#pov: you had to scroll down really far to find this

[makittuu]

thank you so much for tagging me to add my own, this is a fun idea! :)

no pressure tags: @apsichr @prophet-of-calamity @muraldream @whimsycentral & anyone else who wants to!

‼️ please don't feel like you have to join! you're completely welcome and okay to pass this by too :) <3

Not me having some kinda type... Who shall I tag? I think I wanna tagggggg... @mybugsmybugsmybugs @mexicangela @lunar-years @biscuitboxpink but no pressure!! I just thought it would be fun!

[softlypaintedseafoam]

the summer moon was born from the waves to be loved pt 2

synopsis. you got pregnant and satoru has to put together the pieces five years later.

pairing. gojou satoru x f!reader (afab)

word count. 7k | masterlist

content warning. 18+ (smut with feelings), college au, friends to friends with benefits to co-parents to lovers (what a pipeline), mild angst with a happy ending, use of y/n

reblogs & interactions appreciated.

and finally, part 2 is here! if you'd like to read part 1, click here if you already haven't since you will need the context to build off this one. this series is very near and dear to my heart and it's nice to have it here on this blog as well. fun fact this originally had a co-parent only ending but after writing satoru's pov, i felt so bad i couldn't commit. sorry nanami, better luck next time

o. buoy

If Satoru was forced to use some sort of ocean-related terminology to describe you, he’d say you’re a buoy.

You were the marine biology major. (What was the difference between that and oceanography? Satoru had no idea. You explained it to him at least twice though). Because of that, Satoru heard his fair share of marine terminology from you.

Buoys were those floating things at sea, the ones from Finding Nemo that had all the seagulls on it. You said they were guiding posts, gave heads up for reefs or they could be warnings for hazardous zones.

To Satoru, you were like an anchorless buoy that ー no matter how far he sailed ー he could never reach.

i. halocline

You’ve never felt permanent; not to Satoru.

You sooner felt like one of those quickly formed friendships you thought would last forever only for it to dwindle out as fast as it started. Then that person was just a forgotten name in your contacts list until you’re scrolling down and going ‘Who the hell is this? Delete’ without a second thought.

It was strange.

An oxymoron of the highest degree.

How did someone who was such a constant in his life from the moment you set foot in it simultaneously feel as impermanent as foam on the waves? One minute you were there, the next you weren’t. Satoru wasn’t sure when the fear of you disappearing entirely crept in.

When those looks started appearing on your face.

All he knew was that it started long before he started sleeping with you and it started long before you left.

One moment you’re hanging out ー undoubtedly doing something stupid. Singing the wrong lyrics to a song on the radio, putting Suguru’s hair in pigtails, watching María la del Barrio with Utahime who took one Spanish class and made telenovelas her entire personality for a month ー then you’d grow quiet and this far away look would be in your eyes. Satoru never knew where you went in those moments, but it wasn’t there.

So he’d do something to anchor you back to land. It didn’t have to be much.

A poke to the cheek,

a tickle to your side, 

calling out to you,

sometimes he’d even play with your fingers.

It didn’t matter what he did as long as you’d blink and grin and go “what’s up?” and everything would feel right in the world.

It never would feel right long enough though; the look always came back and the feeling would persist.

When you sang songs in the car.

(“I can do it fast or slow, it really doesn’t matter, though. ‘Cause I’m a pro, what you say? You wanna take me toe to toe? Uh no, dude, I think so,” you’d rap Kel’s verse flawlessly like you’d rehearsed it for hours. “My style is phat and Immature’s got my back on this funky trackー” you pointed at Satoru enthusiastically.

“You want fries with that?” Satoru would point back with way too much passion for a line that went way too hard for what he was actually saying. “Coo coo ca-choo whatcha gonna do?”

Shoko would roll her eyes but she’d still be smiling when Suguru softly brought in the chorus with rhythmic bumps of his head, “watch me do my thing, I like to do my thing, watch me do my thing, everybody sayー”

Your head continued to bump along but you stopped singing along and looked out the window. Satoru remembered he threw his arm around your shoulders loudly belting the rest of the lyrics until you laughed and joined back in.)

When you indulged Utahime’s telenovela personality change.

(“[First], quit zoning out. I’m bored.”

“Hey, unlike you, I’m actually paying attention.”

“Oh yeah, then what’s been going on?”

“Soraya Montenegro is gasping in Spanish right now.”

“Can you both shut u- OH MY GODー”

“IS NO ONE GONNA STOP THIS BITCH?”)

And at parties.

(Satoru always knew you were about to leave when you made that face. Things could start perfectly at the beginning of the night. You’d finally skulk out of your cave like you were Gollum from Lord of the Rings and wave him over. The next moment? You were in deep thought while your friends made joke after joke, rip after rip.

“Sorry gang, but my lips don’t touch anything but Don Equis and Asahi,” you’d say with an air of regality not suited for a party of college students. “Maybe Corona if there’s nothing else. I’m not drinking… whatever this is. So I’m gonna head out, there’s a 24 hour liquor store around here somewhere.”

“You coming back?” Satoru didn’t know why he asked, he already knew what your answer would be.

“Nah, I think I’m done for the night. I’ll catch you guys later though.”

“I’ll walk you back to your place then.”)

He doesn’t know why he looked at your lips that night at the park. 

You were friends, he liked being your friend. That’s all there was to it. It had always annoyed him up until that point when Suguru and Shoko joked the two of you were more like a couple than anything else. That he chased after you like a lovesick puppy, the pathetic but funny kind. He wasn’t sure why it annoyed him so much.

Maybe it was because it felt like it reduced everything about his friendship with you into that shit take that the opposite sex couldn’t just be friends.

Maybe it was something else entirely. He doesn’t know.

You weren’t permanent.

Not while you sat beside him in a park at who knows when in the morning and not even when you reassured him his life would work out the way he wanted and you touched him like he was something precious to you.

“Be careful I don’t disappear for months, spirited away by the sea folk on my Children of the Sea shit. I’ll come back to shore occasionally, mysterious as the sea itself.” You already were as mysterious as the sea itself.

“Even if you got spirited away, I’d just go and bring you right back.” Satoru meant it. Even if, more than anything, it felt more like he was making that promise to reassure himself. It didn’t matter how far off to the sea you went as long as Satoru could bring you back to the shore. “You’ve doomed yourself.” More specifically you said that to him. Maybe he should have taken it more of a warning than a light-hearted nudge.

“You said it first, remember?” You did. He remembered it as clear as day. He’d stumbled onto an unstable boat and you were a buoy far off in the distance.

“There’s no ditching me now, not even at sea.” So stay. That’s all Satoru needed you to do.

The sprinklers that decided to join in on the moment must have been a sign that he was in the middle of a prophecy that was going to be fulfilled whether he wanted it to or not. That’s why he kissed you first in the doorway of your bathroom when you just came to ask if he wanted tea.

Buoys are supposed to have anchors, right? 

Maybe he could be yours.

When Satoru woke up the day after the first time you slept together, he woke up alone.

It wasn’t until he reached out an arm lazily to your side of the bed and he patted the mattress several times that he realized no one was there. The bed had long since gone cold so you had to have been gone for a while. Yes, you called five minutes later from McDonald’s cheerily going “Yooo, Satoru, I’m at Mickey D’s, what do you want?” Still it cemented your impermanence and that was only the first of many times he woke up by himself.

You could be out the house or in; Satoru preferred when you were in. Sometimes you’d be in the kitchen humming some unknown tune, other times you’d be watching TV on the couch. Either way, he could drape himself over you with a tired ‘morning’ and hold you close.

(“What are you wa- is that the new episode of Love is Blind?”

“Um… I only just started it two minutes ago?”

“[First], what the hell!? While I was asleep?!”)

From then on when Satoru saw those far away looks, he’d kiss you since it was on the table now. Satoru put everything into those kisses and you’d kiss him back just as hard.

Don’t go anywhere. He’d thread one hand into your hair and the other would pull your waist closer to his. Satoru didn’t want or need anything else. Stay.

You kissed him like you would.

It’s crazy how easily you could just slip away from everything like a ghost that hadn’t been there at all. It was shockingly apparent that impromptu trip you took to the beach in the middle of the semester.

Everyone had been together in awe of the bioluminescent dots in the sea and it donned on him you hadn’t said anything in a while. You were gone.

He’d painted his panic in his usual bravadoー nonchalant and grinning, claiming he was gonna go bother you for a bit.

It was a relief when he found you.

It was dreadful when he found you.

Satoru couldn’t see your face clearly but he could tell your look was intent on the sea and how it shined with the glow of a billion bright lights. If there was a ghost ship calling you out to the depths, Satoru knew you’d leave in a heartbeat.

You slowly became more noticeably distant from your group of mutual friends after that trip. It didn’t start immediately, you’d acted the same as usual at first. You still sang songs in the car, Utahime had grown out of her novela phase in favor of all of you losing your shit at the editing of Indian serial dramas and in between those moments Satoru found himself in your bed again.

It was around that time you started kissing his forehead; when the kisses started, that’s when you started drifting away from his orbit. You said it was homework, your profs telepathically communicating to increase your workload.

You alright?

What kind of sadists are your professors if you’re this busy?

Just let me know if you need me to come over some kind of distraction. Sorry for coming over earlier unannounced, I shouldn’t have assumed. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.

“Do you think she thinks I’m being clingy?” Satoru mumbled as he stared at your text that you were fine just dying from homework. You definitely thought he’s being clingy. He’d always been a bit clingy with his friends. He was probably more overbearing than usual though.

“Yes,” Kenjaku replied without missing a beat. “You’re gonna get dumped if you keep this up.”

God what does Suguru see in this guy? He’s like a fucking parasite. “I wasn’t asking you,” Satoru glared. “And she isn’t my girlfriend.”

Suguru snorted, running his hands through his boyfriend’s hair, “play nice both of you,” he said lightly and Satoru rolled his eyes. “But if [First] is saying she’s fine, then just trust that she’s fine. She’ll come back around when her workload decreases.”

Satoru glared with a pout, “you’re worried too, don’t act like it’s just me.”

“I never said it was, it’s just that between the two of us I’m handling it better. I sent her a surprise uber eats delivery yesterday.” Asshole, that was a brilliant idea. Satoru wished he thought of it first. Instead he asked Shoko to check on you; maybe you’d be more receptive if it wasn’t him bothering you for the tenth text in a row.

Shoko went to check on you. Apparently you were fine and Satoru was worrying for nothing. She even said that you would come and hang out with them soon. Some people might say it’s a bit petty to celebrate the failures of others. In another universe, Satoru might even agree with them. But in this universe, Satoru was a hater first and foremost. So if he and his friends wanted to go out to eat to celebrate the fact Zenin Naoya was bitching about a failing grade on an essay, he and his friends were going to go out and eat to celebrate Zenin Naoya failing his essay.

Apparently, you were all haters.

It was also just nice seeing you again. If Satoru was more poetic, he’d probably add a bunch of other things to that statement. It was just nice to have you back.

“Karma is probably gonna come back to clap us in the ass for celebrating someone getting a bad grade,” you snickered.

“Sounds like a problem for future us,” Suguru grinned with a twinkle in his eyes.

“We go to school with the Japanese version of Ben Shapiro,” Satoru choked on his strawberry smoothie when Shoko said that. “I think we’re covered on karma.”

“Y’all are terrible people,” Satoru clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disbelief and shame.

“Hey, good neighbor, this dinner was your idea,” you nudged him with a dry tone and a smile.

Satoru nudged back with a grin of his own.

Dinner was fun, lots of drinks and jokes. It was a non-alcoholic beverage sort of night. Shoko said it was because they’d clearly been drinking too much if Satoru of all people had gotten better with holding his liquor. Her point was fair but rude nonetheless yet when Satoru turned to whine for you to come to his defense, the distant glaze was over your eyes and your smile was smaller than it had been the last time he looked at it.

“[First],” your motion to close your apartment door stopped and you hummed with a raised eyebrow. Satoru felt more dread than usual that night. Something about the air had been different. The face you made felt different than it normally did. It was always distant, you were always far away, but tonight was the worst it had ever been. “We’re good, right?”

You look at him like he grew an extra four eyes. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Satoru couldn’t meet your eyes as he shrugged wordlessly. You’d probably say he was being ridiculous and clingy if he mentioned anything but he couldn’t find anything else to say to make himself seem unbothered either.

You rolled your eyes with a grin before stretching your arms out wide. “You’re being overdramatic, you big baby. Come here, big guy,” Satoru pulled you in close, burying his nose in the corner of his neck. Despite welcoming your embrace, it did nothing to soothe Satoru’s anxieties.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Satoru asked without pulling away from you completely.

The way you smiled at him was warm but it still somehow felt unreadable. Satoru knew all of your smiles. Your happy ones,

the sad ones, 

the one you made when Sora finally got into Smash. 

The ones you made when you were mad that he was successfully charming his way out of you being mad at him. 

Satoru didn’t know this one.

Despite that fact, Satoru let you cup his face in your hands and he let you stand on the tip of your toes to place a kiss on his forehead. “See you, Satoru.“

ii. undertow

Sleep didn’t come to Satoru after he laid in bed.

His head was too full as he kept running back through what you told him after he took you home.

You didn’t say you’d see him later.

You’re just being overdramatic, Satoru forced his eyes to close. You’re always overdramatic. It’s my best trait 30% of the time.

No one else said anything that night, it was just him who felt like this, right? It was always just him. If everyone else felt like something was off all night, someone would have mentioned it by now. With that, Satoru forced his eyes closed for all of five minutes before he decided to send, at the very least, a dumb meme. Something that’d make you laugh when you saw it and would make you reply “I’m wheezing” or “that’s so us!”

A quick stroll through his photos was all it took to find something suitable. He can’t remember exactly what it was, only that it was stupid.

It was stupid and didn’t go through to your phone.

A disconnect and reconnect dance to his wifi later and it still didn’t go through.

Satoru’s feet was on the pavement before not even a heartbeat after he calmly made sure his apartment was locked.

He just had to be sure you were okay. It was just him being an overdramatic, big baby. Your phone died or something and that’s why nothing was going through. Or maybe this was like the time you put your phone in airplane mode to narrowly avoid sending Shoko the wrong meme and then forgot to switch it back off.

You don’t answer the door when he knocks and he goes back and forth between knocking and trying to reach you on your other socials.

Twitter? Blocked.

He can’t find you anywhere else.

Instagram.

LINE.

Discord.

It’s like you were never there, gone from all the group chats and servers you once shared.

Satoru stayed outside of your apartment for the better part of an hour before one of your neighbors opened her door tired and annoyed.

“Dude, do you know what time it is?” Your neighbor asked groggily. She’s a nice girl, the reason rent was low enough in the area you could afford an apartment on your own. Apparently she wrecked shit in the neighborhood on the low to keep the rent down. Even better was the fact she was the landlord’s daughter. Not all heroes wore capes. 

“Sorry,” Satoru knew he must look like a maniac with his messy hair and wide eyes. “have you seen [First]? I’m having a hard time reaching her.”

The neighbor gave him a funny look, “she moved out tonight,” she told him like that was the fifth time she told him that her favorite color was orange. “I thought it was weird you didn’t help with moving her stuff out a few days ago. She gave me the key to give it to my dad tomorrow. Didn’t she tell you she was leaving?”

iii. la niña

Satoru didn’t know which was worse sometimesー the fact Shoko kept the fact he had a daughter a secret for five years or how he found out.

It wasn’t like Shoko approached him one gloomy night when memories of the most prominent ghost in his life began bubbling to the surface. She didn’t grimly say that she needed to tell him something and he should sit down for it. She didn’t start off with apologies, saying she felt she had no choice or that if things had gone different she would have told him.

None of that happened.

Satoru found out by accident.

Accident.

All because Shoko didn’t hear him approach her when she was on her phone scrolling through instagram. She was so focused on whatever she was looking at, she didn’t even notice how Satoru quietly snickered to himself and snuck behind her to give her spook. He was just about to say something, ready for swears and ‘you’re so annoying, what are you 12?!’s when he took an instinctual glance at her phone and he saw you.

Thoughts of scaring Shoko went out the window in a matter of milliseconds. He didn’t even feel his body move when he snatched her phone out of her hand.

“Heyー” Shoko started with an offended hiss but when she looked over her shoulder, she looked like she saw an impending storm and her jaw clamped shut.

Satoru took in the photo like it was the last thing he’d ever see. You were dressed in a blue t-shirt and cream colored shorts, some aquarium’s logo stitched into your clothes. You were holding a kid, hugging her tightly and kissing her cheek while the girl was caught mid-giggle. And when Satoru looked at the little girl in your arms, it was his eyes that looked back.

“I- she told me not to say anything,” Shoko murmured, brown eyes looking anywhere but at him. Then the secrets came rolling out one after the other.

“If I didn’t see this picture,” Satoru’s grip tightened on Shoko’s phone to ground himself to the present. “Were you still going to keep this a secret from me?”

Her answer was silence.

iv. el niño

“I have to be honest,” from the corner of your eye, you see Satoru chasing after Itsuki, Nanako and Mimiko. Suguru is watching next to you on the bench, your respective care bags for accidents and playground injuries at the ready between you. “I thought I’d be more surprised you’re a dad now. But it kinda just makes sense. You always had ‘single mom’ energy in school.”

Brown eyes flash with recognition, “you had a dream about me adopting kids once, right?”

“No, I had a dream where you were off a perk and calling people without powers ‘monkeys’,” you correct your old friend petulantly. As if he should have remembered after all these years without contact. “You just happened to adopt children in the process of all that.”

Suguru snorts, “my apologies for getting the details wrong. So you had a dream that I adopted kids once and that I was off a perk.”

“Exactly, thank you.”

A silence somewhere between comfortable and awkward settles over the two of you, save for the squeals of little girls and Satoru’s manic laughter as the evil sorcerer king.

Suguru looks nice. 

He’s still rocking the man bun but he’s opted to let some of his hair hang loose and he’s a couple hundred pounds down a shitty, parasitic boyfriend. Suguru and Kenjaku broke up halfway through the semester after you transferred. “Before you ask, yes, we had dinner to celebrate,” Suguru told you when you saw him for the first time in years a few days ago.

You’ve had your fair share of private updates on the lives of your old friends you didn’t keep in contact with. Shoko kept you up to date on everything. A surprising number of your old friends had gone into the field of educationー Utahime, Suguru and Satoru. You wonder how Satoru’s parents reacted to that information. You have yet to ask; it seemed like too much of a mood killer when Satoru happily recounted stories about his students a few weeks ago.

When Itsuki almost trips you make to stand but Satoru catches her before you can blink. 

“He’s pretty good with her,” Suguru says like he’s a mind reader. “There was this kid we used to babysit, Riko, when we were younger. He said he hated it but he’s always been pretty good with kids.”

You can believe it. There’s plenty of things you remember Satoru complaining about despite his inherent talents in them. It makes you want to cry sometimes seeing how good he is with Itsuki. Your daughter is smart enough to play neutral when he asks but you’re pretty sure your daughter has a favorite parent. Adorable little traitor, you laugh softly to yourself. You’d think five years would give someone an edge.

Five years.

“Are you… mad?” You look at your old friend from the corner of your eye.

Suguru takes his time answering, mulling over unknown thoughts in his head. Playful as you remember Suguru being, he’s always been introspective. He thinks before he acts, lets things slowly come to a boil before turning off the stovetop. “I was more worried than mad to start,” he finally speaks. “It’s not everyday an entire group of people gets ghosted. I’m a little mad you didn’t open up though.”

Your smile is small and your eyebrows knit apologetically. 

“But at the end of the day, this is nothing compared to what went down between Satoru and me in high school. So I guess I can forgive you.” You never did get the story about Satoru and Suguru’s mysterious high school turning point. The itch to know all the details is minor compared to the way your shoulders relax when Suguru shoots you a familiar smile. I missed you too. “Just don’t do anymore disappearing acts.” Smooth as they come, Suguru raises a closed fist just above your care bags. 

Smile a bit more grand, you bump the side of your fist to his. “I can happily vouch that it won’t be happening again.”

“Good. It’s nice to have you back.”

“It’s nice being back.”

v. sea state

“Did you get an undercut?”

“Yeah, a while ago,” Satoru grins. “I look nice, right?”

“Please accept the compliment normally so your arrogance doesn’t rub off on our daughter,” you shake your head but a good-natured grin is plastered on your face. “Itsuki, make sure Daddy behaves. You’re in charge as the honorary aquarist.”

Itsuki’s eyes fill with delight at the duty bestowed upon her. “I will,” she promises, chest puffed with as much pride as a five year old can produce. It’s a rare day off in the middle of the week for Satoru. Normally he’s confined to his school during these hours, but thanks to some school holiday you scheduled in advance for him to take Itsuki around your aquarium. It isn’t the first time Itsuki’s been, you’d taken her there before she could even walk. It might as well be her first visit though from how she’s beaming. “Daddy, you have to be good so Mommy doesn’t get mad.”

“As you command, general,” Satoru salutes playfully, picking Itsuki up in his arms. “Now then, if you excuse us, this father-daughter duo is gonna enjoy the aquarium while you work.” 

“Bup bup bup,” you tut before the man can take off. “At least let me get my goodbye kiss before you run off to have fun without me,” you peck Itsuki’s cheek once, twice before blowing a raspberry and she squeals. “Alright,” you place your hands on your hips. “You two go have fun. Tell Daddy all the names you gave the whale sharks, okay?”

You think that’s that until Itsuki innocently asks, “where’s Daddy’s kiss, Mommy?” You blink once. Maybe you misheard- “You’re supposed to give both of us goodbye kisses, aren’t you?” Apparently you haven’t.

“I think Daddy’s too old for goodbye kisses, Itsuki.”

Itsuki squints, unsatisfied with your answer, “but Grandma always kisses Granny and they’re ancient.”

Why do your parents have to have a long lasting and fulfilling love life?

You and Satoru share an awkward smile as you both wonder what either of you can do to get out of this situation. Kissing Satoru used to be as easy as breathing. He’s always been the more affectionate of the two of you and it rubbed off on you some time during your university days. But you’re not in university anymore and your relationship has most definitely changed since then.

Still with bated breath, you gesture for Satoru to bring his head low enough for you to kiss his forehead, “there. Now both of you go have fun.”

If you think you see Satoru’s expression dim, he’s all smiles the moment you blink. “Try not to be jealous when you see us feeding the stingrays, [First].” He’s gone before you can tease you’re the one of the employees that help with that.

Once a maelstrom, always a maelstrom.

You love your place of work, it always has a familiar noisy sort of peaceful bathed in the light of blue decorated in corals, pinks and purples. Aquariums have a special magic to them. You fell in love with the sea when you were young and never fell out. The magic somehow is renewed every time you clock in, even on the most trying days.

