#SORRY NIKI I WILL DRAW U AGAIN SOON

[unrelatabledude]

some of my older crazy b sketches. im really enamored by the concept.

[smoll-tangerine]

after the tone: voicemails i want to keep

“hey, there. you’ve reached my voicemail. leave me a message and i’ll call you back as soon as i can!”  

“hi, looks like we missed each other, again! this time difference is crazy, huh? you wouldn’t believe what happened to me today. call me back as soon as you can. i love you.” 

PART I. AFTER THE TONE 

PAIRING. jaehyun x fem!reader GENRES. romance, angst

SYNOPSIS. when leaving messages on jaehyun’s voicemail became the only way for you to communicate with him. 

🎵 PLAYLIST SPECIALLY CURATED BY. @ppangjae​ @sehunniepotwrites​ @jeongvision​ @jaedore​ & @smoll-tangerine ♡

intro: cinnamon girl by lana del rey 

i find peace in the rain by slchld 

oceans & engines by niki 

drawing our moments by taeyeon 

out of love by alessia cara 

evergreen (you didn’t deserve me at all) by omar apollo 

gone away by h.e.r. 

alright by keshi

malibu nights by lany

outro: lovelovelove by baek yerin 

EXPECTED RELEASE. july 2023

“you have (1) new message.”

“to listen, press yes.” “to delete, press no.” “to save the message, press #.”

[ yes ] / [ no ] / [ # ] 

PART II. VOICEMAILS I WANT TO KEEP 

PAIRING. jaehyun x fem!reader GENRES. romance, angst

SYNOPSIS. when listening to your voicemails slowly became the only way for jaehyun to hear your voice. 

🎵 PLAYLIST SPECIALLY CURATED BY. @ppangjae @sehunniepotwrites​ @jeongvision @jaedore & @smoll-tangerine​ ♡

intro: someone like u by lullaboy 

like i want you by giveon

i couldn’t be more in love by the 1975 

try again by jaehyun (feat. d.ear)

wish you the best by lewis capaldi 

come back, be here by taylor swift 

say i’m sorry by afgan 

sunsets with you by cliff & yden 

freudian by daniel caesar 

can you love me tonight? (stripped) by kairo 

outro: don’t let me go by cigarettes after sex 

EXPECTED RELEASE. august 2023

[a/n]: send me an ask to be on the taglist! ♡

© SMOLL-TANGERINE [2023]. All rights reserved. 

[unfoundhoney]

a sister’s sacrifice ; part two ↠

↠ platonic!c!sleepy bois inc x fem!reader , platonic!c!tubbo x fem!reader ; angst with a minuscule amount of fluff

↠ masterlist

↠ part one ; part two ; part three ;

↠ @leafyturtle @basheverythingyesterday @terribletoothbat

after all is said and done

after l’manberg is left half-ruined but still breathing

after techno runs off

after tommy and tubbo take seats in the cabinet

after wilbur has been killed by phil

after it all, you leave

you leave l’manberg & the rest of the server & refuse to pick a side

you move to a dark oak forest & build a little cottage for yourself hidden among the trees

you’re tired

you’re so so tired of everything & you just want to be at peace

of course, you could never fully leave everything

you’re still visited by your brothers (those that are left) & your friends

you help niki with her flower shop & various other building projects

you remain out of any political affairs tommy & tubbo are involved in

but you still spend most of your time alone in the woods

you’re content living like this

are you happy with the way your life has turned out?

god no

but you can live with being content

& then ghostbur shows up

(ghostbur) hello! are you the y/n phil keeps talking about?

you wanna talk about trauma?

let’s talk about being approached out of nowhere in the middle of the woods while mushroom hunting by your DEAD BROTHER and a blue sheep on a leash

what the f u c

(you, bewildered) ...will?

(ghostbur) i’m not wilbur. not the one you knew. i’m ghostbur! are you y/n? you look like phil described & i haven’t managed to find any other houses hidden in the dark oak forest.

this is... great

ghostbur becomes quite attached to you

will had distanced himself while living in pogtopia as his mental state deteriorated

it seems ghostbur is fulfilling the closeness alivebur wishes to have had maintained with you

.......

cool

this is fine

it’s totally fine

ghostbur visits you often

even though you know it’s not really your wilbur, it’s nice in some odd way to have a version of wilbur still around

it’s through ghostbur that you learn of tommy’s exile, long after it had happened

it seems no one wanted a protective mama bear y/n sent after them, so during your brief visits to the main residential areas, talk of tommy’s exile was conventiently never a conversation piece

you just figured he was busy or distracted or avoiding you like a moody teen

then ghostbur hands you a small letter one day

(you) what’s this?

