#the other half is all the other groups i listen to

[crypticgrayson]

Round and Round ~ Part 2

Pairing: Front Man/Hwang In-ho x F!Reader

Warnings: Blood, Death, Smut, bit of angst

Summary: Continues on from the previous part, the aftermath of the Mingle game and Gi-hun’s plan to go after the Front Man..

Part 1

You moved your hair behind your ears before turning your head to look at the man sat next to you on the stairs leading up to your bunk beds, the circle on Young-il’s chest now replaced by a cross after the next round of voting. Even with over half of all the players dead after the mingle game, the vote turned out to be a draw. Young-il noticed you staring and drew up one of his brows, causing you to quickly turn back around.

You opened the box of food on your lap, surprised to see a fork on the side of the tin. “Something you wanted to say?” Young-il asked as he moved down a step to sit next to you, “No, not in particular” You replied. “Oh? They didn’t give me one” Young-il spoke as he nodded towards your tin, his eyes falling on the metal fork, moving your gaze towards the metal box in his hands to see he wasn’t lying.

Young-il closed the tin again with a sigh, laying it down at his feet as you started on your food, feeling Young-il’s thigh pressed against yours as he spread his legs slightly to close the distance between you. You knew he was testing you to see what your reaction would be, if you would move away, but you didn’t move an inch as you continued eating, not acknowledging the contact between you.

When you finished your food not much later, you had been starving after running around in the last game, you held out your fork to the man besides you, taking it from your outreached hand before grabbing his tin from the floor. Young-il barely managed to take a few bites when everyone’s looked up, some bloodied players with circles on their chests walking in, led by a group of pink guards. Your eyes fell on the bloody fork in one of the men’s hand, another group walking in from the other side, seeing some people you knew in this group with crosses on their chests.

“What happened?” Gi-jun asked when the x group walked over to the rest of you, the room clearly split in the middle by x’s and o’s. “Thanos and 333 broke out into a fight, 333 killed- killed him, which caused everyone to join in” Dae-ho spoke, everyone moving closer to listen in. “Did we lose many?” Jung-bae joined in, everyone turning their heads to the other group to see they were already staring. “Count how many they have, and how many we have” Young-il suggested, Gi-hun started to count your group as Young-il counted the other side.

“Well?” You asked, your gaze shifting between them. “They have 65” Young-il replied, Gi-hun sighing softly. “We have 66, they’ll never accept that for the revote tomorrow” Gi-hun spoke, most of your group nodding in agreement. “Did more people get forks in their boxes?” You asked, a few people raising their hands. “So they have weapons if they want to try and take some of us out” You continued, Gi-hun biting down on his bottom lip, seemingly deep in thought.

“They’ll attack us tonight, when they think we’re asleep, they only have to take out two of us to have the majority vote tomorrow” Gi-hun spoke softly, making a shiver run down your spine as you wrapped your arms around your waist. “We should take turns keeping watch, then all of us can still catch some sleep for the next game” Young-il spoke, everyone nodding in agreement. Everyone moved to their beds after a little while had passed, Gi-hun and Jung-bae taking first watch.

You laid your head down on your pillow when the lights dimmed, letting out a nervous sigh, knowing falling asleep would be difficult as hell with your heart beating loudly in your ears. After what you estimated to be an hour had passed you sat up with a sigh, wanting to join Gi-hun but a voice softly called out to you from the bed beside yours. “What are you doing?” Young-il whispered, your eyes shifting toward him. “I can’t sleep, I’ll switch with one of them” You replied, nodding your head in the direction of the two men keeping watch.

“You should really try to sleep, you need energy for tomorrow, Gi-hun and Jung-bae are keeping an eye out” He replied, “I know.. but by the time he notices someone’s all the way back here, it’ll already be too late” You spoke, making him sigh in agreement. “Come sleep next to me then, I’ll stay awake so you can catch some shut eye” Young-il told you, shifting to the side of his mattress to give you space. You had to bite back a laugh at his words, wanting to tell him how that wouldn’t be any better since your trust in him had faltered because of what happened in the past game, but you still moved out of your bed.

You took the three steps to cross the path between your bunks, sitting down next to him before lying down, your back facing him. Young-il let out a deep breath before lying down beside you, placing a hand on your arm as he moved his other hand to prop his head up, doing as he promised. His hand on your arm drawing gentle patterns through your jacket somehow calmed your nerves, and you were already fighting to keep your eyes open, sleep overtaking you not much later. Young-il looked down at your sleeping face with a sigh, carefully lifting his hand to move a loose strand of hair out of your face, moving the back of his fingers over the incredibly soft skin of your cheek. He had to hold himself back to not press his lips where his fingers had just been before he heard footsteps come in his direction, moving his hand back down to your arm.

It didn’t take long for Young-il to shake you awake, opening your eyes to see Gi-hun kneeled in front of you too. “We need to do something, they’re planning their attack and we don’t have enough people strong enough to fight back” Gi-hun softly spoke, Jung-bae stood behind him. “What are you suggesting?” Young-il asked as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, sitting up too. “Let’s wait until they attack, the guards will come to stop the fight because they don’t want too many of us to die, we steal their guns, and-..” Gi-hun spoke before stopping, furrowing his brows. “And?” Young-il questioned, Gi-hun scratching his jaw before replying, “We attack the front man”

You let out a laugh before noticing the serious look on Gi-hun’s face, “You’re being serious?” you asked. “Yes, this could be our only chance, and it’s better than having to fight them” Gi-hun replied, a silence falling between the four of you. “Let’s do it” Jung-bae spoke, “I’m in as well” You added, the three of you turning to Young-il who stayed silent. He looked up and the stoic look on his face shifted to a smile you now easily recognized as fake, “Let’s tell the others” he spoke before getting up.

You spent the rest of night waiting for movement from the other side of the room, until all your heads perked up when you heard footsteps approaching. You heard a scream from somewhere in front of you before several fights broke out, Young-il grabbing your shoulder to pull you behind him, leading you away from the fights and down the stairs. “Let’s hide so we can grab one of the guards” Young-il softly spoke, his hand still behind him to hold on to you. You looked to your side to see Gi-hun and Jung-bae fighting with two other men, holding down the urge to run over to them as you kneeled behind a flipped bed next to Young-il.

What felt like hours were a few seconds in reality before the lights came on, hearing the loud footsteps of the pink guards’ boots. “Everyone halt and lay down your weapons!” The leader of the guards called, hearing the commotion stop. You peeked past the side of the bed to see the guards were too far away to grab, before Gi-hun started another fight to try to lead a guard his way. Young-il and you exchanged a look when you heard boots coming closer, waiting until the guard was close enough before you popped out behind the cover, Young-il throwing the guard to the floor with his full weight as you grabbed the rifle from the guard’s hands, firing at the other guards as Young-il pulled you back into cover.

When you hit a few of the guards who had ran over to close in on you some of the others from your group had managed to grab a couple of rifles, all of having shot down around 10 of the guards before they decided to retreat. “Let’s go, this is our chance!” Gi-hun yelled, walking over to the pink bodies to grab whatever ammo and walkie talkies they had on them. “Who’s with us?” Jung-bae called out, the only ones to respond being Hyun-ju, Dae-ho, 156, 047 and 246. “We’ll never make it with just 9 of us” Jung-bae softly spoke, making Gi-hun shake his head, “We don’t have a choice, let’s go”

Hyun-ju explained to you how to reload the gun and check on the magazine when you made it to the stairs, before a few bullets flew just inches past your head, all of you crouching down before shooting back. “Stay close to me at all times” Young-il told you as he moved in front of you, giving him a quick nod in response before you made your way up, shooting at whatever bit of pink you saw peeking through the openings around you. “They’re coming from over here!” Gi-hun yelled as he stood at the front of your group, peeking around a corner. “Jung-bae, come with me, the rest of you cover us until I’ll call you over the walkie to tell you if it’s safe” Gi-hun continued, disappearing around the corner with Jung-bae before you could even protest. “Let’s hold our ground here!” Hyun-ju called out, each of you taking your positions as you shot at the guards making their way over. You felt in your pocket to check if the full magazine was still there, feeling the heavy weight of it in your jacket to your relief. You saw Young-il throw away his empty magazine and load his gun with a new one, checking yours to see you still had half of it left. A few minutes had passed, yet your walkie stayed silent, concern raising within you as you grabbed Hyun-ju’s arm.

“Some of us should check on them, it’s taking too long and our ammo is running out” You told her, Hyun-ju humming in agreement. “I’ll go, Y/N can come with me and we need one more” Young-il spoke, 047 raising his hand. “Let’s go” Young-il continued, running over to the door Gi-hun had jammed open with an empty rifle. You followed the dead bodies sprawled out through the hallways and stairs, until you heard gunshots come from close by. The three of you turned the final corner before your eyes fell on Gi-hun and Jung-bae, who signed for you to stay back. “They just keep coming, we need to find a way to attack them from behind” Gi-hun whispered, ducked behind the wall. “I think I saw a way back there, we’ll attack from there” Young-il replied, “Good luck” Gi-hun spoke as his eyes shifted to yours.

You followed Young-il back the way you came, 047 close behind you. Young-il shot at a guard who popped out behind a corner, before you heard his gun was empty. You had just reloaded your own and doubted for a second when Young-il threw his rifle to the floor with a loud curse, moving the band off your shoulder before handing your rifle to him. “You’re a better shot than I am” You told him, Young-il taking it from your outreached hand. You made it up another set of stairs, Young-il taking out the two guards before making it around the corner, seeing the guards at the top were stood with their backs towards you.

“This is it” Young-il softly spoke as he turned to face you and 047, “How much ammo do you have left?” He asked 047, who opened his magazine to check. “Over half” 047 told him, Young-il doing the same. “I have less than half” He told the man, 047 moving up. “I’ll take lead then, if they turn around I have more bullets to fire at them” 047 spoke, Young-il giving a nod in agreement. 047 was clearly shaking as he moved up the stairs before gunshots sounded from right next to you, 047 falling to the floor as you saw the bullet holes in his back. You took a few steps back as you looked at Young-il with his rifle lifted, feeling your heart shoot into your throat as you moved to the other side of the stairs with you back pressed against the wall before the pink guards turned in your direction.

