#ITS INTERMISSION RIGHT NOW

[misterradio]

HE SUCKS JONATHAN ON STAGE ?!???!!!!!!??????!!!!!????

[bayeis]

LMAOOO tbf I'm not in England either I flew from America to see this

This play made me sob hysterically

[cheollipop]

i was busy rewatching the mv like three times sorry but we know sounds fucking amazing im ascending

[sparrowsfallingfromthesky]

Would actually kill for Toby Stephens as Frankenstein's monster

[frankenstheythem]

i wanna buy a new mh doll but also my tattoo artist is back to my regular place so frick yeahhhh if i dont find any frankie steins im getting a bill tat for fucking real aaaaayyy i love money

[shouyuus]

─── Ⅵ CHAPTER FIVE: DON'T HATE THE PLAYERS

violet; 5,460 words; fluff, suggestive content, drama, hockey!vi, figure skater!reader, smau-intermissions, miscommunication, fake dating, lesbian situationships rly hit diff, toxic ex!cait, simp!vi, rival!sevika, inappropriate use of locker rooms, vi is down so horrifically bad its kind of sad tbh

summary: in which instagrams are posted, texts are sent, hockey games are played, and you try your best to make it back in time to gie vi her present.

a/n: a lot of things happen here. LOL but i promise they're not all bad! ALSO. the insta post picture IS NOT PERFECT but it was the best i could do. and i didn't have time to commission an artist to draw the exact image that i wanted :( but i hope it at least gives the vibe of the post. and... it starts getting frisky here so... yall have been warned!

< table of contents

─── Ⅵ "OH SHIT, she said that?”

Vi grunts, rolling her eyes as she drops the deadlift bar with a loud thunk, flicking her belt off with her thumb.

“Yeah. I told her to fuck off.”

“Atta girl!” Jayce says, thumping her on the shoulder. Vi casts him a disgusted look.

“If you value your future offspring, Talis, never call me that again.”

Jayce laughs, reaching down to help Vi put the weights back onto the rack.

“I honestly thought it was gonna take much longer for you to, y’know —”

Vi pauses before straightening to pin him with a look.

“What? You thought I’d super hung up on her or something?”

Jayce shrugs, “Well, yeah. You seemed pretty deep in it when you two were together so…”

Vi sighs, carding a hand through her sweat-slicked hair.

“I mean, I was, but… I dunno… seeing her with that new girlfriend of hers… and just… her reaching out to try and — what… sabotage my…” Vi bites back the word ‘relationship’ so she just makes a vague sort of gesture and continues, “really kinda put things into perspective for me.”

Jayce hums thoughtfully, “Yeah, but that Nolen girl’s no joke either. Her whole family’s been in the military — her dad’s some sort of war hero, and her mom’s the daughter of a politician, I think.”

Vi casts him a sidelong glance before scoffing, “Wow. Mel really did her research, huh?”

At this, Jayce jerks up, sputtering, “Well — she just — you know — her family’s also — I —”

Vi laughs, waving him off, “Whatever dude… but I already knew all that — why d’you think Caitlyn even ditched me in the first place?”

Jayce frowns, “Wasn’t it… because her mom didn’t approve of you or something like that?”

“Yep. We had one dinner together, and her mother made it very clear that she didn’t think someone of ‘my elk’ was worthy of being with her daughter. Apparently, having an adoptive father who owns a local watering hole and coaches college hockey isn’t the exact pedigree she’s looking for.”

Jayce lets out a low whistle.

Vi grabs a dumbbell for bicep curls.

“And… it seems like Caitlyn really look her mother’s words to heart. Cause a few weeks later… well, you know the rest.”

Jayce sighs, “That’s… unfortunate. But hey, look on the bright side. Without Cait’s mom, you would’ve never had the chance to date an Olympic athlete, right?”

Vi’s mouth twists into a half-grimace as she puffs out a breath and flexes her arm up, her eyes focused on her form in the mirror.

“Yeah well — not sure what exactly we are right now so… who knows.”

Jayce folds his arms, “Give her time. I haven’t known her as long as Mel has but she’s still a really good friend and…” Jayce allows himself a tiny, slanted grin as Vi pushes through her reps, “Mel wasn’t lying when she told you that we’ve never seen her like this with anyone else before.”

Vi finishes her first set with a loud exhale, glancing up at him.

“Don’t go getting my hopes up like that, pretty boy,” but she’s smiling when Jayce bends down to hand her a bottle of Gatorade, “hasn’t anyone told you it’s not good manners to toy with a girl’s feelings?” she pitches her voice up at the end, wiggling her fingers through the air even as Jayce rolls his eyes.

A few minutes later, Jayce frowns as he turns back to Vi.

“You’ve blocked her number, right?”

Vi huffs, still counting beneath her breath, “— twenty-two, twenty-three — who? What? — Twenty-four —”

“Caitlyn’s.”

Vi grunts, straining through a few more reps before stopping to glance up at Jayce.

“No. Why? Should I?”

Jayce licks his lips, frowning slightly.

“Yeah. Might be a good idea.”

Vi shrugs, “Yeah. I’ll do it later.”

Jayce nods, “Good. Alright — abs, lets go.”

You’re antsy all the way to the airport, checking your phone every four seconds, your knee bouncing even as the cab driver pulls up into the terminal and opens the trunk to grab your bag with a smile.

You bolt through the doors, thanking the heavens that the TSA Pre line is nearly empty.

Just as soon as you get through security, Mel calls.

“Have you got it?” you ask, without even saying hello.

Mel sigh, “Yes, yes, but it won’t do much good if you’re not here to give it to her —”

“I know! I know — I’m at the airport, and just got through security. Are you and Jayce —”

“I’ll come pick you up at the airport — thank god it’s only 16 minutes away from campus.”

“And you’re sure we’ll still make it on time for the game?”

“So long as your flight doesn’t get delayed —”

“It won’t.”

Mel laughs, the sound soft as you speed-walk your way through the terminal, slumping down next to your designated one with a long breath.

“Alright then, darling. I’ll see you in a few hours,” Mel says.

You make a loud kissing noise into the speaker and hang up, your fingers automatically flicking through the open windows till you come to yours and Vi’s text history.

You grin down at it stupidly for a few more seconds before jolting out of your seat as one of the gate agents comes to shake your hand and help you board first. As you sink into the wide, business-class seat, you close your eyes, taking a few deep breaths. Your fingers fiddle with a thin gold chain around your neck and you bite back another grin.

You tug out the small teardrop locket dangling from the chain and flick open the clasp. Inside is nestled a single violet flower, pressed and perfect, preserved behind a thin pane of shimmering glass.

Vi makes a round of the rink, scanning the crowd with furrowed brows.

Nope. Nope. Nope…

She swears silently to herself, rolling her shoulders as the crowd roars.

You promised you’d be here tonight.

“And tonight, we’ve got our season’s top two favorites for the NCAA’s Frozen Four Championship — the Piltover Enforcers, and the Zaunite Barons!”

Vi grins as the stadium positively shakes with applause. It’s always nice playing on home-ice. Across the rink, she can see the huge, lumbering shapes of the Barons, and her jaw clenches as she catches Sevika’s eye.

They’d been something like childhood friends once upon a time. But after a falling out of meteoric proportions, they’d settled somewhere between grudging acquaintances and mortal enemies. Where they land on the scale on any particular day typically depends on the weather, the orbital tide height, and whether or not Mercury is currently in retrograde.

Though judging by the smirk that’s visible from beneath Sevika’s helmet, Vi thinks it’s nearing the mortal enemies end of the spectrum today.

All the players line up for the face off.

Vi bites down on her mouth guard and smacks her stick against the ice. Sevika skates up to her, bending down so close their helmets clack.

And for a brief, interminable second, Vi thinks Sevika’s going to stay quiet. But the moment passes and Sevika chuckles, the sound low and hoarse and utterly derisive. It sets Vi’s teeth on edge even before the first word leaves her mouth.

“Heard America’s snowflake-sweetheart’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

“Tch. What’s it to you?” Vi’s eyes flash up.

Sevika’s smirk has morphed into a full blown grin, sharp as freshly turned blades.

She shrugs, keeping her voice low as the official says something or other to both the teams.

“Well… just a lotta people buzzin’ online about her perfect skate at her competition this past weekend and I’m just thinkin’… man… you must not be fuckin’ her right —”

“You —” Vi nearly jerks up, but Sevika presses in just a bit tighter and Vi grounds her teeth down over the mouth guard.

“Cause if you lemme **take her for a spin, you can bet your scrawny ass that she won’t even be able to stand up straight, let alone skate clean.”

The puck hits the ice as if in slow motion; Vi feels a white-hot anger mixed with something very much like hurt surging up the length of her spine as she watches Sevika’s stick make contact with the puck first. But she doesn’t care — she slams her body forward and feels her shoulder check into Sevika’s chest as they both go sprawling across the ice and the puck goes wide.

They scramble up and take off after the puck, now in Zaunite possession, Sevika’s shoulder ramming reflectively into Vi’s as they jostle down the length of the rink.

Vi cracks her shoulder back into Sevika and the momentary gap is all she needs to break away, circling wide behind the goal. Someone shouts Reverse! and Vi feels more than sees the tiny black puck make contact with her stick. Her body moves on instinct, and she’s halfway down the rink before the others catch up to her.

She allows herself a single, tight-lipped grin before someone slams into her back with the force of a speeding firetruck. The world spins, but a second later, Vi hears the unmistakable sounds of Sevika’s heaving breaths.

“Ha. Aren’t you glad your little girlfriend isn’t here to see you eat shit?”

Vi flips around and before she knows it, she’s swinging her left arm into Sevika’s helmet, knocking it askew.

“Vi!”

Vi’s whole body seizes at the sound of your voice, and she looks up wildly, but she pays for it a moment later as Sevika’s fist connects with her jaw and her head snaps back. She brings her elbow down against Sevika’s extended arm, her free hand grappling to keep Sevika’s head shoved against the ice.

A whistle blows and they shove apart, shaking their heads and spitting blood. Vi tastes iron on her tongue and winces as she rotates her jaw. There’ll be a nasty bruise, but it’s not dislocated, and Vi’s suffered much worse at Sevika’s hands.

