#but that is besides the point. the point is that i have been waiting for twow since 2011 this can't hurt me in any way that matters | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

4unnyr0se · 3 days

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❥ life of the party | suguru geto

warnings: fem! reader, college au! geto, frat boy! geto, alcohol consumption, marijuana use, sex while high, protected sex, geto is a gentlemen in the streets and a freak in the sheets, needy geto, cunnilingus, rough sex, mating press, degredation, sadist geto mention, geto is a top, shoko, gojo, nananmi, haibara, mei mei, and utahime mentioned, proofread, b99 mention, this is absolute filth

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 5.4k

100 follower special - i love you all so much <3

did i name this after a song by the weekend? yes i did

Being a homebody had its perks. You didn’t have to go anywhere you didn’t want to, and all of your stuff was in one place, always within arms' reach. Your remote? On the nightstand. Boom, that was your source of entertainment for the night. Who needed to out when you could binge Brooklyn Nine-Nine? Not you, that’s who.

Introversion also came with being a homebody, like a buy-one-get-one deal. You were known for being quiet, always sitting in the back of the lecture hall with one earphone in, diligently taking notes that your classmates always asked to copy after the lecture. You never understood why people paid so much to party at university; why not just get the degree? Stay quiet, do your work, get that piece of paper, make bank. You thought that was a good life goal.

But when your best friend Shoko begged and pleaded with you to come along to a frat party that Kappa Alpha Psi was having, you really couldn’t turn her down, especially since she had sent you all her biology notes when you were out sick for a week due to allergies. So when she showed up at your university apartment with a revealing dress in one hand and a bottle of Smirnoff in the other, you begrudgingly accepted.

“So, what are frat parties like? You’ve been to what, two?” you asked, pulling down the hem of your dress. It was Shoko’s from a couple of years ago, and it fits you perfectly; the black fabric hugged all your curves in all the right places. “They’re probably loud. Should I have brought my headphones? Let’s go back and get them.” Shoko tutted at you and grabbed your wrist, pulling you beside her. Despite your reservations, a curiosity ignited within you, pushing you forward.

“You have got to relax; you’ll be fine.” your best friend assured you, taking the cigarette from her glossed lips. “And yeah, they’re loud, but all parties are loud. That’s why they’re parties and not get-togethers.” Shoko smirked and flicked off the Smirnoff cap with her finger, the plastic barrier flying onto the grass of the frat house. “Well, we’re here. Are you ready to get shitfaced?” she didn’t even wait for you to respond, taking the vodka to her lips and taking a greedy sip.

“Wow, you seriously wanna get drunk,” you pointed out, an eyebrow raised in concern for your dearest friend. “Am I gonna have to hold your hair back like last time?”

“Definitely,” Shoko giggled, dragging you inside the bustling house. You observed the red solo cups that littered the front lawn, which raised many questions in your already racing mind. Were the members of Kappa Alpha Psi so disrespectful that they didn’t even bother to take care of their own house? What if they were mean or even creepy towards you? Oh god, you felt yourself panic as the door closed behind the two of you, the stains on the wood not relaxing you in the slightest.

Shoko could feel your heartbeat increase and pulled you aside, cupping your cheek in assurance. “Hey, relax,” she reasoned softly, rubbing her soft thumb up and down your cheekbone. It reminded you of the time when there was a rumor going around that the two of you were lesbians, and it wasn’t entirely wrong. Shoko was a lesbian, and her girlfriend Utahime belonged to a charity sorority at another university. “You’ll be alright. Some of these guys are my friends.”

You groaned and shifted your feet, finding your high heels too uncomfortable. “Seriously, you’re friends with some of these clowns?” your eyes landed on a man in your English class hanging off the railing, screaming about how he was king of the world. What was his name again, Haibara? “Is…is that one gonna be okay?” you pointed to his flushed face, no doubt caused by the ridiculous amount of alcohol available for consumption.

“What, Haibara? He’ll be fine, I think he’s always like this. Poor fella, kind of stupid, too. But that's why he’s a frat guy.” Shoko shrugged her exposed shoulders and walked with you to a living area, luckily finding a seat that didn’t have people making out on it. She picked up a half-drunk beer bottle and placed it in your hand, taking another puff of her cigarette.