How can you not when you see the dozens of people that stop by with the same love?

How can you not when you see dozens of people that stop by and fall in love with it for the first time?

“Hi, Mommy!” You hear Itsuki call from a distance. You wonder how she can even see you when you look up and see she’s on Satoru’s shoulders. It’s so natural, the two of them together. She’s wearing his sunglasses, if you can really say that. They keep sliding off her face but she holds onto them resolutely and Satoru is smiling widely in front of the tank full of black tip reef sharks, whale sharks and dozens of other fish in between.

You don’t know how your heart can fill with even more affection than you thought possible but it does. “Hi, baby,” you wave back. “I love you!”

“I love you too!” I have to enjoy that before she gets old enough to start thinking she’s too cool to tell her mom I love you. You know Satoru should too when you see her lean over to plant her father an awkward kiss on his head. You can’t hear what she tells him but you can guess she must be saying she loves him. Even from his profile, you can tell Satoru is saying he loves her back from how adoringly he looks up at her.

You see Itsuki giggling and saying something else you can’t hear, looking down at her father in earnest.

Whatever it is she says, Satoru looks over at you with eyes that are wide and somehow reflect all of the blue from tank lights. Despite how it makes your heart twist, you give him another small wave. When he doesn’t wave back, you wonder what it is your daughter could have said that had him in such a stupor.

Whatever he says to Itsuki, his eyes stay on you while he says it.

vi. nearshore

“Do you still like the same brand of honey or no?” You call over your shoulder from the kitchen.

It’s unusually quiet in your apartment since Itsuki is at your parents’ house for the weekend. You only realized you’d forgotten to tell your co-parent when he showed up at your house with sweets in hand. “What Itsuki doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” you told him with a snicker when you invited him inside to eat them. 

“Satoru?” You call out again.

No response.

You turn off the eye your kettle is on and look out into the living room. He’s right where you left him. “Hey,” you sit on the ottoman in front of him. He blinks in surprise when he sees your hand waving in front of face. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Satoru smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Let me rephrase that question,” you start anew. “What’s wrong? Come on now,” you grin crookedly. “You’ve always sucked at pretending to be okay in front of me.”

Satoru’s smile falters for a heartbeat, “yeah?”

“Yes, Mr. Bravado,” Satoru might have been an expert at fooling others, but you know him. He was the guy who never took notes but passed every test because he worked his ass off in the background. The type who’d act oblivious but you realize halfway through a meal that the reason he took you is because he noticed you’d been feeling down lately. It’s one of the things you love about him. “So come out with it, fess up.”

One, two, three seconds pass before Satoru finally cracks.

“I’m mad. More at myself than anything.” Before you can reply, Satoru opens his mouth again but it feels more like he’s talking to himself. “I shouldn’t be upset anymore, right? We made up.” Satoru runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. “We made up,” he says again. “I shouldn’t still be mad about anything. Things have been going great.”

Satoru finally falls silent and he looks tired. You hate you’re the reason for it. “It’s okay to still be mad about Itsuki. I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I… I’d take it back if I could. I know that doesn’t mean anything after five years but I mean it. Even if I was scared I should have told you. I just- I don’t know, it had gotten into me. I was thinking how you couldn’t commitー”

“You thought I was non-committal?” Satoru raises an eyebrow and he looks hurt by your revelation.

“Satoru, you have never been in a relationship with anyone throughout the time I’ve known you,” you rub your finger and thumb together nervously. Five years later is as good as any time to have a conversation you should have had long ago. “You were scared when I asked what our relationship was, remember?”

“I didn’t know what the right answer was,” Satoru argues with his hands raised. “I thought you were tired of our friends always talking about us being a couple.”

“You were relieved when I said that-” you stammer over your words thoughts going much faster than your mouth could. You remember the tormented days of unrequited affection quite clearly. If there was someone who avoided romantic relationships like the plague, it was Satoru. He was a flirt, relished in the attention he received for his well-known good looks. Regardless, he’d never committed to anyone. “You said fucking someone else was a non-issue! For all I knew you were sleeping with someone else, it wasn’t like we were-”

“It was a non-issue if it meant you weren’t going to take off and start avoiding me!” Satoru snaps like you’ve grown a second head. Maybe you did judging by how he looks at you incredulously. Your mouth closes, unsure what to say next and Satoru looks away with a scoff. “It’s the other way around,” he mutters so soft you almost didn’t catch it. “you were the non-committal one.”

“Excuse me?” It’s your turn to look at Satoru like his body has magically sprung additional body parts. When he doesn’t immediately say anything, you double down. “Satoru, you don’t get to say that and then turn around and not elaborate on it.”

“You know, the first day we met, Suguru told me that I acted like the sun shined out of your ass,” Satoru says much to your confusion. But he went on, lost in his memories, “it might as well have, I thought you were so cool. I wanted you in my life so bad from pretty much the moment you said I doomed myself. I didn’t care what happened next in my life as long as you were there for it.

“But you left me,” Satoru croaks with a smile, crystal blue eyes dark and empty. “You left me.” The way he says it breaks your heart. “I’m so gone for you. I’ve always been gone for you. I just didn’t want to see it. Somehow I always knew you’d leave.” He laughs, cold and humorless and completely lost. “And you did.

“You could be right there with me and then suddenly be so far away. It always felt like you would just up and leave one day. You and Utahime always talked about intuition and trusting it. I guess mine was saying from early on ‘this girl is gonna break your heart one day, don’t fall in love with her.’”

“I knew it when you got those far away looks in your eyes. I knew it when I woke up that first morning alone. I knew it when you didn’t say you’d see me later. And just like that you were gone on that ghost ship. You left and didn’t even tell me you were going. Do you know how much that fucking hurt? I wait outside for hours and your neighbor’s the one who tells me you’re gone. I may have purposely lied to myself about how I felt but I never slept with anyone else. I didn’t want anyone else. I was the one who kept reaching out, you never reached back.

Itsuki’s the second tier on the cake and the rest of the frosting. You’ve been gone on that ghost ship for five years and when I finally catch up, I still feel like I’m drowning.”

“… I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I didn’t know.”

“I know. That’s almost the worst part. Guess I didn’t wear my heart on my sleeve as much as you thought.”

.

.

.

“It was the week after our second year midterms,” you recall when you were six years younger and the biggest problem you had in life was a professor was out to get you. Midterms had finally passed and you were on a victorious emotional high after finishing your last exam. At least until some asshole who should have covered their mouth coughed and you were coughing by the end of the day. “I got a cold and just so I could breathe better when I slept, you let me lay on you on the couch the whole time even though you ended up getting sick afterwards.” 

You’d felt so bad, coughing all the while but Satoru hadn’t let you budge an inch, proudly claiming ‘I don’t get sick, I’m built different so cough away.’ When he got sick days later, he said over coughs, ‘This has nothing to do with when you were sick. This is from Suguru.’ “That was when I realized that I’d been stupidly in love with you ever since I met you.”

Gojou Satoru has been called many things throughout your years of knowing him. But for you, the fall child has always been easy to love. He was made for it. “You were a pain in the ass but you were my pain in the ass. I never wanted it any other way.”

“Stop being mean to me,” Satoru leans forward to rest his head on your shoulder just as you wrap your arms around his back. “Don’t you know who you’re being mean to when you’re being an ass?”

You laugh weakly, “the guy I’m still gone for?” When you hear a sniffle in the corner of your neck, you tighten your grip.

“Don’t go away this time,” Satoru hugs back.

vii. ocean deep, seafoam soft

Satoru finds himself in your bed again for the first time in years.

“I confess my love to you and you try to kill me, I’m hurt.”

“Oh don’t be such a baby, I didn’t even know it was there,” you chuckle fondly after the two of you stumble into your bed after nearly tripping on a stray toy on your floor. Satoru loves that laugh. He loves how you look up at him with all the adoration in the world. “Remember that time we forgot that textbook was on your bed?”

“Please don’t remind me, my back hurts just remembering it,” Satoru whines but laughter escapes him despite his apparent trauma. It wasn’t one of your best moments during your shared years of sexual escapades in college. You pull him down kiss his lips tenderly and he practically moans, relishing the feeling. No more forehead kisses, he wants to tell you. You did that a lot before you left. 

“I love you,” Satoru whispers in awe at the words falling out of his own mouth. In awe at the fact you’re even there with him at that moment. “I love you.”

Your hands cup his face like he’s something precious and you thumbs away the tears pooling in his eyes despite the ones in your own, “I love you too.”

Satoru’s had sex with you more times than he can count. 

He memorized everything, refused to forget a single detail. It feels like the first time all over again.

The way one set of your fingernails dig into his back while he envelopes your other hand with one of his own. How your fingers intertwined tightly. How amazing you feel squeezing around him tightly. The speed of your pulse as he peppers your throat with kisses and soft nips. The ache between his legs as he rolls his hips into you gently yet persistently, chasing his high but wanting it to last long beyond the confines of this singular moment. 

It’s not just this one moment anymore though. “[First],” Satoru squeezes your hand tighter. “[First].”

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

Don’t leave me this time, Satoru gasps like a man starved for air before kissing you again desperately. Stay.

(When Satoru wakes up the next morning to you in his arms and playing with his hair at the base of his neck, he feels like could cry. He nestles into your chest with a tired grin, “morning.”)

viii. anchor

Gojou Itsuki, that’s the name staring back at him.

Satoru loves when it’s his birthday. Until Itsuki was born it was arguably the best day in the universe. The importance of birthdays tends to titter on the rope of priorities, but it’s the one day of the year when the people important to him would pop up to say ‘hi’. Even people from the past. An old teacher he used to drive crazy but always said he thought Satoru had a lot of potential.

His mom still sent him a birthday text even if most of their exchanges are dry the rest of the year.

Even his students will tip in to get him a card and some sort of celebratory gift on December 7th.

December 7th lost a bit of its shine when you exited from his life. With you and Itsuki both in it, it shines tenfold.

It’s just the light is too blinding when Satoru takes out his last present of a plain envelope and he sees Gojou Itsuki written in bold and clear text.

Gojou Itsuki

Father: Gojou Satoru

v. sea state private ver.

"Daddy, do you love Mommy too?”

“Yeah. Daddy loves Mommy.”

[writeonwhiskey]

Summer in Seoul: Ch 1

a/n: this is the first skz fanfic i ever started writing and it's gone unfinished for far too long (skz house hijacked my brain). it was originally first person POV, but i'm switching it to 2nd, doing my best to catch all the changes 😅 summary: You're an ambitious literary agent sent on assignment to Seoul, South Korea. While there, you quite literally stumble into a man named Chris. The more time you spend with him, the more you find yourself liking him. But what happens when you find out he's the leader of a record shattering K-Pop group? ***This takes place in June 2023, between 5-STAR and ROCK STAR releases*** word count: 1,256 [ fic master list ]

It's 1:22am local time when the plane finally lands in Seoul. Although you’re grateful to your company for Business Class tickets, your legs and feet are yearning for a good stretch after the 16-hour flight. The only benefit of being stuck in one place for so long with minimal distractions is that you were able to comb through meeting details and update your presentation. 

After interning and learning the ropes in several departments, you’re starting to settle in as a literary agent for Tomorrow Reeds publishing house. Prior to this trip, you’ve always worked under someone else—this is the first time they’re trusting you to land a client on your own. You’re determined not to return home without signing this author. 

As everyone stands to gather their belongings you get a sudden burst of energy. You make sure your laptop and charger are tucked safely into your backpack, grab your carry-on from the overhead bin when it’s your turn, and promptly exit the plane.

The airport is beautifully quiet at this hour. Less commotion allows you to figure out where you’re going with no hassle. You follow the signs (thankfully they're in both Korean and English) straight to the bathroom, as your bladder has been begging for release. There's only so many hours on a long-haul flight that you consider the bathrooms usable. Typically, after the second meal is served it's a hard no. 

You quickly use the facility and after washing your hands and splashing water on your face to wake up, you feel a little refreshed. You pat your face dry, looking over your reflection in the mirror. Raccoon eyes. As expected. You cannot sleep on a flight to save your life, and right now you’re in dire need of a bed and some rest. 

Exiting the bathroom, you take your phone out and scroll through your itinerary to find your driver’s name. Just as you lift your head to find the signs for the pickup area, you see broad, masculine shoulders in a black shirt directly in front of you.

They're so close, you don't have time to move out of the way.

You collide with them. Though you’ve had a split second to brace myself, you are no match for the force of his body against yours and start flailing backwards. Your phone flies out of your hand and hits the ground a few feet away.

His reflexes are quick. He grabs you around the waist and pulls you to him. You’re instantly hit with the smell of lavender, spearmint and amber as you breathe in. You’re eye level with his neck, so you have to tilt your head back to see his face. Well, his eyes, really. He’s wearing a black face mask and a black baseball cap pulled down so low you can’t see much else. 

His eyes, almond shaped and brown in color, are looking at you somewhat frantically. From surprise? Concern? You’re not sure. What you are sure of, though, and taken aback by, is the way that you feel safe and secure in his arms, pressed up against him. He’s holding you so gently around the waist and you’re intensely aware of the warm, tingling feeling where his hand is touching you. You place a hand on his chest to steady yourself.

You rack your brain for the few Korean phrases you’ve committed to memory. 

“Joesonghamnida,” you say awkwardly. He removes the headphone from his right ear.

“You alright?” he responds in clear (albeit with an Australian accent) English. 

He quickly removes his arm from your waist.  You drop your hand to your side as he looks around, as if checking if anyone is watching. There's hardly a soul in sight, though. 

“Yes, I'm fine. You good?” you reply, but instead of waiting for an answer you begin looking for where your phone landed. You find it near the water fountains and pick it up. The screen is completely cracked. You tap it and it light’s up, but it's impossible to input your passcode or use the facial unlock feature. You let out a groan. 

“Is it bad?” he asks.  

“I'd say so.” You turn the phone around to show him the screen. It's not the end of the world, but definitely an inconvenience after having just landed in a foreign country. 

“I'm sorry, that's my fault. I wasn't lookin' where I was goin',” he apologizes. “I'll pay for the repair.”

“No, no, it's okay. I wasn't paying attention either,” you admit. 

“Maybe we're both at fault, then,” he counters, “so you shouldn't have to pay for it all.”

“It's fine, really. The insurance should cover it.” 

He contemplates something for a moment, then looks around the vacant airport again. He presses something on his phone and quickly hands it to you. It's open to the WhatsApp contact screen. 

“Add your number,” his tone makes it sound like a simple request, but there is some demand to it. “I'll text you tomorrow so you can let me know what it costs.”

You stare at him for a moment and just blink before busting out into a fit of laughter. He seems confused at your response, and you cannot blame him. You’re nearing a state of delusion from your lack of sleep and the giddiness is just another side effect.

“I'm sorry,” you say, trying to regain your composure. “It's nearly two in the morning...I've just landed in Korea, broke my phone, and—” you gesture to his black cargo pants, black t-shirt, black face mask, all black everything, “a ninja is asking me to put my number in his phone. It's a lot.” 

He lets out a small chuckle and looks down at his outfit. You take the phone from his hand as he replies, “Hwarang.”

“Huh?” you ask, typing your name and number in.

“Hwarang...the Korean equivalent to the Japanese ninja,” he informs you.

“My apologies. Hwarang.” You say, butchering the pronunciation as you start to hand the phone back. You suddenly stop, bringing the phone to your chest. “Hang on…how do I know you aren’t some creep?”

“Sometimes you gotta take risks,” he says with a shrug, but his eyes are wrinkled up at the sides so you can tell he’s smiling. He holds his hand out expectantly and you give his phone back. He looks down at the phone to make sure you’ve entered your information. “This better be a real number.”

“I guess we’ll both be living in suspense,” you mimic his nonchalant shrug.

He lets out an airy chuckle. You hear a faint whistle in the distance, and he turns his head in that direction for a moment before looking back to you.

“I've gotta run, but I'll text ya.” He says quickly.

You don't get a chance to reply as he pulls his cap even lower and quickly walks away. You remain rooted in the same spot for a moment, contemplating the brief exchange. You can say with certainty that had this happened back home, there would have been a slim chance of an offer to cover the repair cost. You should at least be appreciative of that.

You shove your now useless phone into your back pocket and head towards customs. Within an hour you make it to the pickup area. Thankfully, your driver is holding a sign with your name on it. Once in the car, the only thing on your mind is making it to the hotel, taking a steamy, hot shower and bellyflopping on the bed.

a/n: we love a meet cute. [ read chapter two here ]

[loceiswhereyouleastexpectit]

Soon enough - Chapter 2

Wc- 1.6k- Ik i said it would be longer but i lied :)

Chapter 2 

a/n: Ik this is soon but i was really excited, the plot is gonna be in the past for a bit so hold on, but we will be getting back to draft night soon, Bare with me. Hope you enjoy. I love the girls.

FLASHBACK- slightly 

Azzi POV

Azzi remembers the first time she met Paige, she was this cocky girl that had this explosive way of playing ball. Azzi honestly thought that thats why she would just stare at her for hours admiring her from close and afar. She was far too talented to not be stared at. 

When she was fourteen she met her and immediately wanted her to be in her life forever, she was annoying and wouldn’t shut up if she won at anything but Azzi knew that with all her “flaws” she was pretty much the best person to be around. She made Azzi laugh and made her more unserious than anyone had ever. 

The first time she came home she told her mom all about the lil white girl and Katie and Tim Fudd already knew that this bond would be unbreakable. And till this day it was. 

However, the pieces of this so called friendship started to break a little.

Azzi remembers a few months ago the team decided to go to there first party since the season had started. 

“Paige are you ready everyone is ready to g-”, and thats when the first palpitations happened for the brown eyed girl. She almost felt like she was having a heart attack. 

In the middle of the room was Paige, half way taking off her shirt. She was ripped,(ofc she was, she’s a D1 athlete azzi) and her biceps were at the perfect angle that really showed all the progress Paige was making in the gym. 

Azzi always knew Paige was attractive, I mean all the thirst edits she got on her fyp was kinda insane, she would always keep scrolling, knowing there was more to come. But she never really took time to truly look at the physique of her best friend. However in that moment, she got it. She understood why millions of girls would go crazy for a glance at her best friend. 

“Azzi, shit sorry, Im trying to pick out a shirt, this is impossible”.

Azzi slowly swallowed and walked towards the blonde, trying to figure out what her mind was doing to her. 

“I can help P, who you trying to impress” Azzi said with a hit of jealously, why would u say that. She decided to roam through Paige’s closet trying to find the perfect shirt. She could wear a cardboard box and still look good… 

“Azzi please I literally haven’t talk to any girl seriously since you got to UConn”, a slight pause came from Paige followed by “I mean not that this is about you, i’m just saying I've def been off my game”. 

“Right sorry, I didn’t mean anything by what I said, just jokes… Here I like this one on you, brings out your eyes”, She handed Paige the perfect shirt, a blue button down, perfectly fit on her arms, big enough so no one saw her abs. Azzi Stop. 

Paige stared at the shirt with a huge smile knowing that that was the first one she picked out. She knew her best friend knew her the best. Paige walked towards her best friend “Thanks”. And now there were only inches apart, Paige and Azzi, just like it always has been, however now all Azzi could do was stare at Paige’s arms and jaw and neck and abs, JESUS what the hell was in the water today.

“Ofc P, once your ready well go, ill wait outside”. 

“Ok…”

Paige POV 

The thing is, Azzi and Paige had never once in there 9 years of knowing one another ever felt uncomfortable about changing in front of one another. They did it basically everyday after practice. 

Paige knew that her stare probably scared off Azzi, she walked in looking truly like a goddess, hair out, perfectly curled with hoop earrings. Her blue crop top hugging her body in all the right and wrong places, making her more desirable for everyone to look at. And to Azzi, this was her chill outfit, grey sweats and some airforces, but to Paige she truly stole the spotlight everywhere she went. 

Paige had been freaking out about what to wear. This was the year she would confess, her last year, she had to make it count. So today, she wanted to look her best for her best friend, hoping to get her attention so that no one else steals her away for the night, something that has been happening way to recently. 

“PAIGE LETS FUCKING GO DUDE” Nika yelled bursting into her door. “Dude ur not dressing for a nike commercial, its a lame frat party, please LETS GOO”. 

“Nika omg bro let me live, I need to look good tonight”.

“Well u look the same as every other night. Happy?”

“Nikaaaaa dont say that, Azzi picked out the shirt, I think it looks nice”. 

“Paige, Azzi could say anything and u would believe her” 

“Yea ur right”

“Pussy whipped” 

“NIKA WHAt shush” Nika had clocked Paiges crush the first moment she mentioned Azzi, Paige was telling a story about the best point guard she ever met and Nika simply said “How long y’all been dating”. It through Paige for a loop but ever since that day Nika already knew that Paige was forever in love with the younger girl. Nothing would change that. 

“Listen,” Paige started “Im gonna make a move tonight, I swear,”

Nika was looking at Paige with the same bored look as always, she had been saying this for three whole months. And every time she chickened out saying its “better to be friends”. 

“Paige, please, do something before u drive yourself insane or don’t do anything at all dude. Ur gonna drive yourself crazy and will end up with no girl, friend or not”. 

Paige sighed, she knew that her twin was right. Nika always told her to shoot her shot, but every time she built up the courage, some guy or girl would come up to Azzi and steal her away, deflating all the confidence Paige built up. For three years she felt like the girl would never see her as anything other than her friend, however Nika kept telling her Azzi never looked at anyone the way she did at Paige. 

This year she chose to believe the Croatian. And so she swore on her life she would do something tonight that would finally give there friendship a little push into the right direction. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Everyone was pilled into Paige’s car, Azzi in the front, my passenger princess. Ice, Nika, KK and Carol in the back. Everyone else would meet them at the party.

Paige couldn’t stop turning her head to Azzi, she looked beautiful but most importantly, she always was there to rely on, she always had Tylenol if Paige had a headache and chapstick if she ever needed any and she never ever left without saying goodbye knowing it made Paige uneasy, she loved her more tha-

“PAIGE” KK yelled.

“What”???

“U just ran that red light”!!!!!!

“Omg sorry guys”.

“Dude where is your head at, u almost killed up, are u already drunk”.

“No KK relax, just lost my head there for a second”.

“Yea staring at Azzi” Nika said softly. Everyone in the back chuckled slightly. 

Suddenly there was a soft hand on her’s. “Hey are you ok”?Azzi asked

Paige gulped, knowing she was certainly NOT ok, but she lied, what’s one more life to her best friend. “Yep, just a long day”. Usually Azzi would have removed her hand by now, usually not a PDA type of person, but she left her hand where is was for the rest of the car ride.  

Thats new, Paige thought. 

Azzi and Paige had always been touchy, but mostly on there own time, maybe a gentle brush on hands as they were walking or a slight hand on the back, but never anything else, only cuddling in there dorms, surrounded by friends or family.