Before Young-il could yell out a loud “No!” a gunshot sounded before you felt a sharp pain at your shoulder, falling to your knees as you moved a hand up to the painful spot. You moved your hand back down when you felt a warm liquid cover your fingers, seeing blood dripping from your hand before you lost your balance, moving your hand towards a step in an attempt to hold yourself up. “Get them!” Young-il yelled at the guards before throwing his rifle to the floor, moving over to you as he pressed his hand to your shoulder to try to stop the bleeding. You used your last strength to look at him before huffing, “I knew I-.. I shouldn’t have trusted-…” you muttered before everything went black.

~~~

You blinked a few times as you felt warmth coming from your left side, feeling that you were lying on something soft and a warm yellow light was around you. You wanted to lift your hand to rub your eyes but pain spread from your shoulder as soon as you lifted it too far up, hearing rustling coming from a bit further away as footsteps neared you. You turned your head towards the source of the warmth to see you were lying on a couch next to a fireplace, a hand moving towards the side of your face as you turned to look at who it belonged to. “Shh you’re ok, you’re safe” A voice you recognized sounded, but your vision was still too blurry to make out who it was.

Where even were you? The last thing you remembered was speaking to Gi-hun and Jung-bae as you and Young-il fought through the guards, before he-, before he shot 047. You moved to sit up but Young-il gently pushed you back down, your vision shifting into focus to see he had changed out of his player uniform into a black t shirt and pants. “Young-il, what are you-“ You tried to say but he interrupted you, sitting down on the edge of the couch to lean over you, “Let’s start with; that’s not my name, it’s In-ho, and yes I wasn’t just a player”

You parted your lips to say something but you didn’t know where to start, his whole demeanor had changed compared to who you thought him to be, looking at your shoulder when he finished taping the bandage on it. “Why?” You asked, feeling tears edging to roll out of the corner of your eyes but you quickly blinked them away, slowly sitting up which In-ho allowed this time. “That’s a very long story, the only thing you need to know is that.. I have grown very fond of you, I never meant for them to shoot you” In-ho told you, the same softness you had seen in his eyes earlier returning. “I’m so very sorry for that” He muttered before leaning towards you, pressing his lips against the only part of your shoulder that wasn’t covered in bandages. You let out a shaky breath before he moved upright again, his hand slowly running down your arm. You only now realized you were only dressed in your white but blood stained tanktop and the green sweatpants you had been in since the start of all this, wondering if he was the one to undress you and take care of your wound.

You had so many questions but your head was too clouded to even think straight, made only worse when he ran his fingers through your hair, your attraction to him somehow taking up all your thoughts instead of his sudden betrayal. You knew it would only be rational to hit him in the face and ask him where your friends were, but somehow you could only focus on his dark gaze looking over you as his hand combed through your hair. “What are you going to do to me?” You asked him, your eyes meeting his, his brows furrowing as he met your gaze. “That all depends on you, sweetheart” In-ho spoke, moving his hand out of your locks to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. Your eyes fell on the gun laying on the table behind him, In-ho noticing and turning your head to make sure your gaze was only on him

He gave you a second to reply but when you stayed silent he moved the slightest bit closer to you, his face now close enough so you could feel his breath, your lips parting automatically as you held his gaze. His hand moved down around the base of your neck, setting gentle pressure before closing the distance, his lips meeting yours in a hungry kiss. You let out a gasp before allowing his tongue to slip inside, his arms wrapping around you before he nudged you to lie down, moving on top of you without ever breaking the kiss.

Your hands disappeared into his soft hair which caused a moan to leave him, grinding his hips into you as his hands grazed over your sides, moving up slightly to look down at you. “I’ve been wanting to do this since the moment I laid eyes on you, jesus” He groaned, his fingers trailing down your ribs before stopping at your waist, grabbing onto the hem of your tanktop before gently stripping it off you. He moved a hand behind you when he helped you out of the top to continue on your bra, sliding it down your arms before throwing it to join your tanktop on the floor. In-ho propped himself up to take in your exposed body, pulling at your sweatpants before pushing them down your legs, the only garment covering you now being your panties.

Your fingers clawed at his back before he lowered himself down on top of you again, moving his head down to let his teeth graze over the sensitive skin of your neck before sucking at exactly the right spot, unable to hold down the moan that escaped your lips. One of his hands trailed down your chest to your stomach before stopping at the hem of your panties, his fingers teasing at the edge before moving further down, rubbing you through the soft fabric. You both let out a gasp as you moved your hands under his shirt, his warm skin under your fingertips driving you even further to the edge as you closed your eyes, pressing your face into his neck, his heavy breathing loud against your ear.

“I can barely hold myself back, I need to be inside you” In-ho groaned, a gasp escaping you before pulling off his shirt, In-ho moving back to let you move it over his head, disposing it next to your pile of clothes, his pants following soon after. “Please..” You muttered as you moved a hand up in his thick dark hair, both of your underwear joining the floor soon after, his hand back between your legs as he spat on his fingers before easing two of them inside you. You couldn’t make out which of your moans was louder when your walls clenched around his index and middle finger, his other hand digging into your waist.

“I need to fuck you” In-ho growled against your neck, moving his fingers out of you before moving them between his lips to clean off your juices, his hands on both sides of your head, dug into the pillows of the couch beneath you. “I want you to, In-ho please..” You mewled as he moved himself against you, one hand wrapped around your throat as he slowly pushed into you, closing your eyes as he pressed his forehead against yours. One of your hands was on his back, your nails pressing half moons into his skin when he picked up his pace, your other hand pulling on his hair every time he thrusted into you. In-ho pressed his body even closer to you, his arms wrapped around you as you felt his warm pants on your face, your eyes meeting his which caused a deep groan to leave him, his tongue meeting yours in a messy kiss.

“You feel like heaven, fuck” In-ho muttered against your lips, feeling that he had to hold back in order not to fill you up already, wanting to savor this moment as long as he could. “I want to feel you cum inside me, In-ho” You moaned as he looked down at you, feeling his body stutter at your words before fucking into you completely, causing a loud moan to leave you as he thrusted into you as deep as he could. “Such a good girl for me..” In-ho moaned as you felt pressure building inside your belly as he fucked you into the couch, both of your bodies starting to get covered in sweat as your moans filled the room. You hooked your legs behind his back to somehow urge him even deeper, feeling a shiver spread through him before burying himself inside you, a load growl escaping him as he pressed his face against your neck. Both of your hands in your hair as you let him ride out his orgasm, his arms wrapped around you so tight you had trouble breathing. You felt him fill you up completely as he slowed down before stopping, still buried deep inside you as you felt his cum leak out of you, dripping down your lips.

When he finally caught his breath he moved his head up to meet your cloudy gaze, his pupils dilated so wide his eyes looked black, lowering his head so his nose rubbed against yours before pressing a soft kiss on your lips. He carefully moved out of you as he moved to lie down behind you, rolling over on your side as In-ho moved against you. His arms wrapped around you as he buried his nose into the crook of your neck, moving your hand up to grab onto his lower arm as you eased against his warm chest. “In-ho, I-…” “Shh, let keep the talking for tomorrow yeah? For tonight.. I am far from done with you” He interrupted you, unable to hide the grin on your face when his lips pressed to your neck, pulling you even closer against him, knowing you were in for a very long night..

[icequeenlila]

oblivious Vander x jealous Silco

“See those girls over there? They seem plenty interested”, Silco said, taking another sip from his drink.

He had to switch to beer like half an hour ago, because working in the mines only paid you so much. Vander watched with a chuckle as his friend scrunched his nose at the bitter taste.

“Y’ could probably walk over ‘n simply grab one by the wrist”, Silco slurred, and Vander couldn’t help but huff out a laugh at the way the man’s eyes went a little cross-eyed as he checked the bottom of his empty glass.

It was the weekend and they were both well beyond wasted. They’d come here with Felicia, but as usual the girl had scuttered off to chat up every single person who was willing to listen. She was an extraordinary yapper on a normal day, the alcohol only boosted her confidence.

“Not interested”, Vander said after a brief glance towards the giggely group of girls. “I’m too comfortable here.”

It was true. The booze had warmed up his body and his mind felt comfortably numb. The booth he and Silco were sitting in was cozy, and their legs were entangled beneath the table. His mouth was curled into a constant smile, as usually when he was drunk.

Silco looked up at him with droopy eyes, his chin resting on one hand. He quirked an eyebrow at Vander, the usual sharp expression softened by too much booze. Vander would have to make sure his friend made it home safe, later.

“You’re the only guy I know who’d pass on that”, Silco said, lifting the glass to his lips.

Vander chuckled at the comment, watching as Silco threw back his head to make the last drops of liquor pour into his mouth. He watched Silco’s Adams apple bob up and down, transfixed by the motion.

The cozy warmth that had settled in his body suddenly felt like thrumming heat. Vander tightened the grip on his own drink, unable to look away. Silco’s neck was long and pretty and bared to Vander entirely. If he wanted, he could simply reach across the table and wrap his hand around his friend’s neck. He bet his fingers would encircle it entirely, his thumb placed on Silco’s Adams apple, feeling it work beneath soft skin.

God, he had to lay off the booze.

Vander almost jumped in his seat when Silco suddenly slammed the heavy glass onto the table, letting out a monster of a belch from the depths of his chest, successfully putting an end to the inappropriate daydream he was having.

Instead, Vander felt the muscles in his belly pull tight as he doubled over laughing. He loved this about drunk Silco; past a certain alcohol level, he lost his manners.

“I hate beer”, Silco muttered, frowning at his empty glass. “We need more.”

“I think you’re done for today”, Vander said, his voice still shaky with laughter. He wiped a tear from his eye, leaning back against the cushioned booth. “You just outdid Felicia’s death-belch.”

Silco looked at him, unimpressed. “I bet she would argue with you on that.”

He moved to stand, but Vander hooked his foot behind Silco’s heel beneath the table, making him slip and flop back down into his seat.

Silco blinked at him, then he looked down at the table, then back at him.

Another chuckle escaped Vander. He loved how his friend lost all his elegance after one too many drinks.

“Got a problem, Bozo two?” Silco quirked a brow at him.

Vander shook his head, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “Not at all”, he said. “I just think it’s time to go home.”

Silco cocked his head. “And I think I need another drink.”

Again, he moved to stand, and again, Vander stopped him from doing so.

“That’s mobbing”, Silco said, tone dry. “I’m gonna tell Felicia.”

Vander was still smiling. “I think she’ll side with me on this one.”

“Really?” Another quirk of Silco’s eyebrow. “You think Queen Booze will agree?”

“In this case, yes”, Vander said, resting his chin in one hand. “Also, other than you, she’s able to hold her liquor.” He reached out, flicking the strand of hair that always hung into Silco’s face. “As much as I like to hold your pretty hair when you need to throw up, I believe you wanna spare yourself the experience.”

Silco crossed his arms, giving him a sarcastic smile.

Vander chuckled at the sight. Silco looked so pretty in the dimmed light of the bar. Of course he looked pretty in every light. Vander really had to lay off the booze.

“You’re such a nanny”, Silco muttered, looking out at the crowd.

Vander grinned at the comment. “Someone has to take care of you.”

He could see Silco roll his eyes, and his smile grew even wider.

His friend had put on eyeliner, like he always did when they were going out. After spending half the night dancing and sweating, it had gotten slightly smudged, drawing a fine black shadow beneath his pretty eyes. It made the pale blue of his eyes pop out even more.

“Your fan club is staring at us again”, Silco muttered. Vander quirked a brow at the displeased tone in his friend's voice.

He followed Silco’s gaze and found the group of girls whispering and giggling to each other, one of them waving over at him. He gave a short acknowledging nod, which was enough to have them cheering in hushed voices and sticking their heads together in excitement.

Vander chuckled at their antics before turning away. He looked back at Silco, finding him in an increasingly bad mood. He could tell by the crinkle between his eyes and the little pout on his lips.

Vander thought he looked cute like that. Again, he reminded himself to quit drinking for today.

Silco wasn’t looking at Vander, his arms still crossed.

“Hey, Bozo one”, Vander teased. “What are you thinking about?”

Silco gave him a short side glance, before looking back at the dancing crowd. “I’m thinking that I need another drink.”

He sounded almost grumpy now. Another thing Vander loved about drunk Silco; no filter.

“What?” Vander tugged at a dark strand. “You're jealous because I have a fan club and you don’t?”

He tugged again, and finally Silco turned to face him. The glare had deepened on his face.

“Sure”, he muttered. “That’s my problem.”

Vander cocked his head at the sarcastic tone in his voice. A down side of himself getting a little too drunk; he grew slow, especially when it came to social interaction.

Silco caught the questioning look on his face, and quickly deflected.

“Usually I have the suitors lining up, and you know it”, he said, holding his nose a little higher. “You’re just scaring them off tonight.”

A chuckle escaped Vander. “What, because I’m not standing behind the bar for once?”

“Exactly”, Silco said with a shrug of his shoulder. “People think I’m here with you.”

Vander frowned. “You are here with me.”

Like he said before; slow.

Silco studied his face, searching for something there.

“Not what I meant”, he said after a while.

Vander frowned harder, and Silco rolled his eyes.

“I have to use the bathroom”, Silco said, detangling his feet from Vander’s. “See you in a few. If you’re still here then.”

“Where would I go?”, Vander asked as he watched his friend stand up.

Silco looked down at him with his pretty, blue eyes, and an expression that said ‘really?’ inside them.

Vander kept staring up in his pretty blues. He realized the booze had gotten to him more than he’d thought in the beginning.

When he still wouldn’t get it, Silco let out a defeated sigh, slipping out of the booth. His eyes caught on that group of girls again. Vander didn’t understand how they bothered him that much. He himself wouldn’t even have noticed them if Silco wouldn't have pointed it out to him.

Their giggling became pretty loud now; another thing Vander wouldn’t have noticed if Silco wasn’t staring at them so intently.

“On second thought”, Silco muttered when he watched one of the girls get up as if to come over. Her fellow friends cheered her on. “Take me home.”

Vander raised his eyebrows. “Huh?”

Silco turned to face him, blue eyes locking on his, and a demanding hand held out to him. “I’ve had enough drinks. Take me home.”

+

Wrote this out of a mood. It ends here bc my sis came in and asked me to play Mario Cart with her.

[lee-laurent]

California Lovin' - Quinn Hughes

Summary: quinn's new fling has an... interesting history

content: CHEATING (it's like the majority of the plot, so...), implied sex but no smut, heavy make out, angst (lots of it), cliffhanger

wc: 6.4k

notes: hey! maybe this is cliché. idk... but i wanna state that you're not really supposed to like izzy or be cheering for her. you'll see!! she has some likable characteristics but don't let her fool you...

Isabelle Abbott was the kind of girl who turned heads without even trying. Sun-kissed blonde hair that seemed to fall perfectly no matter how she styled it, legs that went on for miles, and a smile so effortlessly bright it could make you forget what you were saying mid-sentence. She had that kind of charm that made her seem both unattainable and approachable all at once.

She wasn't just beautiful; she was magnetic. The type of girl you'd expect to see on the arm of someone like Trevor Zegras.

