic pressure, you navigated through the nighttime challenges, seeking balance between dreams and reality. As the hours passed, reflections on the price of knowledge intertwined with the desire to overcome the limits imposed by fatigue.

 

You looked around your room; it was a mess. You sighed again, letting the air oxygenate your brain, begging for a bit of patience. Then, with a head full of thoughts, you had an idea.

 

You stealthily walked to your small desk, where your laptop was. You picked it up and took it to bed, lying down comfortably and turning on the monitor, letting the screen light up your room.

 

Why you were still awake? It was the middle of the night, and the student dormitory rested in the silence of the moonlit hours. However, your insomnia and a restless curiosity propelled you into the vastness of the internet. Your idea was curious but fitting for the moment. You decided to venture into anonymous chat sites, just like you used to do in your adolescence. Maybe that would be enough to make you sleepy.

 

Of course, there was a chance you would encounter a creep in those forums. But at this point, who cared? The night was incredibly boring; you needed to take the risk, needed to seek excitement.

 

The computer screen became your window to the unknown. You saw each conversation as a calculated risk, a word game unfolding in the cyber twilight. Amid anonymous profiles and shared stories, You navigated between fascination and caution, aware of the thin boundaries separating adventure from recklessness.

 

In the early morning, where the boundaries between the real and the virtual fade, you became a solitary explorer, guided by curiosity and drawn to the digital enigmas the night revealed.

 

You shouldn't be awake. In the stillness of the night, you decided to venture into the depths of the internet, exploring the nightly dangers hidden in virtual shadows. Alone in your room, the faint light of the monitor revealed your curious expression and a glint of audacity in your eyes. Navigating through chat rooms and forums, you connected with strangers, engaging in conversations echoing secrets and unknown stories.

 

Cautious but driven by the quest for new experiences, you explored this digital world on the fringes of convention. The keyboard keys echoed in the silence, creating a fragile link with distant strangers. Each typed word carried a hint of mystery and vulnerability as you danced on the tightrope between curiosity and the risks hidden in the cyber darkness.

 

Amid digital shadows, you found a strange sense of freedom, challenging the boundaries of the unknown in an attempt to break the monotony of the night.

 

However, behind the screen, uncertainty loomed like a constant shadow. You, intoxicated by virtual adrenaline, realized that the price of nocturnal boldness on the internet could be high. Caution became a necessary ally as you navigated the turbulent waters of virtual relationships, aware that not everything shining in the darkness is safe.

 

Yet, curiosity and the thirst for something exciting flowed in your veins.

 

You entered another forum, using a random nickname for identification. No one needed to know it was you. Eager to start a conversation, you initiated the chat.

 

You: well well, what’s up?

 

I didn’t took long to the stranger reply.

 

Stranger: You know what? Nothing much. Just killing some time talking to strangers. You just can’t sleep, huh?

 

You: yeah. always come here?

 

Stranger: Not always, but enough to recognize the other regular people chatting here. You must be new.

 

You: oohh smooth ;) how did you know?

 

Stranger: You can recognize a newbie a mile away. No one talks this open and nice.

 

Stranger: You seem to have caught my attention. What is your name?

 

You: you mean my real one?

 

You: mhmm… isn’t dangerous tell my name online?

 

Stranger: Smart girl.

 

The simple praise made you cover your mouth with your hands, you were blushing.

 

Stranger: Ahh, I like this one. You see, you are right, the internet is dangerous, but we, people who frequent those websites, are even more dangerous.

 

Stranger: but I can find your location in one hour, so what is the harm to give me your name, sweetheart?

 

You: playing dangerous, hm? I like that ;)

Then you told him your name.

 

Stranger: Ah? Cute name, fits such cute creature.

Stranger: You can call me Ghost Face for now.

 

You let out a nasal laugh. How could he be so cheeky?

 

You: im glad that you like it, pretty boy

 

Stranger: Pretty boy, huh? If people could hear you, they might think that I am some kind of lady magnet.

 

Stranger: Maybe I shouldn’t be enjoying this so much.

 

You: Oh? Why not, Ghost Face?

 

Stranger: Ah, you are such a tease. I can’t imagine what secrets you are hiding, but now, I am even more interested in you. What a dangerous girl.

 

Stranger: Flatter me more, pretty girl. I'll play along with your mind games for some more time.

 

You chuckled, feeling your cheeks warm again. Whoever was behind that screen, that person knew how to get reactions out of you.

 

You: mmm… smooth, yeah?

 

Stranger: You little vixen.

 

Stranger: You know it. But, to my surprise, you might be smoother than a snake. I wonder how many guys you make blush?

 

You: ah, not that many. I’m pretty lonely at college

 

Stranger: Lonely at college? Now that is surprising. I thought that you should have boys chasing you. You must be really shy, huh?

 

You: uhhh kinda…

 

You: you’re a good people reader

 

Stranger: You know, I really do like your attention. You are really making my night, pretty girl. And don't worry, I'm not a people reader. But I am really good at reading you.

 

You: smooth as always, Ghostie, hm?

 

You: Ghost, are you in college too?

 

Stranger: Yeah.

 

Stranger: I major computer science and work remotely.

 

You: really?

 

You: tell me more about you work

 

Stranger: Well, to be totally honest with you, it is a shady kind of job. I work with some not so nice people with even nastier interests.

 

You: ah… so Ghost Face is a bad boy, huh? tell me more about it

 

Stranger: You caught me, pretty girl. I am a bad boy, not going to deny it. I do all kind of thing related to computers and technology. Things that many would consider illegal.

 

Stranger: Let's just say I help people getting information that should stay hidden.

 

You: mhmmm… that explains why are you so smooth

 

Stranger: Thank you, pretty girl. I like the way you compliment me. You are really making my night, you know? Would you like to know the other reason I am smooth?

 

You: yeah? tell me, Ghostie

 

Stranger: Damn. You really do want to hear it, don’t you? I know you are very innocent right now, but be careful of what you wish for. You might not be ready for what you are going to hear.

 

Stranger: You know, in a world of deception, people like me find it hard to trust someone. But I trust, for some weird reason, you. So there is one important question that I want you to answer. It will be an important step to show me how much I can trust you.

 

Stranger: Do you have a boyfriend?

 

You: no ;)

 

You: mhmmm… it’s kinda late

 

Stranger: Yes, it is late, and you have no excuse for your misdeed. If I was your boyfriend I would never let you be alone when it is this time. You would be with me all night, in my room. You would not be up late talking to strangers on anonymous sites.

 

You: oh, Ghost… you’re making me soaked, mm?

 

Stranger: Oh, darling, is it starting to feel hot between us? You know what I would do if I was your boyfriend in this very moment?

 

You: mhmmm… tell me

 

Stranger: You want to know? Well, darling, first, I would whisper all my naughty thoughts to your ear. I would tell you all the things people would say are gross. And I would kiss you all over your body. I would make you feel good, in places you would not dare to touch.

 

You: oh, Ghost…

 

Stranger: Oh, dear, I am gonna give you attention like you deserve it. You are only my girl and I will make it very clear. I will show you the pleasures of the world so you only think of me. I will give you so much pleasure I hope you never want to leave my side.

 

You: Ghost…

 

You: I think you should give me your real number

 

You: so we can go more private yk

 

Stranger: Oh!

 

Stranger: Sure.

 

Stranger: You can call me Fyodor. ;)

 

After Fyodor sent his number, you quickly added it to your contact list and promptly began typing the next message, longing for contact with the enigmatic boy behind the screen.

 

You: Fyodor

 

You: can I call you?

 

Fyodor: Sure, I would love to hear your voice.

 

You quickly called Fyodor, who promptly answered.

 

“ … Hello?” You said slightly unsure of having called the boy.

 

Pretty girl... You are the cutest thing. Fyodor thought.

 

“Oh, oh, you sound so sweet, darling.” Fyodor said. “Your voice is soft and gentle. You sound like the kind of girl a man would want to listen to all day long. You make me feel things, sweetheart.” He said after a deep breath. “Please, can you tell me where you are right now, dear? Are you in bed?”

 

“Yeah, I am.” You replied.

 

“Please, let me know how the bed feels... Are you comfortable? Does it feel nice to have the bed all for yourself? I would love to be in bed with you...” He chuckled.

 

“Mm… my bed is pretty cozy. The college dorms are not that big, but they are pretty comfortable.” You answered.

 

“Oh, dear, this is so much better. If I was with you right now, I would want to feel your skin against mine.” Fyodor whispered the last part, leaving you in chills. “Fuck.” He whispered again. “I have to turn down, but we can keep chatting.”

 

“Okay.” You chuckled, and they got back to the text messages

 

You: I’m wearing something you might like right now.

 

Fyodor: Mhm?

 

Fyodor: Let me see.

 

You: [Photo] ;)

 

Fyodor’s eyes widened as he opened the image. It was a photo of you wearing a light pale lilac blouse that was too loose for your size. It almost covered up to half of your thigh, you weren’t using socks, leaving your legs exposed. Fyodor’s throat went dry when he saw you in that state. His face automatically became hot and his heart started to beat faster than usual. How could you have such a big effect on him?

 

Fyodor: Lord, please forgive me…

Fyodor: But, God, you’re making me feel so fucking weird…

 

Fyodor: If you were here right now, the things I’d do with you… shit, I’m definitely not seeing the gates of heaven.

 

Fyodor: I mean-

 

Fyodor: God, I’m so sorry. I typed without thinking first.

 

You: No!

 

You: It’s okay

 

You: I was kinda looking for this type of reaction. Lol.

 

Fyodor: So, my dear, you’re comfortable with this?

 

You: Yeah!

 

Fyodor typed for a while. The typing… under his contact made you anxious. What was him thinking?

 

Fyodor: Let me make you another question. Do you trust me?

 

He was typing again.

 

Fyodor: Let me take care of you tonight. it’s too bad I’m not there with you… I can’t get enough of you.

 

This time it was you the one who was left speechless. Your jaw literally dropped to the floor, you were surprised at how straightforward and bold this stranger man was.

Fyodor: But tell me, what do you like?

 

You: I don’t know… I never did it before.

 

Fyodor: Then, how about we find out together?

 

Fyodor: I want to explore your body if you’d let me. Would you?

 

You: Go ahead.

 

Fyodor: Darling, you’re such a fucking tease, you know that? We've only been talking for a few hours and I want to do the wildest things with you. You're making me think the biggest dirty thoughts, you're awakening things in me that I didn't even know could exist. All I can think of is your pretty lips around me.

 

You: Mmmm…

 

You: Now you’re making me want it too.

 

Fyodor: Dear, touch your thighs.

 

Fyodor: Gently.

 

Fyodor: God, your hair looks so silky.

 

Fyodor: I wish I could caress it as you’re on your knees.

 

You: MMM????

 

You: fuck

 

You: I would love to imagine you but I have no idea how you look like :(

 

Fyodor: Oh. Hold on, dear.

 

Fyodor: [photo] ;)

 

Your eyes widened when you opened the image. It was a mirror selfie, Fyodor had long black hair that touched his shoulders. His frame appeared to be lean and well defined. He was wearing sweatpants that highlighted his bulge. This made you salivate. Who knew the pervert from the anonymous website could be so handsome?

 

You: fuck.

 

You: you’re so— I can’t even put into words

 

You: I need you.

 

Fyodor: I need you too, dear. I crave you.

 

Fyodor: Darling, are you caressing your thighs as I requested?

 

You: uhum!

 

You: I am

 

You: but I’m feeling itchy down there… :( may you help me?

 

Fyodor: Oh, of course I will, my darling.

 

Fyodor: But first I need you to touch your beautiful exposed thighs.

 

Fyodor: You could see my hands on the picture, right? Imagine my hand on your thighs.

 

You: your hands are pretty big…

 

Fyodor: Yeah? Feel them. Feel them caressing you, gripping you, scratching you. Feels good, yeah?

 

You: you’re making me feel so itchy…

 

You: I need to touch it, Fedya :(

 

You: please

 

Fyodor: Hm? I am the one touching you, dear.

 

Fyodor: And it’s not time for it yet.

 

Fyodor: Now, put your hands on your chest.  Grip them, feel all the softness

 

You: fuck

 

You: I want to scream your name, Fedya :(

 

You: I need you.

 

Fyodor: I crave you too, my darling. Watching you like this makes me want to touch myself too… should I?