(ghostbur) it’s an invitation to tommy’s beach party. he’s been quite lonely in exile

(you) quite lonely in what now

ghostbur fills you in as best as his little ghost brain can on what’s happened with tommy & burning down geroge’s house & tubbo exiling him

what do you mEAN TUBBO EXILED TOMMY????

WTFFFFF??????!!!

CAN YOU GET A BREAK????!!!?!?!?

WHAT ARE THESE IDIOT CHILDREN DOING

you’re the only person to get an invite

you watch from afar, wary of approaching your youngest brother with dream so close

you wait for dream to leave before going to him

(you) tommy?

(tommy) ...y/n!

you catch him in a hug without hesitation

(tommy) i knew you’d come

(you) tommy, i’m so sorry. i had no idea you’d even been exiled or i would have visited you immediately-... are you okay?

tommy is so....

he’s so.......

worn down

his clothes are torn & dirty, he has bags under his eyes

he’s thinner than he used to be, which is very concerning as he’s always been a bit of a walking stick

he just looks so tired

the usual fire that burns behind his eyes whether in anger or mischief or just happiness is nonexistent

(tommy) what?

(you) are you okay? i’d been worried because i hadn’t seen you around and- god, i’m so sorry. i should’ve looked for you or asked about you but i just assumed and now this and-... tom?

tommy just starts crying

because he thought you’d stopped caring about him too

he thought everyone stopped caring about him

but you’re here & you’re concerned & you’re as caring as usual

he buries his face in your shoulder & just cries his little heart out

you hold him and pet his hair and just let him cry

(you) tommy

(tommy) yeah?

(you) come home with me

(tommy) what?

(you) come home with me. you can live with me for the time being & we’ll get this sorted out, okay?

you’d seen how manipulative dream was being even in the short time you’d watched him & your brother, so it takes some convincing but soon tommy has packed his things & is heading out with you back to your home in the dark oak forest

you spend a while nursing him back to health, both physically & mentally

it’s truly heartbreaking having to recondition him out of the dependent mindset on dream

it also pisses you the fuck off but you focus your energy on tommy, not on revenge

tommy tries many times to convince you to come back

to go back to l’manberg & “plant the seed of rebellion”

which wasn’t even call for an actual rebellion, just that you could go back & raise hell about your littlest brother being exiled & demand he be allowed back

but time & time again you refuse

you are content staying away from everything & remaining out of conflict

tommy is very much not

so you lead him to techno’s new home

(you) don’t cause too much trouble for him

(tommy) he blew up l’manberg!

(you) wilbur blew up l’manberg. techno just tried to kill the government

you leave him there & head back home

do you get a moderately angry visit a few days later from techno, who eventually agrees to helping tommy upon your asking?

possibly

you’re not present when tommy & techno sneak onto the smp

you’re not there when tommy & tubbo fight

or during the doomsday war when techno, phil, & dream lay waste to l’manberg once and for all

you’re aware, yes

you’re around, you’re in the know

you just remain out of conflict & out of sight

you’re also not there to say goodbye to tommy & tubbo as they head off for their final battle with dream

that little tidbit you weren’t caught up on, too busy wallowing in your own self misery & crying over your broken family

but ghostbur comes to visit that day

(ghostbur) hello, y/n!

(you) hello, ghostbur. it’s nice to see you

(ghostbur) you, as well! would you like some blue

(you) no. thank you.

(ghostbur) i sure do hope tommy & tubbo come back alright

(you) come back from what?

you were expecting “a trip to the nether,” “a journey to a new woodland mansion,” “a search for sunken ships”

instead, you get:

(ghostbur) their final battle with dream. they set off not too long ago

(you) ........if you’ll excuse me

you head off immediately, tracking tommy & tubbo despite all odds

you do not care, those are your brothers & they are not dying on your watch to dream of all people

they may have been told it’s a battle

they may think they have a chance

but this is dream we’re talking about

you know a trap when you see one

you climb up the mountainside as stealthily as possible

you arrive just in time to hear tubbo’s screams as he is cornered and killed by dream, losing his second canon life

tommy seems to be beat into submission as dream threatens to kill tubbo a final time, who respawns defenseless without any of his items

dreams leads them down into the mountain, villain monologuing the whole way

dramatic bitch

you jump down after them, tired of hearing him threaten your brothers

(you) i think you’ve said enough, dream

(dream) there you are. i was beginning to wonder when mama bear would show up

you put yourself between dream and your brothers

(you) you won’t hurt them anymore. i’m taking them & we’re leaving

(dream) i don’t think that’s up to you, y/n

(you) we’ll see

you take the first swing at dream, landing a clean hack at his shoulder with your axe

but again

this is dream we’re talking about

you’ve never been the most talented fighter & dream is second only to technoblade

i.e. you never stood a chance

but all reason went out the window when it comes to saving your brothers

soon you’re backed against a wall, dream’s axe at your throat

(dream) well this was a waste of time

(you) you’re a monster

(dream) thanks

(you) you think distancing yourself from everyone & everything will work? trust me, it doesn’t. it doesn’t matter how far away you move or how much you push those you love away, those feelings will always be there

dream considers you for a moment

you hope he at least has no satisfaction as you stare back in defiance

you’re unafraid; coming down here was a death sentence & yet you still jumped in headfirst

(dream) maybe for someone like you. but i’m not like you. i don’t care about anything or anyone on this server. i’m not burdened by attachment & i will never be again.

(you) i pity you, dream

(dream) pity me in hell

dreams draws his arm back & swings his axe down

you will lose your final canon life to dream, for your brothers

it’s always for your brothers

as much as you think you should hate them, hate everyone for everything that has happened to you

you can’t

they’re your family

you’ll love them infinitely

tubbo gasps in shock & tommy gives a yell of protest

you know they love you, too

you close your eyes

dream’s axe meets your neck

and you’re gone

[dilfhwa]

I like u ◢◤ Yang Jeongin

Paring: non-idol! Jeongin x Reader

Words: 831

Genre: Angst

Warning: lowercase intended, cursing, mentions of under-age drinking and use of drugs.

note: this was originally posted on my wattpad account @`dilfhwa.

▢▢▢ ▢▢▢ ▢▢▢ ▢▢▢ ▢▢▢ ▢▢▢  

yang jeongin.

that damn name, the name of the boy you couldn't stop thinking of. he should of been someone that you just knew of, but that couldn’t happen seeing as how he was your cousins’ best friend.

I guess this is a bitter end I didn't see coming

you've seen him around you school. his name always being brought up in any conversation that you’ve heard. he was apart of the notorious group of bad boys. and everyone knew them, everyone. they were, lee felix, han jisung, hwang hyunjin, and your cousin kim seungimin. it wasn’t a surprise to hear anything about any of them, considering they always did something not going unoticed by everyone.

And I'm havin' a little bit of trouble accepting, too

it was weird, your cousin throwing a party. usually he'd be the one attending parties. You were closer when you were younger, him being a year older than you. but when highschool came around you stop being close, and the only time you'd see him was at family reunions. so when you got to the party it side tracked you a bit to see that it was you cousin's house.

I don't know what to say to you

when you walked into the house, you were greeted by familiar faces. as you continued walking towards the depths of the house, you saw that you were in the kitchen and found yourself sitting on one of the bar stools. while reaching for a cup, someone else decided to reach for the same cup. you looked up to see him, yang jeongin. you didn't know what to say. it wasn't because you were nervous, because you weren't, it was because you'd never held an actual conversation with any of the boys in his group. and you also couldn't comprehend any words when you saw him looking back at you.

There's nothing I can do to research your point of view

"oh i'm sorry." he said drawing his hand back.

"It's okay you can have it." you say pushing the cup towards him. as you did that you could of sworn you saw him pull a little smirk.

"i'm y/n." you said sticking your hand out to shake his.

"i'm jeongin." he said taking your hand.

“i know.” you say taking a sip out of another cup that you picked up.

We both said this was just physical. 

but one of us lied, can’t set feelings aside

during the end of the party you decided it was time for you to leave. as you were leaving jeongin grabbed your wrist to stop you, asking for your number. you agreed and gave him your number. then you took off. after the party you and jeongin would constantly text each other, every day and every night. then texting became calling, calling became facetiming, and facetiming became dates, or meet ups as he called it. then it soon became more, yet neither of you wanted it to become anything other than physical, meaning no feelings involved. but soon, someone fell, and they fell deep. it was you. you didn't want to, but after hanging out with him it just happened. when you figured out that you had feelings for jeongin you immediately stopped talking to him.