They'd been official for just over a year, long enough that her presence had become a constant in his life. She'd been there for the big wins and the tough losses, the nights out with his teammates, and the quiet nights spent on their sofa. Izzy knew all his quirks--the way he tapped his stick twice before every faceoff, the bad jokes he told when he was nervous (something that rarely happened), the playlists he swore were good.

And just as importantly, she knew his friends.

Trevor had wasted no time introducing her to the core group of guys who meant the most to him: his teammates, his childhood buddies, and the Hughes brothers.

She'd met Jack first, a whirlwind introduction at a bar last summer when Trevor had dragged her out to meet "the boys." Jack, all grins, had immediately taken to her, cracking jokes and trying to get a rise out of her like they'd known each other for years.

Then there was Luke, quieter but just as sharp and sarcastic as Jack. Izzy had a soft spot for Luke; he reminded her of Trevor in his less flashy moments.

And finally, Quinn. She'd only met him a handful times compared to his brothers, but he still stood out. He wasn't as loud or playful as Jack and Trevor, but that made him all the more interesting. He wasn't the kind to fill silences with mindless chatter. When Quinn spoke, it was deliberate, like every word mattered.

Trevor thought Quinn was the greatest thing to ever happen to the world. Always trying to make him laugh but also teasing him relentlessly.

So when Trevor suggested that the three boys come stay with them in California for a week during the offseason, Izzy had been all for it.

"C'mon," he'd said, leaning against the kitchen counter while Izzy poured herself a drink. "It'll be fun. You like them, right?"

Izzy laughed. "I've only met them a couple of times, Trev. But sure, it sounds great."

"Trust me, you'll love it," he nodded, crossing the kitchen to wrap his arms around her waist. "We'll hit the beach, throw a party... You can show them what California living is all about."

She'd agreed without hesitation, jumping at the opportunity to play tour guide. But she didn't realize that the week ahead would be anything but carefree.

~~

The boys had only been in California for three days, but Trevor had wasted no time planning a party that would be, in his words, "one for the books."

The house was packed. Music blared and energy seemed to buzz from every corner. Friends, teammates, and a few faces no one seemed to recognize mingled in the open-concept living space, spilling out onto the backyard patio where string lights twinkled over their hot tub.

Quinn sat on the arm of the sofa, nursing a beer and half-listening to what Jack was talking about with one of their fellow hockey players. His attention kept wandering, and somehow always landing on... her.

Izzy moved through the crowd like she belonged there, laughing at something one of her and Trevor's friends said as she brushed a strand of blonde hair over her shoulder. She wore a sundress, the kind that fit her frame in a way that was impossible not to stare at.

She was radiant, and Quinn hated himself for noticing. But it wasn't just her looks that caught his eye--it was her laugh and the way her gaze kept finding him, even when it shouldn't have.

Quinn told himself he was imagining it. Izzy was Trevor's girlfriend, for God's sake. She wasn't looking at him like that. But every time he'd catch her glances, there was a moment--a flicker of something dangerous.

It made him feel sick to the stomach.

"Yo, you good?" Jack nudged him, bringing him back to the conversation.

"Yeah... sorry. Zoned out. What were you saying?" He focused on his brother, on anything but the girl across the room who was making it impossible to breathe properly.

Hours later, the party was still going strong. Trevor was in his element, leading the crowd in some ridiculous drinking game while Izzy stood by his side, laughing at him. Quinn tried to keep his distance, sticking with Jack and Luke, but as the night wore on, the crowd thinned, and it became harder to avoid her.

It happened in the kitchen. Quinn had gone to grab another beer, hoping the cool air coming through the open window would clear his head. Instead, he found Izzy already there, drink in hand.

"Quinn," she smiled. "Hiding out?"

"Not hiding," he said neutrally. "Just grabbing a drink."

She smiled, tilting her head. "You don't seem like the party type."

"I... I guess I'm not," he admitted.

Izzy laughed softly. "I figured." She stepped closer, and Quinn's pulse picked up. She wasn't doing anything overtly inappropriate--just standing near him--but the air felt charged.

"You've been quiet the last few days," she said, her tone casual but her eyes anything but. "Is something wrong?"

Quinn shook his head, gripping the neck of his beer bottle tighter than necessary. "Nope. Everything's fine."

"You sure?" she pressed. Her eyes lingering on him, the corners of her lips turning up in a knowing smile.

"I'm sure." He took a step back, desperately needing the space to breathe. "Shouldn't you be with Trevor?"

Izzy shrugged. "He's busy winning at every drinking game ever. I don't think he's even noticed I'm gone."

Quinn didn't respoind, his throat tight. He could feel her eyes on him, searching, waiting.

"Quinn," she said softly. "You don't have to avoid me, you know."

"I'm not--"

"Yeah, you are." She smiled again, but this time it felt different--sharper, more deliberate. "I've noticed."

The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Before Quinn could figure out what to say, Izzy stepped back, brushing past him as she moved toward the door. "I'll see you later," she said over her shoulder.

Quinn exhaled slowly, the beer in his hand long forgotten.

~~

By the time the party started winding down, the house was a mess of empty cans and discarded plastic cups. Trevor was out cold on the living room couch, one arm draped over his face and a lopsided grin still frozen in place from whatever dream he was having. Jack and Luke were somewhere outside in the yard, their laughter carrying faintly through the screen door onto the patio.

Quinn felt like a ghost, floating through the night with a dull buzz in his head. He wasn't drunk, not completely, but he wasn't sober either. He just wanted to crash. The beer he'd been nursing for at least the past hour dangled loosely in his hand as he trudged down the hallway, trying to remember which room Trevor said the brothers could use.

He opened the wrong door.

The overhead light was off, but the soft glow of a bedside lamp illuminated the room. Quinn blinked, realizing too late that this was the master bedroom--Trevor and Izzy's room.

"Quinn?"

Her voice startled him. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, barefoot, her dress wrinkled from the night. A half-empty glass of wine sat on the nightstand, her blonde hair spilling over one shoulder like Rapunzel.

"Shit, sorry," he said quickly, backing toward the door. "I didn't--uh--I thought this was--"

Izzy smiled faintly, waving him off. "It's fine. You're not the first one to stumble into the wrong room tonight." She studied him for a moment. "You okay?"

"Yeah... just tired."

"Me too," she admitted, gesturing to the wine glass. "Figured I'd stay out of the way while Trevor passed out. He's got a talent for snoring really fucking loudly."

Quinn chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. "Sounds about right."

"Do you not like me or something?" Izzy asked suddenly, her voice light, but with a certain edge to it. "I get the feeling I make you uncomfortable or something."

Quinn frowned, completely caught off guard. "What? No. It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

Quinn felt the familiar sickness in his stomach--the way she commanded his attention with such ease. The alcohol in his system dulled the part of his brain screaming at him to leave, to walk away.

"It's nothing."

Izzy didn't look convinced. "You're not a very good liar, Quinn."

He exhaled, running his free hand through his hair. "Look, you're Trevor's girlfriend. I don't--this isn't--"

She stood then, stepping closer, and his breath hitched. Her bare feet made no sound on the rug, but in his mind she might as well have been stomping.

"You didn't answer my question," she teased.

"I don't think I should be here."

Izzy reached out, her fingers brushing his arm. "Why not?"

The contact sent a jolt through him that made his heart race. "Because," he said, his voice rough, "this is your room. Trevor's room."

She didn't step back. If anything, she moved closer, the scent of her perfume wrapping around him, dizzying and sweet. "Trevor's asleep," she said, her voice low, like a confession.

"That's not the point," Quinn said, though his voice lacked conviction.

"You're so serious all the time. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, trying to focus on anything but her face.

"I kind of like it," she said, her hand dropping to her side but her gaze still fixed on him.

Quinn shook his head, trying to clear the fog that had settled over him. "Izzy, I should go."

"Then go," she said simply, but there was a challenge in her tone, like she knew he wouldn't.

And he didn't.

Before he could stop himself, his hand was on her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss was clumsy at first--driven by the alcohol coursing through their veins. Her hands found his shoulders, his neck, threading into his hair as he backed her up against the edge of the bed.

"Quinn," she murmured against his lips, her voice breathless.

His mind screamed at him to stop, to pull back, but his body wouldn't listen. He pressed her down onto the mattress, his weight pinning her beneath him as their movements grew more desperate, more frantic.

It was reckless. Stupid.

Unforgivable.

But in that moment, it didn't matter.

~~

It was months before they saw each other again. Months since the night at the party, since Quinn had told himself it was a mistake, a one-time lapse in judgement that would--could--never happen again.

He'd done everything he could to push it out of his mind. He didn't think about the way her lips tasted like expensive wine, or the way her nails had dragged across his skin. He didn't think about the way she'd looked at him in the aftermath, her chest rising and falling as if she'd won some unspoken challenge.

Quinn had convinced himself he'd moved on, that he could face her without feeling like his lungs had collapsed.

But now, standing outside the visitor's locker room at the Honda Center, waiting for the postgame media shuffle to finish, he realized how wrong he'd been.

He hadn't expected to see her. He wasn't even sure if she went to Trevor's games, but when he spotted her in the stands during warmups, it felt like he'd forgotten how to breathe. She'd been sitting near the glass with some of the other WAGs, smiling and waving at Trevor, looking just as amazing as he remembered.

Maybe even more so.

"Stop it," he'd muttered to himself, forcing his eyes back to the ice.

He hadn't said a word to her, hadn't even looked her way since he spotted her. But as the hallway finally cleared and Quinn started toward the bus back to the hotel, a voice stopped him cold.

"Quinn."

He turned before he could think better of it. She was standing a few feet away, dressed in a simple white blouse and dark jeans that clung to her legs. Her hair was loose, falling over her shoulders, and she had that same unreadable expression--the one that made him feel like puking.

"Izzy," he said flatly. "What are you doing here?"

Her smile was small, almost coy. "It's a Ducks game, Quinn. Where else would I be?"

He glanced down the hallway, as if Trevor might appear out of nowhere. "You shouldn't be here."

"Relax," she said, crossing her arms. "Trevor's still in the locker room. He takes a long postgame shower."

Quinn exhaled, shaking his head. "I don't have time for this."

"For what?" she asked, stepping closer.

"This." He gestured vaguely between them, his voice sharp. "Whatever you think you're doing."

Izzy's smile faltered, but only for a moment. She tilted her head, studying him with that same unsettling intensity. "You're still mad about the summer, aren't you?"

Quinn's jaw tightened. "I'm not mad."

"Really? Because you seem mad."

"I'm not," he insisted, though the heat in his chest told a different story. "I just--I don't want anything to do with this, Izzy. What happened was a mistake."

She took another step forward, standing right in front of him. "You keep saying that."

"Because it's true."

"Then why are you still standing here?"

Quinn didn't have an answer for that.

Izzy reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against his forearm. It was a small gesture, but it sent a shiver down his spine. "You can tell yourself whatever you want, Quinn," she whispered. "But that didn't stop you last time."

His eyes looked into hers, sharp and conflicted. "I should have."

"But you didn't."

Then tension was suffocating. Quinn could feel any walls he'd built up crumbling down, one by one, every second he spent standing there with her.

"This isn't fair," he said, his voice strained.

"Life's not fair, Quinn."

She looked around, stepping even closer, her hand sliding up his chest. He should have walked out of the building without looking back.

But then she rose onto her toes, her lips brushing against his jaw, and his mind blanked.

"What about Trevor?" he asked weakly.

"I'll tell him I'm getting drinks with the girls... and we can go to your hotel," she murmured, her lips now at the corner of his mouth.

And just like last time, before he could think, his hands were on her hips, pulling her flush against him. Their lips crashed together, desperate and heated, all the tension returning.

Quinn backed her against a wall, fingers tangling in her hair as the kiss deepened. Somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, a voice screamed at him to remember who she was, who he was betraying.

But he ignored it.

He'd always ignore it when it came to Izzy.

~~

It became routine.

Every time Quinn and Izzy crossed paths, they found a way to each other. Whether it was after a game or an impromptu hangout the boys had when their schedules aligned, it was like clockwork. Quinn stopped pretending to resist, and Izzy didn't bother to hide her intentions anymore.

The thrill was addictive. Dangerous.

It wasn't just about the physical attraction anymore, though that part was undeniable. The heat between them was impossible to ignore, but it was the stolen glances, the late-night whispers, and the texts that came at all hours that made it impossible to walk away.

They texted constantly, their conversations ranging from innocent to anything but.

Iz: big game tomorrow... don't choke Q: Big game for Trevor, you mean Iz: aren't you just adorable when you're jealous Q: Not jealous. Just don't know why you're texting me when he's probably laying right beside you Iz: maybe i just like talking to you more

Quinn rolled his eyes every time she said things like that, but it didn't stop him from replying.

~~

It wasn't planned. It never was.

Quinn found her waiting for him in a dimly lit hallway leading to the parking garage, her arms crossed casually as if she belonged there.

"What're you doing?" he asked, glancing around nervously.

"Seeing you," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Trevor's gonna be looking for you."

Izzy smirked. "He won't notice. He's too busy bragging about the goal he scored."

Quinn frowned, but his resistance was already wearing thin. "Relax," she whispered. "No one's gonna know."

He sighed. "Iz, you need to stop doing this."

"Doing what?"

"This. You have to end it. End things with Trevor."

"We've been over this."

"And I'm serious. This isn't fair to anyone involved."

"You think I don't know that?" she blinked.

"Then why don't you stop?"

"Why won't you?" she countered.

Quinn opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, her lips were on his, silencing whatever argument he was about to make. It didn't matter how many times it happened--every touch felt like the first, and every kiss made it harder to remember why he'd even tried to resist.

~~

Trevor wasn't blind.

He'd noticed the way Izzy's phone was practically glued to her hand lately, the way she'd smile faintly at the screen before locking it when he asked what was so funny.

He wasn't the kind of guy to get jealous, though. Izzy loved him--he knew that. She'd been with him through the highs and lows of the past year, and she wasn't the type to mess around.

At least, that's what he told himself.

Still, the little things nagged at him. Like the time he caught her texting someone late at night and she brushed it off as her "group chat." Or the way she seemed to get a little too excited when they were scheduled to play in Vancouver.

"Everything okay?" he asked one night as they sat on the couch, her legs thrown over his lap.

"Of course, baby," she looked up from her phone.

"You've been on that thing a lot lately."

Izzy shrugged, setting the phone aside. "Just keeping up with people. You know how it is."

Trevor nodded, forcing a smile. He didn't want to push it. He didn't want to be that guy.

But later that night, as Izzy lay curled up beside him, her phone lighting up with a notification she didn't check, Trevor couldn't help but wonder who she was talking to so often.

~~

The next time Quinn brought it up, they were tangled in the sheets of a hotel room, the scent of her perfume still clinging to his skin.

"You have to end things with him."

Izzy sighed, propping herself up on one elbow to look at him. "We've talked about this."

"And I'm going to keep talking about it," he said, his jaw tight. "You can't keep doing this to him. Or me."

"I love him, Quinn."

"Stop saying that," he snapped, his voice harsher than he intended.

"It's true," she continued calmly. "Just because this is happening doesn't mean I don't love him."

Quinn stared at her oddly. "If you loved him, you wouldn't be here."

Izzy didn't respond right away, mindlessly drawing shapes on Quinn's bicep. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. "Maybe I'm selfish," she admitted. "Maybe I want too much. But that doesn't mean I don't care about him."

Quinn looked away. He hated how easily she justified it, how effortlessly she made him doubt his own convictions.

