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wosospacegirl · 19 days ago

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I don’t even like boys - Arsenal teen! r

Summary: Reader has sex with a boy because she is confused about her sexuality but ends up having a pregnancy scare. Leah and Katie comfort her through it.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Talks of teenage pregnancy (but she’s not pregnant!!) a little bit of good luck, baby vibes?

Masterlist here

This was based on a request! Hope you guys enjoy it.

The Health check day at Arsenal was awkward. The team was split into groups of three, each assigned to a general practitioner, a physiotherapist, and a gynaecologist. All the girls had to be examined by all three before returning to training, as per house rules, Y/n guessed.

Y/n, Leah, Katie, and Kyra, sat bored in the gynaecologist’s waiting room. Leah tapped her foot in frustration. “This is ridiculous. We could be training at the gym instead of waiting here,” the blonde muttered.

“You say that every season,” Katie said, rolling her eyes. The Irish woman had a small rubber ball, which she kept bouncing back and forth against the wall.

“Yeah, because every season we lose at least two hours here just so we can go inside and answer the same questions Dr. Smith always asks,” Leah grumbled. “I know she is old and all that, but she always asks me if there is a chance I could be pregnant!” The captain continued, looking at the door as if making sure Dr. Smith wouldn’t hear her.

“I’ve told her I’m just into women like twelve times already,” Leah complained.

Leah wasn’t the chattiest person around, but mate —she could talk when she was annoyed at something.

“Don’t give the woman a hard time,” Kyra said, smiling at Leah. “It’s bureaucracy, they must keep records and stuff like that. Plus, you can’t just expect Dr. Smith to remember everybody’s sexuality. Not everyone in the team is gay.”

“The kid’s right for once,” Katie agreed.

“For once?” Kyra asked, noticing the teasing. “Shut up, McCabe.”

“You might have a point, Kyra,” Leah said, turning slightly to Y/n, who hadn’t said a word since the groups arrived at the waiting room. “Why are you so quiet, Y/n?”

“Maybe because I have nothing to say?” Y/n answered sharply, rolling her eyes.

“Someone’s in a mood,” Katie said.

“Shut up,” Y/n mumbled.

“Ouch!” The young girl exclaimed as she felt Leah pinching her arm. “Why would you do that?” Y/n snapped, looking at the captain and then at the sore skin on her arm.

“Don’t be rude,” Leah warned firmly using her captain's voice.

“I’m not being rude; you guys are just annoying to be around!”

“You guys? I haven’t done anything to you?” Kyra defended herself, a pout on her face.

Y/n hadn’t been in a mood when she woke up, but her day took a turn for worse when she received a notification on her phone from her period-tracking app.

Your period is a week late

She hadn’t realized it, being too caught up with training and school to notice how her menstrual cycle was irregular. Y/n wouldn’t have to worry about it if she had stuck to her rule —not having sex with boys — but it just happened.

Y/n wasn’t sure about her sexuality yet, but she knew she liked girls more than boys. Until last month, she had never kept any type of physical intimacy with a boy before, but it all changed when she met this nice boy from her school. He was a year old and just very kind to her.

The girl wouldn’t say she was attractive to him or anything, she actually didn’t want to have sex because she was horny, or any other reason teenagers normally have sex.

She just wanted to see if she would enjoy herself or not. If she was able to like boys or just girls.

Y/n was curious.

One thing led to another and when Y/n realized she and Chris had sex with the during a very cold Saturday afternoon. After they finished, well, he finished, Y/n put on her shirt and underwear, staring at the boy sleeping in her bed.

It felt wrong.

Not because he was rude to her or bad at sex, but because he just… wasn’t a girl.

“Hey, Chris,” Y/n poked the sleeping boy. “Mate, wake up.”

“Hm?” the boy mumbled, slightly opening her eyes. “What? Is it morning already?”

“What? No, of course not, it’s been just15 minutes since we—”

“Had sex?” The boy finished her sentence, a smirk displayed on his face.

“Well—Yeah! That’s why I need you to leave,” Y/n could see the smirk disappearing from the boy’s face, disappointment settling in.

“Leave? Like… back to my house?”

“Exactly.” Y/n left the bed, looking for her pants on the floor. Where were they? She could swear she had put it on her desk chair.

As Y/n looked around, she felt Chris’s eyes on her body. She didn’t like it.

“Did I do something wrong?” Chris finally asked, sitting straight on the bed, back against the headboard. “It was my first time too, but I hope I didn’t hurt you or anything.”

Y/n’s face soften. Maybe she was being a bit rude.

“No, Chris, it was alright, I just—I don’t think I really like…boys.” Y/n confessed, finally finding her pants under her bed.

“Oh.”

“Yeah mate, I’m sorry.”

Chris left the bed and began looking for his clothes, while Y/n stood there awkwardly. She shouldn’t feel awkward in her own house. When Chris was dressed and ready to go, Y/n led him to the front door.

“This could stay between us, right?” Y/n asked softly as she opened the door to the boy, the cold winter breeze meeting her face. She was just now realizing that Chris could very much tell anyone what they did.

Even the Media.

“I—I can’t have people knowing about this… the team and the contract—” Y/n continued.

Chris gave her a sad smile. “Don’t worry, Y/n. Let’s just pretend it never happened.”

After a clumsy goodbye, Chris left, and Y/n was finally alone again. She desperately needed a shower.

And that’s how Y/n realized she was going through a pregnancy scare.

Y/n didn’t feel different, she hadn’t had any weird cravings. She hasn’t gained or lost any weight. Surely, she wasn’t pregnant. She wasn’t on any birth control, but she had made sure Chris was wearing a condom.

They were both a bit clumsy, but they had remembered to check if the condom had a hole or not before Chris threw it away. At least they’d done one thing right.

So yeah, Y/n didn’t know why she was so nervous. She didn’t have any reason to be. She followed the Sex Education’s rules to the letter… but, what if something had gone wrong? Was she even ovulating that day? She couldn’t be sure.

Y/n began biting her nails. Her teammates could sense Y/n’s tension, but they didn’t want to make the younger girl angrier than she already was — although they were all very curious about the reason for her foul mood.

After what felt like centuries, Alessia appeared in the waiting room, having just left the gynaecologist’s office. The blonde exchanged a few words with the other girls before leaving. Now Y/n just had to wait — Dr. Smith would call one of them soon.

Within minutes, the girls heard Dr. Smith’s voice through the door. “Next!” The old lady called.

Y/n probably got up too quickly from her chair, because Leah, Katie and Kyra looked at her like she was crazy. “I’ve never seen you so excited to go see Dr. Smith before,” Kyra said.

“You almost took the chair with you,” Katie added suspiciously.

“I—I just want to be one of the firsts! The last time we had check-up day, I was the last one to go,” Y/n said defensively, taking small steps towards the office.

“You were the last one because you were terrified of going to the gynaecologist,” Leah said, raising an eyebrow. “I literally had to go in with you. “

Did the older girls really need to remember everything all the time?

“I’m just a changed woman now,” Y/n sighed. “You all might see me as some kid, but I’m almost 18 —things change.” The defensiveness in Y/n voice was unmatched, so Leah just let her go without pressing any further

“Something happened to her.”

That was the last thing Y/n could hear before entering Dr. Smith’s office.

After completing the physical part of the exam, Dr. Smith sat across from Y/n at her desk, her notebook open on Y/n’s medical files. Y/n couldn’t pay attention to what the old woman was typing —she was too distracted by the sight in front of her: a replica of a uterus with a baby inside.

“Darling, I’m just going to go through the same questions as always, okay,” Dr. Smith said with a smile.

Y/n answered all the questions honestly. Yes, she had bad period cramps. No, she didn’t have migraines. Yes, it bothered her to play during her period. No, the training didn’t make the cramps go worse.

Everything was fine until Dr. Smith asked:

“During your last check, up you said you weren’t sexually active, right? How about now?”

Y/n blushed, staring at the doctor in front of her. Did she really have to go through this just to play professional football?

“Hm—So about that—yes,” Y/n fumbled over her words. She scratched the back of her head nervously.

Dr. Smith remained silent, waiting for Y/n to continue, but the young girl clamped her mouth shut, looking at the walls instead.

“Yes what, darling?” asked Dr. Smith. “This is a private space; you don’t need to be embarrassed.”

Private space? As if! Y/n thought, Dr. Smith had her whole hormonal history — and now sex life — written up in her file.

“I’ve had had sex since the last time we talked.” Y/n explained, no emotions on her face. She just needed to be direct.

“Would you be okay telling me if it was with a boy or a girl?” The poor woman was really trying to get Y/n to open up— Y/n had to give her that.

“Hm—” Y/n bit her nails. “Two months ago, I was with this girl. She was my first. And then last month, I had sex with this guy, but it was only once,” Y/n explained.

“So, you’ve had two sexual partners, correct?”

“Yes, but the girl was the only one who I slept with more than once.” Y/n was going to die of embarrassment, — she was sure of it.

“Alright darling, had you had any STI test after then?”

“Yes, everything’s fine.”

“Great! That’s great. What about your period? Have you noticed any changes in your cycle after having intercourse?” Dr. Smith questioned.

Y/n stared at the women. She had to tell her.

“Well, about that,” Y/n laughed nervously. “My period is kind of late, but it’s probably nothing, right? We used condoms, and not throwing up or anything, I just have to wait, don’t I?”

For a moment, all they could hear in the office were Y/n trainers tapping the floor.

“How late are you, Y/n?” Dr. Smith asked, a frown on her face.

“A week.”

“Hm,” Dr. Smith mumbled before getting up from her chair and opening a white cabinet. The older woman held a box with a baby printed on it and handed it to Y/n

Y/n started at the pregnancy test, not wanting to take it.

“We’ll have you doing this test, okay? Just go to the bathroom and pee on it. It will take 3 to 5 minutes to get the results.”

Y/n said nothing.

“You need to do it, Y/n, I know you are scared, but we can’t be sure why your period is late if you don’t take.”

Y/n took the pregnancy test, tears in her eyes.

Before Dr. Smith could say anything, Y/n was already bolting through the office door, straight to the bathroom. She heard Leah and Katie behind her. The older women were calling for her, asking what had happened, but Y/n didn’t look back.

When she got to the bathroom, she locked herself in one of the stalls, it wasn’t long before she heard the door open. Before Leah or Katie could say anything, Y/n was already crying.

Leah and Katie looked at each other, both very worried. They didn’t know what could have possibly happened back at the gynaecologist’s office, but they were sure it was bad by the way the young girl reacted.

“Hey babe, what’s wrong?” Leah asked softly. “Did something, why are you crying?”

“I’m an idiot,” Y/n answered, her hands shaking. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Katie and Leah shared an apprehensive look.

“And why do you say that kid? Leah questioned, trying to get the stall to open. “Come talk to us.”

Y/n was so distressed, she just wanted to get this test done over with.

“I—I had sex with this boy from my school,” Y/n confessed, tears running down her face. “I’m not even sure why, I know I don’t like boys, but I just wanted to be sure.”

“Okay, that okay, that’s completely normal,” Katie said. “It’s that why you are crying?”

Half the Arsenal team were lesbians. They’d been Y/n’s age once and knew how confusing it is to understand one’s sexuality.

“Did the boy do something to you, Y/n?” Leah asked, her voice angry. “If he did, we can find him and go to the police—”

“It’s not that,” Y/n said through tears. “My period is late, and Dr. Smith gave me a pregnancy test, but I’m just scared to take it.”

The bathroom was silent again.

“Did you use protection?” Leah asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes,” Y/n answered through the door.

“Okay, so the odds are in your favor, yeah, kid? Go take the test, and when you’re done, we’ll be right here with you.” Leah said.

“I’m sure it’s going to be negative, babe, don’t worry, take the test, and then we’ll figure stuff out.” The Irish women added.

That’s what Y/n did. She followed the instructions written on the box and just waited. She could see Katie’s and Leah’s shadows through the door opening. Who would have thought that shadows could be comforting?

A minute passed. Then two. And then five.

Just one bright pink line.

Not pregnant.

Y/n yanked the stall door open and threw her arms around Leah and Katie, who weren’t expecting the sudden embrace. The girl felt like she could finally breathe again, her heart slowing doing as her chest relaxed against Leah and Katie’s embrace.

“I’m not fucking pregnant,” Y/n said, hugging the women tight. “I might start crying again.”

“See, we were right, nothing to worry about,” Leah patted Y/n’s back

“I told you, no drama.” Katie said playfully. “Pregnancy tests are overrated anyway.”

After Y/n calmed down, the three women went back to the waiting room. Y/n had to go back inside the gynaecologist office to tell Dr. Smith she wasn’t pregnant after all. After a few minutes, Dr. Smith let Y/n go and told advised her to use birth control or IUD is she wanted to feel more protected against any potential pregnancy.

“Oh Dr. Smith, don’t worry, now I know I don’t even like boys,” Y/n said before leaving the room.

Notes: Please like, reblog and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

#woso fanfic #woso x reader #arsenal fanfic #arsenal women #woso appreciation #women soccer #women's football #woso community #woso

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hypnobeauty · 1 month ago

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A Chance Encounter - a cho hyun-ju x reader fic (part 2)

summary: a story about how you and Hyun-ju met and the following years of your relationship. part 1 cw: no use of y/n, reader is afab, angst, transphobia, fluff if you squint really hard, pre-squid game, slice of life, timeline might be a bit wonky, this one is a bit sad. a/n: hey, didn't think i'd get any response on the previous part but people enjoyed and i'm happy! this time i decided to write some background for hyun; the show gives us very little on her, so i made up a lot of stuff. my shayla!! just a heads up, i know nothing of military, so i googled a bunch of stuff and probably faked some information. oh well. enjoy! xx comments are always appreciated ♥️ taglist: @strayteez3staner @dekiruxxx @trizxyp - lemme know if you'd like to be added.

part 2. unexpected bloom

it was hyun-ju.

she’d lingered in the clinic longer than she’d planned, hoping to catch one last glimpse of you. she’d seen you when you first came in, laughing with your friend, and something about your energy had drawn her in. for a moment, she’d dared to hope you might still be there when she left. but when she scanned the waiting room, you were gone, and that small flicker of hope faded into disappointment.

she wasn’t sure why she cared. hyun-ju had felt your glances earlier, and while being stared at wasn’t new to her, it wasn’t something she ever got used to. there was always a tension in those moments—a question of whether the gaze was one of judgment, curiosity, or something worse. but with you, it had been different. there was no malice or disgust in the way you looked at her. if anything, you seemed… curious. interested, maybe. though she told herself she was probably imagining it.

as she sat in her car, her mind drifted back to the past months. it hadn’t been easy—nothing about transitioning ever was—but this was the life she had chosen, the life she’d fought for. hyun-ju’s life had changed drastically. almost a year ago, she’d lost her position in the army, a career she’d poured herself into for twelve long years. as a sergeant first class in the special forces, she’d been respected and admired, known for her skill and discipline. but when she came out to her superior—a man she’d once seen as a mentor, even a father figure—everything crumbled.

she’d gone into his office nervous but hopeful. maybe he’d understand. maybe, at worst, she’d lose a rank or face a transfer. but instead, he’d looked at her like she’d grown a second head, addressing her by her dead name and suggesting she was "confused" or "clouded in judgment." he gave her a week to reconsider her words but by the time she walked out of that office, her military career was over.