You asked to see me once again at half past ten. I got nervous, so I got faded, made things complicated

jeongin texted you asking if you could meet up again so that you guys could talk. you were scare and nervous about what would happen and couldn't stop the what of thoughts from appearing in your head. so you came up with a solution. to admit it. it was a very stupid solution. you got high. buying some weed from your cousins friends. you completely forgot about meeting jeongin and just stayed home. getting high.

I'm sorry for those stupid shit I said

he came over to your house to make sure you were okay. opening that door was the most stupidest thing that you have done. you couldn't stop words, sentences, from coming out of you mouth.

"Bruh. Why are you here?" you say as soon as you open the door.  a hint of anger in your voice.

"I came because you never came. I was worried." he said in a soft voice.

"you didn't answer my text earlier so I got worried."

"Well as you can see dude I'm great." you say throwing you hands up.

"Are you high right now?" he asked smelling the hint of weed in your house.

"Oh my gosh ladies and gentlemen the yang jeongin is not as clueless as they say." you say sarcastically.

"What is wrong with you?" looking straight in your eyes still.

"huh. Oh nothing." you said shaking your head.

"y/n what are you doing with weed in your house you know if seungmin found out -" "why do you even care yang?" he starts but you cut him off.

"why wouldn't I care about you?"he questions.

"cause i know you don't actually care. just leave already. stop wasting both mine and your time." you said closing then door.

he kept banging on your door asking you to open up. instead you ignored him, continuing doing what you were doing before he came.

[mel-loves-all]

“A Touch Unlike Any Other”

A Olicity Historical AU:  Touch can be so much more than just, physical.

A/N:  T-rated and 1 chapter of ?.   I’ve been struggling with writer’s block for a while and wanted to say thank you to three lovely friends for their friendship and never ending cheerleading.  It is so appreciated.  xo @tinaday3w @hope-for-olicity @quiveringbunny

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1

London, Spring of 1816

Oliver Queen, the Earl of Archer, concentrated on taking his next breath as he attempted to keep the piercing noises of the jubilant ballroom suppressed to a tolerable irritation.   Draw air in, as if inhaling the pleasing scent of a blooming flower.  Ease out, to attempt to relax.  Draw in.  Ease out.  Draw in.  Ease out. He repeated his personal mantra over and over in his mind.  If he could keep his concentration he just might make it through the night without embarrassing himself and his family.  

“Oliver?”  His mother’s soft inquiry of concern, and the instant withdrawal of her hovering fingers from where they had deceptively appeared to rest upon his sleeve, pulled Oliver’s attention towards blue eyes that were so much like his own.   Love and an unspoken understanding of what he was experiencing shown through them and gave him the strength and fortitude to reach for her hand.  He ignored the discomfort and pain, of touching and being touched by someone, and placed her fingers upon his arm and escorted her further into the crowd.

He heard a gasp of surprise then a sigh of gratefulness escape his mother’s lips at his rare touch and his pain intensified.  He hated his weakness and the hurt it caused those he loved.  

They both stood out amongst the colorful ‘peacocks’ of the ton, not just because of Oliver’s severe yet, classic black evening wear with white downy cravat and his mother’s elegant cream satin gown.  But because the Earl of Archer had not been seen since his return from the war.

Whispers of why, surrounded him even as the crowd thankfully parted and he spotted a man, whom he owed a tremendous debt, across the room.  As he made his way towards the similarly conservatively dressed peer, William Smoak, the son of the Viscount of Somerset who had rescued Oliver from the clutches of the enemy, snippets of gossip accosted his ears.

“I don’t see any wounds,”

“We had heard he was disfigured,”

“Not like he once was,”

Oliver swallowed the bile that rose in his throat as the last words cut him as painfully as a sword.  And he knew exactly what damage a sword, both razor sharp and duller, as to prolong suffering, could wield.  His own screams were a testament to that knowledge.

Draw in. Ease out.

Memories of brave friends lost and the worst side of humanity assailed Oliver.  These silly entitled people laughing and enjoying the evening, who drank and ate to excess, would never truly understand that…wounds were not just physical.  They could not see the appalling lines of scars that ran along his body nor the crippling psychological walls that kept him from the simplest of human comfort…touch.