 

You: please

 

Fyodor: My dear, can I call you? I need to heat your voice again.

 

You: go ahead

 

You felt your heart race when you saw that Fyodor was calling you. You had already heard the man’s voice a few minutes ago. But now, they were more intimate than ever. You felt your body heat up as you imagined the dirty things Fyodor would say to you in a few seconds.

 

You promptly answered the phone.

 

“Dear?” Fyodor said with a husky voice. You wondered if he could hear your heartbeat.  “Now, let's get started.” He continued. “Close your eyes and imagine me touching you all over your body, running my hands over every inch of your skin.” Fyodor could hear your deep breath. “Can you feel it? The anticipation building up inside you?”

 

“Fedya…” You whispered. “Yes, I can feel it. I can feel you. God, I wish you were here with me, touching me, feeling my skin against yours.” You tried to say with more posture, but your voice was cracking with sighs and deep breaths.

 

“I can't be there with you physically, but we can still explore our desires together in long distance.” He replied. “Close your eyes and imagine my hands on your thighs, slowly moving up towards your hips.” He started to put his hands inside his pants. “Can you feel the warmth of my breath against your skin? The soft touch of my lips on your neck? Can you feel the electricity building between us?”

 

“Fuck… yes. I can. But I want you down there.”You said with your voice dripping lust.

 

“You want me down there, do you?” He asked. “I want you to imagine that I'm right in front of you, kneeling between your legs. My hands are running up and down your thighs as my lips press against the most sensitive spot on your body. Can you feel it? The heat building up inside you?” Fyodor smiled when he heard the sloppy sound coming from your line. “Just let go and enjoy the pleasure. Let me take control for a while.”

 

“I want you to take control of me, Fedya.” You said between deep breaths and dirty whispers. “To fill me.”

 

“Fuck… I want you to feel every inch of me inside you, filling you up completely.” He answered right after listening to your words. “I want you to touch yourself for me. Imagine that my hands are on your body, touching you exactly how I know you like it.” Fyodor started to caress himself, gripping his manhood. “Can you feel my touch? Can you imagine what it would be like if we were together in person?”

 

“Yes… I can imagine.” You said after a long sigh, sightly moaning. “But what about you? What are you thinking?”

 

“I'm thinking about how much I want to make you mine. I want to see you writhe with pleasure as I take control of your body and give you everything you've been craving.” He smirked.

 

“I want to squeeze you.” You confess after a long sigh.

 

"I'm already rock hard," He admits, his words tinged with desperation. "I need to fuck something, I need to fuck you, right now. I want you to imagine it inside your tight little pussy, fucking you so hard that your walls are shaking, your body trembling with pleasure and pain.”

 

“Uh, huh. Sure, everything you want, Fedya.” You said biting her lip.

 

"Good girl," He praises. "Now, I want you to rub your legs together, okay? I want you to imagine my cock in your mouth, sucking on it, and swallowing my load. You're a good little naughty girl, aren't you?"

 

“Yeah, anything for you!” You said in a more poised voice, doing as asked, becoming dizzy with the wave of pleasure that passes through your body.

 

"I knew you were a good girl," He says, ready to take things to the next level. "Now, I want you to imagine me fucking you from behind. Imagine me thrusting into your tight little pussy, claiming you as mine. It's hot, isn't it? Keep going as I request, okay?"

 

“You’re so rough… I love it.” You said between sloppy sounds and moans.

 

“Oh, dear," He groans, his words laced with arousal. "I am rough, I admit it. I like to dominate and fuck you hard, leaving you sore and begging for more. I want to make you my little bitch. I'll fuck you until you can't walk, until you can't breathe, until you're completely spent and used up."

 

“Fuck, keep going.” You were almost screaming now.

 

"You're such a good little naughty girl," He compliments, his words dripping with lust. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, so rough, that you'll feel like you've been through hell and back. I'll leave you bruised and battered, with a hole so raw that even the slightest touch will make you scream in pain. I'll fuck you until you can't take any more, and then I'll make you swallow my cum, filling you up with my seed."

 

“You want to fill me up?” You said, feeling the wave of pleasure more and more strong going trough you.

 

"Oh, yes," He grits out, his voice growing more intense. "I want to fill you up with my seed, to mark you as mine, to claim you as mine. I'll fuck you so hard that you'll never forget me, never forget what I did to you. I'll make you my slut, and I'll never let you go. I'll own you, possess you, and break you down, piece by piece, until there's nothing left but a broken shell of a woman." He tries to speak with a more husky voice.

 

“I— I’m close!” You were almost screaming, with the voice dripping lust.

 

"I'm about to cum," Fyodor warns, his breathing becoming ragged. "I want to fuck you so hard that your insides are shaking, your body trembling with pleasure and pain. I'll fuck you until you're begging for mercy, until you're too tired to even think, and then I'll make you swallow my cum, filling you up with my seed, making you my cum dumpster, my possession, and I'll never let you go. I'll own you, and I'll destroy you, piece by piece, until you're just a broken doll, a toy for me to play with."

 

“Mhmmm!” You were moaning for him, inattentive if you would be waking up your colleagues from the student dorm.

 

"I'm cumming," Fyodor whispers, his words tinged with lust and satisfaction. "I'll fuck you until you're begging for mercy, until you're too tired to even think, and then I'll make you swallow my cum, filling you up with my seed, making you my whore, my bitch and I'll never let you go.”

 

“Cum for me, Fedya” You said touching your most sensitive spot, yearning for the man’s touch on the other end of the line.

 

"Ah— fuck, I am cumming," Fyodor confirms, his words echoing with lust and satisfaction. "Here it comes," Fyodor grunts, his words filled with lust and satisfaction. "I'm cumming, imagine me shooting my load into your tight little pussy, filling you up with my seed.”

 

“F-Fyodor—! Ah—!“ You screamed, imagining everything that he said. The image of Fyodor’s cock was sent along, and as soon as it appeared in front of you, you could feel the sensations of his words rippling through you. Your heart raced with excitement and fear, and you felt yourself begin to shake from the intensity of it all. You gasped, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over your cheeks.

 

The image of his cock, thrusting into her tight little cunt, made your entire body shudder with pleasure and pain. It seemed to be penetrating you so deeply, and yet you couldn't help but crave more. His words continued to fill your mind, making you feel like a helpless little girl, unable to resist his dominance or his power.

 

"Mhmmm," He moans, his voice thick with desire as he continues to shoot his load.

 

“Fuck! This was… fuck. I— I can’t even put into words” You said between heavy breaths.

 

Fyodor chuckled softly, a sound that reverberated through their connection, sending a wave of heat and desire through your body. He knew exactly what you meant.

 

He laughed cruelly at your reaction, savoring the moment. He knew that you was struggling to find the right words to describe how you felt, and he found it amusing that you were so overwhelmed by his presence. He wanted you to feel small and vulnerable, to understand that you were nothing more than a plaything in his world.

 

He grunted again, as if it were determined to claim every last inch of you. The feeling was intense, and it only served to fuel his desire for more.

 

"Good," Fyodor grunted, his voice still filled with lust and satisfaction. "Because I want you to feel every single bit of what I'm doing to you, and I want you to understand how much I own you now.”

[fastbrother]

Desperate (M, 1.3k words)

For forty-one-year-old Draco Malfoy starting his twenty-fourth year of unemployment, the only interesting question is who is he going to sleep with next.

Tags: From Sex to Love, Grumpy Harry, Reclusive Harry, Slutty Draco (non-derogatory), unhealthy coping mechanisms, middle-aged Drarry

Author's note: Wrote this for @kamaela's birthday. Thank you for always being so kind and encouraging! 💕

* * *

For eleven-year-old Draco Malfoy starting Hogwarts, the only interesting question about school was who was going to come in second in his year. Imagine his surprise.

For forty-one-year-old Draco Malfoy starting his twenty-fourth year of unemployment, the only interesting question is who is he going to sleep with next.

Some days, it feels like he’s slept with everybody worth sleeping with. Other days—well.

* * *

When he was young, Draco Malfoy thought he liked women. He slept with a handful of girls, all very proper and sweet.

Then the war came, and he was in it, and he was tortured by the Dark Lord himself, which rewired his brain somehow, because after the war Draco Malfoy did not like women anymore. Nor anything proper. Or sweet.

Draco Malfoy liked to be fucked like he’d be murdered next.

* * *

Harry Potter is a big old grump. He lives in what should have been Draco’s house by birthright, nurses a terrifying beard currently in the process of turning grey, and only ever goes out in Muggle London, like the uncivilised brute Draco knows he really is. Draco dreams of being fucked by Harry Potter, the saviour of the wizarding world, the slayer of Dark Lords. And whatever rude people say, Draco’s a man who works for his dreams.

* * *

“Harry Potter. Out and about. What a surprise.”

Potter barely spares a glance for poor Draco. His eyes are glued to the Muggle TV above the bar, in the process of broadcasting some beastly excuse for movement that the Muggles call sports. There are five empty glasses in front of him, and a cigarette dangling out of his mouth.

“Fuck right off, Malfoy.”

“Ah, I’m afraid not,” Draco says, and sits on the barstool next to Harry. “You go, if my presence bothers you so.”

“I don’t give a shit about your presence.”

“Beautiful. Have you taken to writing poetry, by any chance?”

“Tell me, Malfoy,” Potter says, slowly turning those grotesquely green eyes towards him. “You look like someone who makes enemies in every room he walks into. How come you’re still alive?”

“I have my ways.”

“Aha,” Potter says, emptying his sixth glass of whiskey, eyes back on the TV. “I’ve heard about your ways.”

“Would you like some first-hand experience with them?”

Potter lets out a chuckle, a loud and brutish sound.

“Have you been following me?”

“Hardly. I’ve been coming here every night for six months. Ask Robert.”

“Who’s Robert?”

“I’m Robert,” the barman says, pouring Potter’s seventh drink.

“Ah. Nice to meet you, Robert,” Potter says, and raises his drink. “So. Has he?”

“Yes.”

Potter turns to Draco. Offers a vicious smile that makes Draco’s body tingle in all the right places.

“I used to come here all the time. Before the Prophet published a photo of me. Six months ago.”

Draco shrugs. “Can’t a boy try his luck?”

Potter leans forward and pulls Draco’s stool closer to him.

“You’re no boy. You’re a slut.”

“Oh, yes,” Draco moans, biting his lip. “I am. I’m a bad, bad slut.”

* * *

Harry Potter fucks like he goes to war. There’s no fear there, no second guessing. Draco could die now, bent over a dirty sink in a dingy Muggle bar, and he’d be happy. He should die, actually, because what else is there to experience? He has peaked, and life can only be a disappointment from this point on.

“Please,” he begs when all is done. “Again.”

“You make a compelling argument,” Potter says, pulling up his pants. “But there are people queuing outside.”

“I’ll get rid of them. I’ll kill them. Nobody will miss them too much, I’m sure.”

“How about this,” Potter says, fixing his hair back in a ponytail. “You keep coming here every night for another six months, and maybe I’ll drop by again.”

“Don’t play with me, Potter. You know I will.”

“Oh, I know.”

* * *

Draco expects Potter to torture him for at least a couple of weeks, but he strolls into that cursed Muggle pub the next day. He’s wearing jeans and a ripped t-shirt. Truly living up to his reputation of decorated ex-Auror and beloved hero, this one.

“My, my,” he says, sitting next to Draco and gesturing to Robert for a drink. “What a good pet.”

“Aha,” Draco says, draping himself all over Potter’s offensively attractive attire.

“Let me get a drink in me first,” Potter says, struggling to keep Draco at arm’s length.

“If you wanted a drink, you could have gone to another pub.”

* * *

Robert bans them eventually. Draco’s about to Obliviate him but Potter solves the issue by inviting him to his house.

“You mean, my house,” Draco corrects him.

Potter doesn’t seem impressed. “How about we call it a night, then.”

“Fine. I relinquish all rights to that home. You can have it forever. You can have the Manor, too, if you want.”

Potter laughs, and grabs Draco’s arm. “I love how desperate you are.”

“Oh, I’m desperate, alright.”

Five minutes later, Draco’s thirst is finally quenched when Potter bends him over a Black encrusted dining room table. Draco discovers he has quite the taste for family intrusions.