at thirty, she was adrift—jobless, heartbroken, and unsure of her place in the world. her girlfriend at the time hadn’t made it any easier. when hyun-ju told her about her plans to transition, the girl had simply said, “i can’t date a gay man. sorry.” no amount of explaining—about how she wasn’t gay, how she liked girls but was also a girl—seemed to get through. the girl left her in a café, bewildered and suddenly very alone.

in moments like that, hyun-ju often found herself reflecting on her life. even as a kid, she’d known she was different. she loved roughhousing with her brother, playing football in the middle of the road and riding her bike around the neighborhood, but she secretly longed to be the pink ranger when they played, even though she always ended up as the blue.

by the time puberty hit, her confusion had crystallized into a painful clarity. she envied the girls in her school—not just for who they were, or her personalities, but for how their bodies changed in ways hers never would. at fourteen, she tried confiding in a school counselor, but that backfired spectacularly when her father found out. the berating she endured and the punishment that followed left her with one lesson: never speak of it again.

her first girlfriend, ga-eul, had been a bright spot in those early years. hyun-ju liked to think she had been a good “boyfriend,” attentive and sensitive, but deep down, she’d longed to be seen for who she truly was. when she left for military service at eighteen, she and ga-eul parted ways.

many years later, when hyun-ju updated her social media with her new name and posted her first photo of her, ga-eul had sent her a message. “i always knew you were special. live your truth, hyun-ju.” it was small, but it meant the world to her.

even so, she carried that secret inside her, even as she became a star in physical education, even as she left for mandatory military service at eighteen. rising through the ranks to become a special forces sergeant first class was no small feat, especially for someone who had to constantly suppress half of who they were. but at home, behind closed doors, she allowed herself small moments of freedom. over time, she collected pieces of her true self—a pair of delicate earrings, a sleek dress, makeup she practiced applying in secret.

over the past nine months, hyun-ju had made strides toward becoming the woman she’d always been inside. hrt had softened her features, reshaped her body, and even brought a slight swell to her chest. now, every time she looked in the mirror, she felt closer to the person she’d always been inside. but it wasn’t enough—not yet.

this new chapter in her life wasn’t without its challenges. her savings, her army pension, and her cautious spending habits had carried her this far, but she hadn’t anticipated how expensive transitioning would be. she’d started laser hair removal and gotten fillers and botox, but today’s procedure was her first major surgery: a rhinoplasty to smooth out the bump on her nose and reshape the tip and nostrils. she had other procedures planned—a facelift, jaw shaving, double eyelid surgery—but her surgeon had advised starting small. the costs were steep, but to her it was worth it.

and yet, the isolation that came with these changes weighed the most on her. she’d distanced herself from her family, avoided video calls, and cut ties with many of her old friends and colleagues. outside of her therapist and a trans support group she’d joined, she rarely interacted with anyone who truly saw her.

and then there was you.

two weeks later, you were back at the clinic with ha-neul, waiting outside the doctor’s office with your kindle. you were engrossed in your book when a quiet argument at the reception desk caught your attention. looking up, you saw her: hyun-ju.

she looked different from before, her hair slightly longer and tied in a small bun. she wore jeans, knee-high boots, and a trench coat, with a leather crossbody bag slung over her shoulder. but her face was what really caught your attention.

her nose was bandaged, the skin around it bruised and swollen. she looked tired, but it wasn’t just physical—it was the kind of weariness that came from carrying too much for too long. you weren’t sure why your breath hitched, but it did. then you caught snippets of the conversation.

“i’m sorry, miss,” the receptionist said with an apologetic smile. “we can’t dismiss you without a third-party signature. it’s for your safety.”

hyun-ju’s voice was soft but firm, laced in frustration. “i have no one.”

before you could think, you were on your feet, walking toward them. “i—i could help?” you stammered, unsure if you were even speaking to her directly.

she turned to you, her face swollen and bruised, her nose bandaged. for a moment, her expression was unreadable.

“i don’t know if you remember me,” you said quickly, trying to fill the silence. “we met a couple of weeks ago? i was with my friend ha-neul… oh, i didn’t introduce myself back then. i’m sorry.” you gave her your name, fumbling slightly, before adding, “if it’s okay, i could sign you out. i could even help you get home if you don’t think that’s… too much.”

hyun-ju hesitated, her gaze flickering between you and the receptionist.

in truth, she didn’t know what to think. she was exhausted, in pain, and desperate to leave. and then there was you—the girl who’d sat next to her, the one she couldn’t quite forget. you’d made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“why?” she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

you smiled gently. “why not?”

That’s how you ended up signing the dismissal form for a stranger and climbing into the back of an Uber with her. Hyun-ju sat stiffly beside you, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her bag.

You sent a quick text to Ha-Neul: “I had to leave, sorry! Explain later 😘😘.”

As the car pulled away, you glanced at her. She looked out the window, her profile softened by the dim light. You weren’t sure why you’d offered to help. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was something more.

And maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end of the story.

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jellyfemmedyke · 11 months ago

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sorry to ramble in your inbox but its kinda fucking me up how "trans man with a cishet boyfriend who misgenders him behind his back" is like seen to be a person to make fun of in the general queer tumblr space instead of a person who is in a vulnerable situation. i know that there is trans men who are also women and there are trans men who are genuinely okay with dating a cis man who considers himself straight but people talking about these hypothetical couples arent talking about these situations but rather about "haha stupid trans man doesnt realize hes dating a bigot"

theres this attitude that the hypothetical cishet boyfriend is actually a conservative so it should be obvious to trans man that he doesnt respect his identity but i feel like its less "oh its obvious that this specific man is a bigot" and more "obviously cishet white men are bigots" and its weird how people laugh at this person instead of acknowledging that even if you are dating a bigot its usually not a big win for you personally. like the bigot cishet boyfriend isnt going to be okay with his trans man boyfriend starting testosterone. like we can sympathize with emotional abuse happening towards other groups but when its gay and mspec trans men its like "oh he should have known that would happen" or "its his fault for dating a bigot"?

of course people have the same making fun of the victim narrative with afab nonbinary people who date cishet men who misgender them [and im sure this bleeds over to affecting all nonbinary people if people arbitrarily decide theyre afab if the nonbinary person refuses to tell them personal information about themselves but the larger narrative always specifies that this is an afab person] and its almost like a "this is what you get for being attracted to men" sort of thing.

and also i theres something to be said about warning people for signs their partner or potential partner doesnt respect their identity but considering i imagine its a common anxiety among trans and nonbinary people who are into that sorta thing to wonder "am i ever going to find someone who loves me and is also accepting of me for being [insert gender here]?" its sort of fucked up for it to be common to basically claim "yea if youre dating a cis man who said he was straight before he started dating you but says he respects your identity hes probably just straight up lying to your face" and then laugh at the person getting misgendered for not knowing they were being misgendered.

anyway sorry for this big ramble i cant even remember specific instances of this to reference so i might seem like im making up a guy to be mad at but i swear this is like a general attitude and almost running joke i see around. anyway. have a good day.

I absolutely see that too, and I think it's a mixture of straight up victim blaming, because oh noo how dare you WANT to date *gasp* cis men

but it come with an intense transandrophobia and exorsexism because there's a lot more sympathy when it comes to cis women dating cishet men "poor things uwu" but when it's trans men or in this case non binary people assumed to be women, it's always "see I told you so" smug superiority. (cis women get this too, because of misogyny obviously, but it's different and worse for trans men) People are just waiting for a chance to be misogynistic and trans men are an acceptable target. This is honestly extra fucked up when we remember that trans men experience some of the highest rates of domestic violence and rape in the community though.

being trans is such a vulnerable place to be in, and a lot of people, trans or not are insecure or just want to be loved, that's normal. A lot of people are willing to accept certain behaviors from their partners that are bad, because of those reasons as well, victim blaming, and ESPECIALLy telling trans men to toughen up or "what did you expect" is apart of the toxic expectations that get placed of trans men as well. I could honestly go on for hours about this. good ask,anon

#transandrophobia #asks

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back2bluesidex · 2 months ago

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The Undisclosed Reason: Murder - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Contract Husband!Yoongi X Contract Wife!Reader

Theme: soft yandere, mystery, smut, morally grey characters

Word Count: 1.5k+

Summary: Min Yoongi is mysterious, beautiful and scary. Min Yoongi is also the primary suspect of instigating his ex-wife's suicide.

Warnings: SMUT!! explicit sex, sex on a kitchen counter, yoongi is chilling in here, mentions of suicide, death, murder.

First installment of One Last Contract

Inspired from kdrama The Trunk.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (for early access)

Taglist requests are open

Next installment: Curiosity Killed: None Yet

“The undisclosed reason…” His voice echoes in the mostly empty dining place, “you know what it is, don’t you?” from the way his voice sounds so distant, you know he is facing away from you.

Your hand momentarily stops wiping the dishes. Your mind tricks you into thinking that he is testing you.

He is testing if you are afraid of him or not.

He is testing if you will break under his pressure or not.

And you won’t.

You’d only be afraid of dying if you were living. Death doesn’t scare you anymore, not when you are a walking shell of a human who has long accepted her demise.

“I do.” you reply briefly, resuming your task at hand.

And then you let your mind divert, let it go wherever it wants, let it land wherever it sees fit.

“Why did you say yes then? To this marriage?” suddenly his voice is close. When you look up you see him standing at the other side of the kitchen counter.

His eyes pierce through yours. For the first time in a week of knowing him, you see life in those eyes. You see fire.

“The money is good. And saying no to a project reflects negatively on performance review.” You keep your focus on wiping the dishes.

Min Yoongi stands there, staring at you as if you are an alien that has suddenly teleported to his house.

If he expects you to shrink under his scrutinizing gaze then he is wrong. You are not that fragile.

“Also… I am not scared to die.” you add, as quietly as possible. For a moment you wonder if he has caught you spilling those words or not.

Maybe he has not.

But then you hear him chuckling.

A low, rumbly sound that resembles tiny pebbles rolling down a rocky path.

When you look up again, his eyes lock with yours for a second time - you know he hasn’t looked away for a moment even.

“Then what are you scared of?” Yoongi takes a dangerous step towards you, his voice dips down an octave lower.

“Nothing.” you reply as confident as ever.

Yoongi takes another step and crosses the thin kitchen counter to stand right before you, towering you with his figure. His body casts a shadow on yours - you are in the dark now.

“Not even what I might do to you?” He raises his hand. With his index finger, he traces the contour of your face. “What if I do something bad? Dirty? Something worse than killing you?”

As soon as his finger comes in contact with your skin - you feel tingles all over your body.

It’s been years - years - since you felt something akin to this.

Your last husband was asexual. The one before him was gay. The one before that had an affair with someone of his mother’s age. And the previous two were terminally ill.

Min Yoongi is your first totally normal project. You wondered what had made the man cave in - to seek the assistance of a contract marriage while he could have anyone in this world within a snap of his fingers. That was until you came to know the secret.

Min Yoongi was investigated for his ex-wife’s death. Although that was a suicide, she wrote his name in the note.

But now as he stands before you, under the extremely dim light of the kitchen, you are not sure - of what, you don’t know.

Anyone in the world would find him scary, especially with that scar running down on his face. But to you he looks beautiful - especially with that scar running down on his face. All of sudden, your heart is overwhelmed with an urge of tracing his scar and wishing for it to tell tales - what happened, how it happened.

“Do you want to do something bad, dirty to me?” you find yourself challenging him.

His lips stretch in a smile, “does your company allow that? To have sex with the contract spouses?”

“If both parties want, then yes.” you inhale a sharp breath. The proximity, his scent, his droopy eyes, slightly parted mouth and that long dark hair cascading to his neck make you feel dizzy.

“Do you want it?” he asks, pushing himself closer to your body.

“As long as you use protection, yes.” Even before you could finish your sentence properly, Yoongi winds a hand around your waist and pulls you towards him.

Your body presses together. Electricity runs around like a pair of close-knit open circuits.

“If you regret your decision later, it’s not my fault.” he breathes down on your mouth before closing the remaining gap.

His mouth molds on yours as you kiss him back instantly.

Again, years - it has been years - since you have shared a kiss.

His big hands trace the path of your lower back, down the valley of your arse. Planting his palms there, he gives you a squeeze.

Arousal gushes out of your cunt.

The kiss is bruising. It translates how hungry both of you have been for any kind of physical action.

Yoongi backs you on the counter, nibbling down on your lower lip and breaking the kiss while pulling the muscle of your lip with his teeth.

He wastes no time in attaching his mouth to the angle of your jaw, leaving marks all over the column of your throat and then on your collar bones.

His hands now travel underneath your sweater, Touching the expanse of your skin that is hidden from his eyes. When his hands reach the underside of your bra, he detaches his face from your throat and looks at you intently.

You know he is asking for permission, which you didn’t expect from someone who was booked for instigating his ex-wife’s death.

You nod.

Yoongi takes his time in pulling your sweater up from your body and discarding it somewhere around the vast dining place. He, then, stares at you, with hooded eyes full of last.

Your arousal dampens your underwear. Fuck. you absolutely didn’t expect this.

Reaching out for your bra, you unclasp it and let it pool down on your shoulders.

Yoongi stares at you. He doesn’t move just yet. You follow his eyes as those lower from your face to your exposed chest.

And then he moves. Grabbing you harshly by your waist he hikes you up and sits you down on the kitchen counter.

The cold steel top sends shivers through every corner of your body. Your already erected nipples, stands for attention even more.

Yoongi wraps his lips on one of your nipples in a long, languid suck. You can’t help but moan.

His one hand holds you tightly by your waist and another rolls your unoccupied nipple between his thumb and index finger.

A gush of pleasure flows out of your core.

Your fingers find their way in his dark locks. You take time to enjoy raking your fingers through his silky-smooth strands.

He sinks his teeth on your nipple, making you curse out loud. Your toes curl.

Leaving your tit alone, Yoongi dives inside your sweat pants, right through your underwear and touches your slick cunt.

His index finger runs along your slit at first and then his thumb joins to stretch out your fold and enter your hole.

“So wet already, huh? Seems like your previous husbands were no good.” Yoongi comments in a fleeting way.

You can’t object. He is right.

He enters two fingers in you without any warning. The stretch burns at first but as he scissors his fingers slowly, you find your eyes rolling backwards.

Yoongi’s bulge presses down on your stomach and you decide you want him. You want him now.

“Fuck me. Fuck me already.” you murmur in his hair.

You can feel him smirking against the skin of your throat.

“As my wife says.” he detaches his body from yours. You stare at him as he stips off of his clothing.

Once he is out of his underwear, his dick springs up and slams against his belly. He rolls down the condom that was hiding somewhere in his pockets - you wonder if he planned his earlier.

You get even wetter.

Within a second he is back at where he was. He takes off your remaining clothing in a haste and lines his cock to your entrance.

Giving you a quick stare, he enters in you, smooth and swift.

Your breath hitches.

Five years. After five whole years you are being pleasured.

He goes slow at first, gives you time to adjust and then picks up his pace.

Min Yoongi, your contract husband fucks you in his kitchen. Fucks you so good that you can’t remember what brings you here - with him, under him.

Fucks you at an inhuman pace.

When you cum on his cock, he grunts loudly and that’s one of the most attractive sounds you have ever heard.