No, Oliver would never be like he once was.  That carefree bachelor without a care in the world was long gone.  Now stood a man, trying to claw his way back from the bloody battlefields of a foreign country.

~~~~~~~

Lady Felicity Smoak, the youngest of two siblings, watched her older brother turn at the arrival of a tall and stunningly, handsome man who was accompanied by an equally tall older woman, whom Felicity assumed was his mother or aunt, as the familial resemblance was undeniable.  

Felicity’s eyes were drawn to the stranger’s luxurious dark, cropped hair, chiseled jaw and innate virility, but they lingered when she instinctively felt his aloneness.  He was beautiful, yet…there was something about him.  

As a woman, who felt she was not a Helen of Troy, who enjoyed getting lost in a book rather than learn to flirt or be coy; who had yet to experience the romance that filled the pages of many of her favorite novels and who watched life unfold from behind uncommon glass spectacles…she understood.

She had never felt such an acute surety.  His profound loneliness was an intimate realization and when his intense gaze unexpectedly swept towards her, as if he had felt the connection too, she flushed with awareness.  A flash of interest and curiosity swirled in the pretty depths of his ocean blue eyes before he broke the brief link to look at William.  She felt oddly bereft at the loss of his regard.

“Archer, it is a pleasure to see you,”  Felicity’s heart stopped then raced at the name of the man her brother greeted with genuine respect.  

She could now place a face to the man her brother had mentioned only once when deep in his cups of wine.  Her brother had come home nine months earlier, after three years away, to find his younger sister a mature woman of the age of nineteen.  Felicity had never seen her brother drunk except for that one night.  It had been after a fortnight of quietly watching him struggle to adjust to the myriad of difficulties, nightmares and guilt that came from being home again when she found him in the library during a late night storm.  As rain and lightening pounded the earth her brother had shared the incredible story of his last mission.  

His battalion had been dispatched to locate and rescue the leader of a small unit of five men who had been sent on a dangerous mission to gather intel from a French occupied town.  Four men of that covert unit had made their way back to the British line with a tale of torture and imprisonment at the hands of a sadistic enemy.  Their Captain had taken the brunt of the torture and with his last reserves attacked and distracted their captors so his men could escape.  

When William’s battalion arrived at the isolated farm, where the man was last seen, they found his battered body that had been left for dead.  Miraculously he lived.  Barely a pulse under the gruesome bruises, cuts and welts that covered his skin, but still alive.  William’s voice had been so full of heartache, disbelief and admiration, for the broken man he had found and brought back to safety, that it had brought Felicity to tears.  That broken man, was the Earl of Archer.

“You as well, Somerset.  My congratulations and best wishes on your recent marriage.  May I introduce my mother, Countess of Archer. ” Felicity was brought back to the present as the Earl of Archer’s dark, rich baritone stroked across her already sensitive skin.  His voice was as alluring as its owner.

“Thank you. We are beyond happy.  May I introduce my wife, the Viscountess Lady Smoak,“ Felicity’s sister-in-law Katherine and second favorite person in the world after William, curtsied, then William turned to Felicity.  “And my sister, Lady Felicity Smoak.”

Felicity curtsied, the effervescent emerald green of her gown shimmered in the candlelight, and as she stood up she met the kind smile of the Countess and the enigmatic look of the Earl of Archer.  She could no longer read him.  He had put them all at arms length.  

“Perchance we could meet for a ride one day soon, Archer,”  William offered as the orchestra begun to play the opening notes to the next dance.

“Oh, what a wonderful idea William.  Perhaps the Earl and the Countess would like to join us at Somerset for a day of riding and visiting?” Katherine chimed in, with her usual delightfully sunny disposition.  Felicity had yet to meet anyone who could tell Katherine no.

“I am sorry, I..”

“We would love to,” the Countess gently interrupted her son and after a moment of silence the Earl tipped his head in acceptance.

“My mother and I would be honored,”

~~~~~~~~~

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[winterskywrites]

how do u think victor and chris took that poolside picture in ep 10?

Being a pool boy was a pretty boring job in the winter.