Half a foot from her, Sevika is shaking out her arm, looking murderous as the official comes up to point them towards the penalty box.

Vi looks around, and halfway across the rink, she sees you, your eyes wide, your hands pressed over your mouth, Mel and Jayce sitting next to you, both looking worried. But you’ve got dark streaks painted on your cheeks, and it takes her a second to recognize the large “VI” written there — her number, her name.

The world melts around her as she meets your eyes, and you look so worried that she almost laughs. This is nothing, she wants to say, you ain’t seen nothing yet, princess.

But the second is short lived as the official skates over and jerks his head towards the penalty box. She sighs, begrudgingly skating over and settling herself as far away from Sevika as humanly possible as the clock starts on their five minutes.

When all’s said and done, the game is a good one — with the final score of 3-2 in Piltover’ s favor. Sevika gets another penalty, but Vi manages to keep her cool. And by the end, everyone’s sweaty and tired, but riding high, and Vi can’t help the way she once more scans the cheering crowd for your face.

But, you’re not there. The seat next to Jayce and Mel is empty, and Vi can’t help the clawing, hollowing sensation that burrows up her chest from the base of her stomach.

“Don’t look so disappointed,” Margot teases, bumping Vi as they all clamber off the ice.

Vi narrows her eyes, “What’dyou mean?”

Margot only grins, shooting Vi a wink before following the rest of the team towards the lockers.

Her phone buzzes and Vi glances down, only to see a single line of text from you:

come to the figure skating lockers. i’ve got a present for you.

Electricity zings up Vi’s limbs as she pivots hard left and makes her way down the heavily padded hallway towards the figure skating lockers, tugging off her gear as she goes. By the time she gets there, she’s managed to get most of her upper pads off, shucking them outside the door, leaving her in her loose jersey and pants.

She pushes through the thick metal door into the figure skating lockers. They’re smaller, brighter, and generally cleaner than the hockey team lockers. Vi’s never thought herself a stickler for things like nicer locker rooms but stepping in, she can’t help the way that her eyebrows shoot up.

“Whoa.”

“They’re not all this nice.”

Vi whips her head around so fast she almost gets a crick in her neck at the sound of your voice. And there — standing next to the far row of pure white lockers, with your hands behind your back and her number (her name still painted on your cheek), you.

“Yeah?” she asks, even as she drops her helmet on the thickly padded floor and shuffles forward in her skates. She takes her time looking you over — and objectively, she knows it’s only been a few days since she’d last seen you, but it feels like forever, the way time stretches endless when you’re a little kid on the playground and eternity is just another thing you can take for granted.

You purse your lips around a shy grin and Vi almost groans as she notices the bright pink ribbon tied around your neck like a choker. You’re wearing the little black dress that you’d worn to that sorority party, the one that’s been the subject of one too many of her dirty daydreams — her varsity jacket slung around your shoulders.

“Sweet god, princess… is this the present you have for me? Please tell me it is —”

You let out a soft puff of exasperated laughter.

“No! I mean —” your eyes cut away as you shift your weight from one foot to another, falling back half a step as Vi takes a few steps closer. “I-if you want it to be — this can be — uhm — an additional present —”

“Mm… I don’t think I want any other present if I’ve got this one —” Vi says, inwardly thanking the heavens that she’d kept her skates on as they give her a few more inches as she corners you against a row of snow-white lockers, so bright they’re almost blinding.

“I — well that’s —”

“Mm… cat got your tongue, princess?” Vi asks, reaching up to tug your chin back towards her as you try to glance away.

You suck in a short breath, your lashes fluttering as you meet her gaze with yours — dark to light, amber and ice.

There’s adrenaline coursing through her system, and Vi knows she’s still riding high off the win, off the knowledge that you’re here, and that you’re here for her. She looks you over with reverent eyes, her gaze lingering on the dark paint now slightly smeared across your cheeks in a large “VI”.

“I… I got this for you a while back…” you say, pressing something into her chest. Vi pauses, glancing down to see a small black box wrapped in a length of bright pink ribbon the exact same make and color as the one around your neck.

Vi falls back a step to take the box in her hands, turning it over.

“What is it?”

You shrug, a tiny, bird-like movement. Sweet and almost daring.

Vi grins as she traces a finger along a single ear of the perfectly tied bow.

“Can I?” she asks.

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

Vi tugs on the ribbon and it comes loose with a whisper. She opens the box to reveal a simple, teardrop locket set on a golden chain. She picks it up, letting the locket dangle from her fingers.

“Go on, open it,” you prompt, looking both bashful and eager. Vi gives you one more glance before fumbling open the locket to reveal a single snowflake, carved into the thick glass set into the middle of the locket.

“Oh.” Vi breathes, her voice nothing but a whisper. She stare at the locket, at the simplicity and delicacy of it. And then, she looks back up at you.

“It’s — Mel and Jayce helped me pick it — I didn’t know if you even wore stuff like this but —”

“I’ll wear it,” Vi says, letting the pendant drop into the palm of her opened hand. She offers it to you with a lopsided grin. “Can you help me put it on?”

You nod, a bit breathless, even as you take the locket from her and undo the clasp with trembling fingers. Vi grins as she leans in to let you fasten the chain around her neck, reveling in the tiny kiss of cold metal against her sweaty skin as she pulls back.

“So? How’s it look?” she asks.

You stare at the locket, and then up at her, and she swears she can see your eyes go molten.

“It looks… good.”

“Good,” Vi whispers, reaching up to finger at the tiny pink bow still tied around your neck. You suck in a breath, going still against her as she ghosts her breath along the long column of your neck. And she thinks she can almost hear the sound of your heart pounding against your ribcage by the way your pulse flutters in your neck — she sure as hell can feel her own traitorous heart thundering away in her chest as she glances from the bow around your neck up to you and back down again.

“Can I?” she asks again, though this time, her voice is gentle, imploring, something like a plea as opposed to question.

She revels in the way your pulse flutters beneath the bright pink of the satin.

“Y-yeah —” you say, your own voice a harsh scrape of sound over a burgeoning need that Vi can almost taste on her tongue. But, she wants to take her time with you, she thinks, so she trails her fingers up to your neck and teases at the rabbit ears of the butterfly bow before tugging one end loose. And just like before, the ribbon gives way much too easily, and something gold shimmers as it drops from beneath the pink satin.

She stares.

It’s a gold chain identical to the one around her neck, with a teardrop pendant strung from it that mirrors her own.

This time, when she glances up, her eyes are wide, almost disbelieving.

Your throat bobs as you clench your fingers at your sides, resisting the urge to lift your hands and help her.

“What…” her voice trails off, disbelieving.

You lick your lips. “Go on — open it.”

Vi nearly fumbles the locket twice before she gets it open, and her short intake of breath is the only sign you get that she’s seen what’s inside. You hold your own breath, watching her face as it flickers through a film-frame series of emotions.

“Is that —” her voice is hoarse; she clears her throat, running a thumb over the glass.

“Yeah,” you say, reaching up to take the open pendant from her, glancing down at it yourself, heat pricking into your cheeks as your eyes settle on the pressed violet.

She’s kissing you before either of you can say another word, and the force of it nearly slams your head back into the lockers but Vi’s hand is somehow there to cushion you, her fingers digging into your hair as you gasp open for her wanting mouth. It’s not a sweet kiss and there’s nothing gentle in the sting of her nails raking against your scalp as she presses you close, and then closer.

It’s a clash of teeth and tongue, skin and sound — your tiny, surprised squeak eclipsed by the low moan that reverberates from her chest to yours as she licks into the hot cavern of your mouth and feels you soften against her — sweet as sun-warmed honey.

“F-fuck princess —” Vi hisses, pulling back with a panting breath as you let your head fall back, gasping for air even as she yanks you towards her till both of you are toppling onto one of the long benches, your legs falling open to straddle her thighs, her hands poised over the round of your hips.

You look down at her, running your thumbs along her cheeks eyes flickering over her face — and the admiration caught behind the fractured glass of your eyes is so obvious that Vi almost turns away, embarrassed. Instead, she leans up to nose into the triangle of your threading pulse, delighting in the shiver that chases down the shape of you, in the involuntary way your thighs squeeze on either side of hers.

She grins, inching her fingers beneath the hem of your little black dress, groaning as she finds the winged hollows of your hipbones and realizes, half a breath later, that you’re not wearing any panties.

“Holy shit — w-were you like this the whole game?” she asks, her eyes going wide with awe.

You bite your lips, cocking your head to one side as you reach up to brush away a strand of hair from her forehead.

“No…” you say, but your voice trails off and you glance towards the side. She follows your gaze to the left, only to find your bookbag sagging against one of the far lockers. A smirk twists her lips as her eyes slingshot back to you.

“Oh wow… so…” she drawls, trailing her fingers ever so slowly up the bare skin of your hips, hitching the hem of your tight black dress further and further up till it’s barely covering what she now knows is your bare cunt.

“You came in here and took them off… just for me?” she bats her lashes at you, her skylight eyes going dark and liquid as she watches you fidget above her. Your tongue swipes across your bottom lip and Vi has to physically bite back a moan.

“Maybe I did — what of it?”

Vi’s smirk stretches as she reaches up to tug your face down towards hers, so close you can taste her breath dissolving on your tongue like sugar into tea.

“Princess…” she says, and her voice is so thick with desire it might’ve been spread there with a butter knife, “I thought… you wanted to take things slow.” Her fingers have successfully rucked your dress up high enough for it to gather at your waist, though she keeps her eyes on yours and makes no move to take advantage of the fact that you’re now entirely naked from the waist down.

You shrug up a single shoulder.

“Right… but I also remember telling you that I’m not the best with impulsivity…”

Vi laughs, the sound bright and honest. You giggle, pursing your lips, your cheeks tinted such a darling shade of crimson that Vi doubts rosy-fingered dawn would’ve had the power to eclipse it.

“Good,” she says, reaching up to cup your face with both her hands, bringing you down to tease her lips over yours, her words soft and indulgent, “cause honestly, I’ve never been the best with that either.”

She’s about to kiss you again, content to lose herself in the intoxicating drag of your lips on hers, but a text message alarm blips from her pants pocket and it jars the both of you from your desire-induced trance.