He moans again when he cums inside the condom.

As you both try to catch your breath, he looks at you with a smirk playing on his lips.

“And what if I kill you now?” he asks, voice hoarse with all the moans and groans.

“Will you?”

“Maybe.”

Permanent Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns @parapiop7 @futuristicenemychaos @armystay89 @ryryvna @purple-realms

#bts yandere #bts smut #yoongi smut #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #bts x you #yoongi x you #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #bts drabble

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rogueddie · 1 year ago

Text

A Spot in My Life T | 953 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is keeping a spare sweater or blanket in the car because they always get cold

Steve Harrington is a bitch.

It's something that Eddie knew, all through high school, but he had thought that Steve had somehow became a new person- thanks to the Upside Down and constantly almost seeing the world end.

Steve isn't a bad guy, he can admit. He's still trying to keep an eye on everyone, make sure they're ok, even checking in with Eddie in his own way.

But he's very sly about it, hiding it being playful jabs, eye rolls and cocked hips.

It rubs him the wrong way. And it's only made worse by how much Eddie still likes him. It's as if the bitchiness only draws him in more, even as it makes his chest burn with irritation.

He tries to avoid Steve for as long as he can. He knows that finally befriending him like they both want will only end badly, but he knows he can't resist the temptation.

He enjoys the time before as much as he can, reveling in how often Steve will try to corner him so they can hang out, how much he whines and pleads and pushes. He enjoys the illusion that Steve could feel anything for him like he does for Steve.

And, when they finally do hang out, his fears are confirmed.

Steve is amazing. He's funnier than he comes across as at first too. He pays attention to what Eddie says and tries to get him anything he wants.

He's the type of friend that anyone would fight for, Eddie is sure. It explains how he ended up so popular in high school too.

If Eddie had known what Steve is truly like, he'd have been lining up for a scrap of his attention like everyone else.

"They're assholes," Steve explains, when Eddie finally asks about his old lackeys. "Tommy always took shit a step too far. I didn't need them. Probably shouldn't have befriended them in the first place."

"They were your friends," Eddie reminds him.

Steve sighs, leaning back. "Yeah, I guess. Just wish I'd realised sooner, how they were getting."

He never complains about the kids, not genuinely. In the quiet moments, when Steve is honest with an almost painful degree of vulnerability, he talks about how amazing the kids are. He talks about how honored he is to be friends with Dustin.

It only makes Eddies feelings inch ever closer to 'the L word'.

"You should talk to him," Robin suggests. "He really is amazing."

"I know, but... guys that are ok with lesbians still get weird about gay men, you know?"

"Yeah, but Steve isn't like that. Did he ever tell you the full story of how I came out to him?"

"It was after the Russian torture drugs, right?"

"We were in the bathroom, near the cinema. I thought we might have puked it all up, so we decided to test it, ask each other questions. So, I asked him if he was ever in love..."

"Oh... oh no."

"Oh yes. He liked me, told me so, and that's when I came out to him."

"Holy shit, Robin."

"But that's my point. He was a little surprised, sure, but he started making jokes, like, immediately. Didn't phase him at all. He got with it immediately. We're just friends, and that's not a problem for him."

Eddie groans, throwing his head back so it thumps into the wall behind him. "But that just makes him more hot!"

The story plagues his mind, to the point that it's the only thing he can think about when he picks Steve up for their next hang out.

In the dead of winter, Steve feels the cold worse than anyone else that Eddie knows. He runs hot, and the sudden temperature drops brings out the worse in him.

He's shivering when he climbs into Eddie's car.

"Fuck, why isn't your heating on?" He whines.

"It's broke," Eddie reminds him. "It's fine, don't worry."

"Don't worry? I'm gonna get hypothermia, Eddie! I don't want to turn into an ice sc- what is that?"

He takes the blanket that Eddie had reached back to grab, staring at it.

"It's a blanket."

"No shit, I mean... it's yellow."

"Yeah? You like yellow."

"You got this for me?"

"You see anyone else shivering in my van?"

"No, it..." Steve pauses, glancing at Eddie before slowly wrapping the blanket around himself. "Sorry, uh... thank you. This is, um, nice."

"it's nothing."

"It's not. Just- take the thanks, Ed."

"Alright, alright."

They're silent for the rest of the drive. It's so unusual for them that it has Eddie nervous, glancing at Steve every other moment.

When they finally pull to a stop, Eddie turns to Steve, who stays where he is. He stares out the front window for a moment, before turning to face Eddie.

"Are you alright?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, I am. Enjoying the warmth."

"That all?"

"... yeah."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "You're a terrible liar."

"Wh- hey, I'm a good liar!" He tries to glare, but quickly backs down with a huff. "Alright, fine, but it's really sappy! Don't say I didn't warn you!"

"Oh, no, the horror."

"Shut up. I was just thinking about how, like... there's so many little things in your life that are for me. My tapes in your room, spare clothes in your closet, this blanket... I really appreciate it, man. You've made space for me in your life. It means a lot to me."

"Oh, right. That's... yeah. Of course, Steve. You're always welcome. I love- uh... spending time with you."

"Good. I love spending time with you too."

"Good."

"Great."

Steve's smile is wide and goofy. He's sure that his own is just as cheesy.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #nav.slm

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dumbobsessivebitch · 10 months ago

Note

can you do something for Kate where reader is a nerd and acedemic weapon???? like she’s always locked in and she’s also the manager for the team so kate is infatuated by how perfect reader is and doesn’t think that reader is gay because reader is really girly??

DON'T MENTION IT - KATE MARTIN

The soft hum of the overhead lights in the basketball gym was the only sound breaking the silence as Y/N worked at her laptop. The team had just wrapped up practice, and the players were trickling out, their laughter and chatter slowly fading into the background. Y/N, the team manager, was focused on updating the team’s stats and schedules. Papers were scattered around her as she continued typing away.

Kate had always admired Y/N. She was the perfect combination of brains and beauty – she maintained impeccable grades while efficiently managing the team’s needs. Despite her bright, bubbly demeanor and her obsession with in pastel sweaters and floral skirts – Kate had never thought that Y/N might like girls. It seemed too good to be true.

Earlier that day, during practice, Kate had noticed Y/N looking more stressed than usual. She was usually so composed, but today, her movements were hurried as she did 20 things at the same time. Caitlin had noticed too.

"Is she okay?" Kate murmured to Caitlin, her eyes fixed on Y/N, who was frantically flipping through her notes.

Caitlin smirked, nudging Kate with her elbow. "Someone’s got it bad, huh?"

Kate blushed, rolling her eyes. "I'm serious, Caitlin. She looks really stressed out."

"Yeah, I noticed," Caitlin admitted, her tone softening. "But it’s cute how worried you are. You should just talk to her, you know."

Kate sighed, watching as Y/N ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "I know. I just don't want to make things worse."

"Trust me," Caitlin said, giving Kate a reassuring pat on the back. "You won’t. She could probably use a friend right now. And maybe more than that."

As the last of her teammates left, Kate lingered by the door, pretending to check her phone. She glanced up to see Y/N still engrossed in her work, her shoulders hunched with tension. Something in her posture seemed off, she usually seemed so confidence and sure of herself.

Concerned, Kate approached quietly. "Hey, Y/N, are you okay?"

Startled, Y/N looked up, her eyes wide. "Oh, Kate! I didn't realize anyone was still here. Yeah, I'm fine, just a bit overwhelmed with all this work."

Kate moved closer, noting the tear tracks on Y/N's cheeks. "It doesn't look like just a bit. Do you want to talk about it?"

Y/N's façade crumbled, and she buried her face in her hands. "I'm so embarrassed. I should be able to handle this, but it's too much sometimes."

Without hesitation, Kate sat down next to her, placing a comforting hand on her back. "Hey, it's okay. You do so much for us and keep everything running smoothly. It's okay to feel overwhelmed."

Y/N looked up, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "I just don't want to let anyone down. I feel like I have to be perfect all the time."

Kate's heart ached for her. "You don't have to be perfect, Y/N. You're already amazing. We all appreciate everything you do. You’re allowed to have a moment."

Y/N sniffled and managed a small smile. "Thanks, Kate. I don't know what I'd do without you guys."

Kate's hand moved from Y/N's back to gently cup her cheek. "We don't know what we'd do without you either." Her voice softened, and she added, almost hesitantly, "You know, you're incredible, Y/N. More than you realize."

There was a charged silence between them as Y/N processed Kate's words. Slowly, she leaned into Kate's touch, her eyes searching the taller girl's face. "Really?"

"Really," Kate whispered, her breath hitching as she leaned in closer. Their lips met in a soft kiss, both of them melting into the moment, all of Y\N's stress and worries disappearing in a second.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N's cheeks were flushed, but she was smiling genuinely for the first time that evening. "Thank you, Kate. For everything."

Kate grinned, leaning down to kiss the girl again "don't mention it"

A\N : I tried my best I hope you guys like it!

#kate martin x reader #kate martin #wnba #kate martin fluff #this is my first time writing for Kate pls be nice

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quintessenceofdust88 · 3 months ago

Text

Nonna Rosa fixes it

[Now on AO3!] Okayyy, it's officially not the weekend anymore, but only for like five minutes, so technically I'm on time! This got totally away from me, and I had to actually force myself to end it where I did. Nonna Rosa took the narrative from my hands and said 'I'll take it from here', and good for her. Not to be dramatic but I love her. Anyway, if any Italian-speaking people read this: I AM SO SORRY. This is all Collins dictionary or Google Translate, I don't speak a word of Italian and I'll be very glad to correct any mistakes you might notice ♥ I hope you guys enjoy it! if you want to know more about Nonna Rosa, send me an ask, I have looots of headcanons for her (and Tommy's childhood). Here you go:

A week after breaking up with Evan, Tommy is still feeling like shit. He can barely sleep, anything he tries to eat tastes like sawdust, and he feels like he’s living on autopilot. He goes to work, he comes back home, he tries to eat, he tries to sleep, rinse and repeat. Nothing else matters, there’s nothing else he feels like doing. He doesn’t answer Howie’s texts asking how he’s doing (he answered the first one, telling Howie not to worry about him, but can’t do more than that); he completely ignores Eddie’s invitation for Muay Thai and basketball, and he comes up with an excuse as to why he can’t make karaoke bar that Thursday. And yet, there’s one thing he can’t put off, as much as he wishes to: talking to his Nonna.

Tommy calls his grandmother at least once a week; she still lives in Indiana, in the same house he spent most of his childhood in, and he knows his uncle Bart visits often. But he likes to hear from her himself. Visiting her was a rare occasion, and the last time he was able to was about four months ago. The minute he had stepped in, Nonna had asked him if he was ‘innamorato’, because he was looking so much happier than usual.

And he knows she’ll perceive his sadness just as quick, if not quicker. The woman has always been able to read him like an open book. She’s probably the only person alive who can; he’s always made sure to keep his layers hidden from everyone else, even from…

Well. Doesn’t matter now, does it?

Fact is, that if he misses his call with Nonna, it’ll be even worse. She’ll know something’s up, and he doesn’t put past her to fly across the country to check on him (he’s always been the favorite grandson and everyone knows it). So it’s best to get it over with. With a heavy sigh, he sits down on his couch (and tries not to think about how empty it feels when it’s just him in there) and rings her up, bracing himself.

“Pronto? Tommasino?” She answers the call, as always with the camera too close to her face, and that at least brings a smile to his face.

“Nonna, you need to stretch your arm a little. Remember, like Charlie showed you?” He asks with a chuckle; Charlie being his cousin’s daughter, Charlotte, who taught Nonna how to FaceTime so she could ‘see Tommasino’s pretty face more often’, in her own words.

She stretches her arm and Tommy gets a good look at her. Nonna looks the same as always, sharp blue eyes in a soft face that’s wrinkled both from age and from a lifetime of smiles. Her hair is wrapped in hair rollers and tucked safely behind a red bandana. Tommy misses her fiercely, and wishes more than ever that he could get wrapped in one of her hugs.

They always did wonders for him when he was a little boy who used to climb trees and get scrapes and bruises; when he was a scared eleven-year-old missing his mother (and as a grown-up he can appreciate Nonna was hurting at least as much as him, having lost her daughter, but still never let it show) and dealing with an angry abusive father; when he was a scared eighteen-year-old, before leaving the only home he’d ever known to join the Army. And when he was a scared 33-year-old man, coming out as gay to his 75 year-old-grandmother, afraid of being rejected by the one person alive who truly loved him, and Nonna had stood on her tiptoes, pulled him into one of those hugs, and told him all she ever wanted for Tommy was to see him happy, and that she would always love him.

A hug from his grandmother had always made Tommy feel like the world was an easier place to be faced, and right now, that’s exactly what he needs. And his longing must show in his face, because she’s frowning at him, her eyes full of concern.

“Oh, Tommasino” She says softly. “What’s wrong, bambino mio? You look so sad” She asks, and to Tommy’s horror, he finds his eyes filling up. Nonna has that way of bringing out every emotion he tries to repress.

“Everything’s wrong, Nonna, and it’s all my fault” He blurts out before he can stop himself, and the look on his grandmother’s face tells Tommy she’d be placing a sizable plate of cake and a cup of strong coffee in front of him if she could.

“You have a habit of saying things are your fault even when they aren't, so I'm afraid I'll need the entire story, my boy” She says gently, and Tommy watches as she sits down by her kitchen table (the same kitchen table where he did most of his school homework, the same kitchen table from where he always used to steal a biscotti while they were still warm), supporting her face in her hand and turning those sharp blue eyes at the phone screen. Tommy swears he can feel them pierce through his very soul. “What happened? Is it your Evanino?”

The question sends a knife right through Tommy's chest as he imagines what could have been. Gosh, Nonna would have loved Evan (who doesn't love Evan, you idiot?, he tells himself), and he knows deep in his heart Evan would have loved her as well. Every time Tommy would talk about her (which he did fairly often; he was a grandma's boy and had no shame about it), Evan would get a wistful expression on his face and tell Tommy that she sounded awesome.

He had been planning on taking Evan with him next time he managed to visit her, not wanting to introduce them through the phone. Now it's for the best he didn't; at least Nonna won't have to miss him like Tommy does.

“He… he's not mine anymore, Nonna,” He admits, his voice thick with emotion. “We broke up”

“What?! Ma comme?! You were so happy last time we talked!” She asked, and of course Tommy was happy; it was the day before their six month anniversary, and he had been so full of excitement. “Was he not happy? Is that why you're blaming yourself, Tomasino?”

A smile as bright as sunshine crosses Tommy's mind. A smile that only started to fade once Tommy told him he knew how it ended. A smile that had become his personal beacon of light in the past six months. A smile he misses like a lost limb.

“He… he was happy” He says, because that much he knows to be true; Evan was happy with him, Tommy made sure of that. His grandmother frowns at that, and Tommy doesn't blame her; the story seems convoluted, feels convoluted, even to himself, and he lived it.

“Thomas, you have to help your old grandmother, because I cannot understand what is the problem. If you were happy and he was happy, then why are you not together anymore?”

“Because he asked me to move in with him” Tommy says, and that doesn't seem to clear the situation for her. If anything, her frown deepens, and she reaches for a piece of bread, fiddling with it; Nonna could never keep her hands still, especially when she was nervous, and Tommy had inherited that from her.