Daniel didn’t particularly mind. At least it was quiet, and he didn’t have to deal with too many obnoxious customers. The pool was open all year round, but very few people actually used it during the winter months. Daniel still had to clean it, of course, but the chances that he would find abandoned swimsuits was significantly lower. The chances that he would find people in the pool, especially considering he normally cleaned it fairly late at night, were very small.

And yet, as Daniel approached the pool one cold December night, he could distinctly hear two people chatting in… Was that French?

As he got closer, he was able to discern that it was indeed French that the people were speaking, they both seemed to be men, and they were splashing around in the pool. Daniel shook his head as he walked out, wondering who the (probably certifiably insane) men at the pool were.

And then he saw them, and he came this close to turning around and walking back inside.

Daniel had never cared much for figure skating. His sister, however, was a different story, and she’d done her best to drag him into the obsession after her. Daniel had never really gotten into the skating part, but he was but a young gay boy, and he’d had no chance against the apparently universal attractiveness of male figure skaters. Two of his favorites (based mostly on how goddamn pretty they were) had always been Viktor Nikiforov and Christophe Giacometti.

And they were currently in the rooftop pool, splashing each other and wearing nothing but tiny swimsuits and acting like they’d just jumped out of some horrible, horrible porno.

Daniel was going to die.

For a moment, he considered just not cleaning the pool. Surely it wouldn’t kill anyone if it didn’t get cleaned just the once, and it might kill him to go out there while Nikiforov and Giacometti were doing whatever they were doing. But it was his job, and his sister would never forgive him if he passed up the opportunity to actually meet two of the best figure skaters alive, so Daniel took a deep breath and stepped forward onto the rooftop.

Nikiforov noticed him first, elbowing Giacometti and hissing “Chris!” under his breath. Then he gave Daniel a dazzling smile and called over a cheery “¡Hola!” His Spanish accent was terrible, the Russian accent bleeding too much into it, but his smile was beautiful enough that Daniel would forgive him for pretty much anything in that moment.

Giacometti followed Nikiforov’s gaze and grinned in a way that Daniel was pretty sure came dangerously close to melting him into a puddle of goo. “Well, hello, there,” he crooned. “Are you here to join the fun?”

“Chris!” Nikiforov cried, shoving Giacometti into the water. He turned back to Daniel and smiled again. Daniel wasn’t sure his heart could take it. “I apologize for my friend. Is there something you need?”

“I, um-” What were words? Daniel’s vocabulary had dwindled down to nothing, but if he didn’t say something soon he would sound like an idiot in front of two of his celebrity crushes. What were words?! “I’m- I have to clean the pool.”

It wasn’t the most brilliant sentence ever, but at least it was a full one. Daniel was very proud of himself.

“Oh, of course!” Nikiforov scrambled out of the pool and reached in to help Giacometti out as well. “We’ll leave right- CHRIS!”

Giacometti laughed as he pulled a spluttering Nikiforov into the pool headfirst. “That’s what you get, Viki Niki.”

Nikiforov scowled as he swept his wet hair out of his face. “How many times have I told you not to call me that? How many times?”

“Um,” Daniel said eloquently. He was actually quite pleased that the sound hadn’t been a horribly guttural moan, because he’d been a bit worried that it would be the only sound he could make. All of his higher brain functions were completely gone. He wondered absently if he’d ever get them back.

“We’ll get out of the pool,” Nikiforov promised, pulling himself out again and pointedly not offering Giacometti a hand. “You can clean it now, yes?”

“Oh, um, yes,” Daniel stammered as Giacometti climbed out of the pool as well, dripping wet and looking unfairly hot. “I can- Yes, thank you.”

“Wait,” Giacometti said as Nikiforov started heading towards the door.

“I’m cold!” Nikiforov whined.

“You’re Russian,” Giacometti dismissed. Turning to Daniel, he added, “Could you take a picture of the two of us?”

Daniel squeaked. “Um, sure? What do you want?”

“Hmm.” Giacometti frowned. “Viktor, any ideas?”

NIkiforov tapped his bottom lip pensively. Daniel wanted to kiss that lip so badly. “We could pose by the side of the pool,” he suggested.

Giacometti dropped onto the ground immediately and lounged on his side. Batting his ridiculously long eyelashes at Viktor, he cooed in a horrible and yet strangely seductive falsetto, “Draw me like one of your French girls!”

Daniel was pretty sure he had died and gone to either heaven or hell. It was a toss-up as to which one it was, really, but he was thinking hell was a little more likely. He thought he’d been a pretty good person. He didn’t deserve this.