And he hated that, despite everything, he couldn't bring himself to let her go.

~~

Jack's invitation to the lake house was supposed to be simple--just a week of relaxation before the grind of training camps began. It was a tradition, one Trevor always looked forward to. But when he told Izzy about it, her reaction was electric.

"A lake house?" she said, her eyes lighting up. "That sounds amazing!"

"You'll love it, Iz," Trevor promised, pecking her lips. "You know the boys are a good time. You'll get along great with their mom too--she usually comes to check on us for a day or two.

Izzy was already planning her outfits by the time Trevor texted Jack back with a yes.

For Quinn, the news hit like a punch to the gut.

The idea of spending days in close quarters with Izzy was enough to make his head spin. He knew how she was--playful, bold, and dangerously good at making everything seem innocent. She had a way of looking at him when no one else was watching, a flicker of heat in her eyes that sent him into fight or flight.

And now he'd have to spend days around her, watching her with Trevor.

He could already picture it: Izzy lounging on the dock in a bikini, laughing at Trevor's jokes like she hadn't cheated on him multiple times. The thought made him sick, but it wasn't just jealousy--it was guilt.

She acted so in love with Trevor, so infatuated with him, like she wasn't betraying him every tim she texted Quinn late at night or met him in hotel rooms after games.

It wasn't fair, not to Trevor, not to him, and not to her.

But Izzy didn't seem to care about fair.

~~

Izzy practically bounced out of the car when they arrived, her sunglasses perched on top of her head and her tote bag slung over her shoulder. "This place is fucking stunning, Trev!" she exlaimed, spinning around to take it all in.

Trevor laughed. "Told you."

Quinn hung back as they entered the house, his chest tight as Izzy greeted Jack with a hug and her perfect smile. Luke gave her a quick wave before disappearing into the kitchen, and Quinn could already hear voices floating around him.

"Quinn," Trevor said, clapping him on the shoulder. "This is gonna be fun, man. Loosen up a bit, will ya."

"Yeah... fun."

~~

From that moment on, Izzy played the part of the perfect girlfriend.

She was all smiles and affection, her laughter filling the house like sunlight. She and Trevor were inseperable--always touching, always smiling, always wrapped up in each other like they couldn't bear to be apart.

She sat on his lap at breakfast, stealing bites of his toast and feeding him pieces of fruit while everyone else groaned about the PDA. She looped her arms around his neck whenever they were standing still, leaning in to kiss him without hesitation.

When they lounged by the lake, she curled up beside him on a towel, her head resting on his chest while he lazily traced circles on her back.

It was infuriating.

To anyone else, they looked perfect together--young and in love, the kind of couple that made people smile. But Quinn knew better. He knew what it felt like to have Izzy's hands on him, her lips against his, her whispered promises that didn't mean anything but still managed to undo him.

And now, here she was, acting like none of it had ever happened.

~~

Quinn wasn't sure if she was doing it on purpose at first.

The way she walked around in nothing but bikini bottoms and one of Trevor's oversized T-shirts, the hem just barely grazing the top of her thighs. They way she brushed past him in the hallway, her fingers grazing his arm like it was an accident.

But then there were the moments that felt too deliberate to ignore.

Like the time she came back from the dock, her skin damp and glistening from the lake, her tiny bikini barely covering her body. She passed Quinn on her way to the kitchen, her fingers toying with the string of her top as if she was adjusting it.

"You're looking a little sunburned," she said, her voice light and teasing. "Need some sunscreen?"

He gritted his teeth, staring at the table in front of him. "I'm fine."

Izzy smiled, lingering just long enough to make him uncomfortable before turning and heading toward Trevor, her laughter floating back to him like a challenge.

It only seemed to get worse as time went on.

She'd stretch out on the dock in the smallest swimsuits Quinn had ever seen, her body bathed in sunlight as she flipped through books or scrolled on her phone. When Trevor leaned down to kiss her, she'd reach up to tug him closer, her laughter sickeningly sweet as she teased him about his tan lines.

And yet, she never stopped looking at Quinn.

Every time he looked her way, she was already watching him, her eyes sparkling. When they passed each other in the house, she'd tilt her head just slightly, holding her bottom lip between her teeth.

The worst was when she leaned over him during a game of cards, pretending to reach for her drink. Her hand brushed his arm, her boobs were practically in his face, and Quinn had to pretend he wasn't staring right at them.

"Something wrong, Quinn?" she's whispered.

"Maybe you should worry less about me and more about Trevor," he spat back under his breath.

Quinn felt like he was unraveling. He tried to avoid her, but she was everywhere, always just within reach, always testing him.

Trevor, oblivious as ever, seemed the happiest Quinn had seen him. He spent hours attached to Izzy's side, partnering up for every game, whispering to each other. She laughed at all his jokes like he was the funniest man alive.

Quinn was starting to feel like he hated her. Hated her for what she was doing. But he hated himself more for letting her get to him.

~~

His breaking point happened the afternoon of the fourth day there. The others were down by the dock, preparing the boat for a trip around the lake. Quinn had stayed behind, claiming he needed a break from the sun, though really he just needed space.

He was sitting in his room, trying to focus on the latest book he'd picked up, when the door creaked open. He looked up, heart sinking the moment he saw her.

Izzy stood in the doorway, barefoot and dripping wet from the lake, her hair slicked back. One of Trevor's t-shirts was slung over her shoulder, but she hadn't bothered putting it on.

"What are you doing here?"

"You ask me that a lot," she teased, earning just an eye roll in return. "But I was looking for you." She stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, standing up.

"Ugh, you keep saying that too."

"Because it's true, Isabelle. They're all right outside. Trevor's right outside."

"So? He's not gonna come looking for me."

Quinn clenched his fists. "Do you enjoy this? Pushing me until I can't think straight? Watching me lose my fucking mind while you play house with him?"

Her smile fell and Quinn thought, for a moment, she might actually leave. But then she stepped closer.

"I'm not trying to hurt you, Quinn."

"Bullshit."

She flinched slightly, but didn't stop moving toward him. "You think this is easy for me?"

"Then stop," he said, his voice breaking. "Stop doing this. Stop looking at me like that. Stop--"

She placed a hand on his cheek and whatever argument he was building went out the window.

~~

Quinn didn't know how they ended up in the bathroom, their lips crashing together. Izzy's hands were on his chest, pulling him closer as the water from the shower rained down around them, soaking his clothes and her bikini.

"I hate you," he muttered against her lips, his hands gripping her hips like he couldn't bear to let go.

"No, you don't," she whispered back, her voice breathless and taunting.

He didn't. That was the problem.

Her fingers tangled in his hair as he pressed her against the tiled wall, the steam from the water quickly filling the air. Every kiss was desperate, frantic, like they were trying to drown out the real world.

Quinn knew it was wrong. He knew what it would do to Trevor if he ever found out, what it was probably already doing to him. But in that moment, with Izzy's body pressed against his and her lips on his neck, he didn't care.

When it was over, they stood in silence, the water still running as they caught their breath.

Izzy was the first to move, brushing wet hair from her face as she stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. She didn't say anything, just shot him a knowing smile.

"You should go find Trevor before he notices," Quinn said hoarsely.

She wrapped the towerl around herself and turned to face him. "You could've stopped me."

"I probably should've."

Izzy laughed, shaking her head. He leaned in to kiss him one last time before slipping out his room.

Quinn stood there for a while, the water still pounding against his skin as the guilt settled in. It wouldn't happen again. But he'd told himself that so many times before.

~~

It had been a long day, but a good day. Sun-soaked hours spent on the boat, laughter, and drinks passed around as they floated on the lake. By the time they returned to the house, everyone was tired, their energy drained.

Trevor was in the kitchen grabbing a glass of water when he heard voices coming from the hallway. At first, he didn't think anything of it. But then he heard his name.

"Trevor doesn't know, Izzy. But he's gonna figure it out eventually," Quinn's voice was low but firm, laced with obvious frustration.

Trevor froze, the glass halfway to his lips.

"You don't know that," Izzy replied, almost like she was trying to soothe him.

"Yes, I do," Quinn shot back. "You think he hasn't noticed how much time you spend on your phone? How distracted you've been? He's not an idiot, Izzy."

There was a beat of silence, and then Izzy said, "It doesn't matter. I love him."

Trevor felt queasy. He stepped closer, careful to keep his movements quiet as he strained to hear more.

"You keep saying that. But if you really loved him, you wouldn't be doing this."

"Quinn--"

"No," he interrupted. "You need to end this. You need to tell him the turth and end it, or I will."

Trevor didn't need to hear more. He turned and walked quickly back to the guest room, his mind running a mile a minute.

Izzy came into the bedroom about fifteen minutes later, her hair slightly damp from a quick shower. She was wearing a Ducks' t-shirt, the same one she always wore to bed, her expression calm, serene.

But Trevor didn't look at her.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Fine," he said shortly, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at the floor.

Izzy frowned. "You don't sound fine."

"Who were you talking to just now?" he looked up.

Her eyes widened, barely, but it was enough. "What do you mean?"

"In the hallway. I heard you. You and Quinn."

Izzy froze. "Trevor, I don't--"

"Don't lie to me," he snapped, standing abruptly. "I heard you, Izzy. You think I haven't noticed? The way you've been acting? Who is it?"

"It's not what you think," she said quickly, her voice shaky.

"Then what is it?" Trevor demanded. "Because from where I'm standing, it sounds a hell of a lot like you're cheating on me."

"I'm not--" she started, but the words died on her lips.

"Don't. Do not lie to me, Isabelle. Just tell me the truth."

Tears welled in her eyes and she looked like she might actually come clean. But then she shook her head. "I love you, Trevor. I do"

"Stop saying that!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the room. "You don't get to say that when you're--" He broke off, clenching his fists at his sides. "Just tell me the truth. Who is it?"

Her silence spoke volumes.

Trevor laughed bitterly, running a hand through his hair. "It's him, isn't it? It's Quinn."

Her head snapped up. "Trevor--"

"Don't," he repeated, his voice raw. "Just... don't."

~~

The shouting started quietly at first--muffled voices behind the closed door of Trevor and Izzy's room. Quinn was sitting on the couch with Jack and Luke, flipping through the channel guide, when the volume spiked.

"Are they fighting?" Luke asked, frowning as he turned his head toward the hallway.

"Sounds like it," Jack said, brow furrowed. "Weird. They've been grossly happy all week."

Quinn didn't say anything. His chest constricting with every shout that echoed down the hall.

"I heard you, Izzy!" Trevor's voice roared, loud enough to carry through the house now. "You think I'm stupid? You think I didn't piece things together?"

Jack and Luke exchanged a concerned glance.

"Should we like check on them?" Luke asked hesitantly.

Before Jack could answer, the door to the guest room flew open. Trevor stormed down the hall, his face red with anger, his fists at his sides.

"Trevor," Izzy called after him, her voice panicked. "Wait--"

But he wasn't waiting. He was heading straight for the living room, his eyes locked on Quinn like a heat-seeking missile.

"What's going on?" Quinn asked, standing cautiously as Trevor approached.

"You," Trevor snarled, pointing at him. "You've been fucking her, haven't you?"

The room fell into stunned silence. Jack and Luke froze, their eyes darting between Trevor and Quinn.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jack asked incredulously.

"Don't play dumb," Trevor snapped, his gaze never leaving Quinn. "You've been sneaking around with her. Behind my back. Haven't you?"

"Trevor, you don't know what you're saying," Quinn started, his voice calm but strained.

"Don't!" Trevor barked, stepping closer. "Admit that you're a backstabbing piece of shit!"

Quinn's jaw tightened, his own anger bubbling to the surface. "It's not as simple as you think."

"Not as simple?" Trevor laughed bitterly. "What's not simple about you fucking my girlfriend?"

"Trevor--"

"Shut up!" Trevor's palm collided with Quinn's chest, shoving him back a step. "You don't get to talk. You don't get to justify this."

"I'm not justifying anything," Quinn snapped, shoving him back. "But maybe you should take a good, hard look at yourself before you start pointing fingers."

Trevor's face twisted in confusion. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you've been so busy treating Izzy like arm candy that you don't even know her," Quinn shot back. "You're too wrapped up in hockey and showing her off to even care about what's going on in her life. Do you even know her favourite book? Her favourite movie? Hell, do you even know where she grew up?"

"Don't you dare--" Trevor lunged at him, but Quinn sidestepped just in time.

"You don't care about her," Quinn spat. "Not really. You care about how she makes you look. About having the perfect girlfriend. And she knows it."

"You don't know anything about us!" Trevor roared, swinging.

The punch connected with Quinn's jaw, sending him stumbling backward. The room erupted into chaos as Jack and Luke jumped up, rushing to pull them apart.

"Z, stop!" Jack shouted, grabbing him by the arms and dragging him back.

"Quinn, are you okay?" Luke asked, standing between them.

Quinn wiped his mouth, tasting blood. "I'm fine," he said lowly. He straightened, his gaze locked on Trevor. "But you're not."

"Get the hell away from me," Trevor growled, shaking Jack off. "I don't ever want to see your face again."

"Trevor--" Izzy's voice broke through the chaos as she appeared in the hall, her face red and tear-streaked.

"Don't," Trevor snapped, his voice cold. "Don't try to talk to me."

Her stormed out of the room, slamming the front door behind him.

~~

The house was unnervingly quiet after Trevor stormed out. Luke had retreated to his room, clearly shaken by what had just happened, and Izzy had disappeared somwehere, leaving Quinn alone in the living room with Jack.

Quinn sat on the edge of the couch, his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands. His jaw ached where Trevor's punch had landed, but the pain was nothing compared to the heaviness he felt.

Jack stood nearby, arms crossed, his face stern. He hadn't said much during the argument, but now that it was over, the silence between them was deafening.

Finally, he spoke.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Quinn didn't look up. "Jack, I--"

"No," Jack cut him off, his voice sharp. "I don't wanna hear it. Do you have any idea what you just did?"

"It wasn't just me, Jack. Izzy--"

"Izzy?" Jack's laugh was bitter. "Don't trying to pin this all on her. You're my brother, Quinn. You're supposed to be better than this."

"I know I fucked up. I didn't mean for it to happen--"

"But it did," Jack snapped, stepping closer. "And now what? Trevor's out there thinking his friend and his girlfriend stabbed him in the back, and Luke and I are stuck in the middle of your mess!"

Quinn stood. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't feel like shit about what happened?"

"Good," Jack shot back. "You should feel like shit."

"Jack, you don't understand. She--"

"Stop! Stop trying to justify it. Don't try to make it sound like it isn't your fault, Quinn. It was selfish. All of it. You knew what this would do, and you did it anyway."

"You think I wanted to ruin things?"

Jack's voice softened, but the disappointment in his eyes cut deeper than his anger. "I don't know what you wanted, Quinn. But you ruined it anyway."

Quinn looked away, unable to look his brother in the eye.

Jack sighed, shaking his head. "Trevor doesn't deserve this."

Quinn didn't respond. What could he say? Jack was right.

"You need to fix this," Jack continued flatly. "I don't know how, but you do."

And with that, he walked away too, leaving Quinn alone in the living room to drown in the guilt.

[superdupersunny420]

A Mug of Hot Chocolate - Roommate!Gojo (JJK) x GN!Reader

Blurb - Gojo knows how to warm up your day, with your fav mug of hot cocoa.

warnings - college!au, gojo calls you babe and sweatheart, might be a bit all over the place (it took me like a month to get motivation to finish this), might make this a mini series idk

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

It was the rustling of keys, the door swinging open and then the bang, of the door slammed shut.

You kicked the door behind you, using all the anger in your body and storm along to your room, not acknowledging the man on the couch, ice cream tub on his chest as he lays there, shitty shows playing on the TV.

“Woahhh, there! Gonna get us a noise complaint sweetheart!”