“Does that mean something different when it’s two men?” She asks, completely genuine, and that earns a surprised chuckle from Tommy.

“No, Nonna” Tommy says, and all of a sudden the urge to laugh is gone again; it never lasts long, not after Evan. “It… It means the same”

“Very well, and you said no? That’s why he ended things?” She asks, and Tommy sighs brokenly, the memories of the night no less painful than when it happened.

“No. I… I broke up with him, Nonna. He asked me to move in with him, and I didn’t just say no. I… I broke up with him," Tommy admits with a heavy heart.

“Tesoro, you do realize you are not making any sense? You and your boy were happy; he asked you to move in with him, and instead you broke up with him. Then you show up looking like your heart was broken and tell me it is your fault. What am I missing, bambino?”

“I have a house, Nonna!” He snaps, finally being able to voice the things that have been stewing in his heart and mind since that night. “I have a house, and he lives in a rented loft, and it makes no sense for me to move in with him!”

Nonna doesn’t answer right away. She chews thoughtfully on her bread, letting a small silence fall between the pair of them before she eventually sighs and answers him.

“Benne, you have a point, it wouldn’t make sense. But that isn’t the whole problem, is it, Tommasino?” Nonna adds shrewdly. “You could have talked it out, explained that to him. So what made you walk out of the best thing that happened to you in years?”

Tommy can always trust Nonna to lay things down exactly as they are, no matter how painful it sounds. She’s right, he did walk out of the best thing that happened to him in years, maybe ever, and it’s getting harder and harder to justify that decision to himself.

“N-Nonna, I was… I was falling so in love with him” He tells her, and feels tears starting to prickle the corner of his eyes.

“Yes, I’ve known that since last time you were here” Nonna says impatiently. “That’s not a reason to leave, Thomas; that’s a reason to stay”

“Only if he loved me back” He says automatically, and Nonna crosses her arms, unimpressed.

“And who says he doesn’t? Did you ask him?” She asks sharply, and Tommy sighs. This conversation is taking a completely different route than what he expected.

“I didn’t have to, Nonna. I… I just know it, okay? I was his first relationship with a man. I cannot be the last, that’s not how it works. And I… I thought I was okay with it, that I could enjoy it while it lasted, but… But I didn’t expect to love him this much” He admits, as much to himself as to her. It’s all his fault, really, for falling so deeply, flying too close to the Sun. “I-it’s safer to break my own heart now than to let him do it when I’m way too deep to recover. N-not that I’m recovering all too well, but… could be worse” He finishes, already wiping the few tears that inconveniently decided to rush down his cheeks.

If Tommy expects his grandmother to nod sympathetically at that and coo at him (he kinda does; she has a habit of doing that when he cries), he has another thing coming. Nonna scoffs loudly, hitting the table with her hand, strong from decades of kneading bread. The noise is enough to startle Tommy out of tears.

“Thomas Domenico Kinard, I didn’t know me and your dear Mamma, may God have her soul, had raised an estupido vigliacco!” She exclaims, her hand flailing loudly to emphasize her words.

Tommy will be the first to admit his Italian is rusty, but he’s pretty sure she just called him a stupid coward. And. Ouch.

“Nonna!” He exclaims back, but she isn’t dissuaded. She tuts him with a sharp ‘Silenzio!’ and a raised finger, and Tommy shuts up right away. He knows that when Nonna starts, the best he can do is take the scolding, so he leans back on his couch, trying his best not to look like a chided boy who got caught stealing fruit from the neighbor’s orchard.

“You are my grandson, and I love you more than anything in this world. You are a good man with a wonderful heart, but you have one big problem, Tommaso. You always assume you know people’s feelings better than they do, and then you make your own decisions based on that without actually asking anyone. Remember when you decided I should move to California because you thought I was lonely here?” She asks, raising an eyebrow, and Tommy nods sheepishly. “Do you remember what I told you?”

“That if and when you wanted to move to California, you would let me know, but you were perfectly capable of making your own decisions” He mumbles back, the epic scolding from five years ago still fresh on his mind.

“Esattamente. Now, I think your Evanino deserves the same courtesy. He is not a silly child, Thomas. If he wants you to be his last, if he loves you, who do you think you are to decide that he doesn’t?”

“But he never said he did,” Tommy replies stubbornly. “He… He never even told me he loved me, he just asked me to move in with him. It’s like… It’s like he wanted to prove a point, Nonna. That he could be… committed, or queer, or whatever, I don’t know. But he never said he loved me”

“Did you say it to him?” Nonna asks, and Tommy stares at her with his mouth agape. Damn this woman and her ability to ask the most uncomfortable questions.

“N-no” He admits. “I… I was too afraid of him not saying it back”

“Hmmm” Nonna hums thoughtfully. “That’s your other problem, bambino mio. You think you don’t deserve to be loved. I blame that man for that” Nonna says with a scoff, and they both know exactly who she’s talking about; there’s no lost love between Rosa Lucciola and her ex-son-in-law, Brian Kinard, and the way he treated Tommy and his mother before she passed is the sole reason for it.

“Well, that’s neither here nor there, Nonna” He says with a shrug, always uncomfortable when his father becomes even a small topic of conversation, but she tuts disapprovingly.

“Ah, isn’t it? Has it never occurred to you that maybe your Evanino could have the same problem? That he was as afraid as you to show his heart and have it broken?”

Tommy desperately wants to say that he thought about it, that it occurred to him; but it hasn’t. Evan is such a sunshine of a man, always so prone to smiles and loving gestures towards anyone he cares about, that Tommy never thought there could be insecurities there. Now it makes him feel selfish and stupid (or estupido as Nonna had so accurately called him).

“Nonna…” Tommy says, his mind catching up to everything she said and a horrifying realization dawns on him. “What if he did love me back? Oh my God, did I fuck this up?!” He asks before he can stop himself.

“Language! Do not take the Signore’s name and swear in the same sentence!” She chides him, and Tommy mutters ‘sorry’, but her look is impossibly fond. “But, well. Maybe you did; maybe you didn’t. Are you going to sit around and mope or try to find out?” Nonna challenges him.

“W-what if he never loved me, Nonna? Or what if he did, but me walking out made him stop?” Tommy asks, not knowing which possibility scares him the most.

“What if he still does, Thomas?” Nonna counteracts. “What if he loves you and is too afraid to reach out because you already rejected him once, hm? Someone has to be brave, and he already was when he asked you to move in, bambino. Maybe it was a little impulsive, but his heart was in the right place; it was in your future together”

Tommy realizes Nonna is right. He can’t expect Evan to reach out (he realizes he was at some level, and he would have rushed to it; one call from Evan and Tommy would be right back to his life, ready to reheal his own heart when things inevitably went wrong, just for another glimpse of Evan Buckley’s personal sunshine); it’s his turn to fight for them. It’s his turn to be brave.

“Ah, you finally realized it, hm?” Nonna says; something must be showing on his face, because there’s a satisfied smile on her face. “Fight for that boy, Thomas. Fight for your happiness, tesoro. Prove to your Nonna you are not estupido”

“Nonna, you are most definitely the best person on the planet, and I promise you didn’t raise a estupido. I’ll do right by Evan. By… By me. By both of us” Tommy promises to her, promises to himself. He blows a kiss to the screen of his cellphone, desperately wishing he could kiss her cheek in person. “Ti amo, Nonnina” (I love you, granny)

“Ti amo, nipotini del mio cuore” (I love you, grandson of my heart) She tells him back, and a mischievous smirk appears on her face. “You better bring that boy here to try my rondelli before the year is over, you hear?”

“Dio, I hope so, Nonna” He tells her, and they say their goodbyes before hanging up. Tommy already misses her.

He holds his cellphone close to his heart, wondering if he should text Evan, but decides against it. This is too big for a text, too big for a call. He’ll go over in the morning, probably with a bouquet of flowers or whatever other extravagant gift he can come up with, ready to grovel and explain himself and beg for a second chance, even if it’s only to hear a ‘no’. Even if it’s only to let Evan yell at him and get the closure he deserves. Even if it’s only to get his already shattered heart broken into even more pieces. Tommy has to be brave.

After all, nonna and mamma didn’t raise a coward.

(Evan doesn’t say no. And when Tommy explains, after several rounds of make-up sex, what made him change his mind, he promises to send Nonna a present. The present ends up being him and Tommy, because they go to Indiana for Christmas, and Evan falls in love with Nonna and her rondelli. Just like Tommy knew he would)

Tag list (let me know if I missed anyone! also if you want to be removed or only tagged in Little Blobs' Verse):

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @asmugfirefighter @rubydaiquiri @racerchix21 @actuallyitsellie

(Although here's a lil spoiler - Nonna Rosa will probably show up in Little Blobs' verse cause I'm not ready to let go of her and she'd whack me in the head with a spoon if I didn't let her meet her great-grandchildren)

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #mentioned anyway #this turned out very much into a tommy character study #fix it fic #nonna rosa #gabby writes

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greed-the-dorkalicious · 1 year ago

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One of the most frustrating things about being aromantic is the way without fail, every single time I say I'm never going to get married, I'm always met with some variation of "you'll change your mind". Every. Single. Time. No matter who I'm talking to, no matter how pro-LGBTQ+ or how feminist they claim to be, the idea of me not getting married is simply not a possibility in their minds, and they have to insist on telling me that it's not.

And this might not seem like a big deal, and like... Yeah, I will admit there's a lot worse things that I could be experiencing. But the thing is that 1. after a lifetime of dealing with this, it wears you down and 2. this isn't even exclusively an aromantic issue.

I mean most of the time I don't even tell people I'm aro. Sometimes they back down if I do (after yknow, explaining what that even means), but not always. (I distinctly remember an incident where someone was getting on my case about it, and my mentor kindly stepped in and was like "You know my son is gay, and there's a lot of people who would insist that surely someday he'll fall in love with a woman, but we know that's not a nice thing to say. Why say something like that about aromantics?") Point is, though, they say this shit without knowing my orientation. Which means they'd say it to anyone.

Shouldn't everyone have the right to define their own lives and desires? There's plenty of reasons someone might not want to get married. Why is this seen as unacceptable? Why don't you trust people's knowledge of themselves? And it's not a maturity thing, either- I'm 25, and I've known aros well into their 30s who still get told this. Not that it's a nice thing to say to a younger person either.

Like, imagine if your coworkers were talking about their dogs, and they asked you about yours, and you said you don't have one. So you say you don't, and they ask what kind of dog you will have, and you say you're not going to get a dog, and they all go "Oh, I used to say the same thing when I was your age! You'll change your mind! One day you'll just find that special pup and blah blah blah" and no matter what variation you tell them of I don't want a dog, I'm just not a dog person, I'm allergic to dogs, my apartment doesn't allow dogs, I don't have the lifestyle to support a dog they just keep insisting you're simply being immature, and that someday things will change. Wouldn't that be kinda fucked up?

I just don't get why people are seen as liars or idiots when they say they don't want to get married. It's fine for people to get married at 18 but god forbid a grown ass adult say they're not going to get married, then clearly they don't know what they're saying, right?

Shouldn't people be viewed as complete people on their own? Shouldn't we trust others to know their own lives? Can't y'all mind your own fucking business

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lennsart · 7 months ago

Note

I crave reading a fic about Ravioli, but it's illegal in their era.

Warriors teases Legend and Ravio for being "roommates", but then they both stop everything and shoot everyone down and explain how they "can't mention this sort of thing here" and how "Fable's done with it, but she can't do anything about the law until she's queen" and Legend tries to really hammer in the severity of the punishment for being caught acting gay.

Does this fic exist?? No one I ask can think of any about this even remotely. If it doesn't, anyone can take this idea. I can't write, but I crave this fic.

Ok so this ask is a little funny to me in the sense that anon is like "I crave.... ✨️homophobia✨️"

I don't know if a fic similar to your idea already exists ? People of Tumblr, do you have recs ?

In the meantime, I liked the idea, so there’s a little snippet under the cut for you ! It's not exactly what you suggested, I re-read your ask after I started, but the main idea is here.

(I have a specific headcanon that I haven't been able to post something about yet which goes pretty well with this : Wars met Ravio during the war of eras, yes... But an older Ravio ! And maybe he was already married to Legend, y'know, maybe he couldn't stop talking about his husband...

So it would make sense for Wars to tease Lege until he snaps, because he literally can't imagine there's a problem.)

Of course, TW homophobia & TW internalized homophobia (not much, but just in case)

“ - Look at that smile ! ” Warriors teased, poking Legend's cheek (and nearly avoiding having his finger bitten off).

“ Someone's waiting at home ? ”

Legend sighed. They had just landed in his era, and had a bit of a walk before they got to his house.

He may have been a little giddier than usual, happy to go home. It had been a while, alright ? And no matter how nice Miss Malon was, seeing her all lovey-dovey with their resident old man made him miss his own lover.

He just... Couldn't say it to the others, of course.

“ - Just my roommate, Ravio, ” he informed with a shrug.

Warriors blinked. The veteran thought that he had managed to shut him up somehow...

But after a minute, he came back with a grin that Legend didn't like at all.

“ - Roommate ? " he repeated. " You look pretty happy for just seeing a pal. ”

Legend frowned. Alright, he may have been cheerful, but he hadn't been reckless, had he ?

“ - I don't know what you mean, ” he said, neutral.

“ - Ah, you know, just saying, we've never seen you so excited, and then I learn that you have a little housemate... I can't wait to meet him, that's it. ”

Legend stopped abruptly.

" - I don't like what you're implying, cap, " he warned, scowling.

Warriors missed the murderous aura sent his way, and shrugged with a smile.

“ - Just saying, if you have a crush—

- Shut up ! ”

Maybe the screech was a little much, but Legend couldn't shake the fear that someone might hear Warriors. He already got enough shit for his lifestyle, a rumor like that could send the guards to his head again.

Worse, to Ravio's head.

He shuddered.

The rest of the chain had stopped as well, all looking at the argument.

Warriors seemed shocked, and a little insulted, too.

It was getting overwhelming, being stared at like that.

Legend sighed and grabbed the captain by the sleeve.

“ - A minute ! ” he barked to the others, dragging Warriors behind him, away from anyone who might hear.

When he estimated that they were far enough, he checked around them to be sure that no unwelcome ear was close.

“ - Damn, vet, I'm sorry for teasing, but that seems a little excessive, don't you think ? ” Warriors declared, rubbing his wrist.

The word made Legend frown. Excessive ? He turned around to glare at the captain.

“ - I don't know if it's funny to you, ” he prefaced with, " but I'm not exactly liked by the castle guards. Saying those types of things can send me straight to execution, alright ? ”

Warriors paled at the word, visibly not expecting such a heavy topic.

“ - What ? What do you mean ? ”

Legend took a deep breath.

“ - They already find excuses to get me when I behave, ” he explained slowly, intelligibly. “ If there's a word on the street that I'm committing a crime, that won't go well for me. ”

Legend didn't know how to explain it better than that but the captain didn't look like he got it. He was frowning and blinking in utter confusion.

“ - What crime ? ” he asked, weirded out.

...That wasn't the thing Legend expected him to be confused about.

“ - Loving a man, ” he said, frowning.

Another silence.

“ - You know, loving a man when you’re a man ? ” he clarified, just in case.

" - Are you saying that homosexuality is a crime ?! " Warriors exclaimed in revolt, way too loud.