But now, she felt that this touch was different, not so heavy as the other times, gentler, almost scared. 

This was the sign Paige needed, she was ready, she needed Azzi, and she was determined to have her. And maybe, just maybe Azzi felt the same. 

As soon as Paige pulled up to the party, Azzi quickly jumped out, disconnecting there hands. Her and Caroline already were walking inside. Paige hadn’t even turned off her car. 

Shit, maybe she felt bad, now she feels weird, omg what if she hated it and now things are werid and she doesn’t want to be around me. 

Nika shook her out of her spiral. “Paige, hellooooo, what’s up”. KK and Ice were standing right behind her, all three were looking at Paige with with worried looks. 

“Guys she didn’t move her hand, and now she basically ran off, I made it weird, omg she’s not gonna wanna be my best friend anymore. She doesn’t like me, She doesn’t even like WOMEN. Lord help me”.

KK and Ice started laughing “Paige please, that girl is the most lesbian/bisexual girl I have ever met” Ice said. 

“Yea P boogers she’s literally gay” KK said. “Relax, two minutes of hand holding isn’t gonna change ur whole friendship of a billion years”

“Paige lets get you drunk my girl, you need to relax” Nika said. 

“Okay fine, but please dont let me drink tequila, its my truth serum and I can’t afford that tonight”

“OKayyyyyyy” All girls said.

[makethemhoesmad]

sex concept-2

paige x oc

paige’s pov!

wc: 754

part one

—

this is the first time in quite a few years i’ve woken up with a woman on top of me, in my bed, in my clothes, and haven’t fucked her. not that i don’t want to. in fact, i really want to. she just won’t let me.

“p…” i hear scarlett whimper on top of me, shifting in a way that gives me a blissful whiff of her shampoo.

“mhm?” i answer, wrapping my arms around her. she turns her face into my neck, muttering something about how my room’s “so goddamn fucking cold,” and i think i fall in love right there, trying to pull her closer into me to keep her warm. i guess she wakes up fully a few moments later, because she rolls off of me, sits up, and says,

“i really should go home, i’ve got a date with one of my friends in two hours.” 

No way she’s about to go on a date with anyone other than me, even though she’s technically not mine. I grab her and hold her to my chest, letting her squeal and demand to be released.

“let me go, bro, come on, paige.”

“nun uh, gotta have you close to me for just a little bit longer. i’ont got practice for another hour and a half, baby, we could stay here till then.”

i see her resolve falter, her pupils blow wide as she listens to me trying to sweet-talk her down. when her eyes flit down to my lips, i try to swoop in, press them to hers, but she places a hand right over my face. 

“i really, need to go. thank you so much!” she crows, scrambling out of my bed and out the door, leaving her dress and taking my pants. it’s okay, really, i think as i watch her leave. i let the moment of her scurrying out in my clothes replay in my mind until my phone rings, with kk yelling to remind me we have practice in 30 minutes.

~

“normally after paige gets pussy she plays like a mad woman,” kk remarks, nudging azzi, who had just commented on my two missed layups.

“fuck all the way off, kamorea,” i mutter, storming towards the locker room.

“damn, she leave you hanging?” azzi asks, smirking at me.

“yes, bro, she told me she doesn’t fuck athletes,” i whine, burying my face in my hands. azzi pats me on the head, saying,

“what a shame, she’s really cute. scarlett, right? of course, you got her number so maybe you could change her mind or something.”

my face goes red, then pale. “No, azzi, i didn’t get her number, because i couldn’t think to ask her any of that shit. she shakes her head, walking out and calling that i should have tried harder, and to do something about my layup situation.

~

later that night, after a long, hot shower to contemplate my recent issues, i open instagram, set on scrolling a bit then going to bed. i lay down, and my plans are destroyed by the still lingering scent of scarlett on my pillows, my blankets, my sheets, my skin. i find myself opening her instagram, moving my hand between my legs. it’s sinful, how quickly i come onto my own fingers, with her name on my lips, just from a picture of her. i lean back, languidly scrolling through her photos, appreciating her. i’ve scrolled just a bit too far when i accidentally click the heart near the bottom of my screen. i panic briefly, then decide to leave it. let her see me stalking her. i plug my phone in, laying it facedown and turning over to scream into my pillow. my phone buzzing has me jolting up and grabbing it, nearly shrieking in delight at an instagram notification from @scar_let

why u stalking me, creepy 

i giggle, unable to control myself

just can’t seem to get you outta my mind, ma

i reply back. i hope she thought it was slick, and not overly creepy and cringe.

bet you were rubbing one out to my old high school volleyball pictures

this girl, goddamn. she’s not right, but she’s not necessarily far from the truth.

you’d have lost that bet because i wasn’t rubbing one out to your high school volleyball pictures

i smirk, watching as the message goes to seen, and she starts typing.

wanna show me what you were doing then?

and then next message is an address, with a little winking face.

[deeversuswords]

‧˚₊ Truth Exposer 1: Uncovered — Ch.8

PAIRING — Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki/Vigilante F!Reader RATING — Explicit CONTAINS — heavy angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), mutual pining, slow burn, eventual smut, moral ambiguity, cheating (not between katsuki/reader), unhealthy relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief/mourning, dark themes (past abuse, stalking, kidnapping, torture, quirk trafficking), violence, swearing, open but hopeful ending, dual pov (mostly reader), no use of y/n ◆ married bakugou katsuki—not to reader—and has a daughter too ◆ characters are in their late 20s SUMMARY — Running away would be the sensible thing to do. Getting as far away as possible from him, the one person who’s your ticket to losing your freedom. Not searching for him out of stupid curiosity and showing up at the last place you should: his house. They say curiosity killed the cat, but yours seems to always end up as the key unlocking doors that should probably stay locked. Because when you open the door to Bakugou Katsuki’s life, it’s not a loving marriage, not a happy family of three you find, but falsity, forced duty, and a dark secret that threatens his very own life. Bakugou Katsuki, the pro hero tasked with catching you and your downfall. And you, the vigilante exposing ugly truths for a living—his salvation.

➥AO3 LINK // ➥AO3 CHAPTER LINK // ➥TUMBLR CHAPTERS LIST

CHAPTER SUMMARY — You discuss your future steps with Ayumu when you get an unexpected call.

CHAPTER WARNINGS — n/a

WORD COUNT — ~3.4k

a/n: katsuki and his sleeveless turtleneck have been distracting me the whole day once again. send help.

The midday sun kissed your skin as you slouched into the balcony couch, scrolling through social media, the sour twist of your mouth deepening.

“You’re gonna get wrinkles if you keep making that face.” 

Ayumu placed a steaming cup of cappuccino on the small table and dropped onto the couch beside you, cradling his own.

You scrolled faster. Picture after picture. Article after article. Video after video. Everyone and their mothers had been gushing for the last two weeks about the power couple of the moment—Bakugou Katsuki and his villain of a wife. 

The whole circus started when she posted a picture of her new gold ring, flaunting a ruby the size of your anger. The caption blabbered about her profound gratitude for her husband and their never-ending, burning love.

After that, if she wasn’t spotted skipping into his agency with a flawless smile and a cute lunch bag, she was photographed blushing like a schoolgirl on a date that looked about as exciting as listening to someone talk when you already knew exactly what they were going to say. She actively redefined boredom.

And because no kitsch couple show was complete without equal effort, the starving paparazzi made sure to stalk Bakugou too and snap a couple of shots of him shopping in high-end stores, swiping his card with the blankest face in existence. Which worsened your confusion.

You rolled your eyes and tossed your phone to the side. “Pisses me off.”

“Aren’t you gonna tell him?” Ayumu asked as you reached for the cup and brought it to your lips.

“No. I can’t. Guilty or not, it’s too risky, and I don’t even have a proper plan yet.” You blew on the cappuccino to slightly cool it, then took a cautious sip. Vanilla—still Ayumu’s favorite after all these years—sweetened your tongue on its way down. “Did you find out what I asked you to?”

Ayumu nodded and drank from his cup, unbothered by the temperature, a foamy mustache forming on his upper lip, one you immediately pointed at, laughing at how goofy he looked.

He delivered a light kick to your leg as he wiped his mouth. “Bakugou’s chances of getting full custody of Yua are close to zero. Joint custody is possible, but even that could be denied if his wife is really out to ruin him.”

“Because of his job?”

“Partly.” Another sip. “She could argue Yua’s not safe with him. What if duty calls in the middle of the night? What about the villains he’s put away? Some of them might want revenge. Plus, his occasional angry public outbursts aren’t helping. She could even claim her life was at risk just by being with him. I mean, a relationship with a pro hero isn’t exactly safe.” He paused, staring into his cup like it showed him the future. “His situation is…seriously messed up.”

“So if he wants out, he has to choose between his job and his daughter?”

“Something like that.” His eyes met yours. “If the rules are followed. If they’re not, well…all that can change. In his favor.”

You considered him for a few beats of knowing silence before you focused on the fizzing foam of your cappuccino. Ayumu alluded to the only viable solution as of now, but as much as you wanted to lean that way, you couldn’t allow yourself to. 

Bakugou was a suspect. Until you proved otherwise, even if it broke something in your heart, you had no other choice but to perceive him like that. This wasn’t just about him, but about the people you’d seen, too.

“He’d win. It wouldn’t be clean, but he’d win,” you concluded with a weary sigh, head falling against the backrest, eyes closing to savor the gentle nip of fading summer.

“If Truth Exposer said it, then it must be true.”

A faint smile touched your vanilla-tinted lips. That phrase irritated and filled you with a strange sense of pride at the same time.

“He wouldn’t be able to submit whatever evidence you give him, but he wouldn’t need to if everyone knew what his wife is involved in. Public outcry would make the authorities think twice.” His empty laugh rang through the air. “Justice is blind, they say. What a fucking joke.”

“It is blind, Ayumu. When the cash is stacked high, the influence runs deep like roots, and,” you drank the rest of your cappuccino in one gulp, “the lie is sold as truth.”

His hand found your knee and squeezed it, his touch comforting as your mind inevitably leaped into the past. Bad habits were hard to shake off when the reasons to wage war against them were minimal. Quick to get in the way of moving forward, but quicker to wrench you backward in the throes of haunting grief and thorny suffering.

The future stayed blurred, distant, out of reach compared to the clear, loud past, whose jagged teeth gnawed at your jugular.

Years since your parents had died, and the moments of injustice continued to reign in the dark corners of your mind. You could vividly relive it still, like it was yesterday, the stale office air, the frustrating anger making your hands shake, your nostrils flaring as you resisted the deep-seated urge to strangle the licensed building inspector.

He had reeked of indifference as he had reclined in his leather seat, elbow propped on the armrest, thick fingers tapping on his temple. You had been his biggest headache of the day, but had you cared? Absolutely not. Your compassion hit rock bottom when he kept selling you the same bullshit narrative you knew to be false.

“Miss, please. The reports clearly state, in black and white, that during each verification everything was in order.”

“I’m aware, but do tell me, Inspector, how did you write those reports if you never—”

“By law, we’re obligated to verify structural integrity annually. Are you implying I fabricated the documents?”

“No. I’m simply addressing you a common sense que—”

“These are the official records of every inspection since the building was constructed. Signed. Stamped. Filed,” he interrupted you for the second time, slapping a hand over the stack of thick files piled up on his imposing desk. “I’ve got less than an hour left on the clock, but you’re welcome to flip through them, Miss. See the facts with your own eyes. They’re alright, I hope. They seem a bit red.”

Your hands clenched into tight fists before they slammed down on his desk. You didn’t need to check a damn thing. The records were pristine, which was why they could afford to lie that it was a tragic accident, that the building’s structural integrity had deteriorated faster due to external circumstances like combat and quirks being used nearby.

If someone had reported there being problems with the building, it would’ve been fixed immediately, but since no one did, it led to this terrible, terrible accident.

“The building gave way from the inside,” you gritted through your teeth. “The people living there had reported the deep cracks on numerous occasions, but—”

“Are you an architect, Miss?”

“I don’t need to be one. I saw the aftermath, and I have enough common sense to understand that the planning was poorly done from the start. How else do you explain the layers of rust on the skeleton?”

He shot to his feet, going red in the face as he planted his hands flat on the desk and leaned in, trying to intimidate you. “It was the rainy season when this accident happened.”

“Do you know what can rust in a matter of hours and fit your claim?” you asked, lowering your voice to a near whisper. “Iron, Inspector. Plain iron. So if you say the steel frame was perfect before the collapse but rusted from the rain afterward, that wasn’t a steel frame, was it?”

His jaw ticked. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I understand you’re a victim too, grieving your loss, but I’m not obligated to listen to your unfounded accusations, especially when it seems you’re,” his dark eyes flickered to your journalist badge hanging from your neck, “just looking for a story.”

The urge to grab this condescending prick by the collar surged hotly through your veins. 

“Before I’m a journalist,” you snapped, “I’m the daughter of two people crushed beneath the building you deemed perfectly safe. The only story I want is the truth, but I’m starting to doubt I’ll get it. You people are a tight-knit group, aren’t you?”

A dark glint flashed in his annoyed gaze as if to confirm your underhanded accusation. 

“Sleep well while you still can, Inspector. Even if I have to dig out the truth with my bare hands, I will. This won’t slide.” You pushed away from the desk. “I’m looking forward to your rundown of the remote inspection process you seem to favor. Quite innovative, really. Who knows, you might even help ease the workload for your peers.”

You reached the door when he asked, “Is that a threat I hear, Miss?” Something in his voice plunged a blade of dread into your back, forcing your spine to go rigid.

“The definition of a threat, Inspector, is the possibility of something bad happening, not a certainty. Have a wonderful evening.”

You had left that man’s office burning with rotten fury, but also with one crystal-clear truth: no price would be too high to get them justice. Not even your own life.

Maybe it was that point in time when the seeds of your vigilantism had first taken root.

“My word,” you said, turning to face Ayumu fully. “Do you think it’ll hold against what and who we’re up against?”

His fingers curled gently over yours. “I’m more worried about this spiraling,” he admitted. “About you losing control over it and me not being able to protect you.” His sincerity gripped your heart. “We’re talking about a well-organized trafficking ring, sweetheart. Something like this doesn’t fly under the radar without smart, powerful people backing it.”

“We have no proof, Ayumu. None,” you reminded him of your failure to gather evidence. Something in there had shut down your burner and kept it that way, likely an EMP. “Tipping anyone off would do more harm than good. The police have procedures to follow, especially if heroes are involved.”

“And there’s always a risk of a leak. Whoever’s running this won’t wait around,” he said, sucking in a breath through his teeth as he massaged the tension between his brows. “They’ll pack up, vanish. Change locations, change methods. And all those people…they’d be lost. We’d be back at square one.”

“We have one shot at this.”

“I think so too, but are you gonna be okay?”

“Sakai Ayumu.” You smacked your hands over his cheeks, and he straightened instantly at the full-name treatment. “What’s my secret philosophy?”

“Never gamble to lose. Only to win.”

You grinned proudly and pinched his skin affectionately, then jumped up, lifting your arms to stretch. “We can always bring in the police or the heroes if we have to.” Each pop of your joints and the burn in your muscles melted some of the tension. “For now, we keep it hush-hush and do what we always do.”

“Break the law,” he said with a carefree laugh, following you to the railing. A breeze caught in his copper strands. “What about Bakugou, though?”

“What about him?”

“Are you gonna expose him if he’s guilty?”

Your eyes drifted to the watery horizon in the far distance. “Yeah. No exceptions.”

“And if he’s not?”

The clear sky blurred with the glittering ocean, two shades of blue blending into one, yet their nuances remained distinct, unique. Like you and him. Similar, but different in ways that felt more like completion than opposition.

“His truth won’t be buried,” you said from the mind, not the heart. Your heart was too much of a masochist, hurting unnecessarily, caring too much. “No matter what.”

Ayumu’s arm went around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. You leaned into him, returning the embrace with a sincere smile, melting into his warmth. Who said a friend’s love couldn’t run just as deep, just as meaningful as any other? Life without him…was inconceivable.

“Wanna travel the world once we solve this?” he asked out of nowhere. “Truth Exposer deserves holidays too. Real holidays.”

Holidays?

You’d never really had any. Never gone somewhere just to relax and enjoy. Wherever you went, you went with a purpose.

“Hmm, sure?” You gazed at his profile, snorting at his sneaky side-eye. “Yeah. Let’s do that. Who knows, maybe we end up breaking laws in some other countries too.”

“Sweetheart, no!” He whined, and you threw your head back, letting out a hearty laugh.

Your joy was cut short when your phone rang, replaced by wariness as you picked up from between the cushions and saw the unfamiliar number.

“Hello?”

The caller’s voice had your jaw drop. “Hi. Um, it’s Deku. The guy you punched at the beach a few weeks ago? Sorry for calling out of the blue, but the animal shelter gave me your number to talk about the cat we brought in. Is this a good time?”

Ayumu shuffled closer, pressing his ear to the phone. You elbowed him in the ribs and shot him a warning glare. He backed off, out of your personal space, returning to lean against the railing. Watching you.

“Yeah. Sure. Are you adopting her?”

Deku’s easy laugh tickled your ears. “Not me. My life is too hectic, but not my mom’s. She wants to take care of her.” 

“How come?”

“Let’s just say telling her the story ended with me showing her the picture I took. She melted instantly,” he said, then muttered so quickly it almost sounded like a glitch in the speaker. “Something about it being a lucky sign because I met you, too.”

Your breath hitched loudly. “Sorry. Hiccup,” you lied. “That’s…I’m happy to hear, but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.”

He cleared his throat. “This call was supposed to come from one of the staff, but I insisted on doing it since we’re kind of acquainted. Hope I didn’t cross any boundaries. If I did, I apologize, and I’ll just—”

“It’s alright,” you gently interrupted. He sounded so flustered you wouldn’t be surprised if his face were beet red. “They would’ve put me in contact with you anyway, per my request. This way, we skipped a step.”

“Yes. That we did.” He let out a relieved sigh, and your teeth tugged at your lip. There was something oddly endearing about how nervous he was. “Are you free this week? Preferably in the evening.”

“Hmm…” You needed some air, to see something other than your apartment. Spending time with Deku didn’t sound too bad. “I’d be free tonight.”

On the other end of the line, he paused a beat before his breath flowed into the speaker. “Would seven work for you?”

*

The bench outside the animal shelter was surprisingly comfortable, though it did little to ease your growing restlessness. Elbows digging into your thighs, you rested your chin on your interlaced fingers and pursed your lips. With the meeting hour approaching, your stomach stewed in anxiety.

“Damn you, Ayumu,” you grumbled. Your best friend couldn’t have been more of a hypocrite in the span of a few minutes.

After the call with Deku, he had paled and delivered a speech on the dangers of becoming friendly with a pro hero, yet in the same breath, he squeaked like a rat seeing cheese, jittery with enthusiasm, exclaiming, “You’re about to meet up with a hot guy!”

Somehow, Deku being Bakugou’s friend or that he was a pro hero too didn’t matter anymore, but as Ayumu so nicely put it, you needed yum in your life, and Deku was undeniably yum. 

He was, in his own way, but—

“I’m sorry for running late. Traffic was awful.”

Your gaze lifted to see the man of the hour stopping in front of you, panting lightly, car keys dangling from his scarred fingers. Not a sports car, but something common. Safe.

“Did you wait long?” he asked, as you continued piecing together the last hour of his life.

The sleeves of his white dress shirt were messily rolled, the rest buttoned to his throat and stuffed into the waistband of his black formal pants. His leather belt was twisted once in the loops, making your eye twitch. Deku had hurried.

“No, not at all,” you replied, noticing the post-workout swell of his muscles and the sweat glinting at his temples and hairline. Deku had hurried…from the gym. “Let’s go?”

You stood, legs weakening a fraction as the mix of cologne and his natural scent drifted into your nose. For a moment, you too forgot who he really was.

“Actually, mind if we stay here five more minutes?” Deku asked, sitting down. His voice was like fine sand all of a sudden. “I want to try convincing you to let me pay instead.”

“What? For real?”

He nodded, the quick, determined movement drawing your attention to his hair. Under the guise of twilight, the green looked muted, dark, but the viridian of his eyes kept the real color alive, highlighted.

“No. I said I’ll pay, so I’m paying. I have no intention of changing my mind.”

“Let me at least try?” Those same eyes pleaded with you as his fingers tapped twice on the bench.

“Why?”

“I’m not comfortable with it,” he said as you returned to your seat on the bench. “There’s one more thing. The lady who gave me your number mentioned your name, and I realized I never introduced myself properly. Not that night. Not on the phone. His hand left his knee to give itself to you. “Midoriya Izuku.”

You couldn’t resist a small smile as you slipped your hand into his, calloused fingers closing over it and shaking. The gesture was careful, gentle, as if you were the definition of fragile, and your body tensed, unaccustomed to the feeling. Not even you were this kind to yourself, and De—Midoriya was making you feel guilty for it.

As you held his hand a little bit tighter and a little bit longer, you entrusted him with your name.

Red dusted his freckled cheeks, but the smile he offered reached his eyes and snuck into your heart like light within forgotten, worn-down walls. This was normalcy. This was what your life would’ve probably looked like if it were different. Meeting new people, telling them your name without risking, connecting and sharing experiences.

“Is there really no way you’d let me? I mean, it’s my mom adopting her, so it’s only fair I cover everything,” he said, letting go of your hand, and you wished he hadn’t.

“No. You’ll have to deal with me paying.” Was your voice always this soft? This small?

“Then, can I make it up to you in some other way?”

“You don’t have to. It’s alright. I’m glad I can help.”

His blush deepened. “How about d-dinner? As a thank you.”

He’d taken you “home” as an apology for you punching him, when he really should’ve just gotten away from you, and now he wanted to take you to dinner as thanks for sticking to your word? What even was this logic?

He was giving you a headache.

You were about to respond when his eyes suddenly opened comically wide. Midoriya sprang up, waving his hands as he stepped back politely.

“Maybe not? Would that be appropriate?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t want to cause you trouble with…with your partner.”

“Partner?” You ended up trailing off as his eyes stole a glance at your neck, the bruise long gone. “I’m single. Uncommitted.”

A smack to your head would be divine right now. What were you doing telling him that?

“Would you like to have dinner with me then?” Midoriya reiterated his invitation, each syllable clear, confident, composed. Even the rosiness in his cheeks lost saturation.

You’d be the worst liar, an amateur pretender, if you tried to ignore the loud way your heart thumped in your ears. Never in your life had you been this thrown off by someone switching gears this fast.