You blink, a slight frown creasing your forehead as she reaches into her hockey pants and digs out her phone. You sit back slightly as Vi clicks on her screen to see a slew of notifications dating back till god knows when, but the latest is sent from a few seconds ago and only reads:

New iMessage from cupcake 🧁

“What the —” Vi frowns.

But a second later, you’re pushing off her lap, and Vi catches a glint of the hurt in your eyes before you’re tugging down your dress and wrapping your arms around yourself.

“That’s Caitlyn, right?” you ask, your voice tenuous.

And for a second, Vi seriously considers lying to you, telling you that it’s someone else — that it’s Powder or even one of the girls from the hockey team, but she sees the fractured look in your eyes and knows that she can’t.

“Y-yeah — it is but —”

You suck in a deep breath, your fingers twisting in front of you even as Vi pushes up from the bench to try and reach for you. You jerk away, your back hitting the lockers with a loud clang that set’s Vi’s teeth on edge, even as she clenches her fist and drops her arm.

“No, it’s — it’s fine,” you say, making your swift way to your bag and snatching it up, digging around for your phone before shouldering the straps and rounding the benches again. And maybe it’s the sheer desperation curling up her chest, or the fact that the name had just come up on her screen but when she opens her mouth again, Vi says the worst possible combination of words —

“Wait, cupcake —”

You physically flinch at the pet name and Vi squeezes her eyes shut with sigh. Fuck.

When she opens her eyes again, you’re by the locker room door, your hand poised on the handle. You shoot her a single, broken backwards glance before pulling it open and slipping away.

Vi stands there, held still by the oppressive silence and the bleached-white metal all around her. She’s frozen for a single second longer before she swings her fist into the row of lockers next to her and pain ricochets up her arm from her knuckles, and her fingers pull away, already bruised.

“Fuck!”

Your fingers are shaking so badly it takes you three tries before you manage to punch the call button on Mel’s speed dial. She picks up after a single ring.

“Hey there, darling — well that was quick — we’re all heading to the after party if you —”

“Mel — c-can you come and p-pick me up?”

Mel goes quiet, and then —

“Darling? What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“N-Nothing I just — can you come pick me up?” you hiccup halfway through your sentence, wiping at the fat, traitorous tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

Distantly, you can hear Mel saying something and Jayce’s voice answering back. A moment later, she’s back on the line.

“I’ll come get you, but you have to tell me what’s wrong. Why’re you crying? Did Vi do something?”

“No — it’s — it’s nothing — I just d-don’t feel very good —”

Mel sighs, “Alright then, stay where you are and I’ll come get you. I’ll be right there, okay?”

“Yeah — t-thanks Mel.”

You hang up the phone and dart into the nearly abandoned parking lot, the crowds have long since dispersed, leaving you thankfully alone. You slump against the outer wall of the rink and suck in a deep, shuddering breath, reaching up to rub at your eyes with an angry palm. You cast your eyes up at the ruefully clear autumn night, the moon hanging fat and low, the stars twinkling with their cold, far-off light.

Approximately five minutes later, Mel pulls into the parking lot, mercifully alone, rolling down the windows as you rush forward and let yourself into the passenger’s side of the car, sinking into the seat with a bitten-off sob.

“Oh my darling… what happened?” Mel reaches over to give your hand a squeeze.

You bite your lips, blinking hard at the dark tarp roof of her convertible, clutching at your bag.

“Sh-she got a text from ‘cupcake’.”

Mel stares at you for a solid three seconds before slumping back into her seat and reaching up to pinch her nose bridge.

“I’m going to murder Jayce.”

“I fucked up — I fucked up —”

“Whoa, whoa — slow down — what the hell happened?”

Vi nearly chucks her skates into the already dented lockers just as Jayce makes an abortive move forward as if to stop her. She drops her skates and buries her face in her hands instead.

“Caitlyn texted me, and — and I never changed her contact from ‘cupcake’ —”

Jayce groans, running a hand through his hair.

“I thought I told you to block her?”

“I forgot, okay?” Vi says, tugging so hard on her own hair that Jayce has to reach out and smack her hands away.

Jayce sighs, leaning back against the lockers, looking over the shape of her. He can’t help the tiny grin that hitches his lips or the small puff of helpless laughter.

“Wow.”

Vi looks up, “What?”

Jayce just shrugs, “No, it’s just — been a while since I’ve seen you down this bad.”

Vi flips him off, “Fuck you, Talis. Yeah, laugh it up — look! It’s Vi! Piltover’s favorite train-crash lesbian, fumbling yet another —”

“Y’know, one of the things about being in a nice, committed, completely non-toxic long-term relationship —” Jayce says loudly, cutting her off despite the murderous look in Vi’s eyes, “is that you learn real quick that you’re always gonna be the one that’s wrong, and that your dear, darling, perfect girlfriend will always be the one that’s right.”

He grins, bitten-lipped and open-palmed. Like this, he looks almost like the politician that Vi knows Mel’s parents so desperately want him to be.

Vi frowns, “What’re you getting at, pretty boy? Spit it the fuck out — I don’t have the patience for your bullshit right —”

“And you know what people do when they’re wrong?” Jayce continues in that chipper, Sunday-morning commercial voice of his. He leans forward even as Vi leans back, the frown digging ever deeper between her brows.

“Uh… cry and punch things and shoot for a new PR at the gym?”

Jayce snorts, but at least Vi’s smiling.

“No, you fuckin’ fratbro son of a — you apologize.”

Vi’s gaze goes flat. “Ah. Right. Of course — why didn’t I think of —”

“And then — ” Jayce continues, raising his voice even higher, a finger pointed up in the air as if he were delivering the valedictorian speech at graduation, before he twists his hand and pokes it into Vi’s jersey-clad chest.

“You do better.”

Vi’s breath catches; she blinks up at Jayce before swallowing around the peach pit in her throat.

“R-right…”

Jayce hikes both of his eyebrows comically high. Vi glances up towards them before puffing out a breath.

“Think you can do that?” Jayce asks, his voice now finally back to normal.

Vi chews on the inside of her cheek before shrugging up a shoulder.

“Dunno, but… I really wanna try.”

Jayce thumps a fist into her chest.

“Good answer, Lanes. Now. Phone.” He opens his hand palm up.

She blinks at it for a second before sighing and digging her phone from her pocket and dropping it into his hand.

Jayce punches in the password without breaking eye contact, pulling up her text history and turning the phone around to face Vi as he clicks — Contact > Info > Block Caller — on Caitlyn’s number.

He hands it back just as the screen goes dark.

Vi stares at the long crack running through the center of her screen before the phone lights up again, this time, with a text from an unknown number.

Jayce barely glances at it before smiling.

“That’ll be Mel.”

Vi’s eyebrows knit as she flicks open the screen. There are two texts in quick succession:

i’ve gotten her to agree to come to the afterparty.

Do not. Fuck this up.

taglist: @traiitorjoe@rizzscary @wetcat020 @alex-thegiraffeboyy @nanasemo @saturnhas82moons @unear7hly@drsnowrose @grantaires-waistcoat @isab3lita @ally-all-around @starrysetup22@lipsent @lewd_alien @jack-frost-2010 @starsfortaylor @onesockcat @lesbian-useless@armins-slvt@lin-elizabeth @ryescapades @kingkamk @princesssmars @chobssss @mybelovedvi @bouqette @noietta @brooks-lin @ally-all-around @bunnyrose01 @stumpystump @lia-winther @folklore13lover @sawaagyapong @sevikas-whore @sunflowerwinds @taurtel @tourmalinetyrone @oidloid @marcylated @krisziepowlet @vikaswife @pa-co @devotedlyelectronicartisan @aliluvszs @elliecoochieeater

[andhumanslovedstories]

There's so many horrible things happening in America right now that it has been interesting to see what individual horrors hurt me personally the most. I grew up going to the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. Musicals, plays, concerts, that weird bust of JFK, playing around on terrace during intermissions, putting on a velvet dress that you're going to ruin dropping a milk dud in your lap and not noticing until it's fully melted, wearing the pinchy shiny shoes that are the training bras of women's formal footwear, operas I didn't like but did love, jazz I didn't understand but still fascinated me, red carpet, big stairs, the absolute nightmare amount of experiences I had as a new driver as I repeatedly got trapped in the Kennedy Center's fucking private DC island or whatever the hell is going on traffic-wise, free performances on small side stages, getting to see an enormous production on the Center's most enormous stage, all of which was accessed by walking through that a long, tall hallway lined with flags of the world that made you feel like a dignitary attending the most important even in the world.

And now Trump's taken it over. He fired its board. He appointed one of his loyalists to run it. I want to throw up.

Sometimes I miss DC so much. I love the Pacific Northwest and expect I'll live here for the rest of my life, but this isn't my hometown. I grew up the edge of the District. I've lost cumulative years of my life stuck in traffic on the inner loop and outer loop. Because of the Smithsonian, it used to be so baffling to me that anyone ever had to pay to get into a museum. I've used the Washington DC zoo as a shortcut to a different part of the city because it's free to enter. You couldn't count the amount of knockoff Spider-man popsicles that I've eaten sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. My reading tastes were molded by Kramer Books in Dupont Circle. I spent afternoons walking around the National Mall, normally just a big empty field until there's an event--book fair, country music program, international cuisine, whatever--at which point for a day or a weekend or a week it becomes a sea of tents and stages. I went to protests outside the Capital and the White House about the war in Iraq. I froze my toes off watching Obama's 2008 presidential inauguration.

It seemed like everyone's family touched the federal government in some way. Everyone's family had moved here because they were military or state department or a political consultant or worked with an NGO or some other reason that meant you had to be here, in the nation's capital. Plenty of people had connections to the federal government that we more hush-hush. Like kids in class straight up going, "I have no idea what my parents do for a living. They're not allowed to tell me." High schoolers regularly, accidentally drove into the CIA parking lot and got escorted out because the premises were that accessible. My family moved here because my dad is a reporter who ended up covering international trade. (Imagine how much his job sucks right now.) He switched beats one summer to cover the White House instead. He got to fly on Air Force One. He got official Air Force One M&Ms. I was SO disappointment my dad didn't work there for Bush to call on him by nickname.