Legend shushed him hurriedly.

" - Yes, cap, I do mean that ! ” He hissed. “ What, does that sound normal to you ?

- Yes ?! ” he blurted out. “ Why wouldn't it be ? ”

That shut the veteran up, who definitely didn’t think that the conversation would go that way.

Legend stared and stared, trying to find the lie in Warriors’ face, to catch any sign that the man would smile and joke, “gotcha !”

But he only found profound honesty.

He couldn’t help a small nervous chuckle.

“ - That’s… ”

That was great, right ? They had established that it was probable Warriors’ time came after Legend’s.

It meant that things had changed. It was good.

Right ?

Why didn’t Legend feel as happy as he should ?

“ - Oh, ” he just said, and decided that he needed to sit down, actually.

His eyes found a convenient stump a few feet away from them. He walked to it and let himself fall sitting there.

Warriors stared at him, still with this shocked expression.

“ - Lege ? ”

“ - I’m fine, ” he answered, voice neutral. “ It’s good if it’s been decriminalized, ” he added not to look like this was the problem.

He was, in fact, actively trying to make things change in his time. Fable already promised him that revising this law was one of her biggest priorities as soon as she’d get properly crowned, but she’d probably face disapproval from most of the stuck-up nobles and so it’ll take time, and...

In the meantime, Legend was stuck with pretending his lover was a roommate, being scared to even hold his hand in public, abruptly changing his behavior everytime someone knocked at the door.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it ? He really was glad for the future to not have to deal with this fear.

He was just bitter that that was what he got.

(He was just tired of only being allowed forbidden love.)

“ - Wait, I don’t, I don’t get it, ” Warriors stuttered, still looking so puzzled. “ I’ve met… I mean, wait. ”

He stopped, joining his two hands in front of his lips, visibly trying to phrase his thoughts a certain way.

“ You know the war of eras involved a lot of time-traveling fighters, right ? Well, one of my allies came from your time, and he was definitely married to a man. ”

Legend arched a brow at him, reluctant to believe him.

“ - How can you be sure he came from this time in particular ? Maybe he came from a few decades in the future, who can tell. ”

Warriors looked like he had bitten inside a lemon for a second, and then he closed his eyes, struggling to find his words.

“ - Listen, I just, I know, ok ? He mentioned... People you know. And before you ask, ” he quickly added as Legend opened his mouth with a frown, “ I’m not going to tell you more than that. But trust me, alright, vet ? Things will get better sooner than you think. ”

Legend shrugged, but it did feel good to hear. He tried a smile.

“ - Well, that’s great, then, ” he declared. He finally got up, dusting up his tunic. “ But it doesn’t actually change anything. The type of comments you made earlier ? You keep them to yourself, here. ”

Warriors nodded slowly, something like stifled revolt and sadness in the movement. Legend didn’t feel like addressing it.

It was great that the captain felt so strongly about the subject, in this direction at least. It was also not the place… And definitely not the time.

“ Good, then, ” he commented. “ I still want to go home quick, so if we could get moving… ”

Warriors’ nod was way more sympathetic.

“ - Of course, ” he said. “ I still want to meet this Ravio. He looks like he makes you happy. ”

Legend jerked his head towards him, his warning expression not entirely devoid of amusement. Warriors raised both his hands in peace.

“ He sounds like a great friend, is all I’m saying ! ”

And it did get a little chuckle out of Legend.

“ - Oh, he is, ” he declared with a smile. “ I’m afraid you two will get along swimmingly. ”

Warriors laughed, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed by.

When they got back to the rest of the group, the curious gazes sent their way were soothed by the fact that they were both smiling.

Legend’s smile was actually getting wider and wider, as they were getting close to his house.

When he saw it on its little hill, he rushed to the door, trying not to bounce on his feet as he waited for his partner to open.

And if Warriors observed from afar as they fell in each other’s arms, he waited until they were all in the privacy of Legend’s house to wink teasingly at their veteran. After all, he never denied having a crush, which was telling for 'mister I'll never confirm what I don't want you to know'.

It was easy to feel lighter about this story when he knew it'll end well for the couple.

They just had to wait a little longer.

#linked universe #ravioli ship #raviolink #lu legend #lu warriors #ask answer #tw homophobia #Lenn writes #lu fanfiction #Sorry it took so long to answer !#I started writing it and then forgot about it for the longest time #I know it's not really detailed but I hope it still scratch your itch anon !#I could try to do more but I'm starting to think it's not that good so... Better post it before scratching it all !#(Edit for repetitions)#(I hadn't proof-read very well before I posted. URGH)

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redgoldblue · 3 months ago

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sell your fear and leave me standing here

buck/tommy, 12.9k, T, triple pov (Buck; Tommy; Eddie). yet another 8x06 fix-it, featuring gay bingo, firefam input, and bonus Lucy Donato

The first Eddie hears of the breakup is, “Eddie, what the fuck just happened?”

Eddie’s finished his beer and is still basking in a post-Risky Business glow, and for a moment he thinks Buck’s talking about the fact that he’s not wearing pants.

“I don’t know, Buck,” he replies, just for fun. “You tell me.”

“Eddie,” he repeats. That makes Eddie sit up straighter, except that his shirt is way slipperier than he thought and his legs are stuck to the couch, and the combination somehow leads to him half-sliding half-falling off the couch as Buck continues, “I think Tommy just dumped me.”

It also mean his initial response is, “Ow!”

Buck peers down at him. “Yeah. Want a hand up?”

“I got it.” He pushes himself back up and collapses back on the couch. “You think?” he asks.

“No, he definitely did. I checked.”

“What the fuck?”

“That’s what I said!”

“That’s-” Well, the glow is abating now. If the fall hadn’t done it already. “Okay, tell me what happened.”

“It was great. We were great. And I scared him off. I think. Maybe. We were going to a movie. And then he called me Buck.”

Eddie bites back on his first response of ‘that’s your name’, because after a few seconds considering it he does get how that would seem weird after six months of ‘Evan’. Instead, he makes a ‘go on’ gesture.

“I told him about Abby. And I’d talked to Josh. I didn’t tell him that, that happened before, but Josh talked to me.”

“Hang on, hang on, rewind,” Eddie says. At this rate it might take him until tomorrow’s shift to get the full story, but he needs to clarify something here. “What about Abby?”

“Oh, right, I only told Maddie. Yeah, he was engaged to Abby. And I didn’t tell him that was my Abby when he told me, because, I mean-”

“What the fuck,” Eddie supplies. It seems to be the phrase of the moment.

“Yeah,” Buck agrees. He’d emptied his beer bottle about a minute after sitting down, and rather than reaching for another one he’s just been turning it round and round in his hands. He stops, now, and starts picking at the corner of the label instead. “And I talked to Josh about it, because I was talking to Maddie about it and he was there, and he- he gave me a speech about Glee, and it made me think, I guess, so then before we went to the movie I told Tommy-”

“Oh, god, Buck,” Eddie interrupts, because there’s so much happening here and it’s all heading in a truly terrible direction, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they started work before he has to hear the end of it. “Did you tell him you love him? Before he broke up with you?”

“I mean, no,” Buck says, but it’s completely unconvincing and he’s drooped even further into the couch. “Worse.”

“Worse?”

Buck’s next words are mumbled under his breath, and it genuinely takes Eddie a moment to figure out what they are. “I-asked-him-to-move-in.”

Eddie blinks, processes that, then reaches over to grab another beer bottle. He gently pulls the now thoroughly de-labelled one from Buck’s hands and replaces it with good hard alcohol. Then he says, “So just to be clear, you asked him to move in with you after six months, and he dumped you for it? Do you want me to kick his ass? I absolutely can, he’s not as good at Muay Thai as he thinks he is.”

Buck chuckles. It sounds a little like a dying frog. “No. He said- I don’t know, I went too fast. He didn’t say that. He said he wasn’t going to be my last.”

“Dick,” Eddie says, because Tommy is his friend and he’s sure there was more going on, but Buck is his best friend who just got dumped, and that requires a little name-calling.

Buck’s face scrunches up, eyes closed, as he says, “He said I was going to break his heart.”

“So he broke yours first?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, and it sounds strained enough that Eddie slips closer on instinct. It’s a good thing he did, because Buck continues, “I guess so,” then turns towards him, and suddenly there’s the weight of a Buck against him and a wet feeling on his shoulder. “Oh, fuck, Eddie,” and the next words come out on a whole-hearted sob, “I loved him.”

The second thing Eddie hears about the breakup is, “Eddie, what the fuck happened, man?”

keep reading on ao3

#is this what we're doing in 911? don't call me unadaptable. i do miss fic feeds though #'miss'. they're currently operational for two of the main fandoms i post in. but y'ken well what i mean #and i refuse to put 12.9k words in a tumblr post. i don't even know if they'd let me do that #911 #Tommy Kinard #Evan Buckley #kinkley #Eddie Diaz #bucktommy #911 8x06 #8x06 confessions #8x06 fix-it #9-1-1 #fanfic #my writing #mine #buckard

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amethystarachnid · 4 months ago

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POTIONS

⤷ BILLY KAPLAN / MAXIMOFF

ᯓ★ Pairing: Billy Kaplan / Maximoff x male!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Multiverse

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.6k

ᯓ★ Summary: Billy Maximoff is probably the most feared Slytherin in all Hogwarts because of his mother, the Scarlet Witch, but no one knows that deep down Billy is just an awkward boy with a big crush on an Hufflepuff boy. Billy isn't sure on how he should act so he keeps teasing y/n, hoping to get his attention that way...But what will happen when they're paired for a project together?

ᯓ★ TW(s): reader understand that he's gay (which isn't really a tw but anyway), kinda mean!Billy but it's really just a few comments

ᯓ★ AU: Harry Potter / Hogwarts

ᯓ★ Request: Harry Potter AU for Billy Kaplan / Maximoff x male!reader? Pretty please :3 ( @blazeymc)

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

You’re not sure when it started, Billy Maximoff teasing you during Potions, making snide comments during Charms, or sneering at your House every time your paths crossed in the corridors. But it’s clear that he’s got something against Hufflepuffs, or at least, something against you.

You glance across the classroom at him now, trying to focus on Professor Slughorn’s lecture about the properties of Wiggentree bark, but your attention keeps drifting. Billy sits there in his Slytherin robes, lounging in his seat with that signature air of superiority, dark hair tousled just enough to look effortlessly cool. His eyes flick over to you, and you immediately look away, feeling your face heat up. You’re used to it by now, the way he looks at you. Always with that little smirk like he knows something you don’t. You figure he’s sizing up another opportunity to take a jab at you, like he always does.

“Hufflepuff and Potions… a tragic combination,” you hear him mutter under his breath, just loud enough for you to catch.

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore him. But of course, he doesn’t stop there. He never does.

“I’m surprised you even know which cauldron to stir,” Billy continues, voice dripping with mockery as he leans slightly toward you from across the aisle. “Guess Hufflepuff does teach something useful after all. Like how to follow instructions. Riveting.”

You clench your jaw, willing yourself not to rise to his bait. This is how it always goes—Billy picking at you, trying to get under your skin. The fact that he’s Slytherin, with his mother’s terrifying reputation hanging over him like a dark cloud, makes it worse. No one in their right mind would stand up to Billy Maximoff, son of the Scarlet Witch. Not when rumors swirl around the school about the things Wanda Maximoff is capable of, and by extension, what her son might be able to do.

Still, you’ve never really understood why he singles you out like this. You’re not the only Hufflepuff in this class. But it’s always you.

“What’s the matter?” he says, tone oozing with faux innocence. “Didn’t they teach you how to talk back in Hufflepuff?”

You grit your teeth. “I’m just trying to focus on the lesson, Maximoff. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Billy's smirk falters for a second, like he wasn’t expecting you to respond. He narrows his eyes at you, and you feel a strange flicker of satisfaction. You’ve never really talked back to him before.

“Touchy, aren’t we?” he mutters, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze lingers on you, as though he’s studying you for some reaction, something deeper.

There’s a beat of silence, and you glance over at him again, catching the faintest hint of something in his expression—nervousness? Uncertainty? For a split second, Billy almost looks… awkward? But then he catches you looking and snaps back into his usual cocky posture.

“You know,” he says, smirking again, “it’s cute that you’re trying. Really. Keep it up, maybe one day you’ll even make it to competent.”

You don’t know why it stings so much this time. You’ve been dealing with his taunts for weeks, but this one feels sharper. You glare at him, more frustrated with yourself for letting it get to you than anything else. Billy’s always like this—mean, biting, trying to rile you up for whatever reason. But for some reason, today, it hits different.

Billy, meanwhile, glances away quickly, clearing his throat as though regretting the comment. You think you see a flicker of guilt in his eyes, but it’s gone before you can be sure.

“Whatever,” you mutter, turning back to your notes, trying to ignore the strange tension that seems to settle between you two.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Billy sneaking another glance at you. His lips part like he wants to say something else, but then he hesitates. Instead, he lets out a low sigh and looks away, sinking into his chair, unusually quiet for the rest of class.

You tell yourself you’re imagining things, that there’s nothing going on behind those sharp words and smug smirks. But there’s a small part of you—one you’ve tried to ignore—that wonders if Billy Maximoff's teasing is less about your House… and more about you.

When Professor Slughorn announces the paired assignment, you don’t think much of it at first. You’re too busy making sure your Potions notes are organized, and trying to shake off the feeling of Billy staring at you from across the aisle like he’s been doing all class. It’s nothing new, really. He’s always watching you out of the corner of his eye, ready to throw another sarcastic remark your way.

“As for partners,” Slughorn says cheerfully, pulling out a long parchment. You’re barely listening, your mind drifting to what this project might be. Something tedious, probably. “I’ll be pairing you up myself, so listen carefully!”

The room buzzes with soft murmurs as everyone starts whispering, wondering who they’ll be stuck with for the next few weeks. You half-heartedly scan the list, hoping to get someone who’ll actually do their share of the work, maybe one of your friends from Hufflepuff—

“Maximoff and…”

You freeze, heart sinking in that split second before Slughorn says it.

“…Y/N.”

You blink, sure you’ve misheard. But no, Professor Slughorn’s eyes are on you, and Maximoff turns his head sharply in your direction, his usual smirk replaced by something that looks more like… disbelief. You hear him mutter something under his breath that you can’t quite make out, and suddenly you’re very aware of the weight of the situation. Maximoff. As your partner.

This can’t be happening.

“Looks like you two will be working together on our Draught of Living Death project,” Slughorn says, sounding pleased with himself. “Should be a fascinating exercise, and I trust you’ll both rise to the occasion!”

You resist the urge to groan out loud. Of all the people in this class, him? It’s not that Maximoff isn’t smart—he’s one of the top students, of course. It’s just… well, you’ve been trying to avoid him for weeks. The idea of being stuck in close proximity to him, having to collaborate, deal with his constant teasing… It makes your stomach churn.

Maximoff leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as if he’s processing this too. For a moment, you wonder if he’s just as horrified by the idea. But then that familiar smirk starts to tug at his lips again.

“Well,” he drawls, not even looking at you, “this should be interesting.”

You glance at him, trying to read his expression, but it’s the same as always—arrogant, amused. Like the thought of working with you is just another opportunity to toy with you. Of course it is. That’s what he does.