“In front of my great-grandmother’s portrait next, please,” he begs. Potter, the charitable soul he is, complies. Predictably, his great-grandmother calls Potter Muggle-loving filth.

“He is, granny,” Draco moans, face squished against some dusty yet tasteful wallpaper. “He’s the filthiest person that’s ever lived.”

* * *

“Are you some form of house pest? A Black family curse? Why can’t I get rid of you?” Potter says when Draco shows up on his doorstep, carrying a bottle of wine and appetisers as any man of the world would.

“Get rid of me, then,” Draco says, and walks in.

* * *

Potter is on an agenda to steal Draco’s elves and have them clean his shithole of a house. It’s the only reasonable explanation for why he’s taken to drinking with them.

“Stop entertaining the staff. You should be entertaining the Master. And there’s no smoking in the sunroom.”

“There is, now,” Potter says, lighting up a second cigarette with his wand. “There’s a new Master around here.”

“Master Potter,” the elves say in unison, drunk on the Butterbeer Draco keeps for his nephew.

* * *

It’s all fun and games until Draco catches feelings.

“I’m sick,” he tells anybody who cares to listen, and also those who don’t. “Je suis gravement malade.”

“Pull down the shades,” he tells the house elves from under the heavy duvet. “Owl the Healer.”

“Maybe Master Malfoy should tell Master Potter how he feels.”

“Clothes! Somebody bring clothes!”

* * *

“I heard through the grapevine that you’ve fallen ill.”

Draco peeks at Potter from under his duvet.

“It’s true. I’m dying.”

The bed jounces when Potter sits down next to him. He puts a hand on Draco’s un-feverish forehead.

“It sure looks like it.”

“I just want you to know, I lied about the Manor. I’m leaving everything to my elves.”

Potter’s hand moves down Draco’s face.

“Where have you been? I’ve missed you.”

“You have?” Draco says, his illness intensifying.

“Yes.”

“I thought I was a curse you couldn’t get rid of.”

“You are. You’ve been slacking on the job lately.

Something sharp rattles in Draco’s chest. He moves away from Potter’s touch, and hides under the duvet.

“Hey,” Potter says, leaning until his hand finds Draco’s waist through the thick material. “What happened?”

Silence.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Slowly, Draco shakes his head under the duvet.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Draco nods.

Draco hears ruffling and squeaking, and then Potter gets under the duvet. He’s hot, like a cat.

“Where did all your eloquence go?” Potter says, gathering him in his arms. “What happened to all your fancy words?”

Draco buries his head in Potter’s chest. Takes a deep breath.

“I turn stupid when I’m in love. It’s a debilitating illness.”

“You’re a debilitating illness,” Potter says, and kisses his forehead. “And I’m chronically ill.”

[mrsackermannx]

trust me with it | choso kamo

choso has experienced so much of what it is to be human already, but you're slowly making him realise that he's far more human than he thought.

word count: 7k

tagging: (ya’ll interacted with my interact to be tagged post back in November🥺) @meownotgood @sixpennydame @tomuraslut @romantichomicide95 @cathybarn @c-h-e-r-r-i-e-s @whatthefucksatan @loveackermannn + @p00pdev1l (have to tag you my beloved <3)

tags: 18+ canonverse choso kamo x fem!sorcerer reader, minor manga spoilers, (nothing plot wise is mentioned other than yuuji and megumi reuniting/implied culling games arc/ post shibuya incident arc), loss of virginity (virgin choso) but still soft dom choso, corruption kink too I guess?? choso has a big dick, breeding kink, size kink, slight praise kink, belly bulge, unprotected sex, use of "human/little human," light love confession/confession of feelings-so sex with feelings? low-key self indulgent, not beta read, vvv intense sex, possessive/smitten choso (slightly yandere at the end??)

author’s note 💌: (nov 23): hope this isn’t a little too ooc, ive been dying to write something for choso and this came to me so i had to write it! virgin characters are my faves to write🤭(june 24): I HAVE HAD THIS SAT IN MY DRAFTS SINCE NOVEMBER AND WANTED TO SET IT FREE😭😭😭

Choso had been plunged into a world of the unknown from the moment he met you. Before you, he liked to believe that one hundred and fifty years of existence meant that his wisdom would always be the indispensable weapon against which he truly feared—the unknown, and the humanity of his heart.

He was hardly a stranger to continuous, repetitive loops of thought but it felt as if his brain had rewired itself. Not even his inner world was safe from the insatiable need to be near you, his own thoughts searched for you when they dared stray elsewhere. 

He thumped the tile before him, hot water scalding his back as he willed his hopeless blood to answer him. It was acting on its accord all the time, his heart nothing but frenzied beating in his chest, not even his body in his own control anymore.

The need to be near you, to feel you and touch you in ways he couldn’t even explain was going to be his undoing tonight. Sharing a room with you seemed to send equal prickles of fear and excitement through him.

You reached out for your reflection in the glass as if you’d throttle it but chose to reach out and trail patterns against the window instead. You wrote nonsense for a few moments, before cursed energy started to zap through your fingertips in minute electric pulses. A shower normally reset you after a day like this, but you supposed this was a rather special circumstance. 

You were glad to be alive even though you didn’t feel you deserved it and the weight of your fellow sorcerers still slugged down your shoulders. The responsibility for your students was an ever present taste in your mouth. You eyed your tattered uniform beside you, all too grateful for the hotel robe Choso had insisted you wear after he picked apart the suitcase left by the last guests. It was soft and fluffy, perfect for how light your body felt after your shower and admittedly around Choso.

You gripped your stomach, the guilt demanding to be free. Your head was still fuzzy from how hot you’d had your shower, as you’d yearned to wash away all that had happened. But that would be a dream, “Satoru, I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” you whispered, laying your forehead against the cool glass.

Thankfully the wailing vibrations of a nearby car alarm rattled through the glass and then your ears, dragging you from the dark edges of your mind. 

You peered down below at the scene, squinting to figure out the cause of the chaos. Cackles of maniacal laughter followed sounds of crumbling concrete as your eyes darted from fire to fire. When one was extinguished another rose up in its place. Yet the neon lights of Tokyo still shone, a loyal audience and an ever present reminder of what life used to be like. 

It was pure anarchy, like waking up from one nightmare and going right back into another. Yet the world was not ending and then starting again it just kept ending instead. 

You weren’t sure what was worse, the hell out there, or the one in this room? Choso wasn’t quite sure either, he thought as much as he watched you intently from the doorway of the bathroom. He found he could often do so and never tire of it because there was a fluidity to your movements that calmed him, something that reminded him of water, like warm waves somewhere safe. 

He liked that about you, he liked a lot about you. 

You glanced at his reflection in the glass, and resisted smiling at how he watched you so attentively. Concern knitted his features into something soft and more approachable than the expression he usually showed everyone else.

He was so cute and serious all at once that it was infuriating. He towered over you in height and his hands dwarfed yours, every feature of his face was dark and perfect, and maddeningly symmetrical like he was crafted in heaven, like some kind of dark, beautiful, fallen angel. 

But nothing about Choso was what you expected, that you learned early. He might have looked intimidating, but he was careful and patient, he stopped to admire flowers when he thought nobody was watching, he didn’t always say a lot, nor did he smile often, but he had an array of expressions that always managed to move you in some way.

You sighed. You resented how he’d managed to send the usually calm waves of your heart into a frenzy, a full blown tsunami. 

But you couldn’t hate him, it was impossible. Not when every interaction you had together, you treasured so sincerely. You casted your mind back to just nights ago, when you were sitting together on a roof in some district, sharing konbini raided food together under the stars. He held his onigiri out to cheers with yours, a phantom smile on his lips before he took a bite. 

Or when your hand brushed his as you were walking back and he frowned at how cold it was, clasping it immediately on instinct with his large, warm hand. You tried to shake his grip but he shook his head and clasped it tighter, urging you to keep up with his pace. You didn’t argue it any further.

Then just this morning after passing through what used to be a department store. You all but yelped when you felt something hook around your throat from behind. But a hand landing atop of your head quickly stopped your thrashing, “It’s just me.” You heard the glimmer of his smile, turning with one of your own.  

He was still smiling, simply as if he was so fond of you that words were futile to express the depth. Your throat went dry as he adjusted the scarf on you, “I found this,” he murmured, before continuing ahead, turning to beckon you when you stood there frozen. 

This person often acted without words and out of pure kindness and it baffled you. You knew what he had done and what he was capable of, but every wordless gesture, reassuring nod, and the warm brush of his fingertips against yours had you rethinking everything about love. 

His deep voice settled through your body and calmed your rising nerves. He’d only said your name but it sounded like the unmistakable call to come home, it made you feel like a child again.

You were still standing at the window, then, he thought, no doubt thinking of other sorcerers, of Satoru, at least you knew Yuuji and Megumi were safe, only a few doors down.

“You should sleep,” he murmured, soft footsteps growing close until his body heat somehow billowed against your nape.

It was easier to face yourself than him right now, so you dared not meet your faces in the reflection staring back at you. “What are you thinking about?”

You wanted to speak but found yourself trembling, silent tears rushed to embrace your palms, staggering where you stood you tried to cover your eyes, but Choso was already there. You felt his strong arms lock around you, stilling the tremors that shook you. You stiffened at first before you melted, the hard pieces of you pooling to his feet like wax. 

“What are you doing, Choso?”

“I felt like it was right,” he whispered, resting his chin upon your head. Instinctively his hands cupped your cheeks, swiping away the warm tears rolling there. “You stopped shaking.”

You couldn’t breathe now for entirely different reasons, being handled so tenderly seemed to make you even more tearful. 

The commotion of the fighting in the distance seemed to unsettle you more, making Choso exhale suddenly through his nose. “I…wish you didn’t have to see that.”

Your lips parted, “I don’t want to think about anything anymore Choso,” you croaked. “I don’t want to think about anything.”

“Can you think about me?” he bashfully asked, stroking his hands through your hair. “I just want to help you.”

“I don’t want to burden you, just go to bed, okay?”

He stiffened against you, unhanding you to head over to bed.

“You don’t have to fight how you feel around me. I’m not one of your students.”

“I know.” You refused to let yourself crumble anymore around him, it was too dangerous, for so many reasons.

“We have to rest so we can fight,” he murmured. You turned to find him gesturing again to the space beside him. You sighed and he countered you with an even louder one. He crossed his arms as you smirked at the sound, “Don’t be stubborn. You need to sleep.” 

His bluntness was something he did to lessen the burden of talking at times, but when he spoke to you it felt as if he did it to protect your heart. It was obvious he didn’t always know how he should say things before others, but with you it came easy. 

You let out a bitter laugh, wrapping your arms around your cold body. “You know, Choso? The more time passes, I can see that you’re an older sibling.”

He decided to take that as a compliment, humming in gratitude before continuing to pat the empty space beside him. “Then listen, come here and sleep. You can’t sleep over there.”

He cocked his brow at you, “Can you?” 

“Listen, I don’t care what Yuuji says, alright? I don't trust you.”

You immediately covered your mouth as if to take the projectiled words back. You turned back quick enough to see the frown on his face before it was gone before he impassively said, “At least trust him.”

Your eyes held each other's gaze until you refused to be lost in the beautiful unsurety of those dark brown eyes. So you stared back at the moon instead, wondering how you found time crumbling into nothing whenever you looked at him. You were trying to ignore the pangs of your heart, asking it why it had chosen now to fall for this half-human, half-curse you found so utterly captivating. 

Even with your back to him the reflection of him was clear beside you, not willing to leave your side. He was wearing whatever clothes the last guests had left. A black t-shirt and some loose sweatpants, and his hair was loose and silky at his shoulders from his shower, and his skin was still flushed from it, too. 

The image beside you, and the reality behind you caged you in, forcing you to face your true desires and the guilt that was tugging at your gut. He was innocently offering you space beside him to rest and your mind was everywhere else. You couldn’t ignore how seductive he sounded when he spoke this late at night, or how the sight of him reclining against the headboard with his thighs slightly spread like that was so sexually charged it was making your thoughts run wild. 

Without his usual clothing you could see how thick his biceps were, and how broad his chest really was. You longed for him to touch you, to hold you, to explore you so he could learn what being human really meant.

His aura and general demeanour was so undeniably strong it had you wondering how much longer he’d play this game with you, and what he’d do to you if you gave him the opportunity. But a part of you also doubted that he felt that way about you, or anyone for that matter.