Every day my family got The Washington Post. I read the comics and the kid's page, then the rest of the Style section, then Metro, then news. I learned to read from it. We wrapped our delicate Christmas ornaments with its pages. We used yesterday's papers to clean our windows because they didn't leave streaks. I took journalism in high school. You can't IMAGINE how much and how frequently we talked about Watergate. When Post changed its motto to "Democracy Dies in Darkness" after Trump's election in 2016 that meant something to me. I knew Bezos owned the paper now, but that was still my paper, and the motto spoke to something I fervently believed: if people just knew what was happening, they wouldn't allow it to happen. If you expose a problem, people will naturally agree that it is a problem and that we should do something to fix it. Flash forward to Trump's third fucking campaign, and the newspaper wouldn't endorse a presidential candidate. Chickenshit cowardice. Then they change the motto. "Riveting Storytelling for All of America." Eat shit. You're nothing now.

Politics in America is just telling everyone how much you hate Washington, DC so that they'll elect you so you can move to DC. Well, guys, the city fucking hates you too. Republicans will never give the District actually meaningful political representation because no one in that city would vote for them. It's not just the policies; it's the contempt. No one in the new administration loves the city they schemed and lied and stooped to take over. It's just iconography to them, and all they care about is taking that iconography for themselves. Trump doesn't give a shit about the summer program for the Kennedy Center. He has never seen a show at the Kennedy Center. When he was president, he never attended the annual awards. He's trying to destroy one of the most significant places of my life and I'm genuinely unsure if he has ever stepped for inside of it.

[starboye]

starring: simon riley x male reader

request: Lt Simon Riley absolutely railing you in his private room while you have to stay silent so you don’t get caught his boxers in your mouth eyes rolled back maybe full Nelson, possibly some one knocks/calls - spit kink, degradation praise, almost caught, gagged, sloppy? If not it’s okay

warnings: smut, spit kink, face slapping, rough sex, slight degradation, gagged, unprotected sex, oral sex, deep throating, cursing, cum eating

directors note: quick intermission, its not that i wont write full nelson sex position it's just that idrk how to

when your lieutenant called you to his room you expected to get berated for your pretty bad performance during training today but this was far from that "you like that dick huh" simon taunted you, watching your eyes roll back with each of his thrusts into you, fucking despicable noises out of you.

"m-mhmmm i fuckin' love it" you babbled under him with your legs dangling on both his sides while his hips snapped into your ass, fingers digging into your hips "if you wanted me to fuck you ya could've jus' asked, goin' around bending over and acting all slutty in front of everyone" he teased you some more, one hand trailing up your body to grab your chin and angle your face towards him.

"open" he demanded and you obeyed opening your mouth for him before he spat into it, slipping his fingers into your mouth and all the way down your throat, watching you effortlessly take his fingers all the way down to the knuckles making him smirk a little before pulling them back out and giving you a little slap.

you reveled in the feeling of simon using you for his enjoyment, your moans getting louder and louder to the point of someone could maybe hear you "if you don't get quiet i might have to make you" simon sternly says "please do sir" you whimper out, biting your bottom lip as you rocked your ass onto him, wanting more and more of his thick cock to be inside you "such a dirty slut huh all you want is me to fuck you right" he says before grabbing his underwear and shoving them into your mouth to keep you quiet.

he grabs you thighs and bring them up to your chest, pressing them right on to your before angling himself just right and fucking into you roughly, constantly hitting just the right spot and making you moan out so good it felt like you could see god, right then you both heard a knock at the door making both your sounds stop and heads to snap towards the door.

"simon open the door" you hear captain price say outside the door knocking again but simon just stands there thinking how he could get out of this before you see his eyes widen with an idea, picking you up and putting you behind the door and taking his underwear out of your mouth "make yourself useful while i handle this m'kay" he says pushing your mouth down on his cock and opening the door to see an agitated price.

"yes captain" he greets holding back groans from your mouth working his hard on "why are you shirtless" price asks "uh just got out the shower" simon quickly lies, trying not to raise any suspicion from price "well i just wanna say you have to stop flirting with that one recruit, you know it's not allowed and plus it shows favoritism to the others" price scolds simon, good thing he couldn't see how you were going to town on simons cock behind the door.

"yes sir i'll be sure to do that" simon tries to close the door but price stops it with his foot "you better simon" he says before letting the door close and walking away, simon letting out satisfied groans as he feels himself cum down your throat "fuckin' hell" he lets out after emptying every drop into your mouth and watching you swallow it like a good boy.

"now do you really want me to stop seeing you, i mean you did hear what the captain said, i cant show favoritism" simon asks wiping the cum from your face and watching you lick it off his finger "well he doesn't have to know now does he" you say standing up to kiss him "no he doesn't"

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

[mattsfavoritestar]

ICEBREAKER , chris sturniolo

synopsis… inbox request !

warnings… toxic!chris, exbf!chris, hockeyplayer!chris, mentions of violence, mentions of cheating, minor mention of bloody injury, degrading, little bit of manhandling (good way dw), hair pulling, spanking, rough fingering, rough sex, unprotected p in v, lowkey public sex

@bernardsbendystraws for the dividers <3

“my ass feels like it’s going to fall off” you say as you rub your hands together for warmth. you already knew how cold the ice rink was yet you still decided to wear a skirt, thinking that your fleeced tights would keep out the frosty air. “i don’t know what’s more stupid, the fact that you wore a skirt or the fact that you’re wearing it for ch–“.

you quickly covered your friends mouth as you felt blood rush to your cheeks. “i'm not wearing it for him! i just thought it looked cute,” you grumbled. that was a lie. you did wear it for chris. you remembered how much he loved seeing you in one (as much as he loved the easy access). “okay, look at me.” your friend says as she grabs your shoulders.

“we caught him texting other girls, remember?” she says. you frown at the vivid memory. he had you wrapped around his fingers with that stupid smile and his baby blue eyes. you found countless of nudes (which weren’t yours) in his camera roll along side the many dirty texts to multiple contacts, yet he still somehow looked somewhat innocent in your eyes.

“now c’mon, we’re here for your brother not him” she says before walking towards the entrance. as you followed behind, you gave yourself a mini pep talk on how you were gonna completely ignore his presence and focus on your brother. you were so caught up in your head that you didn’t realize someone walking into your direction. right as you collided into his chest, the stranger quickly steadies you by your waist.

“careful” he says with a smile. you noticed the jersey being a number 12 with the opposing teams color. with a quick apology, you removed yourself from his hands and made your way to the arena. little did you know a fuming chris caught the whole interaction with a deathly grip on his hockey stick.

“another goal for the boston bruins!” the announcer shouts as the crowd roared. you were jumping as you clapped for the team. so far, the game was going smoothly with barely any penalties. a glimpse of chris’s number 3 jersey catches your eye. you watched as he rushed to the puck with determination. on the opposing team, number 12 surpasses him and hits the puck to the opposite direction.

it seemed like chris didn’t care for the puck anymore as he raced towards number 12. a series of gasps follow as chris harshly shoves him to the floor. the game pauses as the players watch chris rip his helmet off and toss it. he climbs on top of 12 and takes off his helmet then delivers him a punch to the face followed by another. and another.

the referee blows the whistle multiple times but the screeching sound fell deaf to chris’s ears. you saw your brother as well as number 2 race over to pull chris off him with a slight struggle. chris pushes both of them away from him then gets off the ice with an angered expression.

his coach meets him at the gateway as he yells at chris for attacking the opposing teammate. the entire time his coach is lecturing him, chris was looking around the bleachers. then his eyes locked on you. his face was flushed from the cold mixed with heated anger and his hair was damp with sweat. a small smirk found its way to his lips as he watched you practically check him out. you couldn’t lie, your body was providing you with a warmth that went straight to your core.

chris breaks eye contact as his coach tells him to go cool off in the locker room. “alright ladies and gentlemen— we’ll be back after a brief intermission” the announcer says as players start to exit the rink. you looked over to your friend— who was distracted by trying to get a close up of number 12’s bloody bruised face. you slipped out of the bleachers then left the arena in search of the locker room.

your heart hammered as you slowly opened the door. you haven’t spoken to chris in a week, which was the longest you’ve gone before giving in. the lights were dim and the room was quiet. you knew chris was in here since his gloves were laying on the bench in-front of you. “chris?” you called out cautiously.

you jolted as you heard a locker door slam shut followed by a heavy sigh. as you drew closer to the sound, you saw a trail of chris’s gear leading up to where he stood. he was leaning on the lockers with his head tilted up as he breathes rapidly— as if he was trying to catch his breath.

“miss me already?” he says as a devilish smirk forms on his face. you said nothing as you pad over to him and analyze his hands—which were closed into a tight fist. you take one of them into your own and lift it to eye level. his knuckles were bruised and dried with blood, you were unsure if it was his or the other guys.

“why’d you do it?” you ask in a soft voice. chris scoffs then snatches his hand away. “why? you worried ‘bout him or somethin’?” he rebuttals. you sigh as you meet his eyes and search through them. you could never understand chris or why he does things like this but you sure as hell try to.

“saw you gettin’ familiar with him earlier so i thought i’d introduce myself” he shrugged. a frown painted your face as you recalled the countless of times that chris has gotten friendly with other girls in front of you. “but chris— we’re not together anymore” you reminded him.

you watched his eyes darken as an angered expression formed onto his face. you gasp as he harshly grabs your waist and pulls you closer. “yeah?” he says as he leans closer to your face, “didn’t i tell you that y’can’t ever leave me?”.

he flips you both over and roughly pushes you into the lockers. you’re body burned more then ever but you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or arousal. probably both. “chris m’not here for this” you say trying to convince yourself more than him.