Satoru stands up, placing his open tub of ice cream on the coffee table as he runs a hand through his snow white hair and goes over to lock the door. Then, he heads to the kitchen. His bright blue eyes scan all the cabinets until he finds what he’s searching for. He plops two mugs onto the counter and gets to work.

Meanwhile, you’re stood in your room, bag flung into the corner, all your belongings spilling out. You stand in the middle of your room, unmoving, processing the day you’ve just had. First, it was that stupid lecturer who is no help for any assignments yet makes you feel like the stupid one. Then it’s the shitty partners you have for the group project, whose communication skills are worse than a rocks. And to top it all off, it’s the day at work where every customer seemed to have a stick up their ass.

You take a deep breath, hold it for a few seconds and exhale. As much as you want to stay in your room for the next few years and just let the Earth consume you whole, you really need to pee. So with a sigh and a quick pep talk to yourself, you open your door and start your tiny walk to the bathroom. Before you shut the bathroom door behind you though, you can hear the noises of the whipped cream can and can only assume what your roommate might be doing.

You wash your hands and look in the mirror, the bags under your eyes telling you everything you need to know. 'Why can't life be simple?' is a question that you ask yourself everyday and yet the answer is one you know you'll never get. You let out what feels like your hundredth sigh of the day and dry your hands, opening the bathroom door. However, what you didn't expect was Satoru falling straight by your feet, now lying on the floor.

"Fuck! You dumbass. You scared me... and what are you doing? Were you listening to me pee!?"

"Hey babe."

Satoru stares up at you, the same smirk resting on his face that you always see. You roll your eyes and wait for an answer.

"No, I was not listening, I went to see if you were rotting in your room but when you weren't there I assumed you were in the bathroom so I was waiting. The real question is why did it take you so long to pee?"

Satoru finally stands up (not without forcing you to 'help' him by grabbing your hand, which he proceeds to not let go of) and starts dragging you to the couch.

"But that doesn't matter, come watch shitty shows with me, I made your fav."

He plops onto the couch, lying across it and opens his arms. This wasn't a rare occurrence for you two, Satoru would often harass you until he's got you successfully trapped between his arms, cuddling him into the early hours. It makes you question what you two really are but, that's a discussion for another night. Right now, he waits, a smile resting on his face and when you look at the table, you see your favourite mug filled with hot chocolate with a good dollop of whipped cream on top. Satoru’s sits next to yours, though already half drunk.

You pick up your mug and take your position on the couch, sitting between Satoru's legs, back resting across his chest. One of his arms sneak around your waist while the other picks up the remote and starts flicking through channels. You take your first sip as Satoru speaks.

"Y'know I love seeing you riled up sweetheart, but you almost took the door off its hinges."

You snort and shake your head.

"Sorry, Toru."

Oh, how he loves hearing that name from your lips.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You know he means whatever caused your little outburst earlier but, you could tell him later. You're quite content with your current arrangement.

And so, you shake your head, taking another sip of your hot chocolate and smile.

"I'm okay the now. Thank you, toru."

Satoru smiles and puts the remote down, settling for some over dramatic reality show, and wraps his arm around you. He would always be there, ready with a warm mug and open arms, willing to listen to anything you want to rant about. He knows you would do the same for him and he only wishes to keep that cute smile on your face whenever he is there. He wants to tell you that, that no matter what, you can come to him and he will be there, forever and always, that he needs no thanks because this is the bare minimum you deserve, that yeah, maybe life isn't simple but he can be there to make it a little simpler, but instead he settles for an easy;

"Anything for you, sweetheart."

[vulpixisananimal]

[A:3 C:65] [Alex] |Jasmine|

“You, y-you . .” [Perci drew his swords, and was looking at you, eyes full of rage.]

“I could teleport us out, but I'm not prepared.” [Merlon was back to back with Perci, and their light was already crackling.] 

[You and Odile were facing Perci, and the rest of the party faced Merlon. You grinned.] “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet you stray.”

[Siffrin let out a chuckle as Merlon shot you a dirty look.] “No need for name calling now!”

“Oh, oh there is quite a need for name calling.” [Despite his damaged appearance, Siffr-Asterion was able to smile.] “my good binary star.”

“Stop that, Stargazer!” [They snap back.] “Who raised you to be so rude.”

“And who raised you to be such a, a CRAB!!” [Mirabelle yells.]

"My!” [Odile chuckles.] “You’ve even got Mirabelle up in arms. You’ve really done it now.”

“Fine.” [Merlon tapped her foot.] “If we need to fight you, then we will. Right, Cici- Perci?”

[So they noticed it too. Perci had gone quiet. He was staring at you, teeth gritted, breathing shallow, and his hands. . . They're shaking.]

“Perci, Cici, Percival!” [Adversaries forgotten, Merlon turned and shook Perci’s shoulder.] 

“Uh. . .” [Isabeau stands at ease.] “Is everything alright?”

“Really, big guy? Asking the big bad if everything's alright?” [Nille gives him a look.]

“What! It's only poli-”

(Do it again.)

[Wh- what was-(WHAM WHAM WHAM!!)-BLINDING! What is--]

(I-I'm sorry I'm sorry I-I-I won't WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM!!!)

[You grip your head and stumble back into the table. S-stars those aren't, your thoughts, they're, ah, how are you. . ACK--]

[Odile glances at you.] “Headache?”

“No.” [You shake-(No use lying. Again.)-your head Nille said you could now, but you hadn't until, now.] “I think I'm, hearing his thoughts.”

“Cici it's not real, it's not real you're okay. You're here with me, listen to me.” [Merlon puts a hand on his.]

(Please, no, more-)

[Perci snaps back, gasping and stumbling back. (Not real, not real, not real not real not real.)] “. . . I'm fine!”

“You are not!!” [Merlon keeps a hand on his as they turn to the other half of the group.] “I will transport us out of here-”

“NO! No.” [Perci slipped the mask of confidence back on and leaned back, whispering to Merlon.]

“. . . . . . . . . Weren't we gonna fight?” [Bonnie asks, annoyed.]

“Give them a second, Bonnie.” [Odile huffed.] “I'm sure the conversation is very important.”

[The two stopped whispering and Perci turned back to you, smiling.] “A bonded couple's argument, I'm sure you understand.”

“D-do you need a second? Or are we good to fight now.” [Mirabelle asks.]

“No no no! I’m alright now. Sorry about that.” [Perci chuckled, clearly covering for a slipped mask.] “Please, continue.”

“Well now that you're back to your senses. Ahem.” [You gesture dramatically to Asterion.] “Mind repeating yourself for the class?”

[Aster laughed, face softening.] “Oh I was just commenting on these binary stars!”

[Perci made a face.] “Why do I feel so. . . Attacked?”

“I believe it’s an islander insult, Cici.” [Merlon huffed and turned back.] “And it is, unfortunately, devastating.”

[The Monets glanced at each other, then both took a combat stance, Perci glared at you.] “Let’s just get this over with.”

[Odile pushes up her glasses. Odile analyzed the enemy!] “Percival Monet. Scissors craft. A highly advanced mind craft user, he’s reading your thoughts as I speak. Assume any plan of attack you have, he already knows about it. And for expressions sake don’t let him touch you!”

[You gave Odile a smug look and adjusted your glasses. You studied the enemy!] “Merlon Monet. Paper craft. Somehow, they have found a way to weaponize wish craft. Don’t take them lightly, or you’ll end up dead. She does have one weakness, eventually the wish craft will wear her out, and they’ll pass out.”

[You’re not fully sure how you remember all that, but right now it didn’t matter. Perci looks back to you, then his frown turns back into a smile.] “You want to fight so bad? Fine. We’ll fight!”

[In a smooth motion reminiscent of a dance, the Monets swapped places. Stepping to each other's left, Merlon turned to you and extended a wave of dangerous craft energy, while Perci rushed at the rest of the group.]

[You dived into Odile, both of you hitting the floor as the crackling energy passed above you. In a quick response, Odile held out a hand for [Scissors III]. Despite being defended by that light, Merlon stumbled back just a bit.]

[You get up off Odile and hold out your own paper sign. [Bramble Ramble!] And in a moment whisper rose brambles wrapped over the battlefield, that should slow them down.]

“Paper?” [Odile stands back up.] “You're not a paper type.”

“But I know paper moves.” [You reply, staring Merlon down.] “Why so surprised?”

[Merlon chuckles. Odile glances at her.] “Finding something funny, are we?”

“Oh yes, very funny.” [They waved a hand.] “I won’t spoil it.”

“How polite.” [Odile huffs, extending her sign. [Paper III]] 

[Whatever hand waving Merlon did, their shields of light were now much stronger as Odile’s attack did almost nothing. You grumbled and rushed in, pen-knife in hand. You strike, only to stop an inch away from Merlon's body, that light shielding them.]

“Stars. . !”

“Are you quite done yet?” [She reached forward and flicked your head with a finger. With a spark of light, you flew back, crashing into the table.]

[Starsdammit, you’re way underleveled. You struggle to stand as Odile gets in front of you.] “I believe we’ve never properly met each other, Merlon.”

“No, we have not.” [They hesitantly bow.] “Merlon Monet, as you very well know.”

“Odile.” [She bows back.] “No last name necessary. Now that we’re properly acquainted I can ask just how you’re able to use wishes in combat like you do.”

“Oh you know I can’t just pass out such secrets, Miss Odile.” [She puts a hand to their chin.] “But, let’s just say I’ve had many, many years of practice.”

“Is that so?” [Odile glances back as you finally stand again.] “So it’s no different from the wishes than any other person could do?”

“The only theoretical barrier is one's knowledge and willpower, Madame.” [She holds her hand out to the side.] “I’ve met none who have been able to match me, Madame, and it’s very dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing. So don’t try.”

“Oh trust me, I don’t plan to.” [Odile held out a hand, and you heard what could only be described as a thunderclap. Odile use [Craft Break Δ!!!]]

“How-!” [Merlon stumbled back, that light dissipating for a moment. You take the chance, and rush in again, taking a stab with your pen. You connect!!]

[Merlon stumbles back, clutching their side.] “You, how did-”

[They’re cut off by Mirabelles scream from across the room.]

“HE’S WHAT?!?”

<<<

(Siffrin) {Mal Du Pays} <Null> |Asterion| [Loop] [(Saffron)]

|Perci rushed right at you, a wild smile on his face that told you all you needed to know about this fight. You raise the katana in both hands to block his attack. Mirabelle lunges from the side but Perci twists one of his swords to block her, too. Now locked between two swords, Nille came rushing with her hammer.|

|He jumped back at the last second, and all three weapons struck thin air. As soon as Perci landed, he ducked just in time to avoid Isabeaus fist on the back of his head. He spun and slashed at him back. Before dancing back and kicking you in the gut as you went to strike him in the back.|

|Stars. . .|

“You’re a nimble crab aren’tcha!” |Nille yells.| “They weren’t kidding about knowing what we’re about to do.”

“Of course, Pétronille.” |Perci chuckled.| “I’m an expert, after all.”

“Don’t talk to him, Nille!” |Mira yells, jumping in to strike.| “He’ll just get under your skin!”

“Oh my!!” |He blocked the attack and swiped back.| “Don’t worry, I’ll keep Nilles tales of Mwudu secret~”

“Shut your mouth!!” |Nille ran in again to smash him down, only for Perci to sidestep her attack and strike her in the gut, thankfully, with the flat of his blade.|

{Tag out. In a swift motion you switch from sword to dagger and jump in, Perci raised his sword to block. You were locked, blade to blade, and you saw his expression change from smug, to confused, then to pained as you punched him in the stomach.}

{He stumbled back.} “. . . Hah, HAH! You tamed your sadness?”

“Tamed?!?” {Isabeau steps to your side.} “It’s not some wild animal, Perci!”

“Oh really?” {He grinned. Looking at you.} “By all metrics, it is! And you trust it? Enough to share blood with it?”

{Isa glances at you. You nod, and he shows his palm, a faint scar on it that is almost imperceptible.} “I’d trust it with my life, Perci! That’s why we’re gonna beat you!”

“Cute.” {Perci smiles, and takes off a glove, showing his own palm with a similar scar.} “I could say the same.”

{In a twist, Perci extended his scissors sign, and slashes of lightless ink shot at you and Isabeau. You block, yet the craft passes right through you.}

{A blink later, Perci was swinging at you. You go to block it, and the swing disappears. Only for you to feel a sting in your leg.}

“MAL!!” {Mirabelle rushes to your side, and Nille passes you to strike at thin air. Then suddenly Perci is at your side! And then is gone, then, Isabeau is holding his head, kneeling. Oh. You shake your head.}

{As Mirabelle uses her healing craft, you point to your head then hands together, then wave over your eyes. “A trick, a veil over the eyes. Illusion.”}

“You’re seeing things?” {She asks, you nod.} “Got it, can you switch out?”

{You sigh, but nod. Some protector you’ve been, perhaps it’s not in your nature. You close your eye.}

|After a brief headache, you’re back. O-oh. . It’s too hectic to focus properly, or switch easily without pain. Stars, you’re only mostly sure you are. . . You. Your eye snaps open to see Nille barely holding Perci off, and Mirabelle tending to Isabeau. You switch dagger for sword and run in again.|

|Perci jumps back from your swing. You hold out a fist.| “I will not let you win!! |You used [Cries of the Lost!] Tears drip from your fist, then fly at Perci. He deflects some, but others catch his legs, taking him to a knee.|

|And that was the golden moment for the frying pan wielding savior to run in and smash Perci in the head. He didn’t even see Bonnie coming, stumbling back and holding his neck, and watching the kid run back behind Nille.|

“. . . Haa, you’re all quite tricky, you know.” |He stands up, relaxed.| “For one I wouldn’t think being plural would be so helpful in the middle of a fight!”

|You don’t reply, don’t talk to him. He looks at you, and smiles.| “Cat got your tongue? Or do you not like someone poking in your head.”

“STOP TALKING CRABFACE!!!!” |Bonnie was barely holding themself back from attacking him again.|

|Perci glanced at them, then you.| “. . . Why are we even fighting, anyways.”

“Because you're trying to take over our minds!!” |Mirabelle rebuked, having helped Isabeau recover.| “We can stop fighting, j-just as long as you stop using mind craft!!”

“A chance to change my ways?” |He laughed, sheathing a sword and shaking his head.| “So is that the same offer you gave your once-enemy now-friend?”

“Ramos?” |She huffed.| “They only did the things they did because of you!!”

“Oh no no!! I don't mean Ramos.” |He smiles.| “I'm talking about Asterion here! Unless. . .”

|Your eye goes wide.|

“Unless you don't know who he is.”

|You rush at him, metal clashing against metal, he blocks and strikes back. You rush again, and with one hand he keeps you at bay.|

“Oh? Why so aggressive!! Did I hit a nerve?” |He pushes you back.| “After all, I may tell half-truths, but you're the one stabbing them all in the back!!”

|You hear Mirabelle behind you.| “. . . A-asterion? What does he-”

|No no no NO NO!! You rush again. You need to shut him up, shut him up or, o-or do something!! You swing, but he effortlessly sidesteps you, and hits you with the hilt of his sword. You collapse to all fours.|

“Aster!!” |Isabeau runs to get to you, but Perci cuts him off.| “Leave him alone!”

“And why would I do that?” |He twirled his sword.| “I've always wanted to commit regicide.”

“Wha. . ?” |Isa steps back.|

“R-regicide?!?” |Mirabelle hesitates.|

“Crab you mean?!?” |Nille grips her hammer tighter.|

“. . .” |And, Bonnie. They're just, looking at you.|

“Why, exactly what you think I do~” |He looks back at you, no nononononononononono--|

|You're shaking, you're shaking, you can't breathe.| “P-please, no-”

 “Shall I tell them for you, your majesty?”

|You're frozen to the spot.|

“HE'S WHAT?!?" |Mirabelle screams.|

“LIKE CHANGE HE IS!!” |Nille yells and runs at Perci.|

“Oh trust me, he is.” |He dodges.| “I can see it all over your face, you know it's true.”

“SHUT UP!!” 

“Asterion. . ?” |Isabeau is looking at you. You're crawling away, slowly. You can’t, you, you can’t look at him, you can’t look at any of them, you feel, pale, you feel cold and, numb. Your breathing stopped, you can’t focus you can’t, c-cant-|

|You grip your hair, close your eye, you can’t can’tcan’tcan’tloopbacloopbackloopback-|

“Well I don’t care if he is!!” |Mirabelle joined Nille on the offensive, stabbing relentlessly at the historian.| “If he really is the King, he’s already proven to us multiple times that he’s changed!!”

“Mirabelle’s right.” |Isabeau sounded like he was right next to you. Opening an eye, he is. He’s holding a hand out to you. You took it.| “When I first met him he didn’t even know who he was or what to do. So we’ll deal with that later. AFTER we deal with YOU!!”

“Interesting.” |There’s a pause in the fight, Perci breathing faster.| “. . . And what do you think? Boniface?”

|Glancing over, Bonnie’s. . . Still, looking at you.|

“Tell me, Bonnie, why does your mind feel blank?” |Perci chuckles.| “Why is it that when puppeting Ramos, I mistook you for the islander I was looking for?” 