“You’re choosing the place.” You rose from the bench and prowled the short distance to him. A spark of intrigue curled your lips. “Surprise me, Midoriya.”

taglist: @lunaryasha | @tomiokasecretlover | @fiselle | @5oftkitty

[jockbroski34]

New Blood (Chapter 2)

This is the second half of New Blood. If you haven't already, please read the first part here:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

--Braden POV--

It’s been two weeks since Jacob changed into a jock.  I almost didn’t recognize him at first.  He seemed pretty chill when I saw him first, but now he acted like a spitting image of Zach and even started to look the part too.  I even heard rumors that they started dating, which was a surprise to me because Zach always came off as straight to me.

It was just like what happened with Bradley.  They would start hanging out more and more with Zach, and then the next time you see them, they become freakishly huge and start playing football.  I’ve seen it happen twice, but I am certain it has happened before.  It wasn’t the first time I saw someone in my class walk in looking like they took steroids overnight, but it was uncommon enough for it to not be a noticeable problem.

Even worse, I know he’s still at it.  I’ve seen Zach and “Jake” talking to a guy I know in my class, Charlie.  If I had to guess, he’s their next victim, but knowing him, I’m sure he’d be begging to join them.  He’s openly gay and he’s always thirsted over the guys on the football team, even preferring my brother “Brad” over me.  Zach probably has him wrapped around his finger at this point.  Honestly, I felt bad for him for being that desperate.  I knew it would be impossible to convince someone that down bad.

One thing became clear to me after the past several months.  Zach was obviously getting closer to people in order to convince them to join the football team and become jocks like him.  I’ve seen it happen multiple times, and at this point, he’s gone too far.  I could try to tell the school about what he has been doing, but without definitive proof, I would just look crazy.  The school obviously wouldn’t care anyways because they would benefit from a better football team to put their school’s name on the board.

As far as I know, no one in the school really seems to notice or care about people changing before their very eyes.  They are completely oblivious.  They don’t even care that they could be the one chosen to be targeted next.  I’m basically all on my own here.  This has to have been happening for almost a year at this point and I have to do something.  I have to stop Zach and the rest of the team from turning these students into meathead jocks.

I began to investigate Zach and the rest of the football team.  I went down the roster and made a list of every person who I definitely knew had been turned into a jock.  There were a few more than I had expected to be honest.  About thirty percent, I believe.  These people had all gone through the drastic changes involved with joining the team, including the increased body growth.

There was one person who I specifically wanted to find information on, Zach.  I decided to browse his Instagram to find even a hint of any tangible evidence that I could use against him.  He had a lot of photos, with most of the recent ones being him showing off his body or partying.  I wouldn’t expect much else from a douchebag like him.  Although my investigation did not bear much fruit, I did find something interesting.  As I scrolled through his old photos, I saw a boy both similar, yet entirely different to the cocky, muscular quarterback I knew.  Was he one of the ones that was changed too?

The photo, about two years ago, showed an entirely different Zach.  He was certainly still tall for his age, and definitely still taller than I am now.  He was more on the skinnier side, however, and his face had softer, more boyish features compared to his more chiseled self.  He had a longer hairstyle which contrasted with the short style he was rocking now.  He still had the same verdant green eyes, although they had a more innocent look compared to the confidence his current self was full of.  If you had shown me this picture without any of the information I know, I would’ve thought this was his cute little brother.

The more I thought about it, the more I started to wonder.  How did he do it?  Him being one of the earlier guys to transform combined with him being the quarterback and the team captain led me to believe that he had to be one of the first, perhaps being the prototype.

I saw another photo of the old Zach from three years ago.  It was him with two older men at a football game, each one of them adorning a jersey to match with the others in the crowded stadium.  The man next to Zach bore enough similarities with him that I assumed that he was his father, but the other man’s identity was still a mystery.  The face looked familiar however, but I figured it was just a coincidence.  Maybe he was an uncle or an old family friend?  Either way, I came to the conclusion that Zach was likely always into football even at a young age.  I wouldn’t find it surprising that he would want to play football, but anyone with eyes could see that it would be impossible to achieve that kind of body in just two years even with nonstop training and a strict diet.  I considered the possibility that steroids could have been involved, but how would he be able to even get his hands on them, let alone supply them to that many people?

I then tried to broaden my perspective a bit, and an interesting theory entered my mind.  The football coach would obviously know of the changes, right?  He couldn’t just turn a blind eye after some guys just randomly became jocks and wanted to join the team, right?  In fact, he would have much to gain by turning his players into the ideal version of a high school football player.  Stronger players mean more wins.  More wins mean more success for the team and for the school.  No wonder why the school doesn’t care.  They are directly benefiting from this!

So I decided that I would dig deeper on the coach.  Unsurprisingly, he was a former football player and coach, but decided to move to this town about three to four years ago.  At the college he went to, he majored in psychology.  I found the pair between football and psychology to be a strange fit, with very little overlap.  But then I started to think.  He obviously knows a lot about the human mind.  Maybe that’s why the guys on the team like Bradley and Jacob came out acting like entirely different people.  He had to have done something to them subconsciously, perhaps some form of hypnosis or brainwashing.  Bradley would often mention things that obviously never happened, so I am sure his memories were tampered with.  I would know.  I’ve known him my entire life and he never cared about sports before now.  Just as I had figured out a hypothesis on how they might have changed mentally, I still didn’t know how their bodies might have changed.  I defaulted to my original idea, steroids, but I didn’t know how a high school coach would get steroids for his players.  Surely he’s smart enough to want to avoid that scandal.

I remembered the coach’s face.  I’ve definitely seen it before at least once at school, but it was also the other man in the photo with Zach!  So it seems that the coach knew Zach before he became a jock.  I’m guessing he and his father were close?  If I’m on the right track, Zach could have been his guinea pig for his experiments, since he would have to be one of the first guys to undergo the jock transformation.

I wrote all of the important evidence I had into a document, but then I heard the front door open.  Shit, Brad, no, Bradley came home early from football practice!  I quickly saved the document onto my flash drive, and hid it in my pocket.  We shared the same computer, so I couldn’t risk him finding it, even though he would probably just look up sports statistics or porn instead.  Bradley was seemingly unaware by the time he entered our shared room.

“Hey bro,” Bradley said.  “Doing homework already?  You’re a much harder worker than me, bro.”  The old Bradley would never say bro.  And he was arguably a better student than me.

“Yeah,” I responded, sarcastically.  I was honestly getting tired of him after all that has been going on.  “Not that you would know anything about studying, you dumb brute.”  I grabbed my things and left for the living room, not wanting to be anywhere near my changed brother, nor near his sweaty, unwashed clothes that he left on the floor.

“What’s wrong bro?” Bradley followed me, his large feet stomping on the floor with every step.  “You not feeling alright?  I’m going on a run in a little bit if you want to come with.  It’ll help clear your head.”  I was fuming at his ignorance.  It was at this moment that I burst.

“You are what’s wrong ‘bro’!  Ever since you started hanging out with Zach and joined the football team, you’ve been completely unrecognizable!  You’re just another jock now!”

“So what?  I like being on the team and I like hanging out with the guys.”

“Is that really you in there or is that Zach or Coach doing the talking for you?  You were never like this before you met them.  I know that they changed you!”  I realized I may have said too much.

“I guess they did rub off on me a little, but I did this for me, bro,”  I rolled my eyes at the idea that anyone would willingly agree to be transformed into a jock.  “I know you and I have grown apart these past couple months, but I just want us to get along again like we used to, bro.  No matter what.”  He reached out for a hug, but I pushed him away.  The man in front of me was not my brother.  Besides, he’d probably break a bone or two.

“You are not my ‘bro’!  If you want us to be brothers again, you can start by quitting the team.  You’re never gonna get anywhere in life by throwing footballs and getting concussions.”

“You’ll never understand, little bro.”  Bradley seemed disappointed, and left through the front door, likely going on another one of his runs.  I felt a wave of anger and shame rush over me, not just at my foolish brother, but at myself for being unable to connect with him.  The rest of the night went by as usual, only we were even more cold towards each other than we were earlier.  Dinner was incredibly awkward, with our tension hanging over the dinner table.  We avoided eye contact and didn’t even say a word to each other the whole night.  As I tried to fall asleep, I knew that we couldn’t keep living like this.  Something needed to change.

--Jake POV--

I woke up to the sound of an alarm in Zach’s warm embrace, his toned arms barely wrapped around my new, larger body.  His thick legs tangled in between mine like a knot and his 9-inch serpent in his jockstrap pressed against my back.  I had slept the night at his place again, but it was pretty common these days now that we were officially a couple.  We saw each other almost every day, whether it was at school, practice, the gym, or watching football together on Sunday.  The other bros grew a little jealous of us, but it’s a little hard not to be.

I thought about what happened the other day.  Memories of the lessons prior were drowned out by the practice, and by me and Zach recruiting the newbie to the team.  You see, Zach was not only the team captain and our star quarterback.  He was also responsible for recruiting new members to the team and getting people interested in football, and he asked me to help him out, which I obviously agreed to.

Obviously I now know how the recruitment process actually works, seeing as he had done it to me weeks ago, but it is different watching it compared to seeing it happen to yourself.  Unlike me, the new recruit took less time and was very eager to join the team.  Charlie was a nerdy kid, and gay too, but he had a slight interest in football, but mainly for the hot guys who played it.  I empathized with him, seeing as I was lusting over Zach just weeks ago.  Naturally, me and Zach helped him realize that he could be one of those hot football jocks who he jerked off to, while also allowing him to appreciate the art of the game on more than a surface level.  I watched Charlie transform and he was already in love with his new body and jock persona.  He’s now one of the guys he’s thirsted for, and maybe if he’s lucky, he can get to suck off one of the bros.  I don’t think any of them are gay, though, but if little bro tries to make a move on Zach though, I’ll beat the shit out of him.  Maybe I’ll try to hook him up with another new gay recruit.

I heard a buzzing sound from the nightstand in front of me.  I grabbed my phone, which lit up in the dark room.  My new lock screen was a picture of me and Zach, our arms over each other’s shoulders, in our football uniforms after a hard-fought victory.  Brad had messaged the group chat and it seemed like he had something important to share.

“hey bros my little bro braden is mad at me for joining the team and i think he knos about wat teh team is doin hes obv mizrabl and i want us to get along agan think zach and coach can turn him into a jock liek me?”

I remembered Braden and how antagonistic he acted towards me and the other members of the team.  I still haven’t forgiven him for being so judgmental towards us.  We just wanted to play football and be bros together.  What was wrong with that?  Judging from what Brad said, it is clear that he’s already gathering evidence on us just like he had said, as he knows about not just Zach, but Coach too.  If the secrets of our program leaks, it could be very bad news.  Because he was an enemy to the team, he was an enemy to me.  However, I felt like I could forgive him if he joined us.  Plus, I wanted him to see firsthand why we loved this lifestyle so much.  I responded in the group chat.

“yea we shud do it b4 he trys telling any1 he knows about zach alredy and he knows i changed and tryd to warn me lets talk after practice”

Zach started to rise from his slumber, realizing that he had slept past his alarm and he gave me a kiss on the lips.  I informed him of the situation with Braden and he agreed that this was probably the best option.  I didn’t care if he would try to resist us, but he needed to know that we were not to be fucked with.  Zach went downstairs to make breakfast for the two of us while I got ready for school.

I changed into one of Zach’s T-shirts that he let me wear and a pair of basketball shorts, and then I put on my hat, adorned with the team’s logo, and twisted the brim backward.  Damn, I looked good.  I got turned on by the man staring back at me in the mirror, with his toned body and cocky smirk that showed everyone that he was on top of the world.  I could tell that my transformation was corrupting me, but in the best way possible.  I loved it.  This was everything I ever wanted.

On my plate were eggs, bacon, and peanut butter toast.  Zach didn’t take his studies too seriously but at least he knew how to cook a good, protein-rich meal.  It was a feast fit for muscular kings like ourselves.  I chugged the protein shake that he made for me, rich with a chocolate flavor, before we got into my car and drove to school.

We arrived at school, sat through a bunch of boring lectures, and as soon as that was over, we went straight to practice.  Earlier in the day, I bumped into Braden to show him who he was up against.  He just glared back at me.  It was an odd feeling knowing the power I had over others, but the idea of being stronger and better than everyone made me hard.  While we waited for Coach to arrive, we discussed what to do about Braden.  Charlie said that he had final period with him and that he looked at him funny.  I found the coincidence that Charlie shared a class with him to be quite hilarious, and I imagined the irony of the situation to drive him insane.  Brad said that his mom was going out of town for the week to visit family and his dad worked late hours, so he would have no one to pick him up.

With that information, I devised a plan.  Since Brad would probably have to pick up Braden from school, we could use this opportunity in our favor and get him alone with us.  Since we have practice tomorrow, he will have to stay until after we are finished, so as long as we can keep track of him, we should be able to take him to the locker room in order to be transformed.  With the plan ready to go, we started practice.  After that, me and Zach went to the gym and my biceps were swollen after a hard workout.  I definitely reached a new high today, and I felt great.  Zach decided to spend the night at my place as we tried to iron out any potential flaws in our plan.  Zach seemed proud that I was taking an active role in the team.

“Hey bro, you’re doing a great job helping me to keep this team going.  Whether it’s winning games, or helping out during practice, or giving new recruits the sweet taste of what it’s like to be a jock, you’re really awesome.  When I first met you, I never imagined you would make this great of a jock.”

I blushed.  No one had ever praised me that much.  “What can I say bro?  I learned from the best,”  I responded as I kissed him.  He wrapped his arms and body around me and spooned me like the night before.  As I drifted to sleep, I reflected on Zach and the other guys on the team.  They brought out the best in me.  I fought for my life for them on the field just as they did for me.  Off the field, they were like the brothers I never had.  But Zach was the only person I felt truly understood me on a personal level.  He made me who I am and he showed me how to make other guys as great as we are.  And I eagerly awaited tomorrow when we would have yet another new recruit.

--Braden POV--

Looks like the jocks are at it again.  Charlie was officially turned into yet another musclehead jock.  We were kinda close, since we talked a bit during class, and I genuinely did get along with him despite his preference for jocks.  To be honest, I thought he was kinda cute, but all he would talk about is how hot the football guys were which was a turn-off to me.  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he gave in to them.  I’m sure he’ll have a great time taking dick in the locker room like he always dreamed of.

It was at this point that I finally developed a plan to put an end to the football team’s schemes.  I learned the other day that my mom was going to visit family for the week, so I would be alone with “Brad” until my dad got home.  Normally this would be a nightmare for me, since I’d have to stay at school until after his practice since he would be responsible for driving me home.  I decided that while he and the other jocks were at practice, I would sneak into the locker room in order to find any evidence that these guys were turning into jocks.  The more the better, but even just one piece of evidence would surely be enough to raise some suspicion against them. If I find any incriminating evidence, I’ll report it straight to the school and the police.  It’s all up to me at this point.

After class, I went to the library to get some peace and quiet and to get a headstart on some homework before commencing with my operation.  I found it hard to concentrate because I was so on edge.  I figured I wouldn’t have any problems since practice was still over an hour long, but the anticipation was killing me.  I was also distracted by heavy stomping outside.  It was after school!  Couldn’t they keep it down at least a little?  And then, even though I should’ve been alone, I heard someone else enter the library.

It was Charlie!  What was he doing here?  Shouldn’t he be at practice?  He was still wearing his uniform too.  I had to admit, his new look did suit him.  I found myself staring at his nice round bubble butt.  It was always on the larger side, but it had to look even bigger now.  His football pants helped to emphasize his best features.  What am I even saying?  Even if he was objectively more handsome, any attraction I would have for him would vanish as soon as he opened his dumb mouth.

“Hey, Brady!  I didn’t know you were still here,”  Charlie greeted me with a stupid grin on his face.  I hated that he was trying so hard to be friendly with me.

“Yeah, Bradley has to pick me up today,”  I responded.  Surely just putting up with him would get him off my back for a while.  The last thing I wanted was for him to interfere with my plans.  “What are you doing here?  I thought you’d be at practice.”

“I forgot my book in class, so I went to go get it really quick.  But then, I saw you.  Brad did say that he would be picking you up today.”  What an odd excuse.  I couldn’t imagine the coach letting him leave practice early for a stupid reason like that.

“Couldn’t you just go after practice?  Like don’t you have better things to do?”

“I told Coach I’d be quick.  Plus, I wanted to see you!”  He wrapped his meaty arm around my scrawny shoulder.  I could smell a strong waft from his armpit, from the sweat of a hard workout.  I would’ve pushed him off me, but there was little point fighting back against a man as strong as he is.  It was a friendly gesture anyways.

“I’m kinda sad that we don’t talk much, bro.  I know I spend a lot of time on the football team, but I would’ve liked to get to know you better.  I think you should join the team so we can hang out more.”

“I’m not…” my annoyant tone was paused as Charlie pushed his face into mine.  He was kissing me?  I had to admit, he was a good kisser, both strong and passionate.  I wasn’t sure if he was naturally like this or if his jock side made him a better kisser.  As our lips parted, I felt my face turn beet red.  I was overwhelmed, embarrassed, confused, furious, annoyed…No.  I couldn’t find any one word to describe how I felt.  I knew I wasn’t supposed to kiss him, but it did genuinely feel nice even if I couldn’t stand Charlie the jock.  I had to get it together.  He was obviously trying to mess with me, but my answer stayed the same.  “I’m not joining the team.”

“Yes you are,” a voice said as a set of hands grabbed me from behind.  Before I could call out for help, one of the firm hands covered my mouth, deafening my cries for help.  Fuck, it was Jake!  He must’ve snuck in while I was distracted and disoriented.  He effortlessly picked me up and shoved me into a black gym bag.  I was trapped.  I couldn’t see a thing and no one could hear me either.  It was a tight fit and I couldn’t fight back against the scent of old, sweaty gym clothes.

“Good work, little bro,”  Jake said as he high-fived Charlie.  “Now let’s take him to the locker room.”  Shit, they were already one step ahead of me.  I had to admit, these meathead jocks were smarter than I thought.  I remembered Charlie’s words and I realized what they were going to do to me.  They were planning to turn me into a jock!  This cannot be happening.  As I tried to think of a plan to get out of this situation, my mind became clouded by the intoxicating scent inside the bag.  I hated the smell of sweat and musk, but for some reason, I started to feel a little hard.  For some reason, I picked up one of the articles of clothing, a sweaty unwashed jockstrap, and out of curiosity, I found myself sniffing it.  I became distracted by the pungent smell momentarily as I was carried to my destination.

When I finally saw light again, I was surrounded by a horde of members of the football team in the locker room.  They all stood in a circle and they looked like predators, and I was their prey.  I contemplated the idea of running, but I knew it was physically impossible to outrun even one of them with their superior athletic abilities.  I thought about begging for mercy, but I knew they could not be reasoned with and because of my pride, I didn’t want me to come across as weak.  Brad walked over to me, carrying an entire football uniform that seemed way too big for me.

“Put them on, bro,” he ordered.  I obliged, seeing as I no longer had any say in the matter.  I felt a sense of embarrassment because the clothes were way too big on me.  It felt like I was a kid trying to wear his dad’s clothes.

“You’ll grow into it, trust me,” Jake said, his hand on Zach's shoulder, a proud smirk plastered on his face.  My worst fears were realized.  I didn’t know how but they were going to turn me into one of them, yet another jock.

“You’re probably wondering why we brought you here, little bro.  Well, we know you’ve been trying to get in our way.  You’re the only student in this school who knows or even cares what we do.  You’re the minority, bro,”  Brad explained.  He reached into my backpack which he was holding and pulled out the flash drive that stored all my evidence.  “I noticed that you were trying to hide this the other day when I came in.  You might just think I’m a ‘dumb brute’ but even I couldn’t miss something that obvious.  I wonder why you had to hide it, bro…” he teased as he inserted it into a laptop on one of the benches.  It didn’t take long for him to find the document I used to share my findings.

“Well, well…” Zach teased.  “Looks like someone did their research.  I’m kinda impressed at how much you use your brain, bro.  Too bad you won’t be needing it for much anymore.”  He then proceeded to delete the file as my hard work was erased from the flash drive.  I felt mortified as my hard work was all for nothing and I realized what was going to become my fate.  I then heard footsteps coming in from outside.

“I believe this is our first time meeting,” a commanding voice stated.  From the way he spoke, I felt any amount of defiance I still had in me turn into submissiveness, like a father catching his son sneaking out at night.   “It seems you already know who I am, but I’m Coach Myers.  I’m sure you’re full of questions, and don’t worry, I’ll have plenty of time to answer every last one of them.”

I was looking at the man in charge, the mastermind behind all of the jocks who were transformed.  I had so much I wanted to ask him, both out of curiosity and anger, that I didn’t know where to start.

“What caused you to turn these students into jocks?”  I asked.

“Good question.  I was always interested in bringing out the best in one’s self, but I never knew where to start until recently.  Me and Zach’s father were close friends in the NFL.  As a result, Zach always looked up to me, but even though he wanted to be a football player like his father, he wasn’t able to cut it.”

I looked at Zach, who normally seemed very confident and arrogant, but for the first time since I’ve seen him, for just a split second, he felt humbled, reminded of his shortcomings.  For once, I kinda felt bad for the guy even though I thought he was a total douche.  Despite the sob story, I still realized that what he had done was too far.

“He approached me in tears one day.  He wished he was stronger, wished he was more like the guys he looked up to at school.  And that’s when I realized that maybe I could help him.  And so we spent almost a year studying ways to transform his body and even his mind into the perfect football player.  And eventually, we succeeded.  Zach was exactly the person he dreamed of being.”

I now knew why and how it began.  Zach was the first, the alpha.  But why did he keep doing it?  “You helped to make Zach who he is now, but why did you continue to do it to other students?”  I asked.

“I’m glad you asked.  Although changing Zach was my finest achievement, I realized that there were many kids his age who were just like him.  Some felt inadequate, incomplete, inferior, and some just lacked any purpose in general.  So I gave these boys that purpose, and I made them into the strong men that they always dreamed of being.  And not just in this school.  High schools and colleges all across America are doing the exact same thing we are doing, all thanks to my innovations.”

I was shocked by this revelation.  This jock problem was happening at an even larger scale than I could’ve possibly imagined.  Surely there had to have been hundreds of guys turned into jocks just like here at this school, perhaps even some of the ones that tried to oppose them like me.  I realized how hopeless I felt.

“I know my research is unethical but I believe that what I am doing is right.  But back to you, do you not feel at least a little envious of your brother?”

I looked over at Brad…why was I calling him Brad?  I have to admit, I was always a little jealous of him.  He always seemed to be the favorite child, and now that he’s been jocked and has joined the football team, he’s infinitely more popular than me.  If I were just like him, then maybe…No.  That’s what he wants me to think.  But at the same time, I could imagine myself becoming as strong as him, becoming as popular as him.