“no?”, he leans down to your neck and trials kisses up to your ear, “then why’d you follow me in here?” he whispered. you give him no response. a shuttered breath leaves your lips as chris continues to attack your neck with kisses and occasional bites. your fingers curled into his jersey, pulling him closer and causing him to smile against your skin.

you gasp as he suddenly flips you around to face the locker. you felt him tug your tights down along with your underwear. the cold air against your skin made you shudder but it quickly surpassed as the harsh contact of chris’s palm connected to your skin making heated blood rush to that area. “said y’not here for this yet here you are in a skirt f’me— fucking slut” he scoffed.

you whined as he roughly grabs your hair and forces you into an arched position, your bare ass against fully clothed pelvis. you felt two of his fingers swipe through your folds then slowly enter you as he towers over you, watching your expression as he tucked his his bottom lip between his teeth.

your eyelids dare to shut as your jaw hung open with not so quiet moans leaving your throat. “did y’think he could make you feel this way?” chris snarled. you replied with a near scream as he picks up the pace. your legs shook as an unexpected orgasm came over you. you didn’t know if the blood in your cheeks was from embarrassment of cumming to quickly or pure desire as you felt your body yearn for more.

chris laughs as he delivers you yet another sharp slap to your ass. he removes himself from you completely but before you could turn around, you felt his hands grip your waist tightly. you felt his throbbing cock prodding at your entrance, slicking itself with your arousal. you tried pushing yourself closer to him but he held you in place.

finally after what felt like ages, chris sinks into you slowly. “fuck baby— i needed this” he groans. your cheek was smooshed again the cold locker which contrasted to your burning skin. chris didn’t waste a second as he immediately picks up the pace, going deeper inside you everytime.

chris places one of his hands beside your head while the other nearly forms a bruise under his grip tightening. “look at you letting me use you— but y’not here for this, right?” he mocks your words with a small chuckle. your jaw hung open, your cries fell deaf to your own ears while a buzz replaced the lewd sound. with a slight whine, chris delivers one final harsh thrust then roughly pulls out.

he jerks himself off as ribbons of white painted your bruised ass. your legs shook with a dull ache, you were sure they would give out any second. you didn’t realize that he pulled out before you could finish but regardless, you wouldn’t really care anyways considering the lingering high from his fingers. loud banging at the door startled the two of you, “yo chris, coach needs you back on the ice!” a teammate shouted from the other side.

you were shocked on how you made it back to the bleachers on your own with your weak legs. “hey where’d you–“ your friend did a double take before taking in your appearance then giving you a disappointed look. a hockey jersey with ‘c. sturniolo, 3’ printed on the back that stopped mid thigh covered your clothes, leaving only your fleeced tights on display.

[jiminrings]

four seven eight, phase three: intermission.

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: jungkook hasn’t had any drinks so far, but he’s the rawest he’s ever been.

alternatively, jungkook has three separate conversations while he’s at the club.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

Yoongi always finds some way to piss Jungkook off.

Your husband isn’t sure if he’s just that easy to piss off or if Yoongi really is an extremely annoying person that gets on everyone’s nerves (his especially), but regardless, your friend always finds some way to set him to the edge.

Jungkook almost bended a fork with his teeth when you called out baby along with your subsequent request for him to pass the sauce, but even before he could reach for said container, Yoongi (who was sitting on the other end of the table) dashes over to your seat to give you sauce and piss him off in the process.

He almost grabbed Yoongi by the hair that one time when you were on your last shot on your film camera and you wanted to take a photo of them, but right at the last second of you taking it, Yoongi told him there was a cockroach by his feet which immediately made it look like Jungkook was bowing to him. He’s already ripped up the picture as soon as you got it developed, but the anger at the seemingly surface-level tricks he pulled on him always ate at him.

Jungkook only texted Yoongi awhile ago, and while he wasn’t expecting an immediate reply given the time difference, he almost wished the latter didn’t even respond in the first place. 

you’re hwayoung’s godfather

look after her while i’m gone

The two of them have been civil, maybe even friendly at best, since yours and Jungkook’s month-long break before Hwayoung came along; Jungkook doesn’t expect much from Yoongi except for the bare minimum — the problem is that Yoongi himself wants to go above and beyond.

i know that

i don’t need you to be gone for me to look after hwayoung lol

Jungkook huffs at the insinuation, brows immediately knitted as he tries to focus his eyes on his phone that seems to be the brightest source of light in the dimmed, packed club.

?

He can admit to himself (to you too, but never to anyone else especially Yoongi) that he can sometimes go overboard looking in between the lines. It’s this nagging feeling in Jungkook’s brain that he needs to analyze everything from all angles when it concerns you and the people who are fond of you. It’s this irritating quirk of his that he himself hates because he can’t be placated at the thought of something, someone, getting in between the two of you.

Especially if it’s Yoongi, even if he’s already sworn up and down that he’s moved on from you.

Most especially Yoongi, who’s close to his family in more ways than one, now that he’s left for the meantime.

i’ll take care of y/n too dw :)

Jungkook seethes at that, his thumbs already moving on their own accord to type out a reply he barely has the consciousness to discern. He can’t bring himself to read in between the lines now; now, when he’s apart from you and Hwayoung and there’s neither a husband nor father figure at home, and now, when everything dawns on him that everything that’s happening now is real.

go fuck yourself

Everything in and out of Jungkook’s reach is real. The fight you had two days ago was indeed real, and what reminds him of that is your messages that only detail about Hwayoung and nothing else. Yoongi being h*mself which is an annoyance within its own, is real and is proved by the laughing reaction that he only attached to Jungkook’s very genuine, very offensive profanity.

Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to entertain the possibility that Yoongi’s only messing with him as per usual. He doesn’t have the energy to detangle the complicated knots in his mind that all point to him being the reason for his own undoing.

The only energy that your husband has at the moment is to switch apps, regulate his breathing, and head straight to the live footage from the security camera in Hwayoung’s room. Jungkook feels sane again (maybe even the feeling greater than contentment, but not more than happiness) when he sees the two of you pop up on screen, your laughs immediately drowning out the blaring music.

“My pretty girls,” he mumbles under his breath, his thumb twitching to switch between apps again and finally have the courage to actually talk to you about what happened and not just fawn over how Hwayoung’s breezing through her milestones while he’s been gone.

He hasn’t had anything to drink yet, and while he’s relieved at that, there’s a sense of cowardice that creeps up in Jungkook’s throat. He feels pathetic and unsurprisingly, characteristically weak when it comes to you.

Your husband settles for pushing the button that makes the security camera ding, indicating that he’s indeed watching you and Hwayoung, before he screws his eyes shut in fear that you’ll only scowl at him through the screen.

You don’t.

Instead, you only smile lightly. You’re tired and you’re filled with pent-up sentiments because you can’t exactly gossip to Hwayoung how her dad has been frustrating you to no end lately, and yet, you still smile for him because she’s watching.

There’s a knot that forms in his throat when you prop Hwayoung in front of the camera and coo at her to wave because he’s watching. There’s this unmistakeable sting behind Jungkook’s eyes because he’s reminded yet again that everything’s real; that unlike him, you’re not weak. 

You’re filled with so much love as evidenced by the way you look at Hwayoung with no fear at all of messing everything up, and it makes Jungkook choke over nothing. You have your fears too, but not one of them comes close to the degree that his doubts are in — perhaps you do have a fear of losing everything just like he does, except the resounding difference is that you’re not a coward like him.

Namjoon’s jostled him atleast three times for the past ten minutes and he’ll succumb to his friend sooner or later, but not now when Jungkook rethinks every word he’s ever said and how he misspoke, not now when he’s made the mistake of even calling Eunsu as his muse when he can’t even grasp the weight of the word when he calls someone else that in front of his wife.

Jungkook’s still a coward, with or without a drink, but he’s in the latter state when he brings out his other phone to finally call you.

He sees you flinch silently through the security camera, gaze averting from a napping Hwayoung on your lap to your phone that’s ringing. You purse your lips in hesitation yet you don’t quiver, accepting his call but not without looking straight at the camera before you do.

You’re neither unattached nor resigned with Jungkook — you’re simply stuck in the middle with him, even if the demarcation about who gets the shorter end of the stick is unclear.

“I didn’t mean anything I said last night,” he admits straightly, sparing no time as his chest tightens.

“You sounded like it,” you frown, absent-mindedly stroking Miso’s fur who just conjured out of nowhere at the exact time your husband called you.

“At the time, yes,” he sighs heavily, the knot in his throat refusing to unravel even if he’s already baring his truth. “But at that time too, I was beyond stupid a-and emotional. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I know me being drunk shouldn’t be an excuse,” Jungkook swallows, his hand cupping the air instead of a shot glass reminding him of his stupidity. “I was out of it. I couldn’t keep everything in check.”

Your voice remains hushed, but you don’t have it in you to discern if it’s only because Hwayoung is sleeping on your lap, or if talking to Jungkook lately robs you of your will to be on the same level as him.

“You could’ve told me as soon as you felt… that way, Jungkook.”

He sucks in a breath, chewing on his bottom lip as he tries not to cry rethinking about your fight. “I did try to, but as soon as you did, you asked me if taking care of Hwayoung felt like a chore to me.”

“Does it?” you ask again, ironically coinciding with Jungkook’s point that it makes him chuckle lightly. You were always so stubborn — almost always similar to his temperament.

“I respect you a lot, Y/N. You put a roof over over our heads, you put food on the table, you have everything figured out.”

“Jungkook,” you mumble, sensing the inevitable conjunction that separates the both of you further.

“But I’m the one who knows what I’m feeling the most, not you,” Jungkook sighs shakily, voice hushed even quieter than the way you look at him silently through the screen. 

He can see you, but you can’t see him. 

“We’re both parents to Hwayoung at the end of the day but in that— in that same day, you spend more time being the working parent while I’m the stay-at-home parent,” he confides, his tone gentle and slow unlike the way his drunken nature persuaded him otherwise. “Taking care of Young-ie isn’t a chore for me. Yes, it’s repetitive. I-it could be exhausting and draining but that’s what it comes with being a dad. I’m her dad. I’m the one who’s with her. I’m bound to feel this way,” he pauses, breath hitching. “I’m not asking you to forgive me right away for all the shit I said. I’ve been unfair springing all of this on you on such short notice.”

You look straight at the camera, bottom lip quivering as you wrap your head around Jungkook’s sober vulnerability.

“I’ve been unfair too,” you mutter, eyes downcast because even if you can’t see Jungkook, there’s a false image of him that floats in your mind, belittling you for not being enough. “I didn’t see it from your point of view.”

There’s only silence between the two of you, the noise of the club being expertly drowned out even through the distortion of the line.

“You can forgive me tomorrow or next week, even— but the sooner the better, of course,” Jungkook chides playfully after a few seconds, smiling to himself when he visibly sees the tension melt away from your shoulders.

“You’re annoying.”