You keep your face neutral as you start packing up your things, determined not to show any sign of how much this bothers you. You’ll deal with this. You have to.

Maximoff, of course, doesn’t give you the chance to slip away quietly. As you both stand up at the end of class, he falls into step beside you, just a little too close, his presence impossible to ignore.

“Hufflepuff and Slytherin, working together on a potion,” he muses, his voice low and teasing. “I wonder how that’s going to go. Think you can keep up?”

You grit your teeth, gripping your bag a little tighter as you glance at him. “I’m not the one who’s going to be struggling here, Maximoff.”

His smirk widens, but there’s something off about it today—something you can’t quite place. Like maybe he’s putting on an act.

“Sure, sure,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “Just don’t spill anything. I hear Hufflepuffs can be a little… clumsy.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll let you know if I need help handling a spoon.”

Maximoff’s laugh catches you off guard. It’s not cruel or mocking, but something softer, almost genuine. For a moment, he seems less like the arrogant Slytherin who’s been making your life miserable and more… human.

But then he glances at you again, and his expression shifts back to that familiar teasing look. “Well, let’s hope this little partnership doesn’t blow up in our faces. Literally.”

You sigh. “I’m sure we’ll survive. As long as you don’t screw it up.”

Maximoff raises an eyebrow at that, his smirk faltering for just a second. Then he recovers, leaning in slightly as if to make his next comment more personal. “Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

There’s something in the way he says it that makes your pulse quicken, but you shake it off, refusing to let him get to you. This is just a project. Just a few weeks of working together. You can handle that.

As you walk away, you can still feel his eyes on you, like he’s trying to figure you out.

The first few days of working on the project with Maximoff are exactly as awkward as you expected. He still throws in the occasional sarcastic comment about Hufflepuff, and you still resist the urge to snap back every time. There’s a lot of uncomfortable silence too, where you’re both too busy focusing on the Draught of Living Death to fill the space with words.

But the weird thing is, Billy doesn’t seem quite as relentless as before. In fact, he’s been quieter, more thoughtful. It’s almost like he’s holding himself back.

One afternoon, you’re both sitting in the library, poring over old potions textbooks, when Billy clears his throat. You glance up at him, expecting another jab or snide remark, but his expression is… different. Less smug, more hesitant.

“So,” he says, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his dark hair. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Sounds dangerous,” you mutter, more out of habit than actual malice.

To your surprise, Billy laughs. It’s a low, genuine sound, and it catches you off guard.

“Okay, I walked into that one,” he admits, shaking his head slightly. “But seriously. About this… partnership. I’ve realized something.”

You look at him, curious but cautious. This is the longest he’s gone without teasing you since you started working together.

“I’ve been kind of… a jerk,” he says, his voice quieter than usual. His eyes flick away from yours, like he’s uncomfortable admitting it. “You know, with the comments and the attitude. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. That maybe giving you a hard time would make things easier between us or something.” He shrugs, looking almost embarrassed now.

You blink, not sure how to respond. Is Billy Maximoff — Billy Maximoff — actually apologizing to you? For the first time since you’ve met him, he seems almost vulnerable. Not the cocky, arrogant Slytherin who’s been making your life difficult for weeks, but someone real, someone unsure of himself.

“I get it if you don’t believe me,” he continues when you stay quiet. “But I just… I don’t want things to be like that anymore. I mean, we’re stuck working together, right? We might as well make it less miserable.”

You stare at him for a moment, trying to gauge whether he’s serious. He’s watching you closely, like he’s waiting for your reaction.

And the thing is, despite everything, you don’t actually hate him. Annoyed, sure. But hate? No. And now, with him sitting across from you, admitting he’s been kind of awful, it’s hard to hold onto the frustration you’ve been feeling.

“I… appreciate that,” you finally say, your voice a little softer than before. “I mean, yeah, you’ve been kind of a jerk. But it’s not like I’m perfect either.”

Billy seems surprised by your response, his eyebrows raising slightly. Then he smiles—really smiles, not the usual smirk or sarcastic grin. And for the first time, you see a different side of him. A side that isn’t hiding behind layers of arrogance or teasing.

“Okay, good. So… truce?” he offers, holding out his hand in a gesture that’s more sincere than you ever thought he was capable of.

You glance at his hand, then back at his face, and after a moment’s hesitation, you take it. His grip is firm, warm, and something in that simple contact sends a strange flutter through your chest that you quickly ignore.

“Truce,” you agree, letting go of his hand and trying to focus back on the potion ingredients in front of you.

The next few days are… different. Billy, true to his word, tones down the teasing, and in its place, something else starts to grow between you two. He’s still sarcastic sometimes, still has that sharp edge to him, but it’s more playful now. Less biting, more… friendly.

One evening, as you’re both huddled over a bubbling cauldron in the Potions classroom, trying to perfect the next step in your Draught of Living Death, you find yourselves actually talking. Not about school, or the project, but other things: Quidditch, your favorite classes, even a little about your families.

“So, Hufflepuff,” Billy says, glancing over at you while stirring the cauldron. “Why’d you end up in that house, anyway? Always thought you’d make a pretty decent Ravenclaw, with the way you obsess over details.”

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden interest. “Well, not every Hufflepuff is just ‘nice and loyal,’ you know. We’ve got more going on than that.”

Billy chuckles, clearly amused. “Yeah, I’m starting to see that. But still, I didn’t picture you there at first. You’re… different than the other Hufflepuffs I know.”

You can’t help but smirk a little at that. “Is that a compliment?”

“Maybe,” he says with a shrug, his eyes flicking to yours again, and this time there’s no teasing behind it. Just something… softer.

For a while, the two of you fall into an easy rhythm. You notice little things, like the way Maximoff’s confidence seems less about bravado and more about hiding some deeper insecurity. And Billy, for his part, starts asking about you: your hobbies, your thoughts on things, like he’s genuinely curious.

One night, while working late in the library, you’re both sitting closer than usual, poring over some notes about the final step of the potion. Billy is quieter than normal, his focus drifting from the pages to you, though you try not to notice.

“You know,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence. “I never thought I’d actually like working with you.”

You look up, confused. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair in that way he always does when he’s nervous. “I dunno. I just… you’re not what I expected. I thought this would suck, but it’s actually been… nice.”

There’s a strange, warm feeling in your chest at his words. It’s the first time he’s been this open with you, and for some reason, it makes you smile.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, meeting his eyes. “It’s been nice.”

For a moment, the two of you just sit there, the air between you thick with something unspoken. Billy's gaze lingers on you a little longer than usual, and you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing you are—that maybe, just maybe, this project was the best thing that could’ve happened to the both of you.

It hits you all at once, like a flash of lightning on a clear day, completely unexpected.

You and Billy are sitting in the Potions classroom again, working on the final steps of the Draught of Living Death. It’s late, well past dinner, but the two of you have fallen into this strange, comfortable routine—staying behind, just the two of you, focused on the bubbling cauldron. You’ve grown used to it now, the sound of his voice, the way he leans over the table to make a point, his dark hair falling into his eyes, that little smirk that’s become softer around the edges.

And that’s when it happens. He laughs—really laughs—at something you say, his whole face lighting up in a way you’ve never seen before. His eyes crinkle at the edges, and the sound of it, the sight of it, warms something deep inside you. It’s not like the usual snark or teasing. It’s real. Genuine.

You freeze, the stirring rod slipping from your fingers and clattering against the table, but you barely register it because your heart suddenly feels like it’s doing somersaults in your chest. Something tightens in your throat, a rush of heat flooding your face.

Oh no.

You stare at him, your mind reeling. This can’t be happening. You can’t feel like this about him. He’s Billy Maximoff. The guy who used to make fun of you. The guy you’ve spent weeks bickering with. The guy you’ve—somehow—grown closer to.

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? You’ve grown close. Too close. And now, as you sit here in the dimly lit classroom, watching the way the light from the cauldron flickers across his face, the truth slams into you so hard you can’t ignore it.

You’re in love with him.

The realization shocks you to your core. Your mind races, scrambling to make sense of it, but you can’t. You never thought… you’ve never even considered that you might feel this way about another guy. About Billy of all people. And yet, here you are, staring at him like he’s the only thing in the room that matters. Your heart pounds in your chest, and suddenly you’re hyperaware of everything—how close he is, the way his hand brushes against yours when he reaches for a quill, the subtle curve of his lips when he smiles.

Billy glances up at you, oblivious to the storm that’s raging inside your head. “You good? You’ve been staring at the cauldron like it’s about to explode.”

You snap back to reality, blinking quickly, trying to act normal even though your thoughts are anything but. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking amused. “About what? Whether Hufflepuffs can handle a potion this complex?”

You force a laugh, but it’s shaky, and you hope he doesn’t notice. “Something like that.”

He rolls his eyes playfully and turns his attention back to the potion, stirring it carefully. You watch him, heart still racing, trying to process what just happened.

You never thought you’d feel this way—about a guy, about Billy. But there’s no denying it anymore. It’s not just the fact that he’s good-looking, though he is in that infuriating, effortless way. It’s more than that. It’s the way he’s started letting down his guard around you, the way he teases you now with a smile instead of a smirk. The way he talks to you, like he’s actually interested in what you have to say. The way he makes you feel seen in a way no one else ever has.

And that’s terrifying.

You can’t be in love with him. You don’t even like boys—or at least, you didn’t think you did. This wasn’t supposed to happen. But now that it has, you can’t unfeel it. You can’t undo the way your chest tightens when he looks at you, or the way his laugh sends butterflies into a frenzy in your stomach. You can’t stop your heart from racing every time he’s near, or the way your thoughts keep circling back to him, even when you try to push them away.

You swallow hard, trying to steady your breathing, but the truth is, you’re completely overwhelmed. You glance over at Billy again, your gaze lingering on him a little too long, and you catch yourself wondering—what would he think? If he knew. If he could see into your head right now, could he feel the same way?

But that’s impossible. Billy’s never shown any sign that he’s interested in anyone, much less you. And besides, you’ve been nothing but rivals for so long. He’s only just started being nice to you, and here you are, falling for him like some lovesick fool.

You pull yourself together, forcing your focus back to the potion in front of you. This isn’t the time to think about it. You’ll deal with it later, figure out what to do with these feelings—if you can. For now, you just need to survive this project without giving anything away.

But as Billy leans closer, his arm brushing against yours again, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll be able to.

A few days pass, but your mind is still tangled in the realization you’ve been fighting against—you’re in love with Billy Maximoff. And it’s more than just a passing crush, more than something you can shove into the back of your mind and pretend doesn’t exist. It’s real, undeniable, and every time you see him, every time you talk to him, it gets harder to ignore.

At first, you keep trying to convince yourself that it’s not possible. You’ve never been interested in guys before, right? So how could this happen? But the more you think about it, the more it makes sense. The way you felt around other boys, the awkwardness that you brushed off as nothing—maybe it wasn’t nothing. Maybe you were just afraid to look at it too closely. And now, sitting here with the reality of your feelings for Billy, you know you can’t hide from it anymore.

You’re gay.

The thought should scare you, and maybe it does, a little. But it also feels like a weight lifting off your chest. You’ve spent so much time trying to be someone you thought you were supposed to be, and now, for the first time, you feel like you’re starting to understand who you actually are. You don’t have all the answers yet, and you’re not even sure what comes next, but this truth—this part of you—isn’t something to be afraid of.

But then there’s Billy. And the idea of telling him—of confessing to him—is something else entirely. You’ve been working with him every day, getting closer, sharing inside jokes and moments that make your heart race, but does he feel the same way? Or is this all just in your head?

It’s not until the day the potion is finally complete that you make up your mind. The two of you are standing side by side, admiring the shimmering, perfect Draught of Living Death. Professor Slughorn had praised your work, saying it was one of the best potions he’d ever seen from students, and now it’s just the two of you in the empty classroom, a sense of accomplishment hanging in the air.

Billy grins, leaning on the table, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. “Well, we didn’t blow anything up. I’d call that a success.”

You laugh, but your mind is already elsewhere, racing with what you’ve been meaning to say for days now. If you don’t say it now, you might never have the courage to do it. And as much as the thought terrifies you, the idea of keeping this secret locked away forever scares you even more.

“Billy…” you begin, your voice a little shaky. He glances at you, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

He straightens up, his playful smirk fading as he notices the seriousness in your tone. “What is it?” he asks, his voice softer, more cautious.

You take a deep breath, your heart pounding so loudly you can barely hear yourself think. This is it. No turning back. “I… I’ve been thinking a lot lately, about, well… everything. And I realized something.” Your stomach twists into knots, but you force yourself to keep going. “I think… I think I’m gay.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy and terrifying, but also freeing. For the first time, you’ve said it out loud. And for the first time, you don’t feel like you’re suffocating under the weight of pretending to be someone else.

Billy doesn’t say anything right away, and your heart sinks, fear creeping in. Maybe you misread everything. Maybe he’s about to make some sarcastic joke or brush it off.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he just looks at you, his expression softening, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. “Y/N,” he says quietly, stepping a little closer, “thank you for telling me.”

There’s something about the way he says it, the gentleness in his voice, that makes the tightness in your chest loosen. But you’re not done yet. You swallow hard, feeling the words rise in your throat, the confession you’ve been holding onto for what feels like forever.

“And… it’s not just that I’m gay,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper now. “I… I think I’m in love with you.”

You finally meet his gaze, your heart hammering as you wait for his reaction. The silence stretches out between you, and every second feels like an eternity. You half expect him to laugh it off, to make some snarky comment about how you’re just imagining things. But instead, something shifts in his eyes—surprise, yes, but something else too. Something warmer.

Billy takes a step closer, so close now that you can feel the warmth of him, smell the faint scent of whatever cologne he wears. His expression is unreadable for a moment, but then—finally—he speaks.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that,” he murmurs, his voice low, his gaze locked onto yours.

You blink, stunned, the meaning of his words hitting you like a tidal wave. “Wait, what?”

Billy laughs softly, shaking his head. “You’re not the only one who’s been keeping secrets, Y/N.” He reaches up, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, and his touch sends sparks skittering across your skin. “I’ve liked you for… well, way longer than I want to admit. But I didn’t know how to act around you, so I did the only thing I knew, I teased you. A lot. Which, in hindsight, was probably not the best move.”

You stare at him, completely floored. “So… you like me too?”

Billy’s lips curve into a smile, the kind that’s more genuine than any smirk you’ve ever seen from him. “Yeah, I do. A lot.”

Relief and disbelief crash over you in equal measure, and you feel like you can finally breathe again. You laugh, a little breathless, shaking your head. “I can’t believe it. I thought—”

“Thought what?” Billy interrupts, stepping even closer now, his voice soft. “That I’d push you away?”

You nod, your pulse racing.

“Well,” Billy says, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “I’m not pushing you away.” He hesitates for a second, like he’s making sure this is what you want, and when you don’t pull back, he closes the distance between you completely.

His lips meet yours in a gentle, tentative kiss, and it’s like the world falls away. Everything you’ve been worrying about, all the fear and confusion—it fades into the background, replaced by the warmth of his touch, the softness of his kiss. It feels right, like this was always supposed to happen, like the two of you were meant to find your way to this moment.

When you finally pull back, both of you are smiling—really smiling—and the weight that’s been pressing down on you for weeks, maybe longer, is completely gone.