“Not like that, Chris,” Nikiforov scolded, nudging Giacometti with his foot and pushing him back into the pool. “Oh!” He looked apologetically at Daniel. “Sorry.”

Viktor Nikiforov, apparently, was absolutely adorable. It wasn’t a word Daniel had ever really thought he’d apply to an almost six feet tall grown Russian man, but there was no other word for it. “It’s okay,” Daniel replied, his voice a little too high.

Giacometti clambered out of the pool. “Do you have any bright ideas, then?” he asked Nikiforov with a dirty look. “Coach Viktor is supposed to be good at taking the lead, isn’t he?”

“Yuuri’s very good at it too,” Nikiforov replied with a far too innocent look on his face. Giacometti began laughing so hard he almost fell back into the pool.

Well, it seemed like any doubts as to the nature of Nikiforov’s relationship with his Japanese student were gone. Daniel silently mourned the death of all of his teenage dreams about meeting Viktor Nikiforov and having a whirlwind romance that led to sharing a house and a lot of dogs. However, Giacometti could still be single, so perhaps his dreams of having hot sex with Christophe Giacometti and eventually sharing a house and a lot of cats could still come true.

“Here.” Nikiforov sat down next to the pool and posed dramatically, his knees bent, his toes pointed down and just touching the water, his arms at his sides, and his head tilted back. “Like this.”

Giacometti eyed him for a moment, then picked up Nikiforov’s sunglasses and placed them on his face. “Here. And, hmm, there’s still something missing.”

Nikiforov straightened one leg, still keeping the same dramatic look. Daniel watched in shock as he extended his leg perfectly straight and kept it there with apparently no effort at all. Figure skaters were amazing.

“Yes!” Giacometti pressed his phone into Daniel’s hand - their fingers touched and Daniel almost swooned - and sat down next to Nikiforov, mimicking his pose. “Can you take a photo of us now?”

Daniel’s hand shook a little, but he made an effort to steady it as he began snapping pictures. “Try a few angles!” Giacometti called. Daniel almost tripped over his own feet as he went to the other side of the pool to take a few more pictures.

“Um,” he stammered as he finished, “I can take more, if you want, but-”

“This is perfect,” Giacometti replied, standing and taking the phone back. His fingers brushed against Daniel’s again. “Merci,” he added with a look in his eyes that made Daniel want to jump him right there.

“Wrong language,” Nikiforov scolded. He offered Daniel a dazzling smile and chirped, “¡Gracias!”

Daniel was going to die. At least he would die happy, if really really sexually frustrated.

“This is the one,” Giacometti stated, flipping through the pictures. He showed the shot to Nikiforov first, then Daniel.

“Perfect,” Nikiforov agreed.

“Um, thanks,” Daniel squeaked.

“What’s your name?” Giacometti asked, typing rapidly. “I’ll give you photo credit. Do you have an Instagram?”

He did, but there was no way he was going to tell Viktor Nikiforov and Christophe Giacometti that it existed, since he knew it had some incredibly embarrassing posts about how much he wanted to bang both of them (possibly at the same time, if they were okay with it). “Um, my name is Daniel García,” Daniel replied. Viktor Nikiforov and Christophe Giacometti now knew his name. Oh God, he was going to die.

“Thank you for the picture, Daniel,” Nikiforov said, a wide smile on his face. “And I’m sorry we’ve kept you from your work for so long.”

“We can go inside now, if you want,” Giacometti told Nikiforov. “Since you’re ‘cold.’”

“You say that like you don’t believe me,” Nikiforov muttered.

“I don’t,” Giacometti replied bluntly. “I’m pretty sure you miss a certain little-” Here, he said something in French that Daniel didn’t understand but made Nikiforov flush.

“Thank you again,” Nikiforov told Daniel, now clearly desperate to get back inside.

“No problem,” Daniel replied, his voice squeaky. He was pretty sure everything he’d said had been awkwardly high-pitched. Nikiforov and Giacometti were going to think he had an awkwardly high-pitched voice. Daniel regretted all of his life choices that had led to this moment.

Nikiforov and Giacometti left, chatting in French again. Daniel watched them go - they had such nice butts! - and then sank into a poolside chair and pulled out his phone, sending a text to his sister.

just met viktor nikiforov and christophe giacometti at the pool. i’m so gay.