“I’m asking you to give me a chance, baby. Give me a little leeway,” Jungkook pleads, in between light chuckles and strained desperation that an honest, sober husband like him could give to you while you’re long-distance. “Give me a little time to figure out a balance. I-I can’t be the best husband and dad that I want— need to be if I can’t figure myself out.”

“I get it,” you nod, your thumb unconsciously adjusting the wedding on your ring finger that’s become slightly askew. “But you promise me that you’ll come home, Jungkook,”

“I promise.”

“You have to promise me too that there’s no one else.”

“Y/N,” Jungkook tuts warningly, his confused frown at you being genuine in nature as if you could see him in real time trying to digest your paranoia. “Where’s this coming from?”

“Promise me,” you repeat again with a short-lived whine, the stirring of Hwayoung on your lap making his heart soften and your call interrupted.

“I promise.”

Jungkook relaxes into his seat, eyes still fixed on the security app on his phone as he watches you rock his daughter to sleep, pointing to the camera every now and then to tell her that her appa’s watching. 

Namjoon and Eunsu come over with drinks, and as much as there’s a momentary wave of relief that washes over Jungkook because he’s seeing familiar people, there’s a dubiously-coated type of tension that replaces the knot on his throat.

“Ah, my pretty producer,” Eunsu hands him his drink, looking past the platinum wedding band that Jungkook hadn’t dared to take off even once the whole trip, along with his phone that displays his family in full brightness. “I believe we haven’t met properly.”

[back2bluesidex]

Six Degrees of Separation - MYG [Preview]

✨ Patreon Membership Exclusive Series ✨

Pairing: Best Friend!Yoongi X Female Reader X Doctor!Seokjin

Theme: Angst, Unrequited love au, pining, more angst, eventual cheating and smut and fluff.

Word count: Each part will contain 1k to 2k words.

Summary: Break up hurts, but being rejected by the man you have loved for five solid years and losing him and his friendship in one damn night - only for him to show up a year later holding your cousin's hand all ready to tie the knot hurts more.

Break up hurts, but going through all six degrees of separation from the Man who was never yours - hurts a lot more.

Warnings: heartbreak, rejection.

Update Schedule: Every Tuesday 4:30 am UTC.

Read the full chapter

Chapter index:

Prologue

Degree 1: Shock

Degree 2: Denial and Desperation

Degree 3: Anger

Degree 4: Depression

Intermission - Meeting Seokjin

Intermission 02: Min Yoongi

Degree 5: Acceptance

Intermission 03: Hyeri

Degree 6: Moving on

Misconception

Pay The Price

Now you can also purchase the series without having to sign up for an active membership. 😋

Here is the purchase link.

“So, do you have anyone under your radar? Anyone you like?” Yoongi is funnily interested now. It’s probably the most interested he has been in your love-life. 

Again, the reasons stay unaware.  

“Yes. Yes, I do.” You manage to utter, heart already acting wild inside your ribcage. 

“Really? Who is it? Do I know him?” Your best friend perks up. 

Curiosity makes him look so young. You see the young, twenty one years old Yoongi whom you met through Jimin. You see the Yoongi with mint hair too focused on the bottle of your nail polish reading the chemicals that it contains, you see the twenty three year old boy who waited for you at the hospital lobby when you banged your head against the corner of your bed, you see the twenty four year old man who cried like a baby in your embrace when his grandfather passed away - right then you realized you never wanted to see him cry again. Right then you realized Yoongi’s happiness means more to you than your own. 

You see the twenty five year old Yoongi, the Yoongi who made you realize what jealousy is, the Yoongi who made you realize - you had fallen in love with him. 

“It’s you. I am in love with you.” it’s not you, it’s the memories you share with him that makes you speak, that makes you confess. You never meant to say these words without any preparation, you never meant to say these words until you reach your breaking point - maybe you have reached it after five years?

Your chain of thought has clouded your head so much that your mouth ran in its own accord.

And you regret it. 

You regret letting out the truth you have successfully hidden for the past five years because the look you see in Yoongi’s face can’t be compared to anything you have seen before. 

It’s a mixture of disgust, disappointment and hurt.

“W-what? Y/N you can’t-” 

“Why can’t I, Yoongi? Is it forbidden for me to love you?” You chuckle dryly. 

Yoongi closes his eyes, runs a hand through his hair and sighs deeply. “If this is a prank, Y/N, I-” 

“It’s not a prank, Yoongi! I love you! I really do. I have been in love with you for the last five years but you are just too blind to see!”     

Yoongi turns his back towards you, as if looking at your face will pollute his vision now, “I wasn’t blind. I was just-  was just praying to be wrong, Y/N! Damn it! This is not right. You and I, we are friends! This is not-” 

While you have been praying for Yoongi to feel the same, Yoongi has been praying for the complete opposite. As his words sink in your blood, your vision starts blurring. 

“Yoongi, can’t you try?” You plead. Never in your life have you ever considered pleading with anyone for love - but when it comes to Min Yoongi, your resolves don’t last long. 

“No! No, Y/N! I can’t. You are my friend. My best friend. I can’t see you as anything else!” He finally looks at you, looks into you and rows his words deep in your soul. 

Yoongi takes a step back from your figure, then another, then another, “and just so you know… I have someone.” 

With that he walks away in the opposite direction, leaving you behind. 

The first stage of separation is Shock. 

They say shock happens on both physical and psychological level, that it leaves you feeling out of your own body.

As you stare at his retreating figure with tears making a mess on your face, you realize, you just reached the first degree of separation from Min Yoongi - a man who was never yours to begin with.

[forsaken-headcanons]

hhhh ok ive been lurking here for a While and now i feel like i wanna share the actually insane stupid dumb little hcs i have collected for mostlyy twotime but maybe like a few other ones...... to cope with Sick perhaps.........

this is kinda organized ig until its not, the inner machinations of my mind are an enigma

anywhoosies Two Time!! yya i like them

-Due to Spawn's ideologies, Two Time is really hesitant to accept healthcare in most ways. They're fine with... maybe something to treat a cough, but interfering with a natural test of their self is taboo in their mind. Nobody likes that idea rlly but they still have it ^ Because of the whole against-healthcare thing, The Spectre made it a little game for Two Time to get really sick at least once a month until they begrudgingly accept even the slightest amounts of help. Because, while it makes certain others more relieved, it doesn't make Two Time happy!! Not at all!! !:}

-Two Time's hands are really really shaky. So are their wings and tail! They're usually pretty tense and it hurts a little after a while but they don't know really how to fixx itt so

-Very physically unwell, being forsakened didnt even help in the least. Really skinny, a lot of people question how they even function half the time. Despite this! They can still run really fast and long. ^ HOwever if they run too long they spend like the entire intermission+next round really really tired

-They tend to repeat certain words when they talk, though they don't if they need to be formal. Which, the off-chance they're not being formal, they also talk really erratically.

-They have a bit of trust issues, to say the least. Just a couple. Because they tend to get more impulsive, stray off the path a bit more if they trust someone. It happened with Azure, and they know how that ends. So their adaptation to that is just to... not :]

-Their shoulders are constantly hurting and aching, and are the weakest part of their body! This leaves it very easy for them to be targeted in the wings, which, if that happens, haha at least the wings don't do the whole job. It also takes a WHILE for the shoulders to heal after Respawn. The Spectre just chooses to instantly heal that wound in the intermission (though that also brings pain)

-Lilacs used to remind Two Time of Azure, and were their favorite flower (close second was Azure's favorite, nightshades). Now they can't bring themself to look at any flower.

-Two Time's capable of crying, they just don't often do it. It's hard for them to manually cry, and they've become so numb to it all that it's once in a blue moon they actually do cry. Usually Respawn's the only thing that could bring them to tears (and, even then, the last time it did was whatever the version of pre-rework is)

-They're ice-cold to the touch. It's honestly a bit of a problem! They tend to sleep with a lot of blankets on and even then they're still pretty cold.

-Reallyy bad insomnia. Like there's bad insomnia then there's Two Time's insomnia. When they're not doing anything, it's just a way for their mind to think more and more. And that leads to unfortunate side effects! They've made the idea that if they're unable to sleep, it's because Spawn still needs them awake for something.

-(The rework wow thats a thing) Their part of one of the cabins is really really messy aside from a few areas, so they'd decided to clean it. Doing so, they uncovered an almost-perfect replica of Azure's clothes, plus their old ritual dagger... and a picture of Azure. They decided to use the dagger, finally, because one small 'mistake' shouldn't warrant them to never use it again, right? ^ They also kept the picture again when they wear the clothes, though after... a bit of issues with seeing it again, it's now pretty vandalized. They keep it close to their heart now when they have it, for a couple reasons.

-Last one for Two Time, I put birds to my fixations cause its fun. The bird I've put with Two Time is a dove. Make of this what you will :)

ok this is a little long so little lightning round for other hcs go

-The neurodivergent beam struck again, directed at Chance. idk whats up with that guy but theres something for sure. ^ Adding onto that one, he has to be doing SOMETHING at all times, mostly to calm himself. The coin is one of those little things he does! He's also most comfortable with the hat n shades on as a way to hide himself if need be.

-c00lkidd, bluudud, and pr3ttypriincess were all really into some sort of mythical being when they were young/still now. For c00lkidd, it was of course dracobloxxers. Dragons for bluudud, and im still figuring out one for pr3ttypriincess but rn its unicorns

-Noob knows ASL and morse code, both because those were the way they'd communicate with G666 way back when. Now they use it time to time with Taph. They also have a pretty bad stutter a lot of the time, so they carry a notepad with them in case they need to communicate via writing.

-Elliot directly ties his importance to how much they've done for others. This leads to a lot of issues, but mostly the idea that if he's not helping someone else (in the context of forsaken, their team), he's being useless and a bother. It's why they get so worked up if their pizzas in the rounds aren't picked up.