Billy grins, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “So, what do you say we celebrate making the best potion in class and you finally coming clean about your feelings?”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in ages. “Yeah. I think that sounds like a great idea.”

And as you leave the classroom together, you realize that this is just the beginning. You’ve finally accepted who you are, and somehow, against all odds, the person you’ve fallen for feels the same way. Everything feels possible now.

First time writing male!character x male!reader so I hope I did good but I'm open to criticism as long as it's kind lol.

If you like the story like reblog and drop a follow if you want to read more. <3

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ally1uvsu · 1 month ago

Text

But when he loves me (I feel like I’m floating) | Choi Su-bong (Thanos) x Nam-gyu

⨉⠀⠀─⠀⠀Series .⠀›⠀Trans Namgyu Week 2025⠀‎ꪆৎ day 3; emotional hurt/comfort — Day 1 | Day 2

·⠀warnings info⠀· NSFW — . wc; 3.5k

summary; The second Nam-gyu left those games, He thought he'd be the happiest person alive. But no, as he was tossed out of the van with some random player, the chilling air hitting his half-naked body, Nam-gyu realized he might be wrong.

info; Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Anorexia, likely ngl, trans namgyu, Alternative Universe - Everyone leaves (Squid Game), Post Games, throwing up, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Well shared kiss, Cuddling & Snuggling, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Happy Ending, Theyre so gay I hate them: (, Choi Subong I Thanos Lives, Soft Namgyu (Squid Game), Soft Choi Subong I Thanos, Excessive binding, Bruises, Namgyu is probably depressed ngl

notes; IM SO COOKED OH MY DAYS 😭😭 I’ve been stressing over janitor AI and personal shit that i forgor ab the week challenge.. I SAEAR I’LL POST DAY 4 AND 5 AS SOON AS I CAN MAYBE IN A FEW HOURS BOTH WILL BE OUT TRUST

The second Nam-gyu left those games, He thought he'd be the happiest person alive. But no, as he was tossed out of the van with some random player, the chilling air hitting his half-naked body, Nam-gyu realized he might be wrong.

As they both managed to free themselves, the reality seemed to reach Nam-gyu. He only really managed to leave alive because he was high the whole fucking time.

The player whom he had been dropped with and him exchanged a brief goodbye once they were both dressed, Nam-gyu normally wouldn't care less about saying his farewells but.. that place made him feel a bit more different.

His mind was reeling as he walked, realizing that maybe.. hell, not maybe. This money he had was dirty, this money was someone's life. Every million won was someone's life.

Nam-gyu was pissed in the beginning when after the fourth game the people who wanted to leave won in the voting, even if they each left with a billion won. Few players left alive, thankfully, Thanos included. He remembered both of them high off their asses and complaining over it, but only because of that ecstasy pill.

Walking back home with the chill of the wind hitting his face made reality suddenly hit him, he killed people. So many people were dead because of what he did.. well, because of lights out and everything.

He wondered if Thanos was okay, at least. He was sure of the fact that the purple haired man was somewhere in Korea, tossed out of the car and maybe on drugs, Nam-gyu surprisingly couldn't stomach the thought of getting high.

He felt miserable as he walked towards his overly small apartment, he'd sleep for tonight, pack up, and maybe buy a house big enough for him to live with this money? Find something he was good at and stick with that.

And that's what he did, one would expect things to go well after moving, but Nam-gyu kept getting worse.

He couldn't stomach eating, remembering hwo the meals were served after a practical massacre of people, the food he was eating was paid with the money that cost someone's life.

His stomach didn't even have the strength to rumble anymore, even if Nam-gyu felt weak, he just couldn't eat. Normally, everyday he didn't even bother taking off his binder, even if breathing got a little too hard.

That's when he decided to go to a bar to drink his worries away, drinking in an empty stomach wasn't the best idea but Nam-gyu was desperate to just.. forget.

He didn't bother looking good, just in some sweats and a hoodie and some converses, his hair was slightly greasy from the constant procrastination of whether he should wash it or not, but Nam-gyu really didn't care.

He didn't even wonder what did he do to deserve this, he wondered what did he not do. It's something that plagued his mind everyday, no matter where he was, he always seemed to remember the bodies of people falling everywhere.

A curse fell from his lips as he stumbled inside the bar, tucking his hair behind his ears as he sat into one of the stools, head down and ordering a bottle of wine. The bartender seemed surprised, maybe they felt like they were mistaken when Nam-gyu asked the the literal bottle, but didn't question further when Nam-gyu slammed the bills onto the counter, probably having a bit more than needed but he couldn't care less, nor the bartender.

He was never a wine guy, he found it a little too bitter for his liking but today he was drinking it like he needed it to survive. It was barely past half an hour when Nam-gyu was on his fifth glass and halfway down the bottle.

He hiccuped, face flushed red as he looked at his phone, contacts empty, everything was empty. For a moment, Nam-gyu missed the constant threat he got from the people he owed before those damn games.

His vision was turve, stomach rumbling but he kept on pouring himself wine until he reached the very last drop of the bottle. The wine was coating his taste buds, as disgusting as it felt.. it felt comforting.

Although it felt good, the effects of drinking so much in an empty stomach began getting to him, he grabbed his phone and stood up straight out of the stool he was sitting in. Swearing he could hear a very familiar 'Nam-su!' Cheerily ring in his ears, that place was coming to haunt him again, wasn't it? The thought made his stomach churn, it was completely unlikely he and Thanos would ever meet again.

There were many things Nam-gyu wished he could tell Thanos, but he never did. It was foolish to fall for someone inside a death game, even if they'd both known each other, albeit barely, before.

He decided to solely focus in the feeling of something strong and burning coming up his throat, his eyes slightly stinging as he rushed out of the bar. He could still hear his name wrongly said by Thanos, it never felt so vivid before and Nam-gyu hated it.

His mind was spinning, but at least he had the decency to not puke inside a toilet.

Turning around the very corner of the bar where the parking lot was, Nam-gyu didn't hesitate to double over, hand leaving his mouth and instead squeezing his stomach as he threw up everything he drank, vision hazy as he saw the purple liquid fall.

Everything burnt, it was hard to breathe, his eyes were stinging and he slid down to his knees.

His mind was messy, scattered and trying to pick up pieces of whatever was going on, he knew he was puking, just wasn't sure how his surroundings were.

Not having much time to think again, another wave of nausea hit him and everything was coming out, but this time, he felt hands rub against his back.

Warm, gentle hands holding his hair back a little even if it was pretty short, just so it wouldn't fall in his face.

And amidst all of that fog, Nam-gyu could make out a familiar voice. Slightly unfamiliar too from how.. soft it was.

"Hold on, my boy. Let it all out." Nam-gyu could hear the person say.. was it Thanos?

He panted once he finally was done, turve vision finally falling back into place as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "There you go, good job, boy. I knew you had it in you."

Nam-gyu lifted his head, slightly shaky, and he was met with Thanos' face. Thanos was here, the unlikely probability of ever meeting him again was now.. becoming just a simple what if in his mind. His mouth opened to let put anything but he just let out a choked sound.

Maybe it was how his stomach was so empty, but Nam-gyu felt weak. Black spots filling his vision as Thanos' face became nothing but a blur, the feeling of him shaking his body lulling him into unconsciousness. Maybe this was his karma for killing people, surviving and living off of money that was someone's life. Maybe he'd finally die a slow, miserable death like he knew he deserved.

But the universe was insisting in not letting him die, Nam-gyu knew that it was the second he peered his eyes open with a bursting headache. A hand fell on top of his head as he propped himself up on his elbows.

He wasn't in his house, that's the first thing he noticed. The bedroom was a little too full of vinyl disks and discographies for it to be his house. To be quite fair, Nam-gyu was so out of energy lately that he didn't bother getting anything other than the basics. A bedframe, mattress, kitchen utensils and self hygiene products.

"Nam-su, my boy! You're finally awake!" Thanos chirped as he walked into the room with his sleeves pulled up, so it wasn't a dream after all.

Nam-gyu nodded, and Thanos furrowed his brow. Nam-gyu was off, and thinner than he was in the games. It worried him- Nam-gyu left with a billion won, like him. So why?

"I ran you a bath, you look like you need one, no offense." Thanos began with, shoving a towel towards Nam-gyu's way. "I didn't know where you lived, so you'll just have to stay here." He shrugged, and without letting Nam-gyu speak, he left the room.

He didn't have a choice, did he? Well.. he could just lock the door and stay in here, but Thanos probably had spare keys, who knew?

Nam-gyu stood up shakily, feeling his body shiver but he was also burning up. His stomach was weak but the thought of eating made it churn further.

Opening the bathroom door, Nam-gyu was met with the bathtub filled with water that looked a little steamy, maybe it would do some good to the cold Nam-gyu felt.

His clothes felt sticky as he began stripping them off, he closed snd locked the door, feeling colder snd colder at the thought of having to get naked.

In the end, he was just in his boxers and binder as he stared at himself in the mirror.

Pathetic, he looked pathetic and wrecked. His eyes were bloodshot, deep eye bags under his eyes, he looked a tad paler than usual and maybe a but more skinny.

Nam-gyu always hated how his body looked, but today it was worse. Having to face the consequences of what he was doing to himself.

Everything felt like he was being punished by the universe, from his self hatred, to his guilt, to.. just existing.

He curled his hands into fists, controlling himself to not smash the mirror in front of him. Nam-gyu would rather stare directly at the sun than the mirror.

A sob came out of him without permission, and that's when Nam-gyu knew there would be no thrning back. Tear after tear, everything began leaving his chest since he left. He was crumbling apart, falling on his ass and wincing as he hit his back against the toilet. His chest heaved, and suddenly he became aware of how much his ribs hurt, hell, they were probably full of bruises that Nam-gyu would just hate even more despite not being able to stop.

He curled his knees close to his chest, sniffling and feeling sobs mixed with hiccups leave his lips, as much as he wanted to- he couldn't keep quiet. His anxiety ring couldn't cease down the feeling of a huge lump in his throat, nothing could stop the ugly crying.

A knock from the other side came to reach his ears, but Nam-gyu didn't bother to reply. He was gross, everything hurt, and existing felt like a burden. He just wanted it all to stop.

"Nam-su? You alright in there?" Thanos asked, pressing his ear to the door. He could hear a thudding sound and a wince. At first, he just came by to give Nam-gyu a fresh pair of clothes, but the sounds coming from the bathroom weirded him out a bit. "I'm coming in, okay?" Thanos said as he tried to open the door, but instead of the door knob twisting open, it twisted until barely halfway and din't open. The door was fucking locked.

"Shit.. Nam-su, what are you doing in there?" Thanos called out a little bit louder, cursing under his breath as he didn't hear a reply, just the sound of hiccups and sobs.

Pulling away from the door, his feet heavily padded against the floor as he rushed through the hallway towards his bedroom. Door flying open as he began to search inside one of his drawers frantically, finding the keys and immediately yanking them out without bothering to close the drawer.

As quickly as he could, he ran back inside the room and began fumbling with the keys to open the door. Thanos was unsure why he was so frantic and maybe slightly anxious as he tried to reach Nam-gyu, he always thought this weird feeling whenever they played together in games were just due to being high.. he couldn't have feelings for Nam-gyu, could he?

Shaking those thoughts off, Thanos yanked the door open. Finding Nam-gyu sitting on the floor, half naked and basically drowning in tears.

Thanos froze, he wasn't sure how to approach this situation.. well, he never was the best with comforting or dealing with being comforted, but everything had its first time, right?

Carefully and tentatively, Thanos kneeled down in front of Nam-gyu. It was weird to see him like this, and the sight made something tug at his heartstrings. "Nam-gyu?" He called out. "Hey, boy, you okay?" That was a stupid question, damn it! Why Thanos couldn't just.. be good with his words?

But then again, he was always best at showing his feelings through actions than words.

Carefully, he wrapped his arms around Nam-gyu's torso, feeling him flinch and slightly tense up at the touch, and Thanos stayed put, barely even breathing.

And then, Nam-gyu melted against the hug. Clinging to Thanos as if he was the only thing grounding him into reality, face buried into his shoulder as he cried like a lost little kid. Thanos' hands ran through his hair, rubbing circles on his back as he felt his shirt get basically soaked.

"I can't do this anymore- I can't— I- it's.. this money.. it's all someone's life- I killed people in there, I—" Nam-gyu choked out, and Thanos shushed him gently, pulling back just slightly to look at Nam-gyu in the eyes. "Whether or not you did, there's nothing we can do about it. That place does things to people, Nam-gyu. Even if this money is dirty, you can't let it drag you down. Especially when you fought so hard to survive." Thanos said with a small frown in his lips, and Nam-gyu nodded. Even if he didn't believe it much, he nodded along.

His breath was heavy as he sniffled, sobs subsiding within a few minutes that none of them bothered to really count. "You should.. get this off, it looks like it's constricting your chest." Thanos said as he jerked his chin towards the binder Nam-gyu was wearing.

Now that he mentioned it, Nam-gyu noticed that Thanos didn't care about the binder or him being transgender in the slightest, or he simply didn't know.

"I'll leave and you can shower, I left some clothes for you in the bed." Thanos said as he sighed, standing up and pulling Nam-gyu along. Catching the faintest glimpse of bruises underneath the binder due to the flexing skin. "The shirt's big enough, don't wear this crap. Plus, it's slightly sweaty." Thanos said with a grimace more due to trying to give the conversation some sort of happy mood than disgust.

The second Thanos left, Nam-gyu let out a heavy sigh. Closing the door and stripping off his binder and boxers. His body still shivered, maybe he was sick? It would make sense, having eaten nothing but ice in the energy drinks he bought. It was a surprise Nam-gyu hadn't passed out in the middle of the street before.. but maybe not eating was just discounting its signs on how badly his hair was falling and how he was growing weaker.

The warmth of the water engulfing his body made him feel weirdly good— dipping his head underneath the water for a bit, Nam-gyu came back up swearing he could sleep in the bathtub.

But he didn't, Thanos would probably just pull him out and he didn't feel like being seen naked by him.

So, instead, after washing himself properly, Nam-gyu unplugged the drain of the tub and got out, changing into the clothes Thanos separated surprisingly neatly in the bed. And he was right, the shirt was indeed big enough, but then again Nam-gyu's chest wasn't that big.. he just was a tad paranoid about it.

He left his clothes in the corner of the room, getting out and looking to either sides of the hallway that the bedroom led to. Thanos left him alone without giving Nam-gyu directions.. tch, asshole.

Nam-gyu decided it'd be best to follow the humming sounds that Thanos was producing, as much as he hated to admit it, it was surprisingly calming.

He carefully and quietly stepped down the steps, following that same humming sound until he reached the kitchen, and Thanos was.. cooking?

He could see mashed potatoes set inside a small bowl in the counter, and the familiar smell of chicken reached his nose. He stood staring for a bit, until Thanos turned around and gave him a big smile, and Nam-gyu's stomach churned again.. but not out of disgust. Rather, something he refused to acknowledge.

"Hey! Nam-su! Come sit down!" Thanos called out, and now Nam-gyu was sure he got his name messed up on purpose.. moments ago was calling him seriously by his name correctly.

But despite that, he sat down on the stool nearby the counter. Raising his brow at the bowl shoved in front of him, mashed potatoes, veggies, and.. chicken.