And then I realized the futility of this decision.  They were going to turn me into a jock anyways.  But for some reason, I had warmed up to the idea, in a way that would’ve sickened me just an hour earlier.  Maybe I was experiencing Stockholm Syndrome, or maybe I did feel envious of Brad this whole time just like how Coach Myers described.

“Coach can make you just like he made me.  We’ll finally get along again, and we can bond better than we ever could before.  What do you say bro?”  Brad asked.

I looked at my brother, then around to the other jocks around me, then finally to Coach.  If I said yes, then I would have a brother again.  I’ll be more attractive and more popular and maybe I’ll even be happier this way.  Maybe Charlie will want to go out with me.  But that would mean erasing who I am to become yet another jock.  That I would lose and all of this would be for nothing.  Who am I kidding?  I already lost.  I was doomed to become a jock the moment I tried to intervene in their plans.  But you know, maybe this isn’t so bad.  I tried to imagine my jock life with a newfound sense of optimism.

“You’ll have to consent to joining the team before we can move forward,” Coach informed me.

“Enough with your monologue, I’ll do it,” I answered, with a sense of humiliation as I surrendered.  However, there was a slight smirk on my face, either from embarrassment or from how absurd my situation really was.

“That took less time than I expected,”  Coach responded.  “The rest of you, resume practice drills.  Braden, come with me.”  I obliged, anticipating what the Coach had in store for me.  I signed a form, put on some earbuds, and put the helmet on.  

As the hypnotic video in front of me played, I slowly became entranced by the spiral that was sucking me into my new life as I felt parts of my mind become erased, including any part of me that still tried to resist this.  “I wanted this,” I thought to myself as new thoughts and memories started to fill the gaps in my mind.  It was like a computer deleting old files that weren’t important in order to make room for stuff that mattered way more.  I always looked up to my brother Brad, as he was a year older than me.  He was incredibly talented at football, so naturally, I followed in his footsteps.  Being younger, I was less experienced than him, but he was a good role model and I aspired to match him as a player.  He was like the touchdown in the endzone and I was at the 50 yard line to put it in better terms.

My body changed entirely.  Every muscle in my body expanded, like I was being pumped full of air.  My football uniform that was way too big at first, soon fit me like a glove.  It was a little painful at first, but I soon felt a wave of euphoria rush over me as I became obsessed with my body, especially my new dick, which more than doubled in size to a massive 10 inches.  I started to resemble the new Brad, with the same short buzzcut.  Before we didn’t look much alike.  Brad was always more on the chubby side and I was on the skinnier side.  But now, we could almost pass as twins.  You could still tell which one of us was the little brother though.

This is who I am.  This is who I always was.  I am a football jock.  I started to love the idea of playing sports and working out, along with other things.  Except I always did?  Part of me remembered thinking the jocks were stupid, arrogant, and annoying brutes, but that’s wrong because all my friends are jocks and they are really cool, bro.  Bro.  Bro, bro, bro…I’m starting to like that word, dude.  Eventually I woke up, without any knowledge of what had taken place today, reveling in my new changes.

“I take it you won’t be a problem anymore, kid?”  Coach inquired.

“No Coach!  I’m sorry for causing you trouble dude,”  I answered.  Part of me felt off, and I felt confused for a second.  I wondered what got me in trouble, but I shrugged it off because I don’t think about that kind of stuff.

“I did keep some of your smarts, unlike the others, but you definitely won’t come off that way.  Your grades were better than the rest and I figured it’d be a waste if they were to completely go away.  How would you like to help me expand upon my research?”

“That’d be awesome, sir!”  I answered.  My new self couldn’t comprehend the irony that I would be directly helping Coach with the very schemes I was trying so hard to stop in the first place.  But why would I ever want to put an end to the very thing that made me who I am now?  I didn’t look or act the part, but I’m kinda smart I guess.  I’m not a fucking nerd or a know-it-all though.  Not that I really want to use my brain more than I have to except for counting calories and football plays.  I was interested in turning more men into awesome jocks like me though.  “Can I go back to practice?”

“Yeah, go meet up with the other boys.  I’ll be out in a sec.”

I joined my fellow bros and we resumed practice.  Playing football just felt natural to me.  We held a party after the game on Friday to celebrate our win.  We were on a huge winning streak.  We hadn’t even lost once this season!  At the party, Charlie asked me out, impressed with my masculine new look.  Turns out he did like me back after all.  He kissed me in the library after all, although I don’t remember why we were there in the first place.  He was always kinda hot, so I said yes, and we quickly realized how much chemistry we had beyond being bros.  We were soon the second couple on the team, the other being Jake and Zach, who were a year above us, who were just as cool.  Nothing wrong with some bro on bro action after all.

Me and Brad had a bit of a fight a while ago, but we’re cool now.  I’m even closer with my big bro than I had ever been before, especially now that we’re on the team together.  I loved life with my bros and I knew my bros loved their lives too.  After practice, I would stay after with Coach and Zach and we would look into ways to create more and even better jocks.  I haven’t been filled in on the finer details yet, but I know that they have big plans not only for this school, but for other schools as well.  I found this purpose along with playing football to be much more compelling to me than anything else.  If there was a part of me that was upset about this life, it definitely wasn’t there anymore because I loved being a jock.

--Zach POV--

I spent the night at Jake’s place again.  Today was a long day though.  Between practice and all the stuff with Braden, I was exhausted.  It did feel like everything was resolved though, and I felt satisfied knowing that our secrets were safe now.  I laid in Jake’s bed and I talked with him.

“Another jock well done bro,” I said, as I wrapped my arms around and kissed my boyfriend.

“We were awesome today,” Jake responded.  “I can tell that Braden is already loving his new jock body.  Glad he could finally see the light, bro.”

“Can’t blame him.  I have no regrets about anything though, even Braden.  How about you bro?”

“Me neither.  I love being a jock and I love making my bros into jocks too.  I’m with you every step of the way, bro.”

“That’s my bro!”  I rustled Jake’s hair before leaning in for a kiss.  For the first time ever, I felt completely content with my life.  I have Jake, Coach, and all my other bros to support me.  I’m the captain and star quarterback of the football team and I carry us to victory every game.  The jock life is perfect for me and for all my bros.  If even Braden could see how awesome it was, I knew that anyone could if given the chance.  I got hard as I imagined what it would be like if every guy at school was as strong and handsome as me.  If everyone was a jock.  With Jake on my side and everyone else, I knew we could take on anything, anyone.  Maybe even the world.  “We still have lots of work to do.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is the end of this series for now, so thank you for reading it. I'm open to expanding upon it even more in the future if the demand is high enough and if I have ideas on where to take it. I also have a lot of other shorter transformation story ideas that I want to write eventually, so stay tuned.

[that-stanford-girlie]

𝒟𝒶𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓃. 𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓎.

𝒜 𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝒲𝒾𝓃𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓍 𝒜𝓈𝒽𝓁𝑒𝓎 𝒮𝒾𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝐹𝒾𝒸

pairing: dean winchester x ashley singer

pov: first person, dean winchester

authors notes: this story is not proofread. this is also based on my headcanons and my oc is a character. do not bash me if my headcanons don’t align with yours, or if you don’t like my oc. i joined this writing challenge for me, and for my enjoyment. if you don’t like it, don’t say anything and keep scrolling. thank you @impala-dreamer for putting this on! i was very excited to join this challenge and use the prompt “just… stay.” this is part of her “through his eyes” dean winchester writing challenge!!! ashley singer is my supernatural oc, so i felt like incorporating her into this story and introducing you to my girl!!! it’ll be strange not writing in first person for ash, but it’s worth it.

learn about ashley here

tags: smut MDNI. unprotected p in v, oral (fem rec), nipple play. mentions of self harm.

words: 2023

I never meant for it to get out of hand. The argument was never supposed to happen.

Ashley and I had just gotten back to the motel after a hunt. The car ride was tense. When we got there, I got upset because she went to go find me instead of staying at the camp like she was supposed to. Because she would be safe there.

I should’ve known she would follow me.

She always does.

And goddammit, I went off on her! I’m a shitty-ass boyfriend for doing that. She just wanted to make sure I was safe, and I yelled at her!

“You should’ve stayed at the camp like i told you to!” I had shouted.

“And you die?! I don’t think so!” she had yelled back. Ashley had never angrily yelled in front of me before. She hates confrontation. So this was new.

But I just fought back.

Because that’s what I do.

I fight.

Like the goddamn screwup I am.

I never should’ve made the comment about the trade. Goddammit, Dean. Why did you have to say that?

And now she’s packing her bags.

And I can’t do anything to stop it.

I watch her brown hair fall over her shoulder. I watch her angrily pack her clothes, and I can’t stop it.

When she get to the door, I snap out of my daze.

Because she’s really leaving.

“Essie?” I ask, calling her by the name I did when she was just six and I was sixteen.

She glares at me over her shoulder, those blue tips in her hair suddenly harsh. “The hell do you want to say next, huh?!” she sniffles. God, her face is red and puffy. Tears are still streaming down her cheeks.

And it’s all my damn fault.

Because I commented on her being Lucifer’s daughter. Because I said something about her experiences.

And now she doesn’t want me.

“I… I’m sorry, Ess,” I whisper. I draw my gaze to hers and sigh.

But she scoffs and just shakes her head. “Goodbye, Dean,” she chokes out.

And dammit… I just let her leave.

Because I was never a good boyfriend.

Later that night, I lay awake in the cold motel room. Ashley’s presence isn’t next to me. I don’t have her warmth. I don’t get to wake up next to her. I don’t get to see those beautiful blue eyes first thing in the morning and hear that adorable sleepy voice.

All I can think about is her. How I screwed up. How she trusted me with so much. And I just let her down.

She told me about how she hates using her powers because it makes her feel closer to Lucifer, her real father. And she doesn’t like it. She trusted me with every little detail about being sold at the age of sixteen and somehow escaping the skin trade at 18. She showed me every single scar, and was comfortable enough to let me kiss every single one. She told me about how, since as far back as she can remember, she has looked up to me.

And I let her down.

I climb out of the cold bed and head over to the small mini fridge, cracking open a cold beer. I bring the cool bottle to my lips, and the familiar taste washes over my senses.

But it does nothing to numb the pain of having broken my girl’s trust.

—

I can’t sleep that night. Or the following nights.

Hundreds of beer bottles pile up. Sam used to tell me, “She loves you. You know she’ll always come back to you.”

But she won’t this time, Sammy.

I tried. But I screwed up, just like every time.

“Sammy,” I whisper, trying to keep the tears at bay, “she’s not coming back. It’s been days.”

Just for a moment, I swear i can hear my little brother’s voice again. Saying that it’ll be okay.

But it won’t.

I already lost Sammy, and now I lost Ashley.

And there’s no getting her back.

All I can think of is how I broke her trust. God, Ashley came to me when she had nobody. When she was broken and didn’t know what to do. I let the tears stream down my cheeks, and I scream about how badly I fucked up. How I didn’t mean it. How I wish I could take it back.

And then I grab the knife and bring it to my wrists.

If I don’t have Ashley, what else do I have?

—

There’s a sharp knock at the door at the crack of dawn, and I hold awake, grabbing my gun. I look out the peephole…

And the gun clatters to the ground.

I quickly open the door. “Ess?” I whisper.

“I forgot a couple things. I need to get them.” She shoves past me and heads into the room, grabbing a couple of her things. When she bends down to grab some stuff from the floor, I quickly look away from the lacy pink thong poking out of her low-rise jeans. It turns me on, knowing she came out wearing it, but it also makes me jealous. Who is she wearing it for?

No. No, she wouldn’t move on that quickly. Not after what we had.

Ashley puts stuff in a bag, and shoves my worn black Zeppelin shirt into my chest—the one she loves to wear to bed.

I catch her wrist, and I don’t let go when she tries to escape. “Darlin’. Darlin’.”

She tries to yank her wrist back, but I just back her up against the wall. “Let me go, Dean!”

“Darlin’, please. Just… stay.” I try to blink back the tears. “Just stay.”

Her gaze barely softens, but she stops fighting back. “You were fuckin’ outta line, Dean,” she says. “Give me one good reason why I should stay.”

“…Cuz you love me? And we had something good, Ess. You can’t deny that. Yeah, I screwed up. But please, sweetheart, just forgive me.” I let a single tear slip down my cheek—I’ve never shown this much emotion in front of a girl, but this is my girl. She’s seen things even Sam hasn’t.

Ashley looks away, letting out a sigh. When she looks back at me, she makes no indication of leaving or staying.

I don’t expect her to bring my lips to hers, though.

God, I missed her kisses. Her lips are so soft, and she knows what she’s doing.

I kiss her back just as fiercely, and before I know it, I feel her tugging my tshirt over my shoulders and my fingers are pulling her low v-neck under her bra.

She moans softly as I pull the cup down and my lips attach to her breast, tongue teasing the nipple. She arches her back, shoving her chest closer to my face, just like she always does.

I break away, a string of saliva connecting my mouth to her breast, and she kisses me hard, jumping into my arms and wrapping her legs around my waist.

I carry her over to the bed, throwing her back on it and teasingly pulling her jeans down. I press kisses to her inner thighs, biting the skin before licking the wetness through her pink thong.

I hum at her moan, and she plays with her breasts after sliding her shirt and bra over her shoulders. I reach up to her breast and squeeze as I keep licking through her panties.

I shove the pink lacy fabric to the side and run my tongue through her folds, and she lets out that beautiful moan I love to hear from her lips.

I move my tongue up and swirl it over her clit before shoving it inside of her.

“You taste so good for me, angel,” I murmur against her pussy. “So good.”

My lust-filled gaze meets hers, and those beautiful blue eyes are hooded. She bites her lip as she runs her hand through my hair, guiding me to her again.

I shove three fingers into her at a quick pace, and she lets out a scream. I feel my cock twitch in my jeans, and I smile against her pussy. As she reaches climax, I keep my mouth against her as she comes into my mouth.

When I pull away, I rip the pink fabric off of her legs and strip from my jeans and boxers, positioning my hard length in front of her entrance. She wiggles down, trying to get my tip to her dripping cunt. I stick my fingers into her one more time and slide it over my shaft, lubricating it one more time before slamming into her. She likes it rough, so I’ll give it to her.

I slam into her at a quick pace, the only sounds in the room our moans and the slapping of skin against skin. She lets out a cry when I slam myself balls-deep into her, but I don’t care, because I know I’m hitting her at the spot she likes the most.

Her hand shakily reaches out, and I take it. I can tell she’s close, and I am, too. I slam into her even more, and when I feel her squeeze my hand three weak times, I know she’s there. I nod, and with a final shout, I empty my seed into her. I feel her already tight walls clench around me, and I smile as she screams my name one more time.

I collapse next to her on the bed, and she kisses me one more time, and we lay there in silence, catching our breath.

And then she gets up to leave.

“Essie, wait-” I start.

“Dean. I shouldn’t have done that. We shouldn’t have done that-”

“Ashley, just listen to me,” I say sternly.

She stares at me. “What?!”

“Just… just stay, Ess. Please. I fucked up, I know. I can’t take it back. I’m sorry for what I said. But I can’t lose you too…” I look away, blinking back tears. “Please don’t leave me alone here.”

Ashley shakes her head. “If I call you tonight, that’ll mean I’m coming back. But if I don’t… then you’ll have to forget about me.”

I sigh and watch her leave… and I let the tears spill after the door shuts behind her.

—

I’m bandaging my wrists when the phone rings. I jump up and answer.

“Ess?!”

“Unlock your damn door. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

I laugh. A real, joyous laugh. “You mean it?”

“Yeah. I was out of line, too. I’m sorry.” Her voice is quiet. “…I shouldn’t have left.”

—

She knocks on the door before opening it. She drops her bags and hugs me tightly. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, burying her face in my neck. I feel her tears, and I pull back and wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“Baby. It’s okay,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m gonna stay, Dean. After Sam died… God, we’ve only had each other since… I can’t do that to you.”

I kiss her hard, and I kick the door closed behind us as I lead her to the bathroom, ready for a warm, steamy shower together.

—

I wake up, the bright sunlight streaming through the window. I smile when I feel the warmth behind me, pressing against my back. Ashley’s hand is splayed across my chest, her face between my shoulder blades. I slowly flip over, facing my girl, and I smile when I see her beautiful brown hair cascading down her back, the blue tips curling at the ends. My finger traces a couple of the hickeys in the hollow of her neck, and she hums softly as she wakes up.

“Mornin’, beautiful,” I mumble softly. My heart swells with happiness as I see her smile… It’s been way too long since she’s been in my arms again.

“Hi, Dee,” she mumbles back. She starts to sit up, but I pull her back down to my chest. “What’re you doing?” she giggles.

I smile and press a kiss to her forehead. “Just… stay.”

post-story author’s notes!: thank you for reading! it was fun to put everything through dean’s eyes, so thank you @impala-dreamer for hosting this writing challenge! it was super fun to write this, and i enjoyed putting my oc into this.

i saw the prompt “Just… stay.” and i immediately knew what i wanted to do, so i am thrilled i was able to get it. it was really fun to write this and delve into dean’s thoughts.

yes, i just HAD to put my oc in it. it was fun to include her! i hope you guys loved her, cuz i think she might pop up in more stuff! (i may also give her her own blog soon…)

it was super fun to write this! thank you beka, my love, for putting this on! i had so much fun :)

taglist

@impala-dreamer

@cevans-is-classic

@keircat7

@peoplewatching-notstalker

@yftmaifky123

@jeff-da-killer1995

[thrandilf]

Hi everyone! I'm strangefake on AO3 and this is a little post of all of my sfw lmk stuff (so far!). Here's the list, only one was written after S5 came out (All the Small Things) and none of the others have spoilers, though some really fit the post S5 mood. I hope you enjoy if anything catches your eye! <3

General/Not Ship Focused:

What Kind of Memory Am I? MK POV. Sunburst Duo. MK and Wukong talk post S4. “In that scroll, in all of those memories, those lifetimes of mistakes- was I one of them?” MK was afraid of the answer. “One of your mistakes?”

Guilt "Complex?" I Find It Quite Simple Red Son POV. Inspired by Callum's "I need you to kill me" moment in TDP, MK panics about Monkey Form. The two people he calls up- Macaque and Red Son- are far from the sort one would associate with comfort and emotional intelligence, but they try their best. Hurt and comfort with heavy mental health/angst, but on par with S5.

Hair Bones Red Son POV. Traffic Light Trio has a sleepover at MK's house post S4 with a focus on comforting MK with a dash of goofiness. Background Dragonfruit.

Harmonize the Wild Energies Within Red Son POV. Past Red Son and Princess Iron Fan training in the earlier days of him mastering his powers hundreds of years ago.

(NEW!) Given, Not Earned Macaque POV. SoySauce Duo. To Macaque's surprise, MK requests a sleepover with him Post Season 5, saying he wants to learn a new power. Literal fluff and then typical MK angst. Minor Wukong appearances.

Shadowpeach:

All the Small Things Macaque POV. Takes place during S5 E1 if the episode had lasted longer, mostly fluff and island monkeys.

Kintsugi Wukong POV. Bittersweet Shadowpeach with a hopeful ending, written post S4 but emotionally works post S5 too. There was little use asking what specific memory was bothering Macaque. One, it was obvious, and two, it didn’t matter. Every thread that tied them together always looped back to encompass it all.

Break the Cycle Wukong POV. Post S4, Wukong and Macaque have a romantically charged fight while Wukong stays at Macaque's place. Rated T.

(NEW!) Intimidation Check: Natural 1 Wukong POV. Macaque gets the idea to try roleplaying in bed, but his theatrics combined with Wukong's personality means they don't get anywhere. Comedy fic.

(NEW!) Sun Poisoning Macaque POV. Technically a SixNine (Macaque/Xiangliu) fic with Shadowpeach angst too.

Freenoodles:

Infinite Noodle Glitch Tang POV. Just as it sounds, Tang hatches a plan to get as many noodles as possible. Established relationship.

Dragonfruit:

Complimentary Colors Red Son POV. Apollo dealt me a glancing hit with the dodgeball: Red Son calls Mei over after a mysterious fireproof dog breaks into his house to help handle it. Featuring dog sitting shenanigans and first kisses, this fic was the first LMK fic I ever wrote and has art by @imminent-danger-came

Down Bad Red Son POV. MK runs into Red Son at the mall and catches him buying a green dragon plushie- for himself? Red Son gets the courage up to confess his feelings to Mei- but there's a twist.

[sturniololoco]

Shy pt 2

pt 1 pt 3 pt 4

Sturniolo Little sister (SLS) x The Sturniolo Triplets

SLS x Nathan Doe

Warnings: cussing, etc? Still fluff!

SLS/N’s POV

I was not going to sleep any time soon, especially after what just happens in the kitchen.

And what didn’t help, is that Nick knows.

Speaking of Nick, I hear a soft tap on my door, then it was being opened to reveal my older brother. He quickly shut the door behind him and scrambled to my bed and sat next to me.

He looked at me, a smirk on his lips and a mischievous look in his eye. My face was pink again.

“Damn sis, I don’t even know what to say…other than I fucking knew it!” He said, jumping up and down slightly.

I quickly shushed him with a punch to the arm.

“Fine. You were right. But you cannot tell a soul. It was probably nothing anyways, he’ll forget about it by morning.” I said, kinda feeling sad.

“Girl, I may not know a lot, but I do know that that was not nothing.” He told me, grabbing my hand.

I rolled my eyes and laughed sarcastically.

“I’m serious SLS/N! He drank out of your cup for fucks sake! He obsessed with you! He was staring at you the whole time we were golfing too!” He said, shaking me a little.

I sighed, not knowing what to do. Yes, I have always had a thing for Nate, but if Matt, or especially Chris, knew, they would flip out!

“But what if it really was nothing and I’m just overthinking everything?” I ask Nick, a few tears welling up in my eyes. I don’t know why I’m upset about something that was never even there.

“oh c’mere.” Nick said, pulling me to him and hugging me close. We stayed like this for a little while before he spoke again,

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll help you find out if Nate is really into you, how ‘bout that?” He said.

“Really?” I said, giving him a disbelieving look. He nodded and I hugged him again, knocking him back onto the bed.

he pulled the covers over us and shut off my bed side lamp, saying,

“Get some rest, in the morning, we’ve got work to do.”

-

Nate’s POV

“I felt bad about leaving SLS/N standing there in the kitchen like that, but I had to before Chris got suspicious and came out of his room.

I also felt bad about not telling Chris, my best friend since forever, about me liking her. But she’s his sister, and he’d probably hate me.

I walked into his room, and tossed him a Pepsi. He was layed back on his bed with his shirt off, phone in hand.

I thought about just telling him then and there, just being straight up with him. But I couldn’t bring my self to say the words.