-this one has genuinely been in my mind for so long, mixing songs /w fixations but like. the song Good Intentions by NomnomNami. Azure. Please see my vision that song is Azure

buhh ok i have more but like. i think this is rlly rlly long and also i might make individual ones one of these days or smth. also mye head and my throat hurts so i should do smth abt that sorry if this is barely comprehensible at all uhh it will happen again thumbs up emoji

is bird anon ok ? :] if not its ok ill come up with smth else

BIRD GUY IS THAT YOU. BIRD GUY?? HI BIRD GUY!!! bird anon is taken unfortunately 💔 BUT THESE ARE SO???? chance is so real holy moly. we too need to be doing something at all times. elliot... hey. ey. can. can we Not make headcanons that resonate a little too well with us please /SILLY /POS!! dove birb two time... rhrghjg birds. the bird ever

[phonification]

Shout out to the singular other person posting on the diamonds dames and dads tag on tiktok with me together we will fight for the old man yaoi!!!

[puckinghischier]

Shadow Puppets

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader is terrified of storms, but Nico makes sure she never has to brave them alone

notes: hi!! long time no see! this is a little self indulgent, not gonna lie. i started this last week when some pretty gnarly storms were coming through my town and i struggled finishing it because, surprise, i was scared 🫣. anyways, i hope you enjoy!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

[3.3k]

~

Storms have never been something that you enjoyed. You don’t understand the appeal of the angry rumbles and blinding flashes that litter the sky during a thunderstorm.

Ever since you were a little girl storms have been high on your fear list. Anytime you saw the purplish-gray of the sky, you were doing everything in your power to drown out the incoming storm.

Much like you were right now. You had just turned a movie on in the living room, volume high enough that you worried your upstairs neighbors could hear. Every curtain in the apartment was drawn closed, preventing you from seeing any flash of lightning that would dance across the dark sky.

Your last line of defense was usually white noise being played through a speaker on low volume to further try and drown out the rumbles that are starting to sound closer by the second. Well, it will be your last line of defense, if you could just find the wireless speaker.

It wasn’t in its normal spot in the kitchen junk drawer, nor was it in the bathroom. It wasn’t in your boyfriend’s practice bag, knowing he sometimes takes it to the rink with him when he hits the gym after a morning skate.

You had looked in both your bedroom and the spare room, the guest bathroom, the hallway closet, the various shelves around the living room, in-between the couch cushions, and you had even braved stepping out onto your small balcony to search for it before rushing back inside after a particularly bright flash of lightning.

It was nowhere to be found.

While you were on all fours on the floor trying to see if it had somehow rolled under the couch, you heard the familiar chime of your ringtone coming from the table behind you, startling you a bit.

Seeing your boyfriend’s name flash on the screen, you pick up the phone immediately, speaking a small hello into the device just as an especially loud crack of thunder rings out.

“Hey, Schatz. You okay? Just heard the storm outside, knew you were home alone and wanted to check on you during intermission. Got all of your safety nets in place?” Nico’s worried voice hurries out, slightly out of breath.

The Devils were hosting a charity scrimmage tonight, the proceeds going to a local youth hockey program. Nico had offered for you to come and watch, but you had been wanting to catch up on the reality shows he always complained about watching with you. When he left a few hours earlier, the sky was blue and there were no clouds to be seen.

You didn’t regret your decision until thirty minutes ago when your phone started blaring an alarm with a severe storm warning alert.

“Yeah, I’m okay for right now. Have a movie on and the curtains are closed. I can’t find the speaker, though. Do you remember where you last saw it?” you ask him, placing the phone on speaker so you can continue to search.

“Oh Schatz, I’m so sorry,” Nico starts, regret joining the worry in his tone. “I have the speaker with me. Put it in my game bag this morning. Went and got a few reps in the gym in before warm-ups today. I didn’t look at the forecast before I left, I didn’t know you’d need it.”

Your stomach drops at his confession, your anxiety spiking. You needed the speaker in order to fully drown out the thunder. It was something you and your mom had come up with when you were a kid to help you sleep if it was storming at night. You hadn’t tried to get through a storm without the technique since.

“It’s…it’s okay, Neeks. Really. I’ll be fine,” you start, trying to hide the anxious quiver of your voice. “It’s just a little-“ your sentence gets interrupted by a boom of thunder so loud you could feel the vibrations from the floor you were currently kneeled on.

Nico’s guilt only increases at the yelp you let out, his heart breaking further when he hears the whimper you tried to hide afterwards.

“Y/N are you sure you’re okay? I can try to see if Nicole can come over for a bit? Jesper said she stayed home, too. Or I can send someone to come get you and bring you here if you want?” he offers, hating the fact you’re in the apartment alone.

“No, it’s okay. It’ll probably be over by then, anyways, right?” you ask, needing the reassurance that it was only a short storm.

“Yeah, baby, I’m sure it’s almost over. Just turn the tv up and grab your weighted blanket. I’ll be home as soon as I can, okay?”

“Okay,” you squeak out, another low rumble coming from the world outside.

“I love you, okay? I’ll call again to check on you next intermission. Be home before you know it, Schatz.”

“Love you too, Neeks. Play safe,” you tell him before hanging up the phone.

You take his advice and find the weighted blanket he bought you last year after a particularly nasty storm had come through when he was away on a roadie.

He read online that the pressure could help comfort people during anxiety inducing moments, so he had one delivered to your shared apartment the next day. You were extremely thankful for it, especially in moments like this, but nothing can replace having Nico here with you to comfort you during an especially rough storm.

You were trying really hard to focus on the movie, having raised the volume even more to supplement the loss of the noise from the speaker, but the noises from the storm outside only got louder and louder.

You could hear the wind whipping around the tall building you were in, adding a whole new layer to your current distress. Checking your phone constantly, you knew it was still only a severe storm, no further warnings had been issued, but you were starting to get worried the bad weather was here to stay.

Resorting to laying on the couch with eyes closed and hands over your ears to muffle the sounds, your fear had reached its peak. You felt embarrassed, wondering why you couldn’t just find comfort in the harsh weather like a normal person. Instead, you were laying on your couch in a fetal position with your hands covering your ears as a grown woman.

Another intense crack infiltrated your apartment, causing your shaking body to jump, eyes snapping open. Just as you were able to calm your racing heart, you were suddenly covered in darkness.

It felt like someone had just dumped ice water all over your body, every nerve alert with fear. You sat completely still, waiting for the warm lights to flicker back on.

The longer you sat waiting, the worse you felt.

There was no way you could survive this storm with no power. There was nothing to block out the wind and thunder. There was nothing to lessen the bright flashes of light through the curtains. You were so paralyzed by fear you couldn’t even make the short trek to the kitchen to grab a flashlight or light the various candles littered throughout the apartment.

While debating with yourself about if you were going to be brave enough to get up off the couch and walk through the dark apartment, you heard the lock on your front door unlock with a click.

Every movement in your body stopped, including the rise and fall of your chest. You held your breath and sat as still as you could, more petrified with fear than you had ever been before.

Who was coming into your apartment in the middle of a storm like this? The only other people with keys were Nico and your landlord. One of those people was in the middle of a hockey game twenty minutes away.

A new wave of fear washed over you. What if it was your landlord coming in because he had to evacuate the building? Was the storm that bad? It sounded that bad, but you were always a terrible judge at what classified a storm as bad.

Any storm was bad to you. The slightest rumble of thunder had you wanting to dive under the nearest table like a child.

The door creaked open, squeaky footsteps making their way into your apartment. You continued to lay there, unmoving.

“Schatz? You in here?” you heard a familiar accent call out, all tension in your body disappearing at the sound.

Your body springs up into a sitting position, turning your head to look behind the couch, the sight in front of you almost causing relieved tears to well in your eyes.

Nico stood by the closed door, hanging his dripping jacket on one of the many hooks on the wall in front of him. His soaking wet hair was adding to the puddle on the floor left by his jacket.

He was wearing a pair of athletic shorts and one of his Devils hoodies, the latter only slightly drier than the jacket he had just removed.

He shook out his hair, making you bite back a giggle at how he resembled a dog shaking out its fur, before looking up and seeing your alert eyes peeking over the couch at him.

“Oh, Schatz, are you okay?” he sighed as he made his way over to you.

His socks audibly squished as he rounded the end of the couch, coming to crouch before you.

He took your hands in his own, making you flinch at how cold they were.

Bringing his lips down to blow onto your intertwined hands, he mumbles out a “M’sorry, I wasn’t here, pretty girl.”

You meet his eyes through his wet eyelashes, admiring how pretty he looks right now, brain still catching up to the fact he’s here.

Staring at him while he warms his hands with your own, you remember that he was supposed to still be at the charity game right now, having only called you at the beginning of the first intermission not even thirty minutes ago.

As soon as you open your mouth to question him, you were reminded of the reason for your current state.

A blinding flash of light illuminates the dark apartment, thunder rumbling almost immediately after.

Slamming your eyes shut to try to block the sight, you try to move your hands to your ears once again, but they’re still clutched between both of Nico’s.

You feel the couch next to you sink underneath his body weight, his arms moving to come around your shoulders as he hugs your body into his.

His hand moves up and down your arm in a soothing motion, a small “shhh” coming out of his mouth as his lips rest against your temple.

“You’re safe, darling. You’re alright. I’m here,” he says softly on repeat, working you through the moment of panic.

You allow your body to sink into his, reveling in the comfort that his presence brings you.

“That’s it, just relax. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, alright?”

After several minutes of relishing Nico’s presence, you finally lean back and put a small amount of distance between the two of you.

He moves his hands to smooth down your hair and cup your face, tilting your head up so he can look into your eyes and make sure you’re okay.

As you give him a small smile, he leans forward and places a kiss first on the tip of your nose and then moves his lips up to rest on your forehead.

He pulls back, leaving your face trapped in-between his hands, speaking softly.

“Power went out, didn’t it, Schatz?”

You simply nodded, finding it hard to speak with your cheeks squished.

He starts rubbing his thumbs back and forth on your cheeks, “Scared you when it went out, huh? That why you look so startled when I came in?”

You nodded again, starting to feel a little silly with the chipmunk cheeks he’s caused you to have.

“Well, let’s go fix that, shall we?” Nico finally removes his hands from your face, standing up and reaching his hand out to help you stand from the couch.

He leads you into the kitchen, stopping at the drawer that holds a lighter and flashlights for occasions like this one. He grabs two flashlights out of the drawer, turning one on and handing it to you.

Taking his own flashlight, he turns it on and immediately places it directly under his chin, pulling a face in the shadow of the light coming from the plastic.

His actions cause you to giggle, rolling your eyes at how childish your big, ‘scary’ hockey player can be.