“It’s cold over there,” he pressed again, no malice at all, only concern. “Yuuji told me that I'm naturally warmer, it must be because my blood circulates differently…So, you really should come and sleep here next to me.” 

You were freezing in your robe, unwilling to put your tattered uniform back on. So, you finally abandoned the window ledge, “What are you gonna do if I do?”

His face furrowed, “Whatever you want me to do,” he sounded more like he was asking. He'd been around you long enough to pick up on the slither of the nuance aching to be acknowledged.

“I’d rather not hear you complaining any more beside me though.”

“Whatever.”

He cracked you a half-smile, happy to see you finally listening to him, even if you were being a brat about it. “Good.” 

You were sure you caught his gaze on your thighs as you neared the bed. You’d been chalking it up to him being curious, but the way his eyes had lapped over your bare skin tonight held something you could feel in your core. 

“Do you think I don’t notice when you do that? Earlier, too?” you blurted. 

His eyes darted to the door as if he planned to escape or as if Yuuji was about to burst in and declare that he room with him instead, rather than the tall black haired boy he’d been attached to the hip with since they reunited.

“I don’t want to fight with you. Yuuji respects you-“

He looked up at you, those dark eyes alight with something reminiscent of relief and perhaps yearning? His unwavering gaze sent flutters through you, it was like he was taking in every detail and leaving everything else alone.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d acknowledge my question at least.”

He pouted, noticing how your arms were tightly folded and how you were looking down at him with an indecipherable emotion. He hadn’t quite figured that one out yet, he thought, but he liked the look of it on you. It excited him somewhere, somehow. 

“Choso?” Your voice was a soft, hypnotising hum whenever you said his name all honeyed like that.

His mouth went dry as he really took you in. How the moon was creeping in to illuminate your skin, drifting down your throat to where your blood pumped. He briefly questioned whether all of these feelings were because your blood was special? How was it that you glowed like the sun and the moon had gifted you their light? Why were you so attractive to him? 

The bathrobe was much too big for you, the sleeves large and encasing your wrists, but it cinched in your waist. You had such an attractive shape, one that was so different to his own. He’d spent far too long trying to conjure up how you must look in his mind, but he could never form the image. Clothes were always in the way, taunting him, teasing him. 

“Choso!”

“Yeah, yeah-“ His eyes widened as you closed the gap between you both, kneeling tentatively in front of him. He quickly brought his legs to his chest and turned away from you. 

You scoffed, “You’re the one that wanted me over here so bad.”

Blood was thundering in his ears and his skin was burning so hot he feared he was about to explode into a thousand different pieces. He needed to hold himself together because he felt like if he looked at you he’d be doomed. Maybe his worst worries were true, he couldn’t be around humans like you, at his core he was nothing but a curse. What if you caused his body to show him yet another reaction? One that was weird? One you would hate?

“I know,” he mumbled, curling up on his side, he appeared to be shaking slightly, as he rocked his hips every few seconds. He was trying to elevate the pressure building in his lower half that was making him feel like he might burst. “I still do.”

You sighed, leaning over his body to assess his face. “Now you’re just worrying me.” You rested your hand on his forehead and he groaned. 

“Why are you burning up like this? Were you not supposed to shower or something? I don’t see how you’re any different from us in that regard?”

He groaned into his fist, “Ever since I lost my brothers, and I met Yuuji. I've been feeling and experiencing things I never have before. I thought the worst and the best were over. But now, you?” 

He was groaning like he was in pain. “I don’t think I can take it any longer.”

“Hey, calm down.” You bit your lip, “Take what? Should I get Yuuji?”

He quickly shook his head.

“Then I guess I’ll keep my eye on you tonight.”

The bed dipped beside him as you laid down, curling your body up like his. He froze, staring at you and your mouth, your lips looked so soft, he ached to touch them.

“Listen, I’m sorry for snapping at you. It’s not like I don’t trust you.” You paused, “You’re interesting, Choso. I’m just intrigued by you. I don’t know what you think of me, I guess that’s why I want to know why you stare at me like you do?”

His brows pinched together.

“Like earlier?”

“Was I?”

You nuzzled closer to savour the sweet treat of his scent. It was nothing and everything human all at once; sweet, and vaguely like metal.

“Maybe Yuuji hasn’t told you this…but like, you can’t just stare at people's bodies so obviously.”

“Their faces are better?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Got it,” he said slowly, but then he noticed you had nothing under your robe. He wondered if your nipples were hard because he could see goosebumps spreading over your skin.

His eyes settled on the space free from your robe. “And I…was staring at your body?” 

“Yeah.”

Your eyes followed his, watching him grow more shameless by the second. With every doubt you had, a shaky breath or a small noise would escape him, that had you questioning if he felt the same desire for you. Seconds felt like minutes, as Choso allowed his gaze to roam freely of you, as you allowed him to. 

“And…you don’t like that?” he whispered after what felt like forever, making your heart beat faster with all of these stolen whispers.

“You don’t like when I stare?” 

Time slowed and all other sounds ceased to exist to him, he could hear every bat of your lashes, and every hesitant swallow. He was watching you so carefully he barely blinked. “I want you to tell me why.” 

Then you did it, the thing that confirmed everything for him as you clenched your thighs together, ever so slightly. His own were locked firmly together, as he could feel something was happening there that he couldn’t explain. Maybe you were experiencing the same thing, he thought. He didn’t want to grapple with doubt when this might be the only time he had with you like this.

“It’s just not something you should do,” you finally replied, curt and crisp, but the way your voice shook suggested anything but. He could feel the heat emulating from you now. You were on fire, too, or at least he hoped you were, because he was finally at bursting point. 

“I want to show you what you do to me. Do you want to see?”

Your lips parted to speak but before you could he was sitting up and gesturing to the thick bulge in his pants. 

“This. This is mine,” he whispered, leaning in so his breath brushed your neck. “You know what’s happening to me, don’t you?”

You throbbed and pulsed for him, weakened by your desire. “You really are getting used to this whole human thing admirably fast. It’s endearing, honestly. You want sex and you’re already figuring it out?-“

“I don’t want to just get you pregnant-“

The tension broke with your laughter, “That’s not all sex is for, Choso. There’s many ways to do it, did you know that?”

“There’s another way?” 

“Choso, if I show you, you can’t go around telling everybody, okay?”

“Is it special?”

“Not every time. But it can be. Shall I explain first?”

“Yes.”

“People have sex because it feels really good. When a man and a woman have sex, yes, they can produce life. But people have sex mostly because it feels good, are you understanding me here?” 

He nodded, “It can be called fucking too. Sex is sometimes called fucking.”

He leaned closer with his eyes glued to your lips. “How did you know that’s what I wanted?”

You swallowed as he studied your face so intently, “Because you’re hard, right?”

He frowned in confusion, rushing to check his stomach, “Where?”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, “Oh you’re too sweet. Sit back.”

He let go of your hand and leant against the headboard awaiting your next move. You couldn’t help but wonder how long he could remain this composed? 

You carefully lowered yourself on his lap, watching him wince, you knew it was because his cock was probably growing more sensitive by the minute. Due to his abilities, his blood was in a frenzy everywhere.

“You’re curious, aren’t you? About my body?”

Your words were all he needed for his body to act for him, as he reached and ripped your robe open and apart, “Choso,” you stammered, “you should have asked!”

His hand cupped your throat carefully, thumbing your thudding pulse point. “I knew you wanted that. Your heart has been beating like this since you laid down. You want to show me your body too, and you want me to touch it. Explore it. Don’t you?”

He smirked at you, and he looked so gorgeous it hurt.

“You want sex, don’t you? But are you sure you want it with me? I don't know what to do.”

You lifted his chin and smiled, making that primal part of him go even crazier, “It’s okay. I still want it with you, Choso.”

In the rush of the moment he suddenly realised what he wasn’t laying his eyes on, and he gasped as he finally did, though all to himself. “I can touch you?”

You nodded and he worked the robe down your arms, he was mesmerised, brown eyes glimmering in the low light. His breath growing heavier at the sight, “You’re so soft,” he stroked you so gently it turned you into mush. His hands rose up and down the dips of your curves, over and over as he appreciated the unique shape of you. It seemed like he wanted to commit your every breath to memory.

“You’re beautiful,” he said under his breath as he cupped your breasts, rubbing your nipples with his thumbs. “They’re so beautiful…You’re so beautiful.”

He leaned forward to rest his face in your breasts, locking a hand with yours. As he listened to your frenzied heart and toyed with your nipple, mesmerised by your body. 

You ran your fingers through his hair and he moaned softly, pulling away to touch and grab at you all over again. His eyes locked on yours, watching the way you were getting worked up from his every touch. He noticed how much faster your heart beated when his hand stroked down your centre and neared lower. So he paused at your abdomen. 

“You’re…exquisite.” His eyes were in yours like they always were, intense and full of anticipation. “Here, this part of you too.” He was flushed all the way up to his ears. “What do I call it?”

You smirked, “My stomach?”

He was trembling, trying to contain himself. Shaking his head, he asked a wordless question. You smiled, and he took that as assurance to venture further, cupping the hot heat between your legs. “You look so pretty like this, when I’m touching you here,” he whispered, watching your teeth sink into your lip as your arousal drowned his fingertips. 

“My pussy? You’re touching my pussy,” you whispered. “Do you like it?” 

He nodded eagerly, “This is where I put mine?”

“Do you want to?”

He nodded again, “Can I…look at it? Closer?”

“You can do what you want with it, Choso.” You cupped his face, leaning close. “I want you to do whatever feels natural to you.” You kissed along his jaw as you spoke, he quivered at each one. 

“I think you’re more human than you give yourself credit for. A curse might have had its way with me by now and I know you must be bursting to try these new things as they come. So we’re going to do something special first.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna kiss. Kissing is done in all kinds of ways, you kiss your family on the cheek, normally. You kiss lovers on the lips. You kiss people you have sex with on the lips. It feels really good. Got it?”

“You’re going to show me though, aren’t you? You’re going to lead me.”

“Yeah, you ready?”

He nodded, “We’ll close our eyes, and then I’m gonna kiss you, got it? My lips will touch yours, and then you’ll let nature take its course from there. Don’t worry about being too rough with me,” you eyed his hands that were now resting at his sides, “You won’t hurt me. I’m a sorcerer, remember? It would take a lot to do that.”

“Then come here and give me your lips.” He tugged your mouth onto his, your lips meeting his eager ones, you thought he’d need a second to adjust to the sensation, but in a single second you were being slammed down onto your back. He clutched your face in his hands so he could kiss you without any distractions, it felt like he’d never let go. Everytime you moaned, he would too, like every kiss bonded you closer together.

He kissed you like he’d been waiting years for this, rutting his clothed cock into your naked, wet centre. You slid your tongue against his and he started to grunt, and his skin grew so hot against yours you wondered if he might set you both alight.

He was quick, and eager, pulling away to rip away his shirt, but earnest as he grabbed and then placed your hands on him. You made sure he felt your desire too, kissing all over him, finding that sensitive place just under his ear to suck and kiss. But then he was fighting you, just so he could kiss down your throat to get your tits once more, learning and learning.  “I can kiss anywhere?”

“Yeah,” you moaned.

His eyes darkened with lust as he gripped both your breasts, running his teeth all over them and sucking until your blood rose to the surface in the shapes of his lips.

“I saw a lifetime when I saw you. I saw you, and I felt it all. I thought that was your technique, that you were going to lure me in and kill me with your beauty. I was wrong. Thank you for giving me your body. Trust me with it.”

He was gasping against your skin, running his hands up and down like you were about to disappear. And if his words were intense, his actions were even more so. “I want to kiss you forever.” 

You had no idea what to reply to him right now, but there was something so beautiful about how direct he was, he loved his brothers, he knew of emotions, like love and admiration. He knew what he felt for you and he could put it into these words.

Falling for this man was hardly unusual when what you felt was so real. 

“I trust you, Choso. I want you to kiss me for as long as you want to.”

“I can kiss here then?” he said, throwing your thighs over his shoulders as he gripped your hips and leered at your pussy.

“It’s so wet,” he hummed in awe, before he closed the space and kissed it. He let out such a loud groan you had to shush him, but then that was just it. He was sucking all over so your juices could dance through his taste buds. He was licking and sucking on your pussy with so much zeal you were surely louder than he was. 