Hey Chris, I think your sisters bad af and I really like her a lot, hope that’s okay-

“Nate, you good man?” He asked me, breaking me back out of my trance. “oh-yeah man I’m great!” I replied, pulling my shirt off and climbing into bed. I turned off the light and pulled out my own phone, and started scrolling.

Chris and I layed like that for about another hour, him casually showing me some tik toks he thought were funny. I would let out a forced laugh, not being able to stop thinking about what I just did in the kitchen.

With that, I rolled onto my side, put my phone down, and decided to get some sleep.

-

SLS/N’s POV

I woke up really early the next day to Chris, who scared the absolute shit out of me.

you see, Chris will usually run in and jump on my bed, forcing me awake, but this time was different.

This time, he crouched down next to my bed and shook me awake, softly calling my name.

My first thought was Oh shit he knows!

But no. Instead he asked me to help him make breakfast.

“I need your help making blueberry pancakes, there Nates favorite.” He said.

At this, I sighed in relief, standing up and heading to the bathroom. I quickly brushed my teeth and hair before pulling on a hoodie, making sure I look somewhat presentable compared to yesterday morning.

-

Chris and I were the only people awake so far, and the pancake batter was finished. I began cooking them as Chris threw some bacon in the air fryer.

“Nick texted me this morning, said we were gunna do something fun today. You have any idea what it is?” Chris asked me, now helping me scoop batter into the pan.

My eyes widened at this, wondering what on earth Nick had in plan after last nights events. Before I could reply, someone walked into the kitchen.

“Something smells good in here!” Nate said, walking into the kitchen. He had no shirt on with plaid pajamas pants.

If my eyes could go any wider they would.

I looked down at his toned stomach before looking up at his face.

Eye contact.

I quickly looked down, back at what I was doing. Thankfully, my brother broke the silence.

“I had SLS/N wake up early ‘cause she makes them the best!” Chris said, ruffing my hair.

I swatted his hand away, my cheeks turning pink again.

-

Pretty soon after, Nick and Matt came down to the kitchen, Matt looking tired, Nick looking at me with devilish eyes. I glared right back at him.

I passed plates of pancakes and bacon out everyone, and we all sat at the table and began eating.

“So Nick, what do you have in store for us today?” Matt asked.

He must have gotten the same text as Chris. Nate looked up, intrigued at what we were doing today.

“I thought we could go over to the warehouse and go swimming.” Nick said nonchalantly stabbing at a piece of pancake in his plate.

Everyone nodded in agreement and got excited. I Nick look over at me, with a your welcome kind of look.

I gave him a satisfied smirk and ate the rest of my pancakes, thinking.

[alltheirdamn]

Chapter 1: Opening Day

Series summary: You've seen it all as the team's lead photographer. You're in the tunnel before the games, on the sidelines for each inning, and always around the players. When Frankie Morales is called up for the new season, you find yourself drawn to him in ways you can't quite explain. Chapter summary: It's opening day at Petco Park, and you finally meet the team's new star catcher. Rating: 18+ (Eventual smut) Word Count: 5k Tags: Triple Frontier AU, OFC! character described as having red hair and freckles, meet-cute, two big dummies bound to catch feelings, mutual pining, slow burn, future smut, duel pov, baseball terminology, etc. A/N: Hi!!! Well, welcome to the series! I'm really excited to share this lil story with you all. I've never really written an OC! before, so hopefully I don't totally butcher it. Anyway, I'm a bit nervous but please enjoy!

Masterlist | Baseball 101

Point. Click. 

Point. Click. 

The camera shutter echoes through the stadium tunnel as you settle into your usual game-day routine. It’s your third year on the media team for the Padres, and you’re beyond eager for the new season to begin. Nothing beats the thrill of baseball season, and it definitely doesn’t suck when an endless array of beautiful men in tight polyester uniforms surrounds you.

Perched on the ground, you angle your camera down the tunnel to capture the boys as they arrive. Benny Miller, the team’s starting shortstop, waltzes through the hall after a few managers get their head start. He’s got on his usual athleisure wear, a workout bag slung over his back, and his blonde hair tousled in a way that’s both messy and intentional.

Point. Click. 

“Welcome back, Benny,” you say, your camera angled a bit higher to adjust to his height.

“Hey to you too, Red,” he grins. 

America’s heartthrob, you think.

Not far behind him is his brother, Will—or Ironhead, as they all call him. He’s been a vet on the team for nearly five years and is one of the top left-handed pitchers in the league. No doubt, with last season's standings, he’ll take them far this year. He’s got the best ERA out of any team in the National League, and his brotherly dynamic with Benny is unmatched. The only difference between Will and Benny, though, is their personalities. Where Benny is outgoing—and a bit flirtatious—Will is reserved and collected. He’s the voice of reason and the glue that holds the entire time together. 

“Hey, Will!” 

You snap a quick photo, all too aware of how much he hates the attention. He gives you a subtle nod and continues down the tunnel behind Benny. 

Santiago Garcia is the next to make his entrance, his infectious smile perfect for a candid moment. Santi was the rookie outfielder last year, securing himself a spot in the All-Star Game with his defensive playing in center field against the stronger teams. You’ve never seen such an arm on someone, and the way he commands the field is wildly impressive. His gigantic ego and self-assurance are also quite impressive and sometimes a bit aggravating. But, you let it slide. He’s a sweet man through and through and has, thankfully, never hit on you. 

Unlike the majority of the sports world. 

Especially when it comes to women working in the media industry. 

You’re convinced Santi has some sort of sixth sense for the camera because the moment you line up for the shot, he’s already sporting a wide grin directed straight at you. 

“Hola, Red,” he says, waving in your direction.

“You know I have a real name, right?” You toss back.

“Whatever you say, Red.”

You roll your eyes as he walks past you, chuckling to yourself as you scroll through the photos logged into your camera. Making a mental note of which to select for the social media posts, you realign the camera back to eye level and squint through the lens. 

The team's newest addition walks straight down the tunnel, with his head low and eyes covered by the visor of his ballcap. Francisco Morales had been called up from triple just a week before opening day. You hadn’t read up much on him or his stats, but you know he’s done quite the work as the catcher for the El Paso Chihuahuas. There had been talks of who they’d have replacing Tom Davis after his season-ending injury last year, and Francisco was their best prospect. 

“Welcome to the team, Francisco!” You holler before snapping a photo.

He barely glances up, but you catch a rosy tint coloring the tanned skin of his face and a slight twitch in the corner of his lips. He’s dressed far differently than the other boys: loose khaki pants, a basic cotton shirt, and a suede bomber jacket. He doesn’t even carry a bag with him, just a plastic bottle of water gripped tightly in one very large hand. 

You’ve been with the team long enough to know his personality is far more reserved than the rest, a bit sheepish and uncomfortable, even. Maybe that’s just the game-day jitters getting to him. 

“Can I get one of you looking at the camera?” You ask before adding a polite please at the end.

He hesitates but ultimately obliges. Through the camera lens, you meet his eyes—the soft, warm brown of his irises boring into you so intensely it causes you to falter over the shutter button. Like any baseball player, he’s got that signature scruffy face, with a distinct mustache over his plush lips and a patchy beard covering his jaw. Despite his introverted demeanor, Francisco steals the air from your lungs just from a simple glance. It’s as if he’s giving you this one moment to capture who he is, and you take it without hesitation.

Point. Click.

“Thank you, Francisco. Good luck today!”

You’re acutely aware of how shaky your voice is, which is unusual given that he hasn’t even spoken to you. 

“Frankie,” he offers as he walks past.

The raspy low pitch of his voice reverbs inside your head, and you only manage to nod in agreement to his wishes. 

Frankie. You can do that. 

**

“So, what are your predictions for game one?” Ryan asks, nudging you slightly.

You’re both crouched behind home plate shooting pre-game warmup photos, the volume in the stadium growing as more fans trickle in. You switch out your sim card and set up your camera for action shots, too focused on getting the right angle of the outfielders to respond. 

Ryan has been your partner in crime on the media team since the start, and both of you got hired right out of college. While you focus more on the game-day action, Ryan usually tends to the off-day social media posts and team engagement with fans. It’s a fair trade-off, plus you’re far more invested in the sport than Ryan is ever willing to admit.

“Hellllooo?” He waves a hand in front of your camera lens.

“I don’t like giving predictions, Ryan. You know that,” you grumble.

“You and your weird superstitions, Red.”

“It’s not weird,” you counter. “Don’t you ever pay attention to the broadcasting curse? If I say something aloud, it’s bound to go the other way, and my hopes will be crushed.”

Ryan adjusts the focus on his lens, shrugging absently at your argument. 

“It’s the first game. Even if they lose today, there’s still six months left in the season.”

“No one wants to lose their first game.”

“You care too much,” he says, but there’s a lightness in his tone.

He knows you care more than you let on. Baseball has been something ingrained in you since you were just a kid. Your dad spent the greater half of his life as the pitching coach for UCLA, dragging you to nearly every game of the season since before you could even walk. You were raised sitting in the dugout with a handful of sunflower seeds in your hand and a baseball cap covering your red hair. Being a part of a baseball team in some capacity had always been in your future, but after your dad passed away when you were just starting college, you centered your entire life around it. You threw yourself into photography, taking every chance at capturing moments that could give you just a second of nostalgia. The photos weren’t just for school, a baseball team, or a social media page… they were for you. It was your way of coping. The longer you could stay on the field, the longer you could live in that bubble of the past. 

Your dad was gone, but you still had baseball. And you’d never give it up. 

“Think Morales is gonna make his mark on the team?” Ryan asks, steering the subject in a different direction.

You tense up, locked on the memory of Frankie’s big brown eyes. There’s something about him that skyrockets your heart rate, and you aren’t sure if it’s in a good way. You search the field for those dark curls, looking at everybody on the field,  trying to spot him during the warmup. Crestfallen, you give up your search and resume snapping photos.

“I think he’ll do just fine,” you say dismissively.

“His batting average in the minors was insane,” Ryan rambles. “Just hopes it sticks here in the big leagues. You know how it is sometimes.”

You did know. Too often, have you seen star minor league players appear on the big stage and choke. Something about Frankie Morales makes you believe he won’t end up like that. There was something in his eyes that told you otherwise, a seriousness that showed this game meant something to him. 

You liked that. 

“Where’s your station for the game?” Ryan asks.

“First base. I might have to step into the bullpen for some shots if they let me.”

“I’m sure the boys will love that,” he teases.

“Oh, fuck off. They’re harmless.”

“I don’t know, Red. I see the way they look at you.”

You deadpan, giving him an icy stare. None of the boys thought of you that way, and you didn’t think of them differently. This was a job. They played the game; you took the photos. 

That was the end of it. 

“I think you’re seeing things,” you argue.

“I mean, Benny is giving you fuck me eyes from across the field right now,” Ryan shrugs.

You steal a glance out to the in-field to find Ryan is, in fact, correct. With his free hand, Benny tosses you a flirtatious wave before throwing the ball back to Santi across the field. 

“He flirts with everyone,” you say pointedly. “Did you see how many girls he brought back to his hotel rooms last season?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind adding one more.”

You punch Ryan in the arm, clearly annoyed with his pushy behavior toward the subject. Grabbing your equipment bag from the ground, you toss him a quick finger and haul your stuff down to the media room under the stadium. 

**

Frankie isn’t in the right mindset when the National Anthem concludes before the game. He’s not one to get nervous before playing, but something about seeing Petco Park sold out for opening day has him fidgeting. The only saving grace is having Santi playing alongside him. 

He and Santi met back in college, playing together from Sophomore year until Senior year when they got drafted to different teams. Santi was selected in the third round by the Houston Astros and was traded a year later to the Padres. Frankie got drafted by the Padres right away in the fifth round. He spent the last four years in the minors, just waiting to get called up.

Now, the moment is here, and he’s terrified.

Frankie doesn’t like to admit it often, but he holds himself to a higher standard. He’s fucked up in life a few times, and it’s cost him his happiness. He doesn’t want to fuck up now. Not when the entire world is watching. 

“Estás bien?” Santi asks Frankie as they head into the dugout. 

“I’m fine,” Frankie says, but his tone says otherwise. 

There’s a haze over his mind, a fog he can’t shake. Santi claps him on the back, giving him a comforting smile.

“It’s just first-game nerves, Catfish. It’ll pass after the first at-bat.”

Frankie doesn’t respond. He’s got a lump in his throat, and he can’t quite swallow it. The last thing he wants to do is disappoint his closest friend—or the team. He can’t be a disappointment. He has to be good. He has to be the best. 

He has to prove himself.

Frankie runs out onto the field, securing his catcher's mask over his face. The weight of his gear feels like a comforting anchor, leveraging him to keep his mind focused. There’s a roar from the crowd as he takes his place behind home base, and the applause and cheers only make things worse. He’s under the lights, he’s got thousands watching, and this is his one shot. 

The first pitch comes fast, a sinker that falls perfectly into his glove. Strike one. Will is on the mound, his face stoic and focused on the batter standing to the right of Frankie. There’s still some trust to gain between them both, and Frankie hopes he proves himself today. Will throws a slider next, down low and right past the bat. 

Strike two. 

Like a well-rehearsed dance, Frankie and Will waltz between batters. An easy one, two, three, and they’re out of the top of the first. Frankie runs alongside Will as they head toward the dugout, the tension in his shoulders relaxing.

“Great job out there, Morales,” Will says. “Welcome to the show.”

“Thanks, Miller. You’re solid on the mound. Those sliders are insane,” Frankie commends. 

“Gotta keep them on their toes. Now, get ready for the bottom of the inning. Show them what you can do out there.”

As Frankie steps into the dugout, he nearly collides with a body nestled into the corner of the steps. Her red hair is tousled into a ponytail, the bill of her Padres ball cap shielding her eyes from the setting sun.

“Shit, sorry,” she mumbles, stepping out of the way.

He recognizes her from earlier, the media girl in the tunnel. Frankie was so wrapped up in his thoughts earlier he hadn’t noticed how beautiful she was: bright eyes, a gentle smile, and a face covered in freckles. 

“All good,” he huffs, too flustered to choke out any more words.

“You look good out there,” she smiles. 

Frankie runs a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, no doubt looking a mess. He needs to focus—needs to move—but he can’t seem to make his way past her. 

“Be careful with Akin’s pitches,” she adds. “He tends to throw his fastballs up in the corner of the zone.”

“Thanks,” Frankie nods. He’s surprised at how much she pays attention.

“Yo! Catfish!” Santi calls from down in the dugout. “Get your ass over here now.”

“I’m assuming you’re Catfish?” She asks.

“Unfortunately,” Frankie grumbles. “Sorry, I’m just gonna go see what he wants.”

“It’s all good. I’m moving down to first base, so I’ll be out of the way.” 

She rises to her feet and gives Frankie one final smile before stepping onto the dirt. Frankie watches as she walks away, her ponytail swinging behind her with every step. 

Focus. 

**

Halfway through the batting order, you’re already onto your next sim card. You usually space out the amount of footage you take, but the game is electric. The Padres are up three to zero, thanks to a home run from Benny—obviously—and a few quick plays made by Santi and Chris Holmes. 

With two outs in the sixth, Frankie is up to bat. His first plate appearance was abysmal, with a groundout to third base. You saw his shoulders slumped as he walked off the field; he didn’t take it lightly. It’s just the first game, you tell yourself. He’ll do just fine. 

Akin throws the first pitch, a fastball, just as you expect. Frankie takes the strike and readjusts himself for the next pitch. It’s outside the zone, and he tracks it carefully. You hold your breath as he hits a full count, three balls, two strikes… and wait. Akin places a screwball down low, but Frankie manages to get a piece of it and sends it sailing into center field for a double. You startle yourself with how loud you cheer, watching his muscled body run past first and onto second base. You’re so caught up in watching him you forget to snap a photo.  

You scold yourself for missing the opportunity to capture his first hit for the team. Why are you so fixated on him? None of the other guys have ever caused you to miss a shot; no one has ever tripped you up this badly. But Frankie… there’s just something about him. He’s not self-assured like the rest. He’s not cocky in the slightest. Honestly, he looked terrified when you ran into him after the top of the first inning. Before your mind starts wandering off, you check the settings on your camera and return to shooting footage. 

The team wins five to zero. Fireworks sparkle through the night sky as the stadium begins to clear out, and you start to return to the dugout. Benny and Will are in a tight embrace as you step under the awning, your camera gear slung over your back. 

“Great win, boys,” you say, giving them each a high five. 

“Did you ever doubt us?” Benny teases, giving you a smug grin. 

“Not for a minute.”

The Miller brothers make their way down into the clubhouse, leaving you standing alone in the dugout. You peel off your ballcap and remove your ponytail, letting your hair fall down your shoulders. 

“Thanks for the advice on Akin.”

The voice startles you, and you search through the shadows to find Frankie sitting alone at the end of the bench. He’s got his glove resting beside him and his bat propped between his feet. He should be celebrating with the team down in the clubhouse, yet he’s here by himself under the stadium lights and swirling shadows. 

“I’ve got plenty more if you ever need it,” you tell him. 

Frankie doesn’t respond, but his eyes stay locked on yours. The stadium lights illuminate the rich chocolate inside his irises, making it nearly impossible to look anywhere else. 

“Shouldn’t you be with the team?” You wonder. “I’m sure they’re all celebrating the first win of the season.”

“Just wanted some time alone, I guess. Soak it all in, you know?”

You walk toward him, cautious on whether or not to get any closer. You aren’t sure if he even wants company, but you can’t seem to steer yourself away. 

“Was it everything you hoped for?” You ask. 

“It could’ve been better.”

Frankie moves his glove into his lap, offering you a space beside him on the bench. Though you feel reluctant, something inside you forces your legs to move. You want to be nearer to him, to get close enough to see past this wall he’s built up. You’re used to some players being quiet and shy, like Will. At least with Will, though, he’s fun when there’s no stress on his shoulders. He relaxes a bit from time to time and lets his guard down. Something you’ve yet to see with Frankie. 

Sliding onto the bench beside him, you adjust your camera into your lap and lay your ballcap over your knee. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Frankie’s head tilt slightly, his eyes trained on your legs. There’s still a healthy gap between you both, yet the warmth of his body swarms around you. 

“Are you with the team full-time?” He asks. 

You glance at him, studying the way his hair curls around his ears and at the base of his neck. There’s a tension in his jaw that flexes under his beard, a simple twitch that happens after every time he speaks. Despite the timid exterior, you can’t help but to notice the softness in his eyes when he looks at you. 

“Mostly just for home games,” you explain. “I only really travel with the team if they invite me on the road. They like having extra media presence for the bigger series, and whatnot. If I could be at every game, I absolutely would. Sitting on the sidelines beats having to watch it on the TV or listening to the radio.”

Frankie nods along as you talk, his lips pursed as if he’s thinking of what to say. Avoiding any more awkward silence, you flick on your camera and scroll through the photos, presenting him with a few you’d taken during his first appearance at the plate. His arm brushes yours slightly as he leans in closer, staring at the photo far longer than you expect. 

“I kind of fucked up and forgot to take a photo of you after that double in sixth,” you admit. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head. “I like this one.”

It’s a photo of him swinging at a curveball, his bat posed perfectly in the center of the box, and his muscular thighs flexed under his pinstripe uniform. You have to admit, it is a good shot—and he looks amazing mid-swing. Your eyes flick up to his, realizing he’s already looking at you. Thank God for the shadows inside the dugout, or else Frankie would see the way your face warms at his words. You don’t ever share your footage with the guys until it’s posted on the social media pages, but it feels different with Frankie. It strangely feels nice. 

“I feel like an asshole, I don’t think I’ve even asked for your name,” he says. 

“The guy’s normally just call me Red,” you shrug. 

“But that’s not your name.”

You tell him your name, and listen to his gentle voice echo it back. It’s rare you hear your name nowadays. Everyone just refers to you as ‘Red’, like it’s who you are. It doesn’t bother you, necessarily, but finally hearing someone acknowledge you makes your stomach flip. Frankie’s eyes never leave yours, and you realize how close you both have gotten. His leg is pressed against yours, and you can still faintly smell the turf on his uniform. He must notice it, too, because he clears his throat and shifts his legs inward. Shutting your camera off, you let it rest in your lap between your hands. There’s a quiet buzz between your bodies, a comfortable cocoon of shared silence that seems to swell with each passing second. 

“I, um, I should probably head down there with the guys,” Frankie says after a while. 

“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry if I kept you too long.”

Frankie rises from the bench, his thick fingers wrapping around the neck of his bat. He offers you a hand, and you shrink under his height as you move to stand. 

“I didn’t mind the company.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face, just an easy curve of his lips as he stares at you a moment longer. You should move. You should definitely move. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Frankie,” you say. “Great job out there tonight.”

“Thank you.” He says your name, again, emphasizing it as if to prove a point. A gentle reminder that you’re more than just a nickname. 

**

“What took you so long, Catfish?” Santi yells from across the clubhouse. 

He’s already showered and got on his casual clothes for the drive home, something Frankie should have been doing. Instead, he had been helplessly wasting time sitting next to the photographer he had seen around all day. 

Frankie tears his baseball cap off his head, tossing it into his locker as he unbuttons his uniform. He’s still mentally picking apart the day—what he did wrong, what he could improve on—but in each thought, her shiny red hair and doe eyes make a reappearance. Shaking his head, he strips off his undershirt and searches through his stall for a fresh one. 

“Got to chatting with the team photographer,” he says, shrugging the shirt over his chest.

Santi leans against the locker stall, his mouth quirked up in a teasing grin. Frankie already knows what he’s going to say, and he regrets ever mentioning it. 

“Distracted by Red, huh?” Santi teases. “She’s got that affect.”

“She’s not distracting,” Frankie defends. “She just came down to show me some of the pictures she took, and we talked a bit. That’s all.” 

He hopes his clipped words are enough to steer Santi away from the conversation, but Santi can see right through him. 

“Red never shows anyone her photos. None of us ever see what she’s got on that camera until they’re online.”

For some reason, Frankie loves knowing he’s the exception. He saw the way she lit up as she scrolled through the footage, clearly proud of her work. Hell, he doesn’t even care she missed his big play. She spent that time in the dugout with him while his mind was a mess, and gave him a reprieve from the clouded thoughts that the game left him with. Was it awful that he was only looking forward to tomorrow’s game so he could see her again? 

“Maybe she feels bad for me, I don’t know,” Frankie huffs.

He slips on his jacket and runs a hand through his hair before putting on his hat. Santi watches him suspiciously, tracking the tense movements Frankie makes as he gathers his stuff to leave. 

“She’s a nice girl, you know, and she knows her shit, too. Hell, half the guys have tried to grab her attention the last few years, and she’s never been interested.”

“What makes you think she’s interested in me?” 

“I don’t know,” Santi drawls out the words. “Guess we’ll just have to see what she posts tonight.”