“There she is. Knew I could get that cute little laugh out of you,” he beams, proud of his success.

He grabs the lighter and takes your hand once again, leading you around to every candle you have placed around the apartment. You hold the flashlights as he lights each candle until every last one is lit and the apartment is bathed in golden light once again.

The two of you end up back on the couch sharing your weighted blanket as Nico becomes your buffer to the storm outside. You sit with your head resting against his chest for a little while before you remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be here right now.

You raise your head up and sit back, situating yourself so you’re halfway facing him while still being tucked into his side.

“You’re not supposed to be here right now.”

Nico moves his head back and looks at you like you’re crazy.

“What?” he says through a chuckle, amused at how random you words were.

“I mean, you’re supposed to be at the charity game right now. You called me during the first intermission, you should be playing in the third period by now,” you explain your outburst.

Nico laughs, shaking his head. “For a second I got worried you were about to kick me out, Schatz.”

“Nico, I’m being serious,” you roll your eyes. “Why did you leave the game early? Is everything okay at the rink? Did the storm damage something?”

Nico looks over at you, a fond smile on his face.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?” is all he says in response, bringing a finger up to stroke from your temple down to your chin.

You move your head away from his hand and scoff, annoyed at his avoidance.

“Nico…” you warn.

He sighs, knowing you’re not going to be happy with his answer.

“I left early.”

“You…left early?” you parrot his words back to him, unimpressed.

“Yes, I left early. I told them there was an emergency here and I needed to get home to you, so I left,” he explains, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “It was just a charity game, anyways. We were playing against our own guys, not like it was anything they couldn’t do without me.”

You fully remove yourself from him and sit back on your heels. He frowns at the loss of contact as he readjusts himself to sit up straighter.

“Nico, you can’t just leave a game like that!” you scold him. “Think about how excited those kids were to see you play tonight. The fact that it was a charity game should have made it even more important.”

You cross your arms, glaring at him for how bad this could make him look.

“Y/N, you were here, alone, during a raging storm. When I called, I could feel how scared you were through the phone. I knew as soon as the lights flickered at the arena, I couldn’t leave you here by yourself,” he explained, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You argued anyways.

“Nico, think about how bad this could make you look. ‘Devils captain leaves charity game early because his girlfriend is a scaredy-cat and can’t stay by herself during a silly little thunderstorm’” you put on your best sportscaster voice for the last sentence.

It was Nico’s turn to roll his eyes at you, shaking his head at your words.

“First of all, don’t count on a job with ESPN anytime soon,” you swat at his chest. “Second of all, I appreciate your concern about my image and my job, but I don’t care.”

“You should! You should care, Nico. You’re the captain. You need to care more than anyone else,” you cry out at him.

Nico grabs your hands in midair as you wave them around to emphasize your words.

“Schatz, I. Don’t. Care.” He pauses, trying to let the words sink in. “You know why I don’t care? Because you will always come first, do you hear me?”

Your mouth snaps shut, the intensity of the way he’s looking at you making you still.

“My job is just a game. It will always be just a game. A game that I’m thankful that I get to play every day, don’t get me wrong, but at the end of every day, it’s just a game.” He pauses again, making sure you understand him.

You don’t even flinch at the thunder that rings out around you, too caught up in the moment that’s happening between you and Nico right now.

“You, my pretty girl, are not a game. You’re the absolute best thing that has ever, and will ever, happen to me. You’re the biggest priority in my life, not hockey. I could quit hockey tomorrow and be just fine as long as I still have you to come home to every day. You’re the one thing I can’t lose. So yeah, I don’t care if I’m missing a scrimmage right now. They don’t need me. You did. So, here I am, exactly where I’m ‘supposed to be’” he mocks your earlier statement.

By the end of his speech you have tears in your eyes, not because of the storm this time.

You smile at him, an emotional tear slipping down your cheek, Nico’s hand reach out to wipe it away before you could wiggle one of your own from his hold.

“I love you, you know that?” you tell him, leaning your cheek into his open palm. “But you’re still stupid for leaving the game early,” you add at the end.

“Love you more, Schatz. Always.” He responds with a slight chuckle, ignoring the second part of what you said, bringing your face to his.

Your lips meet in a sweet, loving kiss. You rest your foreheads against one another before Nico pulls back, dropping his hand from your face.

“Now, I do believe we have some powerless entertainment to partake in,” he tells you, wiggling his eyebrows at your suggestively.

You lean in towards him once again, cocking an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Oh…Yeah” he leans back in, his hot breath fanning on your face with his words.

You catch his arm moving out of the corner of your eye, not wanting to remove your gaze from his face to find out what he was doing.

The staring contest the two of you had going on was starting to make you squirm when you hear a click ring out from in-between your bodies, light erupting through what little space is there.

You look down to see one of the flashlights from earlier in his hand, a cheeky grin on his face. Looking back up, you give him a confused look.

“It’s time for shadow puppets!” he excitedly bursts, moving the flashlight to shine on the wall, holding up his pointer and middle fingers to make a shadow bunny on the wall.

You burst out into belly laughs, body falling over his, head landing in his lap.

“C’mon, now, get up, its your turn,” he sits you up, handing you the flashlight.

As you look over at Nico, an expectant look on his face, you suddenly don’t care if it storms all night and the power never comes back on. As long as Nico’s with you, nothing could ruin the happiness running through your veins in this moment.

[frankenstheythem]

tfw you wake up and the suicidal ideation man in yo head tricks you into suicidal ideation but then he remembers the current arc nd the fact this body must live until we find a new vessel for its ideas i have the work of multiple lifetimes stored in this fucking brain who wanna build a portal or smth

[kabr0ztrousers]

Kabr0z Writes Episode 89: Intermission

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: oral sex; anonymous sex; multiple partners in sequence;

A/N: This episode brought to you by aggressive techno. As usual the best laid plans went a bit whacky. Enjoy this quick one and we'll be back to requests tomorrow

#######################################

The stall was tiny, unadorned. You closed the curtain behind you, taking a seat on the stool in front of you. Your heart raced. You didn't know this place even existed last week. Half an hour ago you were on a train into the city to come here. Had you told yourself even then that you'd be sat here now, you don't know if you'd have believed it. You took a deep breath, checked the curtain was all the way across, and pressed the button.

A buzzer sounded, and a circular slot opened in front of you, just about your neck height when you're seated. You knew on the other side a light will have illuminated, letting someone know your stall was occupied, and ready to receive somebody.

Somebody arrived. A pair of hips came into view of the slot. Their side was even narrower, just enough room for someone to step in. They pressed their button to turn off the lamp on their side and illuminate it on yours. Ready when you are.

You stuck a couple of fingers through the slot, fumbling with the closure of their jeans. They helped, unzipping themselves and pulling the waist of their jeans down a few inches. Their cock hung, soft and only a couple of inches long. You cupped it, gently guiding it to your side of the thin wall.

You cradled it in one hand, the other cupping the balls hanging beneath. A kiss on its head stirred it to waking. Every kiss you gave it, it twitched and grew a little more. Five inches, six, maybe seven? You didn't exactly bring a ruler to check. Either way, it was hard now, and as long as your face.

You started with the balls, tongue lapping at them, sucking on one then the other, tasting the salty musk, and a little cologne he'd used to try and mask it. You appreciated the effort, but almost wished he'd not bothered. One hand stayed at the tip of his cock while you enjoyed yourself down here, stroking and rubbing it, keeping him hard and groaning.

One long lick of his shaft brought you to the tip. You took the very end into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. The umami taste filled your mouth, making you smile a little around it as your eyes closed. One last big kiss, right on the end, and you pushed it into your mouth. Every bob of your head made him groan. You squeezed the base, and he groaned harder. You pushed yourself, teasing it with your tongue as you came up before coming back down to the very edge of your gag reflex.

You could tell he was close. Groaning had turned to gruff pants and grunts. His balls were tight against his body, precum leaking from him. You held him in your mouth, sucking and squeezing like playing a bizarre musical instrument. His hips bucked against the wall separating you. You felt his cock throb, the thick tube on the underside hardening as it filled with cum. A moment later, he groaned. Pressed against the wall, he unloaded into you. Thick cum filled your mouth, hot and salty, flowing over your tongue and down your throat as you swallowed it.

You let go as he softened in your mouth, sucking the last morsel of cum from him before he tucked himself away and slid out of view.

You wiped your mouth, and pressed the button again.

This time was less of a wait, they took position and already had their cock through the slot before remembering to hit their button to indicate they were ready. They were a little longer, and a little thinner than the last, already hardening for you. You pulled back their foreskin and teased the frenulum with your tongue. The moan that came from the other side was decidedly feminine. Her cock tasted different, a little more sour. You didn't mind, it was still good. Her skin was soft in your hand, her balls a little smaller as you played with them.

She was also a lot more sensitive. You licked her up and down, hearing the whines and moans as you did, tasting the precum leaking from her as she got harder and hornier for you. One hand stroked the shaft as you took her length into your mouth. She was already shaking as you started sucking. You let her hear you, humming and slurping as you sucked on her. You took your hand off her cock, using it to rub your own clit as you took her deeper. You failed to suppress your gags as you pushed her to the back of your throat. You felt your body tensing, trying to cough up the foreign object you were pushing between your tonsils. Every gag made her moan. Every moan made you drip.

Your hand moved faster. You rubbed in your wetness, working it into your clit as you felt yourself getting close. She wasn't far away either, whining and leaking into your mouth.

You focused back on her tip, teasing and suckling her sensitive end, exploring the leaking hole with the tip of your tongue one moment before greedily slurping her whole cock into your mouth the next. She didn't give you any warning. One moment you were enjoying her leaking and whimpering, the next she let out a stifled scream, and let loose. Her cum was thinner, not much more than the precum she had been leaking, but there was just so much of it. It filled your mouth, almost overflowing out of your nose as she pumped more and more into you. You couldn't understand how her tight balls made so much.

You let yourself cum. Your moans mingled with hers as you revelled in each other's orgasms. You wanted more of her, the cum was so delicious, flowing like nectar from the goddess on the other side of the wall.

It couldn't last. Her orgasm petered out, and the dripping cock pulled from your mouth. She left, and you never even found out her name.

Hopefully she comes here again. You know you will