Choso was learning fast. He knew that you surely couldn’t be this wet like this all the time, he gathered it was because your body was readying itself to take him. Which also meant you wanted to take him, he wanted to take you. He’d yearned for you, he’d adored you. He adored this.

“I could do this forever,” he moaned, the grip bruising on your hips, as he locked you firmly in place so he could explore you. “Those noises of yours. Don’t stop. You won’t stop. I’m telling you not to stop them.”

“Yes Choso!”

He never thought the sound of his name could taste so sweet. He was groaning into you, sucking and licking until your swollen clit rubbing against his lips caught his attention. You prayed he’d be gentle as he spread your lips and looked at you, awaiting your reaction as he gave it a softer flick of his tongue. You shuddered so sweetly, squeezing his shoulders and tugging on his hair. 

“That’s a sensitive part of you, isn’t it?” He chuckled to himself, a grin on his lips, “My sensitive little human.” 

Your eyes widened at the words and he watched as more slick oozed from your throbbing sex. He laughed again, the deep sound reverberating deep in your core, he was so beautiful, so hypnotising. He brushed the hair from his eyes and kissed along your thighs, still keeping you spread. 

“I’ll be gentle with you. I won’t break you unless that’s what you want.”

The pleasure you were experiencing from a half-human half-curse should have been illegal, it probably violated some sorcery law somewhere but you didn’t care. Not when he was somehow saying and doing everything to make you tick. 

He kept licking and sucking until he found what you liked, and noticed the way you were shaking, the way your thighs were squeezing him tight so he didn’t stop. You gripped his hair, moaning his name as you came, the sweet taste filling his mouth until you had to forcibly push him away.

“Don’t keep your sweetness from me. That was all mine,” he grunted, travelling up your body with kisses. He took your face in one hand, his voice softening as he looked at you beaming in your afterglow, “Did I give you too much? Can’t take anymore of me?”  

You shook your head, barely able to catch your breath. “You made me feel so good, Choso, you gave me an orgasm. That’s important in sex, to give your partner orgasms, it’s what just happened.”

His thumb rubbed your lower lip, marvelling at the subtle mark he’d left from biting it earlier, and he smiled, “So you keep stimulating your partner until they can’t take anymore, releasing themselves on you.”

“You catch on fast.”

He grinned, kissing you deeply as he rutted himself into you. “Show me what to do,” he said breathlessly. “I need you, now.”

“Fuck Choso your cock, I can feel it.”

You started to tug down his sweatpants, taking the time to admire how broad and built he was, he really was no different from a human at all. He moaned with every press of your lips on his skin, he’d made them so swollen, kissing and biting on them like he was ravenous.

You released his cock from the confines of his pants and gasped, frozen at the sight. “Are you scared of me? Is it different?”

“No, it’s amazing…” you licked your lip, “It’s just so big.”

The warm weight of his hand landed on your stomach, he rubbed there, reassuring whilst also obviously trying to calculate this himself, “But you want it, don’t you?” he murmured, soft, “So we can make it fit, can’t we? We have enough of this together.”

He was so clumsy as he touched himself it made your heart swell, gathering the slick that was pooling down his cock. He took it, and made sure to cover your pussy in it, pausing when his finger slipped inside of you with ease. But then you moaned so deliciously he found his jaw growing slack, eager to keep pleasing you. 

“That’s why you’ve got this little hole haven’t you? It stretches to fit things inside, so it’s going to fit me inside like it’s doing right now.”

You quickly nodded, beyond fucked out by this man as he continued to stuff his precum into your pussy. “Yes Choso.”

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he grunted, stuffing in more of his fingers to fuck you even better. “Naked and free.” 

“You can put it in now, Choso. It’ll fit. I want it.”

“Because you want me don’t you?”

“Yes Choso.”

You watched him, gripping the base of himself and aligning his heavy cockhead to your opening. His face was lost in pleasure, lost to every sensation, he was beautiful like this too, you thought. 

“Only me?”

“Only you, Choso.”

“Then let me see everything,” he whispered against your forehead, large hands folding you and spreading your thighs wide. “You’re so beautiful. I want to see it all.”

“Please be gentle,” You whimpered, feeling him start to push in, you braced yourself, hanging on to him tight. 

He groaned into your cheek as he felt resistance from you, no matter how good you felt he’d rather die than hurt you. “Is there another way?”

“Lie down.”

He did as you said, watching in awe as you were quick to straddle him, oozing slick all over his thighs. You still wanted him just as much as he wanted you and that excited him to no end. Even if he was a challenge and clearly more than you were used to.

You hovered as you aligned yourself with his cock, and he moaned as you finally touched him. And as you sunk yourself onto his cock he gripped your hips so tight you yelped, before your voice melted into a moan in unison with his.

“More,” he whimpered, as you stopped halfway, panting at the sensation. “Let me in.”

“Trying, Choso.”

“I want to feel all of you. All of your pussy.” His voice was low, and close to breaking as you throbbed on him. 

“That’s it,” he stroked his thumbs in comforting circles, “Are you going to let me feel you?” 

You quickly nodded, teeth sunk into your lip. His voice was as arousing as his cock, “Give me a minute, Choso. I can do it.”

“Does it hurt?”

You nodded and he pondered for a moment before he took his thumb to your clit, rubbing until you moaned. Then slowly, naturally, as if your body was melting into his, you made your way down the thick inches of him.

“You’re doing good, so good for me. You can take all of me inside. You’re strong.” He was so out of his mind he didn’t even know what he was cooing to you, but he just wanted to put you at ease. 

“You pretty little human. Taking my body like this because you want your pussy fucked? Right? You like my cock inside you? Stretching you out?”

“Choso!” You groaned as he fully bottomed out, hands landing on his shoulders for support. “I love it, you feel so good. You’re making me feel so good.”

He whined at your words before composing himself, his lips trailing down your skin. “I am? Are you too weak now? Do you need me to help you feel good? Yuuji said you were a good teacher. He was wrong,” he taunted, kissing the side of your face as he gripped you.

His hands sunk into your ass as their final resting place, appreciating the softness there too, “You need to show me what to do, just once.”

“I can’t,” you whined, tears of pleasure flowing down your cheeks at how full you were. “Look at yourself. Your cock is so big.” You breathlessly gestured to your stomach. 

His eyes widened as he pushed his palm onto your belly, feeling how deeply he was penetrating you, “You have to use me and make yourself feel good. That’s all, Choso.” You barely managed your words, eyes barely open as the pleasure he was giving you threatened to break you apart. 

“I understand. Leave it to me,” he groaned, kissing your neck, as he started to move you off and on his cock, “We move together until we orgasm. You’ve never had a cock like mine so you can’t move, huh?” 

He experimentally snapped his hips into yours and you whimpered so loudly he soon followed. Although he knew nothing of what was lewd and what wasn’t, he somehow knew that the sound you’d made was nothing but filth and that he’d done something you’d desperately needed. 

He did it again and again, until he was drilling up into you and delighting in all of the sounds you were making, gasping from how good you felt. “Choso, your cock feels so good inside. It’s the best.”

“Then you never need another one, if only I make you feel this good. No other cock will ever feel the same,” he grunted, “You’re mine now, you beautiful woman.”

You kissed him messily in reply, barely able to form words as he fucked up into you until you were shaking and moaning into his mouth because you were coming all over him. “Then you’re mine, Choso. I showed you this, how to feel good. It won’t feel good if another human do-“

You gasped as his hand slammed over your mouth and you were on your back once more. He was folding you whilst holding back on finishing in minutes and he didn’t even know how impressive that was.

“Don’t say it. I don’t want another human near me like this. Only you. I told you, I saw you. I saw everything. I know that I’m different. But I can fuck you better, I know I can. You like what I’m doing to your body. I know, I know, I know, you do,” he chanted as he groaned into you, balls smacking hard against you as he ravaged you. 

All you could do was hold tight and brace yourself as you whimpered. 

“Mine, mine, mine. So, so, beautiful,” he grunted.

Tears pricked your water lines at the intensity, you felt so loved, and safe in his embrace like this. 

You could feel him twitching inside of you, and you could see him holding back. “When you orgasm, Choso. Your cum will be different, it will be messier than mine.”

“Is that the stuff that breeds you? It’s going to shoot inside you, isn’t it?” he stammered. “You don’t want it? How do I control it?” 

“You can’t, but that’s okay, I won’t get pregnant, I take something for that. So when you feel like it’s getting too much, give in. You can let go. You’ve already done so well.”

“I can fill you up with my seed?” He stretched your arms above you to take both your hands in a single clasp, cupping your chin with the other. 

“Look at me. Why won’t you get pregnant? Because I’m not fully human?”

There was a sadness in his eyes, but it was being blown out completely by his desire. 

Why was this man so hot without realising it? His brow as all furrowed, his face flushed, fucking you so hard it was now dawning on you how loud you both were being. “It’s a pill I take,” you moaned as he slammed into that spot inside that had you creaming on him again. “I-I told you.”

“Then I’ll pretend,” he grunted, gripping your hips hard as he fucked into you like he was trying to breed you.

“Like I’m going to fuck my seed into you so I can keep you forever. No man can have you if you’re filled with me.”

“I want your cum, Cho!”

“I know you do! You’re a needy little human taking my cock even though it’s too big for you, wanting my cum to fill up your pretty little hole.”

“I want it, I want it,” you moaned into his ear, wrapping your arms around him tighter. Your voice only made it worse, he pinned you down even harder, kissing and licking up your tears. 

He was whimpering now, all of the pressure building in his core, he could feel it, the very sensation you were talking about. “You’re lucky I haven’t split you in two with my strength. But you take it, you take me in your pussy, waiting for every last drop of me.”

The loud smacks of his hips on yours were no louder than your sounds. He was fucking you like he’d never get the chance again. 

“I wish I could breed you. Then everyone would know, I’d know. That you’re mine, all mine,” he was rambling as he came, holding you tight with his tongue down your throat. 

You felt the insane amounts of cum spurting inside of you until the noises were so lewd it was near comical. Until there was so much cum he was slipping out of you and coming all over your stomach and the sheets too. Your name laced in every breath.

He groaned out your name, falling into your arms so could put him back together again. You kissed wherever you could, praising him through your breathlessness. You both rested for several of these precious moments. It seemed like the night had finally calmed outside of the hotel too, as had you both, after purging what had been brewing between you both since you’d first laid eyes on each other.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he asked, running his lips across your jaw.

“No, not at all.” You continued to soothe him, running your hands through his hair. “But now we have a whole lot to talk about. I wouldn’t normally fuck someone so soon that I saw a future with.”

He made a little hmph sound, “Why?”

“It normally comes after getting to know someone.”

“We’ll have all the time in the world for that,” he said gently, flipping you below him as he caged you beneath him. 

“Won’t we?” he urged, folding up your thighs as he guided himself back inside. His voice was desperate all over again. “So,” he leant close, his lips brushing yours. He tried to resist, but gave in to taste your lips, taking the time to kiss you with so much unbridled affection it made your chest hurt. Before he finally spoke again, “So, stay alive for me, and I will for you.”

©mrsackermannx: do not repost, plagiarise, translate or modify my works.

[lottluvs]

Take Chances. (🪵 )

pairing : lottie matthews x fem reader … c / w : descriptions of nausea , descriptions of violence , self - violence , derealization, fluff . ( short-ish little drabble as a writing exercise ! fast pacing , descriptive . )

summary : nothing could’ve prepared you for this , a plane crash with your soccer team , and being in the forest with them was nothing you could’ve readied for . the wilderness drove you to deteriorate mentally faster , however it seemed advice from the past drew you closer to someone you’ve learned for for oh so long .

lottluvs , feel free to translate with credit . . open to criticism 🌱

a/n : i am so sorry, i wrote this at like 12-2am, and didnt proofread it at all, sorry for the weird pacing, but yay first one shot :3 ( update : posted on ao3 as well ! ) my requests are open !!

The cicadas humming echoed more words than you spoke in weeks, their tune seemed to drown out your thoughts, waking up later than everyone else, silently, and with no purpose. Even the thought of getting up to survive was starting to get tiring, you were a teenager, this wasn’t something you wanted to ever have to deal with, none of these girls should’ve had to. 