Frankie rolls his eyes, shoving past Santi and out of the clubhouse. He steers clear of the other guys as they walk together out to their cars. No one has said much to him yet, and he’s okay with it. Frankie knows he’s the new guy and it’ll take some time for everyone to warm up to him. The only person that seems to be welcoming so far, was Red. Maybe that’s just who she was, but Frankie found himself working Santi’s words over and over inside his head. Red never shows anyone her photos. What made Frankie so special, then? Was he right to think she felt bad for him? If she hadn’t been interested in anyone else, then why did she spend that time with him? 

The apartment is pitch black when Frankie opens the door. Flicking on the lights, he takes in the empty space. Moving boxes scatter the hallway, leading into the renovated kitchen. Frankie barely got the keys to his new place in San Diego two days ago, leaving him little time to settle in before opening day. After this series he’ll be on the road for a week, without any time to get acclimated. Traveling never bothered him, but he wished he could just stop and breathe for one minute. You wanted this, he reminds himself. He’s worked too hard the last several years to let this opportunity pass. The boxes can wait, at least for now.

Tossing his jacket onto the back of the sofa, Frankie slumps against the cushions, scrubbing a hand over his face. He’s been itching to look at his phone since he left the stadium, but he held off. Guess we’ll just have to see what she posts tonight. Digging out his phone from his pocket, Frankie opens Instagram and refreshes the page. Sure enough, the media team already made a post-game slideshow…with Frankie’s at-bat being the first photo. 

The same one he told her he liked the most. 

His thumb hovers over the post as he debates whether or not to look at the rest. He’s already got his one photo, there wouldn’t be any need to give fans more. Yet, as he slides his thumb left over the screen, there’s another photo of himself—from the pre-game walk through the tunnel. Even though his eyes are staring directly into the camera, he knows that wasn’t what he was looking at. His entire focus had been on the girl behind the camera. 

Frankie opens the team’s Instagram page and scrolls through the ‘following’ tab, searching for her name. It���s just innocent curiosity, that’s all it is, but as he finds her name down the list, he’s tempted to press the button. The blue Follow button taunts him, begging him to make the move. Her profile picture is a simple mirror shot, half her face covered by her camera. He wants to see more, like this odd desperation to know her past the lens she hides behind. Before he talks his way out of it, Frankie taps Follow, and sends his phone sailing across the room. It hits the carpet with a soft thud, and sits there silent on the ground. He tips his head back against the couch, pitching the bridge of his nose. God, he feels stupid. 

A soft buzz resounds through the room. Frankie slides his eyes toward his phone, seeing the carpet illuminated by the screen. Just a coincidence, he thinks. Despite the denial he spews inside his mind, he moves from the couch to retrieve his phone. 

Red has accepted your follow request. 

Red started following you. 

Frankie stares at the screen with a stupid grin on his face. He scrolls through her page, finding a surplus of photographs of the stadium, the beach, and a few cityscape shots from various cities. There isn’t a single photo of her, though. He studies each photo, wondering what she saw through the lens of the camera, wishing he could see just one of her face. As he makes his way down her page, a message notification pops onto the screen. 

Red: I hope it’s okay I posted that photo of you. 

Frankie: Absolutely. 

Red: Ok, good. I liked it, too. 

Frankie: Santi told me you don’t show anyone your photos. 

Red: Of course he did. LOL. I’m just protective over my work. I like to keep things private.

Frankie: Why’d you show them to me? 

Frankie watches as text bubbles appear and disappear over and over for at least a minute. He half considers turning his phone off for the night to avoid her response. He shouldn’t care why she showed him, but the thought of it would keep him up all night, wondering why he was deserving of it and not anyone else. His phone buzzes in his hands, and Frankie quickly opens the message. 

Red: I don’t know. You’re the only person I really felt like sharing it with. 

Frankie: I feel honored. Any time you want to share them, I’m always around. 

Red: I’m holding you to that. 

Frankie thinks of a million things to reply with, but his fingers don’t move; all he can think about is seeing her again tomorrow.

[cyberarcadecowboy]

The Green Ninja’s Lee Mood

This takes place after Crystallized and before the Merge and the characters here are also connected to my other book on Wattpad

It was a peaceful morning in the monastery, Master Wu had left to go somewhere, Kai was lying down on the couch, exhausted from his scouting mission, Nya, was also sitting on the couch and her lap was apparently Kai's head rest since his head was on her lap and Nya was just scrolling on her phone. Cole was hanging out with Jay, Omar, Zion and Exalt, Acidicus and Arctic were training and talking in the courtyard and Zane was cooking lunch, Lloyd on the other hand stayed in his room because he was in a lee mood! And was afraid to tell anyone about it, he tried to tell Kai early in the morning before he left for the scout but Lloyd couldn't get the words out and since Kai was in a rush he told Lloyd they would talk about it later. 

Lloyd was feeling very ticklish shocks and tried not to laugh, before his mind could wander anywhere else the door opened making the green ninja jump.

"Lloyd, Zane said lunch's ready" Kai said

"Ok, I'll be there soon" Lloyd said

"I'll tell the others" Kai said

Just as Kai was about to leave Lloyd's giggle that he'd been holding in slipped out, causing Lloyd to cover his mouth and Kai turned around and stared at Lloyd confusingly.

"What was that?" Kai asked

"N-nothing" Lloyd said

"Riiiiiiiiiiight" Kai said

Kai left the room, like he didn't know anything but Lloyd could've sworn he saw Kai smirk before he left. Lloyd went to the table and sat down, Kai stared at him again before eating and Lloyd was trying not to be suspicious by any of his fellow teammates.

Time Skip

Lloyd went back to his room and laid down on his back on the bed, he heard a knock on the door, Lloyd hesitated but answered anyway.

"Come in" Lloyd said

Behind the door was Kai! Seeing Kai made Lloyd feel uneasy especially since Kai suspected something a while ago. Lloyd sat up

"Hey kiddo," Kai said

"Hey," Lloyd said

"...you said you needed to talk to me about something earlier, what was it Lloyd?" Kai said

"Oh, i-it was n-nothing" Lloyd stuttered 

"Oh come on! You can tell me." Kai insisted 

Lloyd hesitated and he didn't want to tell Kai about his lee mood so he made up a lie.

"I just... wanted to know if I could... join you! Yeah." Lloyd said

But Kai's face showed he wasn't buying it.

Kai's POV

I knew Lloyd was lying to me, his voice was higher pitched than normal and he took his time to say all of that. I knew Lloyd like how I knew Nya, I know when something's up, and I think our green ninja's in a lee mood... but I wanna have a little fun to find out.

"Lloyd." I said "I know when your lying" 

Lloyd inhaled deeply "fine, I'm just sortofinaleemood" Lloyd said mumbling the last part quickly

I knew exactly what Lloyd said but I'm gonna have a little fun.

"What was that?" I asked

"I-I am in a l-lee mood" Lloyd said

"Ok, and what did you want me to do about it?" I asked

Lloyd looked at me surprised and confused.

"You know what!" Lloyd said

A smirk was tugging on my lips but I managed to keep a straight face.

"Sorry Lloyd, but you have to use words, I cannot read minds.” I said

Silence…

“Cmon Kai! You know what!” Lloyd said

“No I do not Lloyd” I said

Lloyd buried his face in his hands, probably embarrassed.

“P-please tickle m-me Kai” Lloyd whispered 

“What was that?” I asked

Ok, now I know I was going too far but it was already done, nothing I can do about it.

“Please t-tickle me Kai!” Lloyd said a bit louder

I smiled and pushed him on the bed so he was lying down on his back, and I straddled his waist.

“See, that wasn’t so hard.” I said

I started spidering my fingers on Lloyd’s tummy, he squeaked then giggled afterwards.

“Yehehehes it wahahahas” Lloyd said

I let the smirk show now as I scribbled up to Lloyd’s ribs, my eyebrows shot up as Lloyd squealed.

“Huh, you really are in a lee mood” I said

“Yohohohou thihihihink?” Lloyd said

I don’t know why, but I was feeling a bit mean today, I mean, the more it tickles the faster your lee mood will go, right? I started to use lighter tickles, poking, prodding at Lloyd’s sides. I heard Lloyd grunt in displeasure, once I saw him lost in his thoughts I lowered my hands down to Lloyd’s hips then without warning, I squeezed them.

“AHAHAHAAH NOHOHOHO!” Lloyd squealed

Oh that’s right! Lloyd’s ticklish here. I can’t believe I forgot that, maybe I am getting old, I started squeezing at Lloyd’s sides and smirked as he squealed, I continued til my fingers started digging into Lloyd’s ribs, getting another reaction.

“HAHAHAHAAHHHA NAHAHO KAHAHAHAHAI!” Lloyd shrieked

Now I am quite surprised that the others weren’t drawn into the room. 

“What is it Lloyd? You asked to be tickled, and being the good big brother I am, I helped out.” I said

Lloyd continued laughing hardly and I just chuckled and moved my hands to vibrate on his tummy, and Lloyd squeaked and giggled hysterically.

“HahaHAHhaha KahahaHAhai ihihiHIT Reheheally tihihiHIHIckles” Lloyd gasped, his voice cracking 

Lloyd almost bucked me off, but I stayed on.

“Stop squirming so much, I can’t tickle you effectively like this.” I teased

I wiggled my fingers into the hollows of Lloyd’s armpits, Lloyd near shrieked, his laughter and octave higher. I continued tickling there til I thought he had enough, then I went back to scribbling over Lloyd’s stomach, 

“Awww, does little Lloyd like the tickles?” I teased “The oh-so powerful green ninja huh? Tickle tickle little ninja.”I whispered in Lloyd’s ear

That made him giggle harder, “Stahahap teheheheasing” Lloyd said

I chuckled and wiggled my fingers to Lloyd’s ribs, making sure to get in between the bones where it’s sensitive. Lloyd went ballistic.

“AHAHAHAHAHAH NOHOHOHO KAHAHAI, OHOHOHOKAY KAHAHAHAI STAHAHAHAP!” Lloyd shrieked 

I chuckled and gave his hips one last squeeze which made Lloyd squeal, before letting him up.

“Did that solve your problem?” I asked playfully 

 Lloyd glared at me playfully “Yeah, no thanks to you.” Lloyd said in undertone but I heard it.

“Is that so?” I asked wiggling my fingers at him

“Wahahait! I was just kidding!” Lloyd said hurriedly 

I chuckled and ruffled his hair before leaving the room but before I closed the door I decided something.

“Hey guy! Guess what just happened!” I said not loud enough for anyone to hear 

But loud enough for Lloyd to squeak 

“Kai, no!” Lloyd said

I chuckled and closed the door. I know one thing, Lloyd loved tickles but he just never told anyone but me, I don’t know why, but the others probably already figured but never said anything.

Lloyd’s POV

Well that was torture, but at the same time. I kinda liked it. Also I wonder why Kai called me kiddo, oh well!

[theforlorne]

Lucifer's Response (Letter One, a Lucifer x Reader)

You sent a love letter to Lucifer, and he responded.

Teen and Up Audiences, No Warnings, F/M, M/M, Other/M, Tag(s): Love Letters, Fluff, Awkwardness, Gift Giving, Emotional Baggage, Ambiguous Gender Reader, POV Second Person WC: 719

This one is gifted to @jalicecookie! Thank you for supporting the series, it means the world to me to see people enjoying these ♡

♡ Love Letter Series Masterlist ♡

Chapter 1

Letter One

When you wrote a letter to royalty, you expected to be royally disappointed. The expectation was that you would not receive anything back. Yet there you were holding a velvet drawstring pouch threaded with Lucifer’s sigil in gold.

Gold became your expectation too. Not only did the golden thread lace every seam, but it crawled from the pouch where it sat in a plaited bow to keep it sealed. Within it, you found a rectangular box that shared the same exuberant golden colour. The lid was held over the top with lace and a thin line of ribbon.

After sliding off the lace and lifting the lid, you were greeted with a scroll of parchment. Another lace slip held it in place with a seal to top it off. Careful not to break the wax, you slotted your nail beneath it and lifted. With a crackle, it peeled away from the lace which you pulled off the parchment.

You placed it to one side as you wanted to keep it, then you returned your attention to the letter.

Keeping a rolled scroll of paper open was difficult without it rolling back up on itself, so you ended up placing it down on your desk. A paperweight came in handy in pinning down one end. You used your hand to smooth down the other as you read.

‘To my Secret Admirer, I got your letter! That is the only way I would know your address to return one back, of course. Otherwise I wouldn’t. And now you know that I’m not some creepy stalker. Great! I’m so glad we’ve gotten that out of the way. Letters - you know I haven't sent one in ages? Yours was such a pleasant surprise that I ended up searching everywhere in the house to find my old writing kit. I got really worked up about it, so please tell me if this is too much. Is it too much? Since there wasn’t an envelope, I had to make a pouch instead. I'm flattered though, truly. And I'm sorry that it took me so long to get this to you. I wanted to make sure I said the right thing because it has been so long since I spoke to anyone in Hell. Usually I would avoid that. As you can tell. You wouldn't have sent your letter otherwise. But I wanted to let you know that I'm okay. Thank you for reaching out to me even though you don't know me. Or maybe you do! Maybe I have seen you. Maybe we haven't seen each other for a long time. I mean - I doubt that. I can tell, actually. You're not who came to mind, and that's okay. You're a wonderfully unique you! Rough around the edges if you're in Hell, but you’re polished enough that I can see the shine through the dirt. I don’t mean to sound rude. There is a reason Hell hasn’t seen me. Trust me when I say the are far, far too many more as well. Although, it isn’t appropriate for me to discuss in a letter to someone I haven’t gotten to know yet. Rest assured, none of those reasons are you. Truth be told, I’d like to know more about you if you're willing to share with me. I’m happy to answer any of your questions too! I have a question for you to get us started! I am not ignoring the fact that your letter was more romantically inclined. I hope so anyway. Not because I would jump at the first sign of any affection, I'm just curious. How could you call yourself my secret admirer when you haven't met me? I know that goes back to well have we - haven't we, I don't know. But I do know I haven't met anyone new in a long time, and those I do know would not keep it a secret. Nor do I recognise your address. My judgment tells me this isn't some sort of hoax either because why else would anyone send an anonymous letter to someone to check on how they are unless they genuinely did care. What if I'm not who you think I am? Why would you trouble yourself for someone who doesn't even know who you are? Yours sincerely, Lucifer M.’

♡ Next Chp ♡

[hypequeenves]

NEW TO THE BLOG? READ ME!

Enchantée, my loves! Welcome to the blog! <3

Just to let you know that this is a story based blog, with an alternative style of story telling. The plot is revealed mostly through the lens of different types of technology. From Sinstagram posts to security camera footage, this Hellaverse AU centres around my OC Vesper:

Vesper is a popular popstar and sinner operating within the Pride Ring. She is soul contracted to Vox, and was designed around the idea of a 'hypeman' for the Vees. Her outfit is loosely based around a cheerleader, and her abilities are based off a Siren.

The story is told through a bunch of different mediums - mostly images, but I do have some audio files on here along with some music! I did not expect to be writing music for this, but here we are! So if you'd like to stick around, I'd scroll right to the bottom of the blog and explore the story!  SPOILERS BELOW - If you haven't looked through the posts thus far and don't want to be spoiled, come back after!

THE PLOT THUS FAR:

(I didn't just wanna write the plot point blank, so I wrote it like POV: Your at a movie night and your best friend is telling you the plot to the prequel movie so you have *context*)

We're diving into the wild world of Vanessa LaBlanc, this mega-popstar who goes by the stage name Vesper in the Pride Ring. But here's the kicker: her climb to stardom? It's only been about seven years! Insane, right?

So, her smash hit 'The Devil You Know' rockets to the top of 'Hell's Hottest Hits'. It's like her big breakout moment, and suddenly, everyone's got their eyes on her.

But here's where it gets interesting: turns out, she's been hanging out at the Hazbin Hotel, but not just for kicks. Nope, she's on this super-secret spy mission, keeping tabs on things. And her deal with Vox? Let's just say their whole working relationship is one big question mark.

Then there's this whole issue about her being under some soul contract with Vox, so it's not all rainbows and sunshine. But Charlie, being the sweetheart she is, rallies everyone to support Vesper at this major award ceremony, and guess what? She totally wins and takes home the prize!

But after that, Vesper goes MIA, ghosting everyone's texts and calls. Finally, when she resurfaces, it's because she's been tied up shooting some ad campaign. Turns out, her and Vox had this major fallout over the ad's ethics.

And get this: the product of the ad? Love Potions! Vesper's kinda backed into a corner she doesn't think its right - but Vox makes her do it anyway! You can see the strain it puts on her and Vox's relationship. It's messy, to say the least.

Then there's this whole backstory between Vesper and Angel Dust, like they used to hate each other and Valentino admits to being the reason behind it. But now that she's staying at the Hotel, they seem to have made up! Val's flipping out, convinced Vesper's up to something, but Vox is tells Val to calm down, because 'it's not like before' that she's 'under contract now'.

Things really hit the fan when Vesper and Vox have this big blow up over some news article about her going public with staying at the Hazbin Hotel. But in the middle of all the drama, you can see there's this genuine care between them, buried beneath all the chaos.

And then there's the bombshell about Vesper's new album, 'Absolution', which Vox drops on her out of nowhere. She's not thrilled, especially when she finds out the album cover's shot in Val's flooded studio, and she has a deep-rooted fear of water.

Things get tense between Vesper and Angel, too. He's worried sick about her, but she's not having any of it. And then after the album shoot, her relationship with Vox starts unravelling big time.

And that's pretty much it thus far!

[itsclydebitches]

Summary: Tarina, a new apprentice at Sorcerous Sundries, becomes intrigued by a wizard and his oddly colored raven. 

Pairing: Gale/Astarion, outsider PoV

Word Count: 3,427

Part of the Little by Little, Step by Step collection

Inspired by @cake-apostate post <3

Tarina had never seen a white raven before.

It sat tall on the wizard’s shoulder, surveying Sorcerous Sundries with what she wanted to say was a haughty air. That was ridiculous though... right? Plenty who passed through the store could summon up a familiar, but this creature lacked the same aura of magic those conjured beasts wore. It might have been a druid showing off their impressive Wild Shape, but Brenan had given her that You’re An Idiot Apprentice look when she’d asked, reiterating that every druid’s shape was identical to another’s. It was built into the spell. You’d have better chance spotting a Wild Shaped druid not by its behavior, but by how conspicuously brown it was.

She supposed it might have been a normal bird bound to the wizard, even trained, but Tarina had never seen plumage of that coloring. The raven was pure white, from the tip of its beak all the way down, the only color on its body stemming from piercing, blood-red eyes. Sometimes Tarina caught the bird watching her and shivered, feeling hunted. Which again, ridiculous. She might have only just started her training, but even she could best a two-pound corvid.

The wizard must not have found what he was looking for because Tarina watched as he shook his head, gesturing angrily at their collection of scrolls. As he did, the movement dislodged the raven, nearly sending it to the floor.

It proceeded to bite the wizard’s neck in retaliation.

Then it gagged.

“—don’t know how many times I need to say it!” the wizard was yelling as he left the shop, one hand on the small wound and the other trying to grab the raven by the scruff of its neck.

They got all types in Sundries, but this was odd even by their standards. Tarina didn’t know what was up with those two but she was damn well going to figure it out.

Besides, mysteries were better than doing inventory any day.

***

“Excuse me, um—Master Rolan?”

Tarina had tried to present herself as respectfully and unobtrusively as possible, going so far as to give a little curtsy as she approached (which probably looked stupid in breeches). For a moment she thought he hadn’t heard her—or worse, was ignoring her—but then Master Rolan sighed and raised a hand to his eyes, squeezing them shut.

“Please don’t call me that.”

Tarina blinked. Being corrected probably wasn’t a good thing, but he didn’t sound mad. She decided to risk shuffling a little closer, standing beside him as he looked out over the store’s upper railing. “Why...?”

“Would you like to know what I’ve learned about others, myself, or my true motivation?”

Okay, maybe wizard dude and his raven weren’t that weird, not if this was the guy running things. Tarina was trying to figure out if this was some kind of test when Rolan turned, his lips twisting into a self-deprecating smile.

“Lorroakan was this tower’s previous master,” he said, “and I have no intention of following in his depraved footsteps. Beyond that, however, I still have a great deal to learn about the arcane arts and have not yet earned the title of ‘Master’ even if I wanted to take it. Mystra knows my folly has endangered enough of us already. But really...” Rolan leaned closer, a spark of... something lighting up his eyes. “My sister Lia will never let me hear the end of it if she catches you calling me that, so save me the trouble and I won’t have to fire you without recommendation. Alright?”

“Right!” Oh, this had been a bad idea. Tarina couldn’t tell if Rolan was joking, but she really wasn’t inclined to find out. She couldn’t afford it. Literally, given the weight of her coin purse. She mumbled a nonsense apology to her feet and started backing away when Rolan raised a hand, halting her.

“Where are you going? Didn’t you need something?”

...right.

“It’s nothing much Ma—uh, Rolan. I was just wondering if you knew this customer?” Tarina started gesturing a little wildly and willed herself to stop. Her hands didn’t listen. “Wizard type. Shoulder-length brown hair. Beard. Wears a weave earring and seems to have a preference for purple?”

Rolan was staring at her, long enough and hard enough that Tarina because to sweat. She could see a muscle ticking in his jaw and wondered if she was about to be blasted off the balcony.

“Yes,” he finally said. “I know him.”

“Do you... know what’s up with his raven?”

All at once the tension left Rolan and he snorted, a sound of dry amusement. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, Attention seeking idiots but Tarina couldn’t be sure. When he spoke though it was with such deliberate seriousness that she was instantly suspicious:

“Would you believe me if I said that raven is his husband?”

“...No.”

“Well then. I suppose there’s nothing left but for you to get back to work.”

Tarina went, wondering halfheartedly if Arcane Atheneum was hiring. Without recommendations.

***

Two months since she’s started working and training at Sorcerous Sundries. A month since she’d first seen the raven. A week of making her list.

It was, unfortunately, a rather unhelpful list.

Things The Raven Does (That Maybe Aren’t Very Raven-y?)

Likes to sunbathe on the Southside bookshelves while the wizard browses

Seems to enjoy annoying whoever is in his vicinity. Master Rolan is a favorite target

(Raven is a “he.” Heard wizard use pronoun after kissing his beak. Husband???)