“. . Bonnie. . ?” |Nilles voice. A moment later, she was crouched down in front of their sibling.| “Bonnie what’s he talking about? What’s-”

“SHUTTUP!! GO AWAY!!!” |Bonnie yelled, pushing Nille away and stepping back.| “YOU DON’T KNOW ME YOU CRAB!!!”

“B-BONNIE?!?!?” |Nille was taken aback, Bonnie was crying.| 

“Interesting! Tell me, Bonnie, did you make a little wish?” Perci was practically gloating.

“SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!!!” Bonnie clamped their hands over their ears. “I DID NOT!!!”

“Oh! You clearly did.” His smile was venomous. The fighting from the other half of the room was making its way over to yours. “And if I had to guess the wish, it’s something to do with. . . memory~?”

“N-NO!! NO!! SHUT UP!!!”

“Odile is very observant, you know, and thus now I know. It was only a matter of time before she told everyone what she found-”

“NOTHING IT’S NOTHING IT’S NOTHING!!!!!” 

“B-bonbon, Bonnie, Boniface please.” [(The Carpenter crouched down in front of the Kid.)] “It’s, listen whatever it was it’s okay I just-”

“SHUT UP!!!!” [(They’re crying. You cling tighter to the Fighter, eye wide.)] “JUST CRABBING SHUT UP!!!! I JUST WANTED TO BE HELPFUL!!!”

[(The scholar laughed. You looked at him.)] “That’s no way to talk to someone trying to help you! Here, I’ll say it for you”

“NO-”

“You remember. Don’t you.” [(He chuckled.)] “You remember all the times your traveler has looped back.”

[(The Kids head snapped to attention, they’re crying and can’t stop. Their bottom lip is trembling. The Carpenter gets closer.)] “Bonnie. . .”

“E-every. .” [(The Housemaiden was keeping the Scholar at a distance.)] “Every, one?”

“That’s something to ask them.”

“Okay! That’s enough!” [(You bolt from The Fighters arms, smiling to yourself as you lunge at the Scholar, no care for your own health. He blocks, but you’re relentless.)]

[(Eventually, he pushes you away from him.)] “Ah! That’s our cue to leave. Mimi~!”

[(You hear a snap, and move back just in time to avoid the explosion at your feet that somehow, leaves the ground without a scratch!)]

[(The Sage joins The Scholar, both near the exit. The Sage smiled.)] “Bravo, Cici.”

“I told you I’d get us an exit, Mimi.” [(He chuckled.)] “Saviors! I bid you all adieu, don’t try to follow, I’ve spoiled two secrets tonight, pray that I don’t spoil a third.”

[(He backs up towards the exit, you see The Trainee start to chase him before The Researcher catches their shirt. The Housemaiden is at your side. You can see she wants to chase as well. You stand, and go to chase, but another grabs your cloak before you do.)]

“JUST GET OUTTA HERE YOU, Y-YOU CRAB!!!” [(The Kid yells.)]

[(The Scholar bows, and exits, the Sage pauses a second, looking at you before they follow.)] “. . . Perhaps that’s something you can learn from Perci and I, saviors; communication.” 

[(They leave, and the doors slam shut.)]

[(. . . . . . You, breathe out.)]

[Mirabelle is now level- oh you’re not doing all that. You shake your head, and fall back onto the ground.]

“Stars above. . .” [You close your eye and breathe. Bonnie’s crying, Nille is worried, everyone’s wounded, and Ramos is. . . Stars. . .]

“A-asterion?” [You hear Mirabelle crouch down next to you.] “Are you-”

“Wrong headmate, Housemaiden~ Try again.” [You giggle, exhausted.]

“O-oh! Loop are, you alright? I-I’m guessing you, just switched in?”

“Correct. . .” [You’re still breathing heavily.] “I think the other three all got a bit. . .”

“Overwhelmed?” [Isabeaus voice. You open your eye a crack, he’s smiling down at you.] “I wouldn’t blame them.”

“I can see the battle replaying in my head.” [You laugh a little.] “Overwhelmed I think is an understatement.”

“Hey!” [Ramos- hmm, voice was off. You sit up.] “Let’s head home everyone. Rest up, deal with everything later. Alright?”

[There’s general agreement around the room. Mirabelle and Isabeau both help you up. Nille was carrying the crying Bonnie, and Odile and. . . “Ramos” led the charge home.]

[As she passes you, her younger siblings face buried into her shoulder, Nille gives you a look.]

[Stars. . .]

[slaymitchabernathy]

I Hate It Here

| "All you'll ever be is my eternal consolation prize. You see I was a debutant in another life but, now I seem to be scared to go outside. If comfort is a construct, I don't believe in good luck, now that I know what's what." |

Soarynn keeps her head lowered while the other girls whisper excitedly around her.

There is nothing to be excited about.

She doesn't see why this is such a big deal, debutant balls happen all the time, why does this one have to be any different?

But she knows why, and she knows that her father has high hopes of her meeting a suitable match tonight. "You're a beautiful girl, honey," he had said to her in the car, "and tonight you might meet a young man who can see that. A man who can take care of you when I no longer can."

Soarynn had just nodded and smiled, she wants to make her father happy, let him rest easy knowing that she won't forever be alone but she doesn't see why being alone is such a bad thing. She has her friends, her drawings, her cat, and her books.

She needs nothing more.

She smooths down her white dress with her gloved hands, making sure she looks presentable. The maids fussed over her appearance for a good hour, making sure that her long blonde hair was perfectly curled and styled, that her dress was without a wrinkle, her skin without a flaw.

They're anxious for her to meet someone as well. She's heard them whispering about her, how it's such a shame that a pretty thing like her spends most of her days in the library of her home, curled up with a book. Soarynn doesn't think it's sad at all, she loves her books, loves escaping to secret gardens in her mind where only she has the key to get to them.

No one else seems to share this sentiment.

The girls begin to move out of the room they've been standing in for the past half hour and Soarynn joins the shuffle, nervously reciting the words she's been trained to say by everyone who wants tonight to be successful.

"Hello, my name is Soarynn Nightingale, how do you do?"

It seems so stiff, so formal, and not at all personal. It's not her at all.

They step out onto the balcony overlooking the first floor where everyone is staring up at them from the ballroom. Soarynn scans the room for her father, the only man she truly cares about. She spots him over by the piano, a drink in his hand and a pleased smile on his face. She knows he means well but she hates this, hates all of it.

Girls begin to descend the grand staircase and Soarynn is one of the last in the group, taking her time, not in any rush to get married and have her life be over. Some girls are immediately greeted by the young men attending this ball, eager to meet a potential wife. Others like her, are not and she goes straight to the windows so she can look outside.

She sees a small garden with a courtyard, it reminds her of home, of their backyard. Will her future husband live in a townhouse like her? Or will he live in an apartment with no grass or trees?

She hopes for very few things when it comes to a potential husband. That he's kind to her, that he actually listens and pays attention to her. She also hopes that he likes cats since she has one, Petunia who she cannot live without.

Soarynn knows that she's not doing herself any favors by standing by the windows instead of mingling or dancing but she doesn't have the courage to go up to any of the men in this room. So she watches instead, watches girls dance with potential suitors, smiling and laughing.

Some could say that she was born for this life, to grow up in comfortable luxury and be married off to strengthen the family but she longs for something more, for freedom and no societal standards.

No big city hopes or small town fears.

She scans the room once again and her eyes land on the bar where lots of men are now standing including her father. She locks eyes with him for a moment but then they drift up to the man standing next to him. The very tall, very handsome young man with blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

Soarynn suddenly feels very nervous.

She was prepared to talk to people, but she wouldn't enjoy it or find them interesting. She planned on leaving with her father, empty-handed but content that she did her part tonight. Her father has other plans apparently.

The young man starts towards her but Soarynn remains planted by the windows, letting him cross the room to get to her. She's been given lots of advice over the past eighteen years on how to deal with men, how she should make her future husband work for it, work for her. Looks like she's finally heeding some of that advice.

The handsome stranger finally reaches her and he's much taller up close. He smells like roses out of all things and he really is handsome, with his prominent jaw and nose, his strong eyebrows, and his eyes, oh, his eyes are a piercing blue gaze that she feels frozen under.

"Hello," he says with a polite smile, holding out his hand, "my name is Coriolanus Snow, how do you do?"

Soarynn swallows, this is what she's been preparing for her entire life, to fall in love. Surely it won't happen with the first man she meets. But maybe it might, who knows what fate has intended for her.

Soarynn gently places her hand in his, noting how much larger his hand is, how long his fingers are, how big his palm is. Coriolanus Snow is a big man. "Pleased to meet you," she says softly, watching him bring his lips to her gloved hand. She blushes at the gesture, the only man who's ever shown her any physical affection has been her father, a kiss on the cheek, a hug, an encouraging pat on the arm.

Like any good Capitol girl, she's been saving herself for marriage.

His bright eyes scan her up and down in a matter of seconds and she begins to wonder what her father has promised Coriolanus, what he said about her. "And your name?"

Soarynn blinks twice before realizing that she has yet to introduce herself, "Soarynn, Soarynn Nightingale."

Coriolanus hums, releasing her hand, "Well Soarynn, I met your father moments ago and he told me that I'd be a fool if I didn't ask you to dance." Soarynn wants to glare over at her father for meddling in her business, he can't do everything for her if he wants this to be successful. She knows he means well but still, the line has to be drawn at some point.

"You might be," she agrees, "or you might not."

Coriolanus creases his brows, clearly not expecting her to act this way, act like she could care less but she isn't keen on impressing Coriolanus Snow who she's sure is a fine match for any girl in this room.

Just not her.

"Do you...do you not dance?" He asks nervously, shifting on his feet. Soarynn shakes her head, she shouldn't torture Coriolanus when he's done nothing wrong, "I do dance," she tells him, bracing herself for five minutes of awkward tension between them, "and I'd love to dance with you."

He seems relieved to hear that. No man wants to look like a fool at a debutant ball, so out of sheer politeness, she'll agree to dance with Coriolanus.

He offers up her arm which she gingerly takes, allowing him to lead them onto the ballroom floor where lots of people have been swept up in music and surface-level conversations. Coriolanus rests one hand on her waist and the other holds her right hand. Soarynn places her left hand on his shoulder and they begin to move with the music. Growing up, Soarynn was given dance lessons for this very reason, so she wouldn't look like a graceless fool in front of everyone else.

She catches another glimpse of her father, eagerly craning his neck to see if he's made a successful match. Soarynn sighs, she hates it here, hates this dress, hates these uncomfortable shoes, hates dancing with this stranger.

"How old are you?"

His question jars her from thinking of more things to hate, "Eighteen," she answers, "what about you?"

"Twenty-one."

Goodness, he's old. Older than her at least, she's surprised her father sent Coriolanus her way, he's always been protective of her. She nods, doing her best to look interested, "You attended University then?"

"I did, now I work at the largest firm in the Capitol."

Of course, he does, handsome, smart, and important. He's the perfect man in her father's eyes, in everyone's eyes but her own.

"How exciting," she murmurs, letting him spin her around. She catches a glimpse of the moon shining through the windows and wishes she could escape this dance to sneak outside to the courtyard. But she can't be rude, and she can't leave halfway through the dance.

"Is this your first ball?"

Soarynn does her best to look excited, "Yes it is."

"Ah, how exciting for you."

Yes, she wants to say, how exciting to be sold off to the highest bidder in the room. She just smiles and keeps dancing to the music, answering a few more surface-level questions before the music finally stops.

"Thank you for the dance," she says to him, "but I need to find the lady's room." Now he can't insist on accompanying her and Soarynn doesn't wait for a response, turning on her heel and pushing through the crowd. She sneaks past her father, still preoccupied at the bar, and only glances back at Coriolanus once, expecting to see him with another girl already but his eyes are on her, watching her leave.

Hopefully, he can find a girl who actually wants to be here.

꧁ ꧂

With nothing but the moonlight to keep her company, Soarynn finally finds herself enjoying this ball.

She sits on a stone bench, surrounded by shrubs and flowers, watching through the window as people dance and laugh. It's better this way, she decides, to stay out here and protect her heart.

She watches one girl in a pretty white dress laugh at something a man says, leaning into him as if they've known each other for years not hours. Perhaps there's something wrong with Soarynn, something wrong with her heart.

The scatter of gravel is what startles her and draws her attention to a tall figure emerging from the blooms and shrubs, Coriolanus Snow. He looks rather unsure of himself, out of place in the gardens.

"You're quite good at hiding," he tells her, hands in his pockets, "I had to search the whole building before I came out here to look for you."

Soarynn can't stop herself from looking surprised. He looked for her?

She thought he'd find some other girl to talk to, to swoon and charm and take for his bride.

"I escaped," she says plainly, turning back to look through the windows. The gravel crunches under his shoes and she can feel him stop behind her, "Are you not enjoying the ball?" Soarynn nearly rolls her eyes at the stupid question, maybe if she were shallow and self-serving she'd enjoy the ball. Maybe if she didn't dream of being more than just someone's wife then she'd enjoy the ball.

"Not really."

Coriolanus walks around the stone bench, quietly sitting down next to her. Soarynn doesn't look at him, doesn't trust herself to look into those blue eyes and not possibly fall for him. Falling in love is another one of her hopeless dreams.

They sit in a comfortable silence, watching others make the most of this night, she feels him staring at her every once in a while but Soarynn makes no effort to start up a conversation.

"You seem lonely," he finally says.

She lets out a breathy laugh, I'm lonely but I'm good, she thinks to herself. She's always kept to herself, always been kind and polite but it's cost her a lot, cost her some respect and others taking her seriously.

"I'm fine," she insists, pulling off her gloves, "I have everything I could ever need."

She looks at him and is met with a questioning look like he doesn't fully believe her. Sometimes she doesn't believe herself. "Having everything you need doesn't prevent you from growing bitter," he points out. She frowns, she's never thought of herself as bitter. Is that how others view her?

"I swear I'm fine."

She's fine, it's fine, everything's fine. Soarynn has already accepted her inevitable fate, getting married, having children, attending boring parties with boring people. She'll save all her romanticism for her inner life, reading books so she gets lost on purpose in another land far away from here.

His hand grabs hers, skin on skin this time, no gloves separating them, no crowd of people watching them.

They can say whatever they want out here, with the moon and stars as their witness.

"You can be honest with me," he tells her, so gently, so patiently as if she's the most precious thing in the world to her. Soarynn has always been cautious around men like Coriolanus Snow, who seem too good to be true. Men with money, power, influence, charming and deceptive. Good looking and rotten to the core.

Soarynn doesn't know why she feels compelled to be honest with him now, to tell him how this place truly makes her feel. She has nothing to lose.

"This place makes me feel worthless," she whispers, staring up at the sky, "the parties, the dull conversations, it's like no one really sees me for who I am, sees past my pretty face and prominent last name."

Soarynn knows he can relate to the family part, he's a Snow, that's as important as you can get in the Capitol. She's sure that he's had his fair share of people trying to shove their way into his life simply to say that they're friends with him.

He laces his fingers in between her own, "Where would you go other than the Capitol?"

Soarynn is well aware of how privileged she is to live in the Capitol, to live among the elite and go to balls like this. She has more clothes than she knows what to do with, more shoes, more bags, more food. There is no better place to be than the Capitol.

Except the secret gardens in her mind.

"I read about these gardens," she tells him, "when I was a precocious child, they live in your mind so you can escape and only I have the key. I'm there most of the year if I'm being honest."

She sees how surprised he is, how he never expected Glen Nightingale's daughter to be downright miserable with her life.

"You want gardens?"

Soarynn nods, to put it broadly yes, she wants gardens she can run through and escape in with no one to bother her unless she wants them to.

"I can give you that."