As you rose from your makeshift pallet on the floor, the blankets draped on you somewhat too perfectly, you noticed that the cabin was clean of the warm bodies that littered it in the night, and even the late risers were by now gone as well. Your mind was still settling into the new day, ears ringing with the fuzz of your pillow. You begin to recall everything, the plane ride, crashing, surviving.. no, it wasn’t surviving at this point. It was scraping together whatever mess you called rations. Even so, that was only for your physical health, if you were to say you were surviving mentally, not even the slightest wind would hear your lie. Unfortunately, recalling everything wanted to make you fall back asleep, and let the delusion your brain would find in the comfort of dreams take over once more, but the thought of repeating the day over and over again gave you to pure spite to not go back to sleep. You wished for just a little longer your brain would forget this mess, this horrible loud mess. “Just five more minutes.” You thought, hearing your mother’s voice ring in disagreement, the voice seemed far away, but it was certainly there.

Standing up, you breathed in dusty air, restless, dirty air. Nausea from starvation hit you like a brick, eating once every few days in little portions really made you appreciate what you had before this horrible accident. Folding your blankets into one nice pile took no more than two minutes, two minutes sharp that you counted. Time was precious, so why not keep the memory of something you may not be able to do ever again in due time? Walking to the door, with a hand rubbing your stomach similarly to how your mother would comfort you by rubbing your back, took even longer. “Do I have to? I mean do I really have to?” Those words bubbled in your mind as you placed a dirty hand on the handle to open the worn door. 

Bright. It was excruciatingly bright. The smell of pine and the breeze filled your nose with a chill. Standing on the porch carrying baggy eyes and messy hair, looking around to see a few teammates working around, some minding their own business, some presenting their personality as if it was just another day living casually. Your eyes flickered before yawning and popping your fingers, walking out into the courtyard of what would soon be your last ringing bell, or that’s how you felt. The first one to stop you was Shauna, Shauna Shipman, one of the Yellowjackets midfielders. 

“Where were you?” Her voice was tired, but the sound of genuine ask was there.

“I slept a little too late I guess, no one woke me up, I assumed someone would.” You responded with your dry lips once stuck together parting with exhaust. 

“That’s okay, I was just worried I guess? Um, do you want to help me store and skin this faun? Like you were supposed to since you were next for this duty? Nat caught it this morning.” Shauna motioned to something behind her, idling her arms after, waiting for a response.

“I don’t see why not.” You spat out, hoping Shauna wouldn’t mistake your exhaustion for a negative tone, walking in the direction of the faun, of which was barely visible through the toned green leaves. 

You heard Shauna follow behind, picking up her pace when you eventually got to the scene of the deceased creature. She started to talk about how to “take care of the animal,” but honestly you couldn’t help but tune her out, you listened to the trees sway, the birds call, and you swore you could hear the roots of the trees shiver under your sore feet. Eventually, tuning Shauna back in would leave you in the middle of her conversation about how to store the game. You nodded in approval, feeling bad that you weren’t listening, because for some reason, you felt like Shauna needed this. This mentoring, maybe it let her feel like she had a bigger role. You walked over to full view of the small deer, Shauna handed you something wrapped in cloth, and got to work on the start of the process. 

Unwrapping the cloth would reveal a black handled knife, a shiny and what seemed to be recently cleaned blade. You locked positions, starting to stare at the weapon you wielded, looking at the skin of your fingers, moving to the palm that crowned the cloth and knife. You continued to stare as you began to get dizzy, your eyes felt like they were carrying weights, and the rough ground seemed to blur. Your own brain felt like it was betraying you.. “do it,” a voice rings out. “You cant go on right?” You felt your facial features drop, as not even your own hand was recognizable anymore, the skin that you bore wasn’t yours, right? It just didn’t seem right. What felt like a numb space of dull void that was your left hand picked up the blade firm, turning it blade down. Letting the cloth fall from your hand, you felt your lightheaded thinking churn, your eyes dilating, your stomach drop, as the nausea from waking up not even an hour ago began to stick to the front of your stomach, and your planted feet all combine into a feeling of external dread, as the blade kissed your skin, a hurtful form of abuse, the gorgeous deep red stained every line on your palm, making rivers of blood through your skin, dripping onto the ground below, it was a smooth and clean cut, at this point, you couldn’t even feel your hands, you didnt cut too deep into your palm before you felt something on your stomach, it wasn’t that feeling of your stomach deciding to throw up or not, it was warm. 

As you began to lock back into reality due to a the rush of adrenaline, Shauna snapped around to stand directly in front of you grabbing the knife blade first, somewhat cutting into one of her fingers, not as bad as you sculpted your hand.

“What the f— oh my god. Hey— what is going on with you?!?” The voice of concern that was so familiar hit you like bricks even though it was a whisper, it began to pull you back to fond memories. “This is—.” Shauna threw the blade onto the table and held your palm upside down, taking the absent cloth from the ground and covering it, applying pressure. You heard her take a breath before she sighed, it wasn’t a sigh of annoyance, rather a sigh of unease. “Hey, please talk to me..” 

For once that day, your brain formed a genuine thought that you were present for, what was going on with you? You looked at her soft features. The features that brought you comfort even before the crash. Your mouth opened, but the only thing that came out was the noise of silence and dead words, you’d left yourself dumbfounded. You felt bad Shauna had to waste any stamina she had left worrying for you. But at this point, you couldn’t even tell why you did that to yourself, was it self hatred? Hunger? Or was it the fact it was so hard to recognize you were a real person anymore. You’ve felt like prey this entire time. Never the one that’s one step above.

Shauna and you were good friends, in fact, she was the one to convince you to try out for the Yellowjackets in the first place. Turns out, you were a lot faster than you thought, placing you right with Jackie as a striker, a goalie-scorer, a game changer. During practice, you’d always be with Shauna, chatting up a storm and pissing off your already over stressed coach. Compared to current day, back then you were any normal teenager, bright, excited for the future, sociable, and one of the best features about you? You were approachable, and your team felt like they could go to you for anything. 

You recalled those thoughts quietly, stuttering out a few incoherent words before Shauna grabbed your other hand and squeezed it, calling you back to your unfortunate reality. “Shauna I don’t.. know. For once I really don’t know what’s wrong with me. Normally I can voice myself..  normally I’m in control, but now it’s like someone hit a reset on my brain. Nothing works anymore, im starting back on square one.” You squeezed her hand back, taking a breath in, wincing as the pain in your hand finally started to settle, waiting for her response, and looking at the ground now. 

“…That’s the most honest anyone here has been for a while I feel.” She let out a sharp chuckle before sniffling the strain of her allergies back into her nose and sighing. “This isn’t like you though, and.. by this I mean.. I feel like at this point everyone is different in some way, or in denial in SOME way.” Shauna rubbed your crimson stained hand gently with that oh so stupid concerned-confused pout on her face. “It’s weird to see how our situation changed us. You know?” 

You stared at Shauna, she was right, and you hated it. Subsequently, your hand began to throb with pain, almost as if your body, separated from your mind, was saying “gotcha.” You pulled away from Shauna and held the cloth to your hand, not even giving true word to her statement, just a slight nod, and you began to walk off toward the cabin again, holding your hand, not even for your own safety, not even for your own survival, but for a comfort, a longing, something you missed oh so dearly. Not even trying to hide your hand, you step towards the cabin, eyes not up, rather on the flaky pine needle and leaf covered ground beneath you, shakily breathing. However, as you approached, something stopped you, a whisper, something, someone? 

Your vision is blurry, dizzy even, you cant tell if it’s from the blood loss, or your brain playing tricks on you. You look around, focusing in on movement to your right. The only coherent thing you could see is that it was some form of being, you dont know what it was, but it needed it you there. Needed it near you. Was it you? Or was it this beast? It didnt matter, the lustful pull of this incoherent whisper was enough to draw you in. Walking, no, with a strong pace of a dizzy limp, you rushed toward whoever this was. It just felt right.

The forest no longer felt like a maze, rather, a clear magnetic force. You stopped in your tracks when you felt like it was right, when it felt like you were right. Locking into the vision in front of you, you held your hand more secure and looked around, where was this silhouette you saw? Just then, you heard what pulled you here, what was really behind your sudden mission. 

“Did the wilderness… bring you here too?”

That voice, that cracky, but strong, smooth voice..

…

“What do you mean I have a crush on her??” You shouted at Shauna, giggling as she shushed you for being so careless. Your cleats hit the ground echoing along either the remains of your voice, ringing throughout every locker room locker.

“Okay well, it’s not like, friend level, like that’s totally not normal.” Shauna snorted at you, teasing you. Rolling her eyes before turning to you fully. “Like— I get the wanting to be friends with her, like a squish or something right? But the way you talk about her, oh my god, you’ve sooo got a crush.” Her hands motioned along with her words.

“I mean. Shauna you’re the only one who knows I’m.. not exactly straight.” 

“So? No one else knows, but I feel like.. I don’t know. Like I don’t think anyone would make fun of you for it, maybe like.. Nat as a joke, Mari because she’s… Mari… but that’s it, I never did when you told me.” Shauna beamed. “But maybe that’s just because we are friends.” 

“How the fuck do I tell Lottie Matthews that though, she’s going to catch on too fast, like okay she doesn’t know that she makes it impossible to focus when she clears the ball to me up the sideline, because I’m too busy staring at well… her, and then the stupid dream we got like stranded on an island together.. and ALL the other stuff.” You finished your statement with a giggle. “I just don’t know. Maybe one day I’ll own up to it, but not anytime soon.” 

Shauna sighed at you. “Okay, but you should always take chances..” She reciprocated the laugh with a giggle, taking your hands in hers and rocking in laughter, just as normal teenage girls would do.

…

“Lottie..” You mumbled, as she got closer to you, allowing you to see every scar and marking her face had to offer, and god did her face offer jewels upon jewels.

“…Whats this?” Lottie gently lifted your hand, as you winced in response, seeming as you finally snapped back into reality. Her hands pulled back a bit before peeling the dyed cloth off of your scar. 

“Ah, that’s— I just got hurt while helping Shauna, it’s not a big deal, honest.” Holy shit, and now you’re LYING to her, as she decides to offer touch comfort to your shameful hand injury.

“There is no need to lie, this is definitely self inflicted, too perfect of a cut.” Lottie held your hand up a little higher, so she could see it better, the height difference between you two was palpable, and it made you swallow as she touched you. Soft, careful, thoughtful. Everything. Why did she— no why do you have to be so nervous..? Her dark lightly curled hair pushed back, her eyes gazing over you before letting go and stepping back, those sharp eyes looking you up and down.

“Something brought us two here, so, let’s talk.” Lottie whispered, signaling for you to find a place on the ground to sit, allowing you to rest first, including picking the spot, and yet she still held your bloody palm, almost guarding it from the ground. Your stomach flipped, but this time, from butterflies, if only you didn’t mess up your hand, maybe, just maybe, she would hold it. Maybe you could be bold and wrap your fingers around hers, but no, right now, your mind has control over you like a parasite. You aren’t thinking coherently. Lottie plopped down next to you, your hand still in her care

“Mmkay,” you mumble as you sit, enjoying the fact you get to sit. “I just.” You take the order of starting the conversation. “I feel like this.. this has made me worse, I don’t know, I don’t… I don’t want it to be this way, ever since I woke up its like I’ve been awake because I have to be. Not because I want to, I didn’t even feel me do this. I didn’t FEEL it Lot.” You hiss, energy kicking back in, pointing to your cut. “I didn’t WANT to do this, it’s like something was.. puppeteering me. Something wants me to harm myself. I hate this dizzy feeling. I hate, hate, hate it. God why is this happening to me? To us? I HATE this constant feeling of wanting to throw up, sometimes not even at something in front of me, but of the thought I might.. I MIGHT actually die out here. I wont get to tell the people the things I want to tell them, live with them, live my life, pursue MY life, and watch those close to me pursue theirs. I wont watch my children grow old, I wont see my mother, my father, my family.. I wont get to see them live, and I just have to be SATISFIED with that Charlotte.” You took a deep breath, and as you began to rumble more, a swift movement caught you off guard. 