(Look up legal precedent of human/animal relationships in Faerûn)

Preens at compliments but won’t let anyone else hold him

Update. Exceptions: white-haired cleric, githyanki (!!!), two druids, adventurer of undetermined race/gender, and Minsc. Fucking Minsc was in our shop

Update for the update: raven tried to hunt Misc’s hamster. It didn’t end well

Snatched a bracelet off a woman’s wrist and tried to fly off with it. Wizard summoned ice wall that Raven slammed into. Woman distraught. Raven pissed (sounds like a tea-kettle crossed with an un-oiled hinge). Rolan threw fireballs until wizard cleaned up the water from his melting wall (this did more damage to the books than anything else, but I was too scared to point that out)

Possible successful second attempt: man’s gold-plated quill went missing during checkout. Raven nearby. Can only describe his behavior as ‘too innocent’. Looks like he would have whistled if he could

Tends to bite. Has a preference for necks (kinky??)

Is generally an asshole. Like, even more than the average bird

Tarina started down at the notes, hoping that something would jump out at her and make it all make sense.

Nothing did. If anything, her already messy scrawl grew incomprehensible as her eyes watered. Tarina let out a massive yawn, tipping her head back to suck in more oxygen. Maybe Rolan would let her pop out for a coffee before next shift? 

When she opened her eyes again the wizard was standing before her.

“Hello there,” he said, giving a wave.

Tarina made a sound approaching ‘Ulp’ and ‘Gah’ if they’d had an unholy baby together.

“Quite,” the wizard replied. “Now, I don’t suppose you have any tomes on the magical co-efficient found in cherry wood carved staffs, do you? While I wouldn’t go so far as to describe this as an emergency per se, your expedience in the matter would be greatly appreciated.”

The raven sat on his shoulder once more, staring at Tarina with an unnatural focus. Without taking his red eyes off her he croaked something towards the wizard’s ear.

“Well yes, but I would prefer to know how much magic I’m getting before I destroy the staff.”

Croak. Croak croak.

“Halsin gave me that! Just because you keep losing to him in lanceboard—”

A loooong croak.

“I do not get grumpy when I need to eat!”

Tarina stared.

Now that she knew what to look for, the wizard did seem a little peaky. He was paler than anyone should have been on a hot day like this, even if they were reclusive scholars. There was a thin, sickly sheen of sweat on his forehead and his hand, when it went to give the raven a solid flick, trembled slightly. Frankly, he looked like shit. 

There were so many things to address here that Tarina’s brain felt like a Melf’s acid arrow hurtling at full speed. Who was doing research that esoteric and specific? Who wanted to? Was the wizard using a Speak to Animals spell? He must have been, otherwise Tarina should probably find Brenan and alert them that a crazy was on the loose. Someone crazier than the average wizard, that is. The man just looked tired though, a little sick, which made Tarina wonder if it was contagious, if she should find a healer, if she was even conceivably paid enough to be dealing with any of this.

“I’ve got crackers,” she blurted, wincing slightly when their combined attention turned her way. “In my satchel. In the back. Crackers for... eating? If you’re hungry, I mean.”

The smile the wizard gave her was kind, but the noise the raven made sounded like laughter.

“Thank you,” he said, “but a book will serve me just fine. If you would?” and he waved an imperious hand that clearly said, Get on with it.

Okay, so he was a little bit of an asshole too. He and the raven were meant for each other.

Still, Tarina flew to the back, pulled up their catalogue, and found every reference to staffs, cheery wood, and magical coefficients that an Elixir of Hill Giant Strength would let her carry. It wasn’t her job to question why their patrons wanted the information, only to supply it. 

The wizard spent a while pursuing the volumes she’s brought out, seemingly content to let the other patrons wait than take his load to one of the nearby tables. Tarina shot them an apologetic smile, nodding towards other employees who could help them out. The angle at which she visually negotiated with an ancient, terrifying woman put her in the perfect position to spot the necklace on the raven’s neck.

Tarina blinked, trying to get a closer look without it being obvious that she was doing just that. The necklace—amulet?—was expensive, that much was obvious. A pure gold chain tapered down into a disgustingly massive purple gem. A garnet? Amethyst maybe? Tarina might have known a little more about precious stones if she’d ever been in a position to purchase one. Or even see one up close before now. There were smaller gems too of a similar color and though the raven’s feathers covered many of them, there was no hiding the overall size of the jewelry, nor the contrast against that unnaturally white plumage. Tarina was staring now, caution be damned, because how had she missed that?

Magic, Dum-Dum, her mind supplied. Something simple to deter attention, but not true invisibility. Once you do notice it, it’s obvious what's there. But until you do...

She wasn’t the only one noticing things. With a jerk, Tarina looked up to find the raven staring at her. Hard.

Shit.

“Utterly useless,” the wizard was muttering, flipping through two books at once. His body swayed with the motion and the raven swayed with him, perfectly balanced, its sharp gaze never once leaving Tarina’s face. “Well, I suppose that’s not the worst thing considering I really didn’t want to part with the staff—your feelings on the matter notwithstanding—but that does still leave me in a bit of a predicament. Do you think Tav has anything on hand? I do hate to bother them with this, though I suppose in the grand scheme of things they’d much less rather the city be demolished so soon after saving it...”

Before Tarina could unpack that statement, the raven gave a squawk of what was undoubtedly self-satisfaction. Lifting one foot he extended his leg out from beneath the mound of snowy feathers, revealing a gold bracelet with runes etched down one side.

“Where did you get that?”

What followed was the strangest display of tenderness and fury she'd ever seen, with the wizard swatting at the raven one moment and pressing kisses to his head the next. He bore both with the same, haughty attitude. There were shouts of theft, and gratitude, and more than one muttered, “You insufferable rogue.” The wizard left the small mountain of books in disarray with only the swiftest ‘Thank you’s as he left the shop. However, before the door slammed shut behind him Tarina caught a strange purple light emanating from his chest. 

“Honestly!” the old woman said. Tarina agreed wholeheartedly.

But she couldn’t think about that now. Snatching her list, Tarina began scribbling madly, trying to recreate the amulet before anyone else had need of her.

She really should have gotten that coffee.

***

The Corvid Token.

It took a while, but Tarina hadn’t been hired on pity alone. She found mention of the amulet buried in the appendix of an otherwise boring tome on artifacts that manipulated jump distance. Why anyone would want to influence that was beyond her, but now she was glad people cared about such things.

Prized for its beauty as well as its power, the Corvid Token is an amulet of legend. Said to have first belonged to a favored follower of the Raven Queen, it allegedly gifts the wearer with jump distance, flying speed, and Feather Fall while Polymorphed or in Wild Shape. However, these abilities alone would not be enough to earn the amulet its coveted status. Records show that wearers are able to take on a unique Polymorph while in possession of this token: the Dire Raven. This transformation, far from simply providing the ability to fly and blind opponents, circumvents the usual limitations of a Polymorph, allowing wearers to take on all physical aspects of the raven while simultaneously maintaining their faculties. This transformation also lacks the usual time limit. One diary details a father who gave the amulet to his ill daughter, allowing her to physically circumvent the illness while maintaining her mind and personality. She would remove the amulet once a year on her birthday and otherwise lived a long and purportedly happy life as the town’s beloved corvid. 

Slowly, Tarina shut the book and breathed out a giant, full-body sigh. Though Sorcerous Sundries was open through the night, it only took a skeleton crew to keep it running during the late hours. She’d offered to take this shift precisely so she could do a bit of research without anyone looking over her shoulder, but now...

“Is he sick?” she wondered aloud, idly toying with one of the pages. The raven? The peaky wizard? Customer service was boring; an apprenticeship even more-so until you got to the casting bit of things. Tarina could admit that she’d been using the raven as a distraction, just something fun and mysterious to pass the time. But now that this was on the table, the possibility that the two people she’d been obsessing over for weeks on end—two strangers who didn’t feel much like strangers anymore— might be going through something like that... well, it shouldn’t have come as a shock, but it did. Suddenly, the mystery didn’t feel like a game anymore.

Tarina shut the book with a snap, pasting on an insincere simile when the bell over their door rang. The man who stepped through wore a hooded cloak with his head dipped low—not an uncommon practice in these parts—and she did her best to toe the line between false interest and respect for his privacy when she asked if he was looking for anything in particular.

“Nothing much, darling. Just a story tonight. My handsome, high maintenance husband has a weakness for books and he’s been particularly excitable tonight—though not in any way I’d prefer.” The last was muttered into the hem of his hood as it dropped down, revealing a shock of unnaturally white hair.

Sorcerous Sundries did have a fiction section. It was small, outdated, and very rarely browsed, but they prided themselves on providing their customers with anything and everything the magical community might need, which sometimes translated into a much-needed break. Tarina should have pointed him towards the alcove in the back and returned to quietly chastising herself for treating real people like toys. Instead, something about that hair had her blurting,

“How about a love story?” Once the words were out Tarina couldn’t keep the rest quiet and what followed was a rushed outpouring half-swallowed by a laugh. “I’ve got one about a wizard who hunts down a rare amulet that turns his love into a raven, all to save him from the fatal illness that plagues them both. Or something.”

Tarina winced. The customer was staring at her. Of course he was. She should have been embarrassed at the very least. Or worse: worrying that he’d issue a complaint to Rolan and get her fired. But his appearance had rooted her in place. There was something familiar about that white hair and those piercing, mischievous red eyes.

...and the purple amulet, just peeking out from beneath his cloak.

The man laughed suddenly, revealing fangs that glinted in the candlelight. He sauntered over, placed his elbows on the counter, and gave her a look that was nothing short of gleefully dangerous.

“Oh yes, this encounter will do very nicely. Gale’s going to have kittens! How about a trade, my dear shopkeeper? Your funny little assumption for a far superior version of the story.” He took her hand, stopping just short of kissing it. “I’m Astarion, by the way. We’ve met. Though I’m afraid my far less handsome visage didn’t catch your name…?”

“Tarina.” She couldn’t breathe, could barely think. A vampire. Tarina wasn’t sure if she should be pulling out the snacks, or running for the hills.

“Tarina,” Astarion echoed, flicking his cloak out as he settled in. “Well, Tarina, would you like to hear the real tale? About how the wizard hunted down a rare amulet… to allow his vampire love to walk in the sun? Or fly, rather, if we’re being precise. It's quite disgustingly sweet. ”

Oh. Hells, that was so much better—and suddenly Tarina remembered where she’d stashed the extra wine after their last shop party.

“There’s lots of adventure in it?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“But of course.”

“Danger?”

“As only a rogue and his fool can attract.”

“Embarrassing anecdotes about Rolan?”

Astarion paused, then grinned. That was a true smile. Tarina could tell the difference now that she’d seen both and it felt like she’d unexpectedly passed some kind of test.

“Not in this particular story, darling, but I can make time for a few more.”

“There’s no one else coming in tonight,” she said with the certainty of someone who would be announcing the store’s unexpected closure if anyone did show up. “I’ll get the wine and you tell your husband you’ll be back late?

“Early,” Astarion corrected, “but yes. Tara can entertain him for a few hours. The Gods know that tressym owes me.”

Tarina hadn’t a clue who Tara was, but she hoped to find out soon. As she started taking the stairs two at a time, she caught the unmistakable sound of wings in the store’s silence before the bell on the door rang again.

She smiled to herself. Alright. Working here wasn’t all bad. Two months down. One mystery solved.

One friend gained. 

[thecampjuicebox]

If I might make a request: Give us the Gale epilogue that we never got. Gale cooking dinner for Tav and Tara. Given the fact that Tara hisses at Tav on their first meeting, I feel like she'd really interrogate them, and Gale would be oblivious to the tension.

Oh my GODS I adore this idea. Okay okay. Here we go, I hope you enjoy!!

Third Degree

Pairing: Tav (f) x Gale (m) x Tara (f tressym)

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

POV: 2nd person (Reader is Tav)

Warnings: Tara being an overall nuisance, angst, FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, game spoilers

You clasp your hands for a moment, squeezing the trembling appendages together to attempt to soothe your anxiety. A bottle of perfectly aged wine nestled between your forearm and breasts. Questioning your sudden bout of anxiety, you shake your head. It was just Gale, after all. You've shared many a meal with the wizard, shoulders touching next to the camp fire. You've shared many a night with him as well. Tangled in the weave. Your mouth waters at the memory, a familiar tingling in your core. No, what worries you now is Tara. Gale's tressym and most trusted friend. Gale spoke about her regularly. You'd met her once in Baldur's Gate, the encounter going less than well. You still remember the way she hissed at you, fangs bared in a hostile fashion. Gale didn't even seem to notice, his excitement purely on seeing the tressym so far from Waterdeep. Shaking your head, you ascend the stairs to the front door of his tower. Waterdeep is comfortably warm this time of year, a gentle breeze sweeping the soft fabric of your skirts. You scoff at yourself, peering down at the outfit you spent entirely too long at Figaro's trying to pick out. You settled on a emerald green velvet dress, adorned with gold filigree that sparkles in even the faintest of candlelight. It hugs your supple curves in all of the right ways, accentuating the roundness of your hips. Figaro gushed about how it perfectly complimented your complexion, the rest of the shop's clientele dropping what they were doing to gawk at you like you were a fine piece of art in a grand foyer.

Your pale white hair is plaited neatly, 2 thick braids hanging over your tired shoulders, a few loose strands hanging about your flushed cheeks. Gale has always loved the white shade of your hair, often comparing it to starlight. He reveled at your ancient elven roots on a regular basis, often finding comfort and pure joy in listening to your story telling, bouncing tales back and forth with Halsin at camp. You miss the comradery that traveling had to offer. Always someone to talk to. To confide in. Now, you spend your days simply reminiscing on what once was. Baldur's Gate, while bustling with life now after the city has begun to rebuild, still feels so.. desolate. Lonely. You're startled by the sudden swinging open of the front door, the brown haired Wizard leaning against the door frame, blue robes covered by a some-what messy apron. He grins in your direction, eyes scanning your frame before settling on the bottle of wine. You notice his stare, eyes narrowing and you grasp the bottle by the neck to hand it over to his eager hands.

"An Athkatlan Clarry? Impressive. Come come come, dinner is almost ready. And my gods, you look stunning."

You blush and nod once, lifting the end of your dress to move onto the final step, crossing the threshold. Taking a moment to gather your bearings, you scan the room. Books and scrolls are scattered on every open table top, not messily, but definitely in no form of organization. A few pillar candles are lit to create ambiance, the scent of whatever Gale was cooking filling the room with a delicious cloud and you tilt your head up to better inhale. You mumble a soft "mmm.." to yourself. A gentle hand rests against the small of your back and Gale gazes down at you, thumb rubbing back and forth against the velvet of your dress. You sink into his frame and drink in his familiar warmth. Gods, you've missed him. His scent. His strong chest and toned arms. His embrace. He sets the bottle of wine down on the nearest table and wraps both arms around your short body, snaking underneath your arms so you're forced to place them on his shoulders. He places the softest kiss between your eyes, making your lashes flutter at the sudden skin to skin contact, earning a comfortable sigh from you.

"I've missed you, my little piece of starlight."

You giggle quietly, tilting your head up slightly to bump your nose against his. He wiggles his nose back against yours, head turning side to side to make the tips brush ever so slightly past each other.

"Ahem."

Gale's head turns quickly towards the sound and his eyes meet with Tara's, her small wings fluttering in annoyance. He smiles up at her as she descends the spiral staircase, whiskers twitching at the new smells. You take a step away from Gale. He looks at you with confusion before Tara stops in front of you, small pink nose wiggling from side to side, assessing you. Her green eyes pierce a whole right into your skull, seemingly picking your entire being apart with a single stare. You smile nervously, raising a hand to gesture a simple wave at her. Her eyes flick to Gale and she turns around, tail swishing behind her as she walks towards the doorway of the kitchen, looking back over her shoulder to assure that Gale is going to follow her. He does. The wizard intertwines his fingers with yours and gently pulls you along with him, scooping the bottle of wine from the table he originally sat it down on.

The kitchen is swirling with the most delectable scents you've ever experienced, a mixture of herbs you can't quite pinpoint. Your palette was so used to the random assortment of foods you could find while traveling, so this was truly gourmet in your eyes. Hells, a simple lamb shank would sent your salivary glands into overdrive, had you the opportunity to obtain one. Gale saunters over to a grand brick fireplace, carefully lifting the lid of the cauldron hanging above the crackling fire and giving its contents a look. He wafts the smell up into his nose, steam swirling in translucent white tendrils into the air, his eyes nearly rolling all the way back into his skull. He places the lid back on the cauldron and mumbles an incantation, extinguishing the once roaring fire beneath the cast iron. Tara rests comfortably on a stool at the large oak table on the far side of the room, her eyes fixed on you. You tuck a piece of hair behind your pointed ear and make your way to Gale, who is now fetching plates and cutlery from the cupboard, hands carefully gripping the silver as to not smudge its shiny surface.

"Need some help, my sweet?"

Your voice trickles out like honey, making the wizard's hairs stand on end and he smiles at you, eyes twinkling.

"Gods, no. Make yourself comfortable in any seat you'd prefer. I'm sure Tara would love to get to know you better. She does love stories."

He nods his head to the side, pointing in Tara's direction and you huff quietly. With calculated steps, you find a stool across the table from Tara, eyes watching her just as she watches you. Gale turns his back to the two of you and continues on his mission to fetch the nicest dishes he can find, pulling a silver chalice from the top shelf of the cupboard and giving it a gentle shine with the corner of his apron. He hums quietly to himself. Your hands fall to your lap and you lower your gaze, picking at your fingernails.

"So.."

"Hm. So?"

Tara's tone of voice is stern, but also hushed as to not alert Gale of her intentions to absolutely interrogate you. You're not stranger to interrogations, having persuaded your way in and out of some of the most dangerous situations. This, however. This felt more difficult than any of that. Tara raises a paw to her lips, her eyes still not leaving you and she licks long, gentle strokes along the back of her paw, claws extended slightly as a warning. You clear your throat and rub your fingers over your knuckles, fidgeting with the thin gold ring Gale had given to you after the fight with the Nether Brain. You smile down at the piece of jewelry, eyes flicking to the side to watch gale from your peripherals. He continues his preparations, now filling the plates with the food he's perfected, steam clouding his little area of the kitchen now. Carefully, Gale walks to the table, setting a plate filled with assorted vegetables and a large piece of what looks to be goose down in front of you. Your nostrils perk up at the smell, saliva pooling in the back of your throat. You swallow harshly and smile up at him, ready to absolutely tear into the food, and potentially Gale for dessert. You giggle at the thought, covering your mouth with the back of your index finger to stifle the noise.

"Thank you, my love. It looks delicious."

Gale beams at your compliment. You love the way his eyes light up when anyone compliments him, for literally anything. Back at camp, you relished telling him how nice his hair looked, or how neatly he had trimmed his beard, or how his ideas were good ones, even then they absolutely weren't. You'd do just about anything to see that man smile. Tara tuts and waits patiently for her plate to be set down in front of her, sparing the niceties before leaning down to take a bite of the perfectly crispy goose flesh. She purrs happily. Gale leaves the table momentarily and you sit, hands in your lap, waiting for him to return before even considering taking a bite of your food. It was a habit your mother instilled in you at a very young age. Returning with a chalice full of the wine you brought, he gently presses a kiss atop your head, making your cheeks flush at the simple gesture of love. He sits on the stool beside you and claps his hands once in excitement, rubbing them together quickly before lifting his fork and digging in. You do the same, lifting the silver utensil carefully, stabbing the prongs of the fork into the impossibly tender piece of goose breast. You earn a small piece and quickly lift it to your mouth, the flavor setting your taste buds ablaze. You close your eyes and chew slowly, a quiet "mm.." rumbling in your chest and you swallow.

"Gale this is.. incredible. Truly."

His cheeks flush and he nods, working through chewing the too-large bite of potato he shoved into his mouth. Tara silently laps at the remnants of goose on her plate, already finished since she didn't have the decency to wait for Gale to join the table. Gale points his fork in Tara's direction, mouth still full of food and he speaks in jumbled words.

"So, I assume the two of you have gotten acquainted, yes?"

Tara and you exchange glances, you breaking eye contact first to set your fork down beside your plate, lifting the chalice to quickly take a nervous swig of whine, the alcohol deliciously burning the back of your throat once you swallow.

"Hm, I suppose so, yes. Tav seems.. Lovely."

Her last word stings a bit and you know full well she doesn't mean it. Gale nods happily, shoving a baby carrot into his cheek. You set your chalice down and reach a hand under the table, placing it on Gale's happily bouncing thigh. The bouncing stops abruptly, his facial expression not changing, but he's painfully aware of your hand, leaning in to your touch. You rub soothing circles over top of his trousers, humming quietly to yourself.

"So, hm, Tav. Gale has gone on and on and on about the two of you being engaged. You must be so excited. Will you be staying in Baldur's Gate after the wedding, since out tower is just.. Oh so cramped already. I'm sure you plan to spend so much gold on this wedding, hm? Gale is nothing short of extravagant. You should hold the ceremony in Mystra's temple."

Gale shoots Tara a perplexed look, chuckling to himself after he swallows his thoroughly chewed bite of food. Tara blinks innocently, flashing a single fang at you and she places a paw on the table, claws extended. You grit your teeth at the mention of Mystra, blinking down at your lap.

"Tara, my dear. Tav will be living with us. She will be my wife, after all. There's plenty of room in my bed, just for her. And we will speak about wedding plans when Tav is ready. Lots of preparations are to be made."

He reaches down to the hand resting on his thigh, giving it a loving squeeze. You grin and tilt your head sideways, resting it against his bicep for a moment before pulling your hand away to resume eating. You take small bites of food, chewing each one with ease before swallowing, little happy groans following at the taste. You chase the final bite of food with more wine. Tara straightens up, wings fluttering against her back at the new position and her tail swishes a few times before settling beside her on the stool.

"And.. Children? I assume you'll be having children? How many, do you think? It's obvious you can't keep your hands off of each other anyways, it's only a matter of time. Gods, I do wonder what they'll be like. Hopefully they all look like Gale, him having the superior genes and all."

You cough, covering your mouth carefully with your hand. Gale's eyes widen and he raises his hands quickly.

"Now now, let's not be hasty. Children will come in due time, yes. Much.. Much further down the road. Entirely too much to do and experience now."

Tara smirks at you, clearly sensing how uncomfortable you are. You squirm in your seat and reach for the chalice to finish off your wine, a warm buzz traveling up your spine and into the back of your neck, your chest turning a light crimson. The tressym hops down from her stool, a small yawn followed by a "mew" leaving her mouth. She rubs her side against your leg, covering you in her scent and some of her fur. She takes a seat on the floor beside Gale and purrs quietly, waiting for him to reach down and pet her head. He obliges, scratching behind her small ears. With a flick of her tail, Tara turns and leaves the room. You sigh in relief, placing your elbows on the table and your face in your hands. Gale lifts his chalice and takes a sip, savoring the sweet taste of the wine before smiling at you, absolutely clueless of what just unfolding directly in front of him at dinner.

"She seems to be really fond of you!"