Her eyes grow wide, out of all the things a man could promise her, gardens were the last thing she expected. Capitol men like to promise pretty jewelry, fancy cars, and beautiful homes. Never has anyone promised her a garden, let alone listened to her greatest desires.

"You can?" She asks, shitfing on the bench. Coriolanus nods, looking quite confident in the promise he just made, "I can. I'm going to become President one day and when I do, I'll move into the President's Mansion. There'll be beautiful gardens to walk through, and a grand library, with servants who won't speak a word to you unless you tell them to do so."

He makes it sound so easy, like it's already happened, like he already did it.

It sounds like a dream come true.

"But...but what does that have to do with me?" She asks with hesitance laced in her voice. Soarynn isn't naive, she knows what men want and what's expected of her. She needs to marry someone, not just live in their gardens. Coriolanus chuckles, acting like she asked something so simple. "If we were to marry then everything of mine could become yours," he explains as if it's so simple.

Maybe it is.

Maybe she should trust him, let him spin her around in the ballroom, and get to know him.

"Give me a chance and I promise you won't be disappointed Soarynn."

You have nothing to lose, she tells herself, squeezing his hand, "Alright," she agrees, "we ought to go back inside."

Coriolanus looks at the large windows looking into the ballroom, they can hear the music and laughter from outside, he looks hesitant to return. "Let's just stay here," he says, giving her a smile, "get to know each other."

Soarynn smiles too.

Perhaps with Coriolanus by her side, she could actually love it here.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @strawberriicakes @wonderlandbound111 @kickmybark @villiansarehottest @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @melodyoflovee @erensrealgf |

[kira-fluff]

More sharing the same bed hcs pls. those are really fun

of course, there's only one bed | fem!reader x osamu miya

a/n: i, too, indulge. 💕 I hope you like it. just realized this was one of my first fics. i love! sorry it's taken me so long to write this lol. it's been in my drafts for a MINUTE. also, i just decided to do osamu because it was getting too long to be more than just him lmao. i love him. i like to think he's a little bit of a smartass like his brother when he's really crushing on someone. a little sweet, but also plenty spicy. pairing: osamu miya x fem!reader tw: a lil' spicy mwah 💋 oh and language bc i can't not not say fuck you’re in love with him, but he doesn’t know that. then, of course, just because life hates you, you get stuck in a hotel room together on a group trip with him due to some “mix up”. and there’s only one bed. one. *sigh*… length: 2.5k pt 1

it was finally time for you to get some much needed rest. after you received your keycard from your class rep, you trudged languidly to the elevator with your luggage. at last you arrived at your door (you triple-checked to make sure it was, indeed, room 208). your card beeped, the door sensor's light turning green. sighing, you opened the door, expecting a room shrouded in darkness. instead, you are welcomed with the sight of osamu's broad, toned back, fresh out of the shower. naked. well, half-naked since he was wearing sweatpants (though you couldn't help but notice his boxers peeking slightly above his pants that lay low on his hips). your eyes grew wider as you watched the droplets of water drip down his spine. a big, veiny hand moved a towel through his dark hair. you swallowed. he turned around at the sound your presence. looking at you in a mixture of confusion and maybe, was that amusement? "lookin' for somethin'?" he questioned with an eyebrow raised. "ah, um. my room--" his brows furrowed, taking slow steps toward you. you backed away when he met your eyes, his chest centimeters away from pressing up against you. in your embarrassment, you missed a little smirk tip up his mouth. "lemme see it." you stared at him for a moment, processing his unbelievable propostion. "um, what?"

he breathed out a laugh. "yer keycard." you blinked, feeling foolish. flushing, you fumbled with the pocket of your jeans, at last presenting him with your keycard and its small envelope with the numbers "208" clearly written on the inside. "huh." was all he said, nodding to himself. "what do we do?" you asked nervously. you glanced toward the other side of the room, and indeed there was only one bed. one. you continued, "i mean... we can't share, can we? but this is supposed to be a fun trip so we won't get any sleep if one of us sleeps on the floor and there's not enough room in a different room and i think it's too late to wake someone up anyway and--" he stopped you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. "listen. don't worry 'bout it, 'kay?" gazing up at him, your quivering lip calmed, and you were able to take a small breath. your next breath caught in your throat, however, when you began collecting his things, grabbing his clothes, and stuffing them back in his bag. "osamu, what are you doing?" he looked at you incredulously, as if the answer was obvious. "'m packin' up my stuff. figure i can kick 'tsumu out of his room if i have to." "no, no, no! don't do that!" your voice growing louder, you rushed over to him, inadvertently placing your hand over his. "that's... you don't have to do that!!" his eyes met yours and remained there a moment longer than was probably necessary. then, he stood up, his hand brushing against yours. softly, he said, "well, 'm not gonna fight you on it." your heaving breaths calmed. "ok. ok. good. 'cause you don't need to do that." he laughed. "yer pretty scary when you're upset." "i'm not upset! i'm just... frazzled." his mouth quirked. "'frazzled?'" "well, i wasn't expecting a buff, naked guy to be in my hotel room!" nodding, he let out a hum of approval. "so you think i'm buff." you looked away. "that's-- anyway! where are we supposed to sleep?!" he thought for a moment. "hmm... probably on the bed. i think that's what they're used for." your gasped, "obviously! but, like, you're a man and i'm, you know..." "a woman?" he finished for you. "yes, and when men and women sleep together..." he held a hand up. "wait a minute. when you say 'sleep together', what exactly are ya thinkin' i'm gonna be doin'?" you, perhaps a little too aggressively, smack him on his annoyingly rock hard bicep. "normal sleeping, just normal sleeping! not--not whatever it is you're thinking right now." "'kay, then what's the problem?" you stare at him, exasperated. "because-- you know what? i'm just-- i'm gonna go shower." "alright. i'll be sure 't be ready fer ya." you think you might've choked on your spit a little. "shut up."

-

teasing you was just too goddamn fun, he thought. well, it was fun until you stepped out of the bathroom. your hair wet, dripping down your shoulders. and you were wearing those fuckin' shorts that lifted up a bit at the sides, leaving your legs and most of your thighs bare. to make it all worse, you were wearing a shirt much too big for you, and when you moved your arms down to your sides, the shirt covered your shorts completely. you looked like you were naked behind that shirt, and... fuck. fuck. you leaned down to grab something from your bag, and the size of your shirt made the collar hang much to low, exposing him to the fact that you were not wearing a bra. is it gettin' hotter in here? shit. this was a terrible idea. he swallowed as you walked back to the bathroom, completely unaware of his horrifyingly lustful thoughts. as soon as you walked from eyesight, he jumped from his spot in the bed, no longer feeling smug. rushing toward the desk, he slammed his palms down onto the wood. dammit. breathe, man. breathe, he huffed in and out. the mirror above the desk reflected his expression: face flushed, chest rising and falling raggedly, pupils black as night. why you of all people? the girl he's had it bad for since, what, first year of junior high school? he refused to be the kind of guy that uses this sort of situation to his advantage. more than anything, he was fighting off a boner that he feared was most certain to come to your attention the moment you both lay down. "what are you doing?" you interrupted.

-

osamu's head swiveled toward you. he honestly looked like he was in pain. did he hurt himself during the five seconds you spent brushing your hair? "'s nothin'." he replied, shaking his head. walking closer, you put a hand on his shoulder, realizing that while you were in the shower he'd put a shirt on. thankfully. "you look sick. are you okay?" "'m fine." he mumbled. your brows bent in concern. "you don't look fine." he looked deeply into your eyes, looking almost delirious. "don' worry 'bout it." his accent was becoming noticably thicker. you pouted, taking him by the hand. "come on, let's get you in bed." he sucked in a breath as you led him to large mattress, pushing him into a sitting position with your hands on his shoulders. he let out a strange, groaning noise when you pushed him further onto the plush cushion on the bleach-white sheets. "that's it, 'samu. just like that, now close your eyes." his breath shuddered when you placed your cold palm on his eyes, willing him to sleep away his apparent sickness. "'m not sick." you shushed him. "yes you are. look, you're sweating." you brushed his hair away from his forehead. suddenly, he grabbed your wrist, sitting up. his eyes met yours, blazing with a message you couldn't quite make out. "are ya tryin' to drive me crazy?" "what do you mean?" "i'm really tryin' 't hold back here." "hold back what?" he stared at you, no reply. then, he simply sighed, shook his head and laid down. his head turned away from you. you got the message. he was mad at you. you pressed your lips together. it was late anyway. you should just try to get some sleep and forget about the fact that the man you've loved for years is right next to you and he's upset.

-

after turning off the light, you slipped under the covers, sighing when at last your head hit the pillow. you both lay in silence for a moment before osamu spoke. "'m sorry." "you didn't do anything wrong. you're mad at me because i was too pushy. i get it." "nah. it's my bad. i just... ya kinda make me lose control sometimes." through the darkness you saw him run his fingers through his dark locks. you turned your body toward his, propping your head up with a hand. "when you say that -- you lose control -- what do you mean?" he breathed out a laugh. "i don't think ya wanna know, sweetheart." your heart jumped at the affectionate nickname. leaning closer to him, you whispered, "but what if i do wanna know?" you could see even at night that his eyes were screwed shut, like he was in agony. "yer gonna regret it. trust me." leaning closer, so close your faces were mere inches apart, you said softly, "but what if i don't?" his throat worked, looking at you lying above him, shrouded in darkness only illuminated by the moon that shown through the cracks of the drawn curtains. "then, i guess i'd just hope ya wouldn't hate me." you opened your mouth to reply but instead let out a quiet gasp as his palm made its way to your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. you closed your eyes, and realizing you were holding your breath, you sighed breathily. "i dont..." you said as his thumb trailed down you cheek to your jawline. "i don't think i could ever hate you." you were completely frozen. stuck in this moment of time. your faces so close if you moved just a little bit, your lips would meet. his thumb wandered from your jawline to your bottom lip. when he rubbed his thumb across your soft, inviting lips, he let out a gutteral moan. you fought the urge to rub your legs together. "i really shouldn't be doing this." he said suddenly. and yet he didn't draw his hand away. not that you would've let him. realizing your disadvantage, you lifted your fingers, tracing the muscles of his neck. it is only fair that i get to touch you, too. his breath grew more rapid at your touch, as you made your way from his neck to his torso. feeling a bit bolder, you at last replied: "maybe i want you to."

instantly, his hands grasped at your waist, lifting you onto him until your thighs hugged either side of him. from this position, you could not only see his eyes more clearly, but you could feel him. "do ya see what i mean? 's fuckin' insane, i know. 'm sorry." you turned your gaze away from him. if he was insane, then that made two of you. "i don't think this feels all too bad, though?" you said, leaning down and blantantly feeling your hands around his chest. you were keenly aware of what you were also rubbing against in the process. osamu hissed through his teeth. "don't say that." "mmm, why not?" you asked, fighting a smile. "'cause it's the exact kinda shit 'm sayin' is makin' me go crazy." your hands skirted from his chest to either side of his torso, squeezing. "but i kinda like it when you're like this." "'m tryna be a gentleman. yer not playin' fair." he said, grunting. you moved closer, your mouth just above the shell of his ear. "are you really the only one who's holding back?" swallowing, he pushed you back away from his face. surprised, you looked down in embarrassment, your courage leaving you. that is, until you felt the heated touch of his palms on your arms, and you were flipped onto the bed sheets. his body lay above you, his breath coming out in short pants. it was like you both came to the same conclusion simultaneously. and with it, came your signed agreement in the form of his lips crashing against yours. it was in no way a kiss of a gentleman. he leaned impossibly closer as he pressed his mouth further onto yours, deeper. he licked your lips, coaxing them open and tasting you, letting out a little "huh", like he'd discovered the answer to something that had long since piqued his curiosity. you didn't dare to speak; whenever your lips parted you could only gasp a breath before he pulled your face back to meet his lips. somewhere along the way his hands had trailed down to your hips, lifting you up until you were both in a sitting position, you in his lap. it was like you were a feast, and he was fucking starving. it wasn't enough. he wanted more. though, if you were being honest, you did, too.

you moved to straddle him, and with it sliding your hips against him with purpose. he gasped against your mouth, one hand squeezing your waist, the other lost in the mess of your hair. immediately he responded to your movements with a hand trailing down to grab at your ass, earning a gasp of your own. at last he pulled away (for longer than 2 seconds), a complete mess. eyes blown wide. lips swollen. hair tosled. "'ve wanted ya like this for so long. so fuckin' perfect. better than i pictured it." you threw your arms around his neck, resting your head against his chest. "I've wanted you too. like this. and, well, other stuff." he laughed. "betcha haven't had as many dreams." "maybe not, but i've imagined it plenty of times while awake." he let out a defeated huff. "why 'm i always losin' to ya." you played with the hairs at the nape of his neck, humming. "maybe cuz i'm just that good." "fuck yeah ya are." he said, resting his palm against your back and gently laying you back down onto the soft bed. "and 'm gonna prove it to ya." "oh?" his hands found the waistband of your shorts. meeting your eyes once again, you nodded in approval. that was all he needed to take you. touch you. show you just how good you make him feel. how lovely, how beautiful, how perfect you are.

-

you hissed at the sunlight that obviously didn't understand that the purpose of the curtains being drawn was to keep it out of view. an arm wrapped securely over your chest pushed you deeper against his body. you briefly thought of pretending to be asleep, just to embrace the peaceful morning for a little while longer...when you felt a hand begin to explore your body. you lifted your eyes, finding his expression dull as if still in a deep slumber. but his fingers were rubbing up and down your boob, so you were fairly certain he was completely awake. probably. though, maybe his body was moving out of muscle-memory at this point. you did spend all night getting fucked into next week. you moved to get up, but his arm chained up down, pushing you further against him with a frustrated groan. something very warm and very big and very hard was pushing against your ass. "'samu--" you started before he groaned again, louder. he rubbed his face into the crook of your neck. "not yet. just wanna feel ya a little bit longer." it's not like you could argue with him, right? "'mkay. just a little bit longer."

a/n: screaming crying throwing up i was like "oh i'll just write a little nice thing and it turned into this. bruh. also to me at least i think osamu gets reaaaally flirty with a girl he likes but is simultaneously trying sooo hard to be understanding and i love him so much

[legendary-69420]

Languages of Attraction

Chapter 2

(Racing Hearts : VOLUME 3)

racing hearts

A/N : Google translate level Languages. I do not speak any of the languages mentioned here. Sorry If i wrote something wrong

(Context : Carlos is in Williams but came in Ferrari Garage to hang out with Charles)

The paddock was alive with the usual hum of pre-race energy. Teams scrambled around their cars, crew members adjusted final settings, and drivers mingled in groups, waiting for the day’s events to unfold. Mark, on the other hand, was seated on the edge of the Ferrari garage, casually scrolling through his phone, blissfully detached from the frenzy around him. He wasn’t entirely antisocial—just selective about when and with whom he chose to engage.

Across the way, Charles and Carlos were deep in conversation. They were speaking in French, a language they often used to discuss matters away from the scrutiny of others. Today’s topic seemed to be Mark—his performance, his confidence, and a little more than just the racing.

Charles (with a slight frown, speaking in French): “Il est bien pour un nouveau, mais parfois j’aimerais qu’il arrête de se comporter comme s’il avait déjà tout compris. Et il est tellement… comment dire, sûr de lui.” (“He’s good for a rookie, but sometimes I wish he’d stop acting like he already knows everything. And he’s so… how should I put it, confident.”)