Lottie grabbed you by the shoulders and drew you into a hug, not a side hug like they’d do as a “good game,” line at the end of a soccer game, a full, wrapped hug, the pressure was there, everything, every element of the hug. You felt your eyes widen as all you could do was cry. Not many tears filled your eyes, but the stinging and punishment was there. You turned into her chest, your hand sunk into her wool jacket, staining it with your awful impure red. You bled into her body in more ways than one, tears and blood sunk into her, as she was silent. You didn’t know how badly you needed the warmth and radiance of someone else. You needed the feeling of support, of love, if you could even call it that. As quick as she pulled you in, she let you go, but this time, she laid you in her lap, head on her thighs. Lottie placed a hand on your head. Shushing you kindly, mumbling affirmations of reassurance to calm you down, but at this point, you were too worked up to even do anything. You hurt. So bad. But there was another part of you that made you realize, you were laying in Lottie Matthews lap. The one you crushed on. The one that made you feel butterflies for the first time at practice, the one that made you miss the chance to score. The one that made you feel unearthly. 

“You know, I’m sure most of us feel that way. So many factors the forest has put us up against. We have lost so many, and yet, we have gained so much too.” She cooed, brushing her fingernails through your hair, spacing out as she did, looking at your face, and you could feel her gaze, but there was no comment needed. “If anything, we have learned to take chances. Any we get, that’s what the wilderness wants us to do.” Her voice rose a bit, almost as if she was inspired.

Take chances.

Take chances.

Take chances?

You looked ahead into the bushes, the brush, and the distance ahead, you thought about way laid beyond. But Lotties words rung in your head as if it was a catchy song like the ones she used to play on tapes in the locker room. “Take chances..” you mumbled. Once again, those cicadas spoke up, their loud wails yelling in your ears. The wind whispering, adding comments to their vocals. As you sat up, and looked directly at Lottie, she didn’t move, didn’t say anything, simply, she smiled. That small smile, the one where her eyes squish and speak words, like the cicadas, without understanding their non-spoken words, you understood thousands. You thought about Shauna, and all of her advice, you thought about those practices you spent looking at Lottie, and all the time you spent thinking about her, doubling it, and storing it in the back of your mind thinking it was shameful.

“Lottie.” You whispered, sighing, tearing up in the slightest.

“Yes?” She whispered back.

“…Lottie I——“ You choked on your own words, hesitating. You moved your bloody palm up to her face, sitting fully on your knees now. Shameful. Shameful you thought. Words attempting to run out of your mouth like a river, and stopping like it was blocked by a dam, and yet every dam must break eventually. Every factor was against you right now, your own body even played tricks on you. Every organ, every nerve. Lotties facial expression didn’t change, she didn’t move either, the only thing that did move, were her deeply toned eyes, directly into yours. Blinking off-beat with your own. Un-synced. Even so, there was something so special about that. However, you pulled your hand away, your flight mode got the better of you, why was it so hard? It’s just you two, and after a-

“Don’t…”

Silence. Both of you silenced. Your thoughts interrupted by her reaction. She slowly placed your hand back onto her cheek, drawing a slight smile on her face. Your own face confused before Lottie drew in closer. 

“Ive known since day one.” Lottie smiled, drawing her warm body closer to yours. “Ive seen the way you’ve looked at me, the way you get distracted, all of it.” Lottie smiled, pressing your hand into her face. You could feel every muscle in her face move, all for you. She’s gorgeous. Absolutely ethereal. 

“But why now..?” You speak as if you weren’t hiding this from her for years, you look at her mouth, dumbfounded by your own idiotic question.

“I have been waiting for you.” Her eyes shut as you both close the gap.

Nothing, silence, it’s just you and Lottie. Connected, together. Her lips are soft, fairly chapped, but you can still feel the layer underneath. You feel her hand move to your hip, pulling you even closer. Feeling every fiber holding this girl together shiver. Even you yourself are still in shock, but god are you enjoying this. It’s like she was able to finally silence your brain, for once you feel.. “normal,” more than normal even, you’re with Lottie Matthews. One of the Yellowjackets defenders, sitting here with you, and she’s being intimate. 

You pull away for air, your lips leave, but there is still longing for more, and she displays that by pulling you even closer, moving her hand off of your bloodied one, and into your hair, softly kissing, minutes pass, as you share her hands exploring you, as your uncut one holds her by the hip. Eventually, you both tire yourself out, separating lips with a strand of saliva, Lottie smiling as it drips, clearing off of her now unchapped lips. 

“So, how do you feel now?” Lottie says breathy.

You lean into her chest and close your eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Better than ever.” You chuckled looking at your palm with a few wet spots, most of it dried by now, looking up to her neck, planting a kiss under her chin, allowing her to breathe a giggle.

“Good, I knew the wilderness brought us here for a reason, my love.”

🌱.—

[mapileonxputellas]

Beckham II: 1 New Beginning

Please find instagram aesthetic here.

Post here explains how I've wrote it, I think it's quite simple.

This is the first part of my new series and I hope you enjoy xx (3k words)

“Do you ever think about how crazy it is that you’re an icon in Barcelona and yet your dad played for Real Madrid?”

“I try not to think about that. I think that bothers him more than me.”

“Does he have any Barcelona shirts?”

“Of course he does.”

…..

“David, how does it feel watching your daughter play for Barcelona?”

“It’s the best feeling in the world. I’m guessing you were expecting some kind of rivalry but I’ll always support my daughter.”

…..

Barcelona, February 2023.

One down, nine to go.

It was like clockwork in your brain. Training would finish, everyone else would rush to get back into the training room and get back to their everyday life. Yet here you were, on your own, just how you like it. You and the ball. Free kick after free kick after free kick. Ten in total, all from different areas, all with different aims but each one just as equally important in your brain.

Barcelona was a dream. You were here with the best players in the world but you hated letting anyone down. Every little mistake was over-analysed, picked at all because of who you were. At the weekend it was a wonder save which stopped one nestling in the top corner but that didn’t matter. It hadn’t gone in and therefore didn’t meet your expectations.

The expectations you put on yourself, multiplied by that moment four years ago.

You loved your father but many people probably didn’t understand that there wasn’t a gene for taking good free kicks.

Unbeknownst to you, all of this was about to change. “You’ve got a visitor.”

“If it’s another journalist, tell them I’m not interested.”

You couldn’t be bothered with whatever reply the press officer would tell you. It was the same every day. Someone wanted to speak to you, you said no. They came back the next day.

You’d think they’d get bored after four years of consistent turn aways but that was never the case. You did the press conferences, the interviews after games but a sit-down full-length interview was not something you felt like you could ever handle.

So you carried on, resetting the ball in the correct spot. Back to just you and the ball.

For February it was a sunny afternoon in Barcelona, the sun was still shining for the mid-afternoon with minimal wind. Perfect conditions to practice and as your teammates had pointed out you hadn’t needed any more persuasion to get that training vest on, your tattoos on full show. Along with football they were your biggest passion, your phone was full of tattoo inspiration and little doodles you did when you were bored, they were a big part of you and maybe the image you wanted to create for yourself.

You took inspiration from everything, football, the environment, your father. Growing up many would say you were already a carbon copy of him but the tattoos were the icing on the cake. Your mother may not have been as happy about them but they promised to accept all your passions and that included turning up every few months with a new collection of tattoos to show off.

…..

“Maria, is she copying you?”

“You’ll have to ask her. No of course not, I would say we take great inspiration from each other. We’ve got a few matching ones, I’ve done a few on her and she’s done the same to me. That’s kind of what started our friendship.”

“You both have ‘looks can be deceiving’ on your necks, is that true for her?”

“Depends on what you think of her. Maybe some find her scary but you have to find out if that’s true yourself.”

…..

You could hear someone approaching you, watching as you took the next kick nestling it into the bottom corner underneath the imaginary wall.

“Y/N, have you got five minutes?” The unmistakable voice of Sarina. Many people would love Serena Weigman to turn up at their training session, not you. Not now.

Shit. You almost didn’t want to turn around. Maybe if you stayed facing the other way she would leave. Leave you be in the bubble you’d created for yourself, nothing good could come out of this conversation.

But of course the Dutch woman wasn’t going to leave that easily, edging closer to you. “I only want to talk.”

“I gave you my answer a year ago.”

“Lots can change in a year. Five minutes. If you still want me to leave after, I’ll leave.”

Maybe it was worth hearing what she had to say. Nothing could change your mind anyway, you’d hear whatever she had to say and then she could leave.

You knew what she was here for and it didn’t surprise you what came out of her mouth next. “I want you back, I name my squad next week and I want you ready to play for us at the World Cup.”

“And I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“The fans are not that accepting, the players don’t deserve to be drawn into that drama because of me.”

“There’s always drama in football.” Maybe she had a point but off the back of the Euro’s success the lionesses have had nothing but positivity from the media and public. “We’ve lost Beth, we’ve lost Fran and I think the players would welcome your experience in that position. It’s your decision but I know deep down you want to prove people wrong and I want to give you that opportunity.”

“Some would say I don’t deserve that.”

“It will be different this time.”

“How?”

“It’s been four years, everything’s changed. We protect you guys, you have support systems in place, we have support systems. It’s not individuals anymore, it’s a team.”

“I made that decision to protect myself.” Almost four years ago you’d sent that letter, asking not to be selected for international duty again. They had no choice but to accept it and when Serena came into the role she approached you but you told her a tournament on home soil was not something you could mentally cope with. Not yet. “Why would now be different?”

“I’ve watched every game you’ve played in the last 18 months. I know you may not see a difference in yourself but I do, the interview after you lost to Lyon showed your spirit, your drive. I need players like you, it won’t be easy but I don’t want something that happened four years ago to stop you showing the world how talented you are.”

You were conflicted. Of course you’d love nothing more than to prove all those who bashed you before wrong, to make a difference on the world stage after winning every trophy you could with Barcelona. On the other hand it was just opening a can of worms you’d hidden all those years ago. Although you were only in Spain it felt like a different world, you turned your comments off on social media and they never came back on. Interviews were a no-go and your former friends were now distant acquaintances.

“Can I think about?”

“Of course you can. Like I said, the squad goes out on Tuesday so I need an answer by Monday. Any questions, I’m coming to the match on Sunday, maybe I can speak to you after?”

“Thank you.” With a soft squeeze to your shoulder she was off, except now you couldn’t focus knowing you were about to make a decision which would change everything.

…..

“You seem distracted.”

In hindsight it probably wasn’t the best idea to accept the dinner invite from Maria and Ingrid but you knew your best friends wouldn’t take no for an answer. The three of you along with Frido were sat at their dinner table, tucking into the tapas you’d ordered from your favourite restaurant and it wasn’t lost on any of them how your mind was elsewhere. Casually picking through your food was a total opposite to the way you usually devoured this.

“Y/N?”

You’d been debating on the way whether to speak to someone about it.

Maybe your dad? He’d gone through something similar but he was in Miami and would only just be getting up.

Your mum? She was the most rational option but she would never understand that pride of pulling on your national shirt.

Your therapist seemed the best option but the earliest session she had for non-emergencies was tomorrow.

“Y/N!” In your own little world you’d even forgot to answer their questions. “Are you alright?”

It could help speaking to them, couldn’t it? “I had a visitor after training. Sarina Weigman.”

“Shit man, I thought you said no.” Maria Leon was your best friend from the moment you stepped foot in that training room, you bonded over everything from tattoos to food. You’d been her wingman in getting with Ingrid and had a mutual understanding of each other’s situations with your respective national teams even if the circumstances were very different.

“She wants me back but I don’t know, this feels different from last year.” If Bonnie, your 5-year-old beagle, adopted 3 years ago to signify a new chapter in your life, wasn’t by your feet they would definitely be anxiously tapping the floor right now.

“They probably feel your absence more because they’ve lost other players.” Frido added some context. “Not that you wouldn’t have always walked into that team but now you definitely would. You’d be their main player.”

“I can see you’re considering it.” Ingrid pointed out. “When she came last year I could see you were like, definitely no, now you haven’t turned it down immediately.”

“There’s no right or way wrong to feel,” Maria tried to comfort me. “Only you can decide if you want to go back there.”

“I miss it.”

“Of course you do.” Ingrid agreed. “You wouldn’t watch all their games if you didn’t.”

“It’s just the fact that I’m comfortable here, I have been for so long and now I’m going to throw myself back into four years ago.” Four years ago when you’d been forced to move away from your club at the time in Chelsea and accept the fact that one mistake had changed everything. “Plus the media attention, no-one wants that in the lead up to the world cup.”