"Eat, you must be hungry." Thanos said with a proud smile, and Nam-gyu just stared at the food. All of a sudden remembering everyone who died, the people he killed and... "Nam-su?" Thanos called out, and Nam-gyu came back to reality. "Sorry, not hungry."

Thanos gave him a frown, furrowing his brows and crossing his arms. "Bullshit, your stomach was rumbling when I brought you here. And you.. threw up pure wine, you haven't been eating, have you?" How the hell did Thanos get the story straight? Nam-gyu would never know. But he froze, just staring at Thanos with wife eyes. Then, Thanos sat down by his side. Grabbing the bowl, a spoon and chopsticks, and then finally, looking at Nam-gyu tentatively. "Just a bit, you don't have to eat everything." Thanos suggested with a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

"Come on, my boy. Just a bit!" Thanos said with a huff. And then he seemed to have an idea, filling the spoon with mashed potatoes and bringing it in front of Nam-gyu's face.

Nam-gyu didn't seem to quite like the idea, face heating up when Thanos practically shoved the spoon in his face. But Thanos probably wouldn't let it go regardless of anything, so he just sighed snd opened his mouth.

The taste of mashed potatoes filled his mouth and Nam-gyu swore he could feel his tastebuds burst with the flavor, so different from bland ice and drinks. He was surprised about how he didn't feel like throwing it all up, maybe it was because the food was really light, Thanos really could be thoughtful when he wanted to.

They repeated the same process until halfway through the food, and then Nam-gyu shook his head, not being able to really take any more bites. Sitting in silence with Thanos was always comfortable, but this time it felt different.

"I wish they dropped me off with you, y'know." Thanos said with a heavy sigh, leaning both arms on his thighs. Nam-gyu's eyebrows shot up at that, how come? He would have wanted to ask, but preferred to stay quiet. "I would have made sure you were okay, and have eaten sooner. I don't think you've been.. eating well lately, you're thinner than you were back in the game and we were fed small ass portions of food." Thanos then looked at Nam-gyu in the eyes, and in the moment, Nam-gyu felt his breath being sucked away.

Thanos' eyes, normally blown from drugs and normally wild, were weirdly soft. For a moment, the room fell into a comfortable silence, just the two of them staring at each other, as if spiritually asking each other for things none of them could vocally express.

And then, Thanos was moving closer in front of him, giving him one last glamce before their lips met in a passionate and yet desperate kiss. It was as if both of them were longing for that for a long time.

Once they pulled apart, Nam-gyu met Thanos' eyes again and he swore the weight of the world was in them, and then all of a sudden Nam-gyu found out why his stomach churned at the sight of Thanos.

Tugging at Thanos' shirt, their lips met again, and again, and again. Every time they pulled back, not seeming to get enoigh of the feeling, their lips always found its way back to each other.

Thanos had his hands settled on Nam-gyu's waist, Nam-gyu had his hands tangled in Thanos' hair as they both moved to the couch.

And then, their lips parted one last time. Nam-gyu was practically draped all over Thanos, head on his chest and Thanos' chin rested atop his head. Silence reigned over them, until Nam-gyu broke it, only for a split second. "Can you.. hum that song again?" He asked, closing his eyes. He didn't get a yes or a no, instead, he got a humming. Maybe it was from how peaceful Nam-gyu felt, but falling asleep was easier this time ever since he left the games.

Maybe all he needed was someone who would get it, someone who would be just a little patient and help him come forward rather than staying stuck in the past.

#124 x 230 #230 x 124 #choi su bong #nam gyu #player 124 #player 230 #squid game season 2 #thangyu #thagyu #thanos x nam gyu

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gingerbread-in-july · 3 months ago

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Under the cut lies my personal ranking of all of Spencer Reid's love interests, both actual and potential, from best all the way down to worst, plus a whole lot of unfiltered sassy commentary that nobody asked for. Then again, nobody asked for any of this, but my brain was just on one of its neurodivergent tangents. There's 11 total. Some of this- probably a lot of this- will piss some people off and I am truly sorry. I hope there's at least some other people out there who share my strong ass opinions.

1. Dorian Loker- I will never forgive these bitch ass writers for never following up on that storyline. He asked her out in Russian, for Christ's sake! One of the only times in the entire series he actually initiates a date with somebody. He complimented her coffee! For him, that may as well be a pickup line. He was finally moving on from Maeve. That was a huge fucking step. He was shy and unsure of himself, but he was clearly into her, he was flirting the best he could, and he fucking asked her out. Don't even get me started on him being into her enough to set aside his germophobia and touch her hand by the end of the episode. Or his gutted little expression when he realized he spoiled the book she was reading. They were adorable and they could have been everything. Of all the one-episode love interests, she's the one I'm most pissed at them for never fucking following up on.

2. Ethan- They were not just friends. I read somewhere that Spencer was initially supposed to be bisexual. They might have scrapped that, but bi Spence still found a way. They for sure hooked up. For. Sure. The chemistry was just there. And I am not one of those weirdo bitches who are overly fetishistic toward m/m pairings. I'm too fucking gay myself to get off on two men together. But those two men for sure were a thing- and good for them.

3. Austin the bartender- She was hot. They had chemistry. More chemistry than he did with his actual girlfriends. End of.

4. Ashley Seaver- I know y'all hate her and that she wasn't technically a love interest. However, I guarantee that she would have been if they'd kept her around. They were definitely setting it up to be that way. And, you know what? They'd have been a damn cute couple. I'd have loved to see it. And no, the "sorry for asking" moment was not grounds to disqualify it. Everyone else said as bad or worse to him at some point. If you can ship him with a psychopath who drugged him, framed him for murder, got him falsely imprisoned and nearly killed, kidnapped and tried to kill his mother, and lied about r*ping him and getting pregnant? You can ship him with Ashley fucking Seaver. If you can ship him with his fucking doctor who used her own loneliness as an excuse to violate all kinds of professional and ethical codes? You can ship him with Ashley fucking Seaver. If you can, perhaps worst of all, ship J*id? You can ship him with Ashley fucking Seaver.

5. Lila Archer- I think their worlds were ultimately too different for them to work long-term, but I do think they would have made a sweet couple for a while. They would each give the other things that their worlds were lacking. They wouldn't have been endgame, but they'd have stayed good friends. Also, "bUt aMbEr hEARD" isn't the dunk you think it is. Johnny Depp is a rich, 60-something year old white man who is problematic as fuck in his own right- and he's never going to fuck you.

6. Cat Adams- Do I want them to actually be together? No. Does she deserve him? Hell no. Would the people further down this list technically be better for him than her? Probably. But......the chemistry, y'all. The chemistry was there. Matthew and Aubrey just play far too well off of each other.

7. Maeve Donovan- I didn't hate her, but she was just a vehicle to give Spencer more trauma. I don't think she was "the one," "the love of his life," or any of that other stuff some say. I don't think they'd have lasted if she'd lived. They didn't really know each other. She lied to him about having a whole ass fiancé she never told him about. God only knows what else he didn't know. He started out as her fucking patient, for God's sake. The ethical violations were out the ass. I don't think she'd have crossed those lines if she weren't feeling so vulnerable and isolated from having to hide from her stalker. At least, not if she's as smart as everyone claims she is. Everyone- including Spencer- only puts her on a pedestal because of the tragedy of her death and not knowing what could have been. What would have been had she lived......probably wouldn't have been all that great in the long run.

8. Linda Kimura- I'll be honest, I don't recall a single damn thing about this woman. I forgot she even existed until I saw her pictured on a potential love interest compilation. While I don't recall them having any chemistry whatsoever, I'll still include her for the sole purpose of ranking her higher than the rest of these shit bombs. And speaking of bombs, that brings us to......

9. Dylan Einstein- For the life of me, I just don't understand why people go so hard for this pairing. It's like she was generated in a Mary Sue factory to fit some stereotype of what AI might imagine Spencer's ideal woman to be. Her last name is Einstein, for fuck's sake. I'd probably respect it more if they did just name her Mary Sue. They were trying too hard to present her as Girl Spencer. The bitch even wore a purple scarf! She also just came across as annoying and overly eager and seemed like she didn't really understand when to fuck off. She butted in too much while Derek and Spencer were trying to work. Some poster here said that the actress who played her shipped the character with Spencer. That is more than obvious in the way she plays her. It's like she read a bunch of Wattpad fic and decided to use the character to try for her Y/N moment. Can't blame a girl for trying, but that is one "love interest" I am glad was a one-off.

10. JJ- What could I say that hasn't already been said? The J*id plot was painfully forced. Spencer has more chemistry with a fucking paperweight than he does with JJ. Do I love their friendship? Yes. Do I love watching Spencer interact with her kids? God, yes. But, he's Uncle Spencer, not Stepdaddy Spencer. The only way Spencer and JJ are more than friends is that they're found family. Will is an absolute saint of a husband. Fuck them writers for doing him dirty like that. Even pre-Will, Spencer and JJ just didn't have the chemistry like that. I'm glad they scrapped that bullshit early crush storyline after just one episode. Also, am I the only one who remembers Spencer being totally unaffected and not even giving half a shit when JJ finally came out to the team about being with Will? He said something along the lines of "We all knew already." He was so unbothered. No way in hell has he been "waiting for JJ" this whole time or whatever these clowns pulled out of their asses toward the end. Such a waste of a plot. Literally any other pairing would have made more sense.

11. Maxine bitch ass Brenner- Here we are. Last and least. Even J*id was better than this shit. What the fuck even was the goddamn point of this bitch besides having an excuse to have Rachael Leigh Cook guest star? Too bad this is who she had to play. She was just rude as hell with her snark, her bitchy little expressions and the way she mocked the kids- elementary school aged kids- she taught. As if it was beneath her grandiose idea of herself. How could they for one second think that somebody like Spencer- somebody who loves kids, loves to teach and to learn and values education as much as Spencer- could ever like somebody like her? They were already having to cram way too much into too little space that last season. It was already a shit show. What the fuck was the point of adding her only to never bring her back? I mean, good call there at least because she sucked. I can only assume Spence realized how much she sucked and ditched her ass. She was just a pointless waste of time and never should have been a thing. I'm glad Spence made out with Cat in front of her and I hope it chapped her ass that he never kissed her that way. Glad her family didn't die, but she and they can all fuck all the way off down the road.

Thanks for sticking this one out if you did.

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gatheringbones · 1 year ago

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[“Turns out that being a lesbian outside of the privacy of your own home was quite hard. I’m not talking about the various manifestations of homophobia—oh, that old thing. I’m talking about scoring. Picking up chicks. (As it turns out, I would come to prefer the type of woman few would recognize as female, the type who would cheerfully deck you if you called her a chick, but might, if I were lucky, see me as such: a chick, a babe, a femme fox.)

In the oeuvre of Mr. Spillane, being a lesbian seemed so easy, like shooting fish in a barrel. In my favorite lesbian novels, No Blonde is an Island and My Gun is Quick, all a gal had to do was brush up against another woman by the water cooler and, watch out, the sapphic sparks would surely fly. Lesbianism was something any woman could do, no special equipment, messy creams or liquids were required.

But when I walked into my first dyke bar in New York City, I had a rude awakening. It was like transferring to a new high school. No, it was worse than that. A new junior high school. You walk into the class on the first day and everyone turns to stare. Your clothes, your hair, the way you move, it’s all wrong. You have to change everything or die a horrible and lingering death.

I guess the moral of this story is that there are some pursuits, such as lesbianism, that one can’t learn from a book, no matter the author. A more crass sort might make some tasteless jokes at this juncture about “boning up” on lesbianism, or about “hands-on experience,” but the reader can be assured this dyke will not sink to that level.

I watched the other women dancing, talking, flirting. All transactions were conducted in a lingo as incomprehensible to me as straight guy sports speak. My late-seventies disco fever look was out of place here. Everyone looked like they’d raided the closet of their bigger, older brother while he was out repairing refrigerators.

I was the only one wearing makeup.

Someone approached me: “This is a gay bar.” I shriveled up and a gust of wind blew me out into the street.

I had no skills. No lesbian skills. I was stared at, rather than cruised, at the bars. I couldn’t find a way of singnaling to another dyke that I was open for business, a friend of Dorothy, in the life, on the bus. Let alone desperately horny.

Somehow I managed a few invites to lesbian parties. I’d figured out that wearing lipstick was wrong, but I was still doing it. I’m such a congenital WASP that my lips disappear without makeup; I couldn’t imagine having sex without lipstick. I had tried to pull a lesbian look together: oversized second-hand men’s clothes, an unbuttoned black vest, but Annie Hall does not work on someone five feet tall.

Nor could I play softball. When something is thrown at me, even if it is specifically designed for that purpose, I automatically duck. All I had going for me in the lesbian skill department was ownership of a cat. Enough to break the ice, but not cinch the deal.

Certainly I couldn’t just come out and ask some other dyke to show me the ropes, so to speak. The seventies were still going on even though it was now the eighties. Feminism and lesbianism had kind of merged, become one big multinational entity with Andrea Dworkin as CEO. You had to be sneaky to get laid.

Yikes. It had been so easy with men. All you had to do was bend over at the bowling alley and something would happen.

After two years, the drought ended. I saw a sign that advertised: “Double-X-Rated Christmas Party for Women.” The party was held in the basement of a Catholic church. Perhaps the priests had passed out upstairs and had no idea what was going on. Or perhaps the priests were the drag queens working the bar. Nevertheless, I was there as soon as the doors opened. And the doors were not the only thing that opened.

I walked into the basement where the party was taking place and saw rows of thrift store tuxedoes, second-hand prom dresses. The doorperson made it clear that these outfits could be borrowed for the evening. After they checked their coats, many party-goers were borrowing outfits from the racks and disappearing into the bathroom to amend their attire. As the evening went on, I noticed more and more women trading in their flannel and denim for sharkskin and taffeta.

At this, my first encounter with the women who produced the WOW Festival and would later open the WOW Cafe in a tiny linguini-shaped storefront on East Eleventh Street, I fell in love. In love with all of the women, with their outrageousness, their unruly desire. I wanted desperately to be a part of whatever it was they were doing…if the WOW Cafe had been a support group for lesbian skeet shooters, that’s what I’d be doing now.

Instead, I found theater, or it found me. And the theater, it seemed, offered a wonderful solution to my involuntary celibacy: the casting couch. In theater you are encouraged to have sex with as many people as possible; it’s an integral part of the process. At least at WOW it seemed like the shows were almost an afterthought to the flirting, a byproduct of the endless parties where women of every imaginable gender rubbed up against each other.

This last paragraph reads like a natural cue to cross-fade to the Story of the First Girlfriend, doesn’t it? At this point, I should see a stranger across a crowded room, our eyes should lock, and the violins should swell like wieners on the grill. But this scene isn’t part of my coming-out story. Who even remembers my first girlfriend? Not me. I remember lots of bodies, I remember rooms lit by lots of small lights, and above all else, I remember lots and lots of Rolling Rock. This movie doesn’t end with a soft-focus closeup on two women kissing; this is a coming-out story that crescendos into a crowd scene. It’s a wide-angle shot. The climax of my coming-out scenario isn’t a closeup on a lesbian couple but a panorama of a lesbian world.”]

holly hughes, from what comes first, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

#holly hughes #lesbian literature #history stuff #gender stuff

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