Carlos (laughing): “Oui, il a cette confiance, c’est vrai. Mais je pense qu’il en a besoin, tu sais ? Ça lui permet de tenir tête à tout le monde.” (“Yeah, he does have that confidence, true. But I think he needs it, you know? It helps him stand his ground against everyone.”)

Charles (nodding, but with a hint of concern): “Je sais, je sais… Mais parfois, il pourrait être un peu plus… vulnérable. Ça pourrait nous aider à mieux le comprendre.” (“I know, I know… But sometimes, he could be a little more… vulnerable. It might help us understand him better.”)

Mark was half-listening, his focus mostly on his phone as he scrolled through social media updates. His mind wandered, and for a moment, he let the French words slip in through his peripheral awareness. Charles and Carlos were discussing him, but he didn’t mind—after all, they weren’t talking badly. He’d gotten used to this sort of chatter.

Then, as if it were some cosmic joke, the conversation took a turn that made Mark blink. He looked up and caught Charles’ eye.

Mark (in fluent French, speaking without hesitation): “Ragazzi, vi rendete conto che posso capirvi, vero?” (“You guys realize I can understand you, right?”)

Carlos froze mid-laugh, and Charles’ face immediately turned a shade of red that was impossible to ignore. Both of them stared at Mark as if he had just revealed a hidden talent for flying or something equally unexpected.

Carlos (chuckling awkwardly): “Wait, you understood all that?”

Mark (with a lazy shrug, smirking): “Yeah. I mean, I don’t usually make it a point to show off, but I'm pretty sure I already mentioned that I speak French, Italian, German, Spanish… and a bit of Russian now.”

Charles (flustered, trying to laugh it off): “I didn’t know you… could… you know… speak so many languages.”

Mark raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying their reaction.

Mark (teasing): “Should I be offended that you thought I didn’t understand you?”

Charles (grinning, though still embarrassed): “No, not at all… I just… well, you’ve never really used them, so I guess I forgot.”

The awkwardness hung in the air for a second before it dissolved into a comfortable silence. But Charles couldn’t shake the thought that had just bubbled to the surface—he’d been talking about Mark without ever realizing he was listening, and now Mark had caught him, completely off guard.

Later that day, during an interview session with the team, Mark was asked a few questions. The interviewer tried to steer him through the usual English responses, but when the subject shifted to Italian racing culture, Mark switched gears effortlessly, responding in his flawless Italian. The room fell into a stunned silence for a split second before the camera crew regained their bearings.

Mark (in Italian): “Penso che la passione che c'è qui in Ferrari è unica. Ogni gara è una sfida, ma è anche un’opportunità di crescere.” (“I think the passion here at Ferrari is unique. Every race is a challenge, but also an opportunity to grow.”)

Charles watched from the sidelines, an unexpected stir of admiration bubbling in his chest. He had always known Mark was talented behind the wheel, but hearing him speak with such ease in multiple languages—each one more charming than the last—had him captivated.

Charles (under his breath): “Damn… how does he do that?”

He couldn’t help but notice the way Mark’s accent changed effortlessly with each language, the smooth, natural flow of his words. It was as though Mark had lived in all these cultures, seamlessly blending into each one. His voice, deep and smooth, made everything sound even more magnetic. And when Mark smiled while speaking, Charles found it hard to focus on anything else.

Carlos (noticing Charles’ lingering gaze): “You okay there, mate?”

Charles (snapping back to reality, shaking his head): “Yeah… just… never thought I’d be so into… language lessons.”

---

The next time they were alone, Charles was too intrigued to let it slide.

Charles (grinning): “So, can you say something else for me? In French, or Italian, or… anything, really.”

Mark raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the attention.

Mark (smiling mischievously): “Why? Want to hear more of my ‘sexy’ voice?”

Charles tried to play it off, but there was a glint of excitement in his eyes. He leaned in a little closer, eyes locked on Mark.

Charles (in a teasing tone): “Maybe. It’s… pretty hard to resist.”

Mark (grinning): “Well, I could speak German… but you wouldn’t understand a word.”

Charles (laughing nervously): “Try me.”

Mark leaned back, thinking for a moment, before casually switching to German.

Mark (in German): “Ich habe keinen Grund, dir etwas zu sagen, wenn du es sowieso nicht verstehst.” (“I have no reason to tell you anything if you don’t understand it.”)

Charles chuckled, but there was a certain playfulness in his voice when he spoke again.

Charles: “I have no idea what you just said. But I like the way it sounded.”

Mark’s smirk only deepened, enjoying the attention—he couldn’t deny that he loved getting a rise out of Charles. But there was something else there, too. Something that hadn’t quite formed yet, but was undoubtedly there. The way Charles looked at him, the curiosity, the admiration—it wasn’t something Mark could easily ignore.

As the day wore on, Charles found himself replaying the conversations in his head. Mark had always been captivating—he knew that. But hearing him speak in multiple languages, with such fluidity and charm, left Charles wondering just how much he still had to learn about him.

Mark was more than just the another guy on the team. He was a mystery, an enigma wrapped in confidence and charisma, and now, Charles couldn’t stop thinking about how much more there was to discover. And, maybe… just maybe… he wanted to hear more.

The paddock had settled down for the evening, and the team gathered for a casual dinner in the hospitality lounge. Conversations flowed easily over plates of pasta and glasses of wine, and as the group laughed and traded stories, Charles found his gaze returning to Mark. There was something endlessly magnetic about the way he carried himself, effortlessly charming everyone around him.

The evening took a turn when a reporter approached the group, recognizing Mark and asking if he could answer a few questions on camera. Mark agreed, standing up and smoothly switching between French, Italian, and English as he answered questions. Each language flowed from him with such ease that he seemed to be holding an audience captive.

The team, especially Charles, watched in admiration as Mark handled each question with grace, slipping effortlessly between languages.

Mark (in French, when asked about his future in racing): “L’avenir? Je ne pense pas trop à ça. Je suis ici pour courir, pour donner le meilleur de moi-même.” (“The future? I don’t think too much about it. I’m here to race, to give my best.”)

Interviewer (impressed): “Vous êtes vraiment polyvalent, Mark. Quelqu’un d’autre qui peut suivre le rythme?” (“You’re really versatile, Mark. Anyone else who can keep up with you?”)

Mark shot a playful look at Charles.

Mark (in Italian, with a grin): “Vedremo chi riesce a stare al passo.” (“We’ll see who can keep up.”)

Charles, caught off guard by the direct look, felt a slight blush creep up. Mark’s smooth confidence and effortless transitions between languages left him feeling… captivated. He tried to focus, to keep his attention on his meal, but Mark’s voice had a way of lingering in his mind. The warmth in his tone, the precision of each word, the charm—each element was enchanting, and Charles found himself smiling.

After the interview, Mark rejoined the table, and the night continued with laughter and friendly banter. Charles couldn’t help himself—his curiosity was too strong.

Charles (leaning closer to Mark, with a playful grin): “Alright, let’s hear it. Say something else in German, maybe Russian? I’ll try to guess what it means.”

Mark chuckled, clearly amused by Charles’ sudden interest. He took a sip of his drink, then leaned back, pretending to consider Charles’ request.

Mark (in German, smirking): “Du wirst kein Wort davon verstehen, Charles.” (“You won’t understand a word of this, Charles.”)

Charles raised an eyebrow, attempting to read Mark’s expression.

Charles (pretending to understand): “Oh, that’s easy—it means I’m an amazing driver.”

Mark burst into laughter, shaking his head. His carefree amusement only made Charles more intrigued.

Mark (in Russian, with a mischievous grin): “Ты действительно ничего не понимаешь, верно?” (“You really don’t understand anything, do you?”)

Charles had to admit defeat, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation.

Charles (laughing): “Fine, fine—I give up. You win, multilingual man of mystery.”

Mark only laughed, clearly enjoying the banter. For the rest of the evening, Charles found subtle ways to keep the conversation going, trying to get Mark to speak in other languages whenever he could. Each time, Mark obliged, offering playful responses in German, Spanish, and even some Russian. With each new phrase, Charles felt himself drawn deeper into Mark’s world, the mystery of his many sides becoming more intoxicating.

The night was winding down, and most of the team had dispersed. Mark and Charles lingered, comfortable in each other’s company as the lights of the paddock glowed softly around them. Charles felt a warmth settle between them, something unspoken but unmistakable.

Charles (quietly): “You know, I think I could get used to this… hearing you switch languages like that. It’s… impressive.”

Mark glanced at him, a soft smile playing on his lips.

Mark (smiling): “Maybe I’ll teach you a few words. But don’t expect to be fluent anytime soon.”

Charles chuckled, shaking his head. But there was a new thought forming in his mind—a hope, almost. He didn’t need to be fluent. Just hearing Mark’s voice, feeling the warmth of his presence, was enough for him.

---

(Dividers by @omi-resources)

[uncle-fruity]

I think part of the issue is that when I say that men have issues that also need to be talked about, I am talking about the full system of oppression and the role the patriarchy plays within that system of oppression, and how those things impact men & boys for better or worse.

When I say that men & boys need a place within feminism to focus on their issues from a feminist perspective, I am saying so because understanding the full picture is vital to defeating the Patriarchy, not because I think men need to be centered in every conversation. Even if we went to the extreme point of view that men aren't suffering in any way from our current system, we would need to listen to the experiences of men & boys and include their needs when we work to reform the structure of our society. Any failure to consider half the population while building a safer, fairer, more compassionate society is not just a minor fuck up, but rather a massive oversight that *will* lead to the failure of that goal.

The reason I am so adamant about not dehumanizing *any* group of people for *any* reason *ever* is because that becomes a very dangerous tool for the actual oppressors who cannot let us form unified communities against them. The more we know about each other, the more we care about each other, the more we see each other as humans -- the more the oppressors struggle to keep us fighting amongst ourselves and not fighting them. This was one of the major motivators behind the assassination of Fred Hampton, who did incredible work in bringing gay liberation and civil rights groups together, and made each of those movements stronger for it. One reason the internet is such an effective tool for radicalization is that it already has a layer of dehumanization built in, in that it's easy to forget you're speaking to another real human, especially when emotions are running high. So it is critical that we are vigilant about our own ability to dehumanize people (especially on the internet), our personal biases that can provide targets for that dehumanizing, and then work against those tendencies even when they only manifest in small ways (for example, as a joke).

This is not a pissing contest to me. I'm not concerned with being The Most Oppressed Ever, and I am not interested in diluting or misrepresenting the pain and systemic issues of any other group of people. I want everyone to have their say, to speak for themselves and to be believed that they are experts about their own experiences & lives. If anything, I believe in radical inclusion, and only draw the line at bad faith, hateful rhetoric meant to further the exclusion and abuse of other people. And even then, I think people who are hateful and hurting and trying to blame it on other people still need a place to talk through those emotions -- just, in a different, more targeted & personalized conversation. The broader social justice movement is not the appropriate place to publicly work through hate & anger & bigotry on a personal level.

All in all, we are ALL part of this system whether you like it or not. Everyone who exists is impacted in one way or another by the systems we have in place. And if we want to be serious about working against abusive systems, we need to start by listening and speaking in good faith, and by rejecting abusive patterns within our communities.

[minhosimthings]

Get ready bitches. It's Mona's Spotify wrapped time with the musical maniac herself hehe

The fact that my most replayed song is by Enha and my top artist is Skz is the most Stay-engene coded I can be. AND OMG CHACONNE MY HEART AND SOUL I KNEW IT WOULD BE MY MOST REPLAYED.

Also apparently I listened to Skz and Enha most in June, which is literally so random like bruh what (even though it's my birthday month hehe)

[volivolition]

dude the TOP song you posted (truce) fucking kills me and the way you described the animatic is??? so good???? I'd bawl actually /pos

I need to know if there's any other TOP songs you relate to the furies/any DE character really, or any slower songs even if they aren't by TOP

OH AGREED ABSOLUTELY!! TRUCE MY BELOVED... and THANK YOU!! we are imagining animatics and crying together! /pos :'] <3

ooh!! well, i havent listened to a lot of TOP in a while, so i don't have many recommendations there unfortunately :'] but for other slow, soft songs, let's see... i'll put them under a cut with all my explanations, but ☀️ "See The Day" by The Altogether (Volition song!), 🍃 "Rounds" by The Oh Hellos (Shivers song!), 🦋 "Would You Be So Kind" by dodie (general skills song, Suggestion primarily!) are the best contenders!

Pretty sure you've seen it already, but from a different ask, i recommend "Almost (Sweet Music)" by Hozier! (and "Like Real People Do" if you want to cry and yearn with me, though my DE ideas for it are very loose hkjhg) these are slow ones i like hkjhg <3

"Goodbye" by The Altogether is a Harry and Dora song :0

"Soldier, Poet, King" by The Oh Hellos is one i specifically relate to Volition (my beloved protector/motivator/crownhead blorbo! [picks him up and wiggles him!!!]), but i would make one of those animation memes for it with every skill slotted into a "soldier" "poet" or "king" position.

☀️ "See the Day" is both another The Altogether song and another Volition song! a real "the worst is over. we made it through. we're going to survive this. it might not get easier yet, but we'll come out the other side and we'll be alive" song. it makes me cry hkjgh

🍃 "Rounds" by The Oh Hellos is a soft Shivers song, though the lyrics don't start until halfway in. ough my god listening to it makes my heart ache (/pos) <3 La Revacholiere singing to Harry in the wind. "Will you start when I end? Yeah, I'm long in the wind..."

"Northern Star" by Dom Fera, a song Harry would sing for karaoke and dedicate to Kim, and then they'd waltz a little clumsily on the dim, starlit sidewalk on their way home for the evening... <3

🦋 "Would You Be So Kind?" by dodie BUT SPECIFICALLY THIS VERSION, because i love everyone's crowded but earnest vibes. this one is led by Suggestion ("oooh you wanna fall in love with us so bad right? right???") and makes me grin, you GOTTA imagine all of the skills squished together in the front of Harry's brain all trying different tactics to get Kim to fall in love with them, (rhetoric: "I HAVE A QUESTION..." ency: "let's write a story! be in my book!") at 2:35, after all the skills singing together loudly, it's just Harry himself singing to Kim, with all the skills slowly backing him up. the ending is all of them fucking ECSTATIC celebrating when harry finally kisses kim hkjhg jesus this'd be so cute hold on i have to go plan this out i have so many thoughts hkjdh

"Seven" by Sleeping at Last would be a sweet Reaction Speed song (ironic that im adding react speed to a list of soft, slow songs though hkjgh) "I'm ready for whatever comes next!" <3 Reaction Speed is a fast, restless little fella who can't sit still for long, always loves moving, acting, doing. he's like the personification of a verb hkjhg <3 i would also accept an interpretation for echem <3

"Cosmos" by Jawbreaker Reunion is a song that The Furies recently suggested to me as a jean song and it's so right for that, very soft and i like it very much :'] (you should also ask The Furies if you want to, it's much more musically inclined than me, i feel hkjhg <3)

awuahg thank you for asking and for reading!! i appreciate it!! <33

oh and here's links to all of the songs in the tags: Come Together Now, Two, Four, Five, Six, Eight, Nine, RPG Animation Meme (<- homestuck lmao)

[phagodyke]

tried putting on my radiator for the first time this winter (we've had snow this week.... its focking cold) but it trips the fusebox for the entire flat lmfao. I'm fuuuucked 😐

[avatar-aaang]

oh okay so she can send out an email about staff birthdays but not the fucking schedule. got it. Priorities.

[muirneach]

listening to square dance calls while i do my school work 😭 im so me coded

[hoziersong]

it's tag venting time

[chisungie]

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