“They were your friends, I’m sure they’d understand.” Frido tried to make you see that side of things. “Shit happens in football but what happened to you when completely over the top of that.”

“I isolated them.” Of course you had friends in the squad at the time, in fact best friends. But as soon as you made the move to America you slowly distanced yourself from them as they did to you. You hated letting them down and completely understood that being associated to you meant unnecessary exposure where perhaps they would not want it.

“So you’ll make friends again.”

You’d changed as well, grown into a completely different person in that time. Your appearance and attitude on the pitch were a distinct opposite to the crippling shyness you had yet to shake off. “Maybe.”

“You will,” Maria assured you. “Plus I think Bonnie told me she wanted a sleepover with me.”

“Oh did she?”

“I’m not swaying you either way but if that’s what you want, I’ll support you all the way.”

“We all will.” Frido added wrapping her arms around you to bring you into her side. “We love you.”

“Thank you, I love you all too.”

“Speak to your dad, maybe even your mum. I’m sure they’d want to help.”

One of the funniest moments in your life had to be watching your teammates introduce themselves to your parents when they came out to watch your first match in the Blaugrana. Watching their nerves dissipate when they realised how down to earth, especially your mother was, when it came to their children. Of course their name brought so much extra attention to you but you couldn’t have asked for a better upbringing.

Maybe it was their words that made you do it but subconsciously you knew the best thing to do was to ring them. So as you got into bed that night, once you got back, Bonnie at your feet watching, you rang the number you’d had memorised for years.

“Hi baby.” His voice almost brought tears to your eyes. Although you tried to be as independent as possible, wanting to be your own person, you sometimes wished you could just go back to spending every night in his arms.

“Hi dad.”

“What’s wrong?” You hated how easily he could read you, how those two words were enough for him to know something was wrong.

“It’s nothing.”

“You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know dad.” Out with it. “Sarina Weigman came to visit me today, she wants me to go and join them in the next international break.”

“And what do you want?”

“I think I want to.”

“You think?”

“I just know that if I do I’m just going to be brought back to that moment.”

“Then you’ll go back to a moment where the referees made a terrible decision. Football fans are fickle you know that as much as I do but you’ve watched it back enough to know that nine times out of ten nothing happens. The commentator did you no favours, Phil didn’t stand by you as he should have and the media hung you out to dry.”

“I know.”

“But as awful as it was it made you the person you are today and your stronger now then you’ve ever been before. If you want to go back then you’ll make it work. I know you will.”

“Thanks dad, now how is…”

,,,,,

“How many times have you watched that tackle back?”

“Over a thousand times.”

“Do you think you should have been sent off?”

“Of course not.”

……

You loved Barcelona, from the moment you stepped through those doors 3 years ago you’d been welcomed in and never looked back. In 2019 you moved to America but your year out there was plagued with depression and homesickness resulting in a lack of game time, when Barcelona came calling it was a difficult decision with your family ties but they had a project, they had a good set up and you knew the onus wouldn’t just be on you. The first six months were still tough, working out Spanish football to both play with your teammates and counter the opposition but by the end of the season you felt at home for the first time in 2 years.

Your role this year had been heightened by the loss of one of your midfield partners in Alexia, but you were adaptable and that’s probably how you found yourself 4-0 up, having just scored a second goal in the second half.

“It’s almost like you’re trying to impress someone.” Mapi whispered giving you a half hug as you walked back into your own half.

“Shut up.”

“I bet she’s panicking that you might turn it down now.”

“She’s got other players Maria.”

“But none of them are you.”

The match stayed at 4-0, some of the youngsters coming on to see the game out.

You’d never been in a team like this, of course you had little arguments and there were small groups within the team, but everyone worked so hard for each other. And with that came the protectiveness, when you joined you were only 21, now 24 and the older ones took you under their wings. You’d been daunted a lot at the fact of playing fellow English players in the Champions League but they’d been your shield for those moments.

It blew your mind when the younger age groups joined you and they speak about that moment. Most of them staying up late to watch it making you feel old. But that meant they came to you for advice a lot of the time. Maybe this time though it was time to get advice from them.

“Hey little one.” Maria Perez was the first one you spotted in the changing room. “You played really well today.”

“Thank you.”

“How are you feeling about being called up?” It was only yesterday that the Spanish squad had been leaked and she was once again in it.

“Excited, another opportunity to prove myself.”

“I like that you see it that way.”

“Everyone should, it’s no different to playing here, as long as you be yourself you can never be disappointed.”

…….

@jillsmithjournalist: Serena Weigman is present at the Barcelona match. No current England players are playing however star player Y/N Beckham scored twice. Beckham has not played for England since she withdrew from selection in August 2019 amid public backlash and a rumoured feud with England manager Phil Neville. Could a return be on the cards?

@newlionesses_x: Surely she can’t just pick and choose when to come back.

@wslfan: Fine without her last year

@england123: Liability for England

@barcelonafan: All you hating on Beckham are crazy, one of the best players in the world and you don’t want her back because of something that happened 4 years ago, grow up. Could tell she struggled when she joined us but this past year she’s been exceptional, people change, mistakes happen (even though she should never have been sent off in the first place)

…..

You’ve known your decision for a long time but you still delayed giving it as long as possible before you could wait no longer. You could see she was the only one left in the hospitality area as you entered, the table she had chose overlooking the pitch you’d just performed on.

This was what you wanted and now it felt only right to give yourself that opportunity again.

“I’ll do it.”

[gothgleek]

could i maybe request angus x female reader blurb where they are both the last left holding over and are left to their own devices after sharing a infirmary room with no privacy for 2 weeks?? maybe someone walks in on the other or something

Omg this is my first Ask request💕 I hope you enjoy, I finished this while wrote it while I was stuck in traffic because I wanted to finish it before my birthday. Also this is a little longer than a blurb j hope you don’t mind 😅

Notes: Minors DNI, AFAB/cis girl reader, Angus is a munch, overstimulation, oral sex, ignoring religious guilt, minor religious kink, reader can be interpreted as a virgin, mentions of toys, getting caught, both parties are 18+

You never considered yourself to be a terribly horny person, not when St. Agatha’s Boarding School for Young Ladies kept your schedule busy and your roommates always around. But staying there over the winter break with only yourself and the hitachi toy your roommate gifted you as company? Yeah, you might as well have possessed by a lust demon.

But then Mother Superior had to go and break her leg, forcing you out of your masturbation marathon and take shelter at the boys’ school on the other side of town without your new best friend. (If you were a god-fearing woman, you would blame yourself for her accident.)

Unfortunately, even while rooming at Barton you could not escape your constant state of arousal. The unexpected attractiveness of your new roommate. Angus Tully did not make it easy either.

You tried numerous things to keep the monster at bay- sneaking off to the laundry room, using the shower head, your own hands- but nothing felt as good as your hitachi. Heck, you even started to have sex dreams about Angus but even that didn’t help your state of arousal. You were beginning to see why the nuns said the ongoing sexual revolution is a mistake.

That was until he walked in on you masturbating.

The both of you froze, him in the doorway, you on your bed humping your pillow.

“Um…” Angus swallowed. “Do you need a hand with that?”

You blamed your constant state of arousal and the fact that Angus wasn’t terrible looking (damn your weakness for his big eyes, nose, and curly hair.)

Your eyes grazed down to his broken arm. “I guess one extra hand wouldn’t hurt.” You said jokingly. “But you need to get me dinner after this, I can't have you thinking I’m easy. The nuns would kill me.”

You leaned back on your bed, your pillow under your hips and nightgown bunched around your waist. Rather than take his pants off, Angus knelt in front of you.

“I was actually sent here to get you for dinner but I think I’m gonna just have you instead,” Angus said while slowly peeling off your panties with his good hand. You made a sound of confusion and he looked up at you. “I don’t have a condom on me. I can’t have the nuns get mad at me.”

With that, he moved forward and gave your pussy a curious lick. You jumped at the foreign feeling. You didn’t know boys did that.

You closed your legs on instinct but Angus used his good hand to keep you open. He didn’t look strong but his big hand holding you open, you couldn’t help but melt.

Your moans were muffled as you held your hands over them but Angus was able to hear you well enough to navigate between your legs, giving extra attention to the spots you moaned the loudest. With days of pent up arousal and interrupted pillow time, it didn’t take long for you to cum.

Angus let you relax into the bed before speaking up again. You recognized the look on his face as a combination of cockiness and curiosity.

“You know you talk in your sleep?”

“Huh?” Your brain was still under that post-orgasm haze. “I do?”

“Quite a lot actually.” Angus told you with a smirk as he began fingering your sensitive pussy. You tried to close your legs but Angus used his shoulders to keep you open. “Just last night you were moaning my name. Wanna tell me what you were dreaming of?”

“I….” You said distractedly. “I don’t remember.”

“I don’t believe you,” Angie smirked. “You don’t have to be shy anymore, I already ate your pussy. Tell me.”

His fingers curled inside you and you let out a strangled moan. He seriously expected you to think under these circumstances?

“I…fuck… I just dreamed you had me bent over in the confessions booth,” You managed to choke out. “One hand was around my throat.”

“That’s certainly very sinful of you,” Angus mused as his thumb began rubbing your clit. “What else?”

“I woke up before I could finish.”

“Well you’ve had other dreams, like I said you talked a lot these last few nights.”

“I…” Your hips began bucking. “I’m getting close again.”

Was this really all it took after all these days?

“Keep talking and I’ll let you cum,” Angus said, rubbing a little harder.

“Oh um… fuck…” You tried to search through your memories as you felt your orgasm build up. “I dreamt of the two of us at the… fucking… the fucking spring fling.” You fisted the sheets in frustration and he pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of your knee.

“Go on.”

“I dragged you to a classroom and I was wearing… I was wearing a lavender dress… you pushed it up and started fucking me…”

“How did I fuck you?”

You let out a groan. “Please I’m so close!” You protested quietly.

“I wanna hear more first.” He added another finger.

“My legs were over your shoulders and I was lying on the teacher’s desk…You were grabbing my boobs…” His thumb was moving faster and that pressure in your stomach was reaching its peak. “Frank Sinatra was playing… is that enough detail for you?”

Angus didn’t respond, simply moving faster. With his brown eyes staring you down with a cocky smile, you couldn’t help but buck your hips up and cum with a moan.

Angus slowed his fingers and began pressing kisses down your thighs.

“What are you doing?” This bastard wanted to go again?

“I just wanted to see what you looked like before I tasted you again,” Angus disappeared between your legs and you felt him lapping at the wetness between your legs.

“Angus,” you hissed and you tried to push his head away. You couldn’t take more of this. You were about to melt into the mattress. Then you felt his tongue lapping up your wetness from the source. You moaned loudly and pulled your hands away from his hair to cover your mouth.

You bucked your hips up and tried to push him away but Angus just grabbed your thigh and pulled you back to him. He didn’t look strong but your body also couldn’t decide if it wanted to run away or run towards his mouth.

“Don’t run away from me,” Angus warned with a lustful look in his eye. He returned between your legs.

Angus pressed his tongue into you, as deep as it could go until his nose began rubbing against your clit. You began grinding against him, one hand leaving your mouth to pull him closer by his hair.

It took you a little longer to cum again but somehow Angus managed to pull a third one out of you. Your hand gave a final tug of his hair as your hips lifted upwards and you grabbed the sheets to let out a loud moan. To his credit, Angus didn’t cease his movements, letting you ride his tongue until you collapsed against the mattress.

While the two of you caught your breathes, someone knocked on the door while opening it. Angus shot away from between your legs and you did your best to sit up and cover yourself.

Not that it did much to convince Mr. Hunham, who walked in and immediately raised a brow at your guilty expression. Then he looked at Angus and saw the state of his hair and the mess you had left on his face. Mr. Hunham rubbed his face in an attempt to calm himself.

“Go to dinner,” Mr. Hunham gestured for you to get out of the room.

“Mr. Tully, a word.” He said sternly.

——

Two hours later, Angus comes back to your room, cleaned up with a small smirk on his face.

“I think it’s time for you to return the favor,” Angus rose told his feet and unbuckled his belt. His hard, weeping cock popped out and you couldn’t help but gulp.

“I’m not getting any sleep tonight,” you thought with tired glee.