“Uh, no thanks. I don’t know whose mouth has been on this,” you refused, placing the bottle back on the table. Your lungs inhaled the cigarette smoke, irritating your throat. “Fuck, why do you keep insisting on smoking cigarettes? Just vape like a normal person.” your hands waved away the smoke from your face.

Shoko opened her mouth to speak, smiling as she gazed at someone standing behind you. You turned around in curiosity, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh my god, Geto! I had no idea you went to these parties.” Shoko stood up to hug her friend, the height difference between them being hilarious. “Hey, this is my buddy Suguru. He’s a frat member, but he doesn’t go to any of the parties. How weird is that?” she giggled, clearly drunk from the vodka.

Geto patted Shoko on her shoulder, only touching the clothed part. “I just came back for my beer,” he pointed to the table, referring to the half-empty bottle. “I forgot I left it down here, and then the party started. I figured I would get it now before someone decided it was theirs.

Shoko turned to you and grinned, her smile being so bright it could attract moths. Fuck, she definitely had an idea brewing in that head of hers. “Oh my god! You were just about to drink from that, weren’t you!” she shoved Geto onto the sofa next to you, picking up her bottle of Smirnoff. “It’s a little meet-cute, aw! You guys are so cute. Oh my god!” Shoko wouldn’t stop rambling, causing you to let out a very annoyed groan. You loved Shoko, honestly. But sometimes she was a bit much, especially when she was drunk off her ass.

“Shoko, I think…oh my god, is that Mei Mei?” you pretending to be surprised, pointing at a crowded corner. “Doesn’t she owe you some money? I don’t think she ever paid you back, y’know.” A smirk played on Geto’s lips; he knew what you were doing.

“What, where?! Oh, that bitch! I’ll fucking cut her!” Shoko angrily yelled, storming off to find the non-existent Mei Mei.

Geto leaned back into the sofa, shoving his hands in his pockets. “So, you do that when you don’t wanna deal with your friends as well?” he asked, sipping his beer.

You nodded and crossed your arms over your chest, unintentionally pushing your breasts upwards. “Yeah, all the time. I’m not proud of it, but sometimes Shoko is too much, especially when drunk.”

“Tell me about it,” he agreed, offering you a sip of his beer. You accepted it, now that you know it was his and not some creeps. “My best friend, Satoru, likes to pick fights when drunk. I do my best to break them up, but he doesn’t really like when I do that.” Geto sighed, getting tired just thinking about it. “You don’t like parties that much, do you?”

You looked up at his violet eyes, slightly spooked by his observation. “How did you know that? I’ve only just met you.”

Geto chuckled and took another sip of beer, observing how your lipgloss stained the textured brim of the glass. “I mean, you’re not even wearing your own dress and heels. That’s Shoko’s. She wore that exact outfit to a party last week.” he smirked, seemingly proud of himself.

You buried your face in your hands, almost embarrassed. Were you that easy to read, or was Geto really smart? “Yeah, I don’t really have any outfits to wear to a party. Why do women have to dress up while men wear, well, what you’re wearing? No offense.” you gestured to his casual white t-shirt and black sweatpants, contrasting with your tight black dress.

“I have no idea. Maybe people feel the need to impress us? I don’t see the appeal, I’m afraid.” Geto smiled at you, standing up and offering you his hand. “You look pretty uncomfortable. Do you wanna borrow some of my clothes? Sorry if I’m being too forward.” he smiled softly, a faint cherry blush dusting his pale face.

“Sure, why not?” you shrugged, taking Geto’s hand. You noticed how much larger it was than your own, how it completely engulfed your smaller hand. Geto noticed as well; the blush is growing just a tad darker. “Besides, Shoko might kill me if I get a stain on this dress. I’m 99% sure she used it to go clubbing in.” you chuckled, following Geto up the frat house stairs. It was littered with red solo cups, couples making out, and other lewd acts. You’re not sure why you were surprised; it was a frat house. Everyone at this damn party was depraved.

Weaving through the mess of bodies in the uppermost level of the frat house, Geto finally reached his room. After struggling to find the correct key to unlock his door, he let you inside and quickly locked the door.

“Um, why did you lock it?” you asked, your heartbeat quickening. Did he secretly have something absolutely sinister planned?

“So no one can come in here to fuck on my bed.” his smile was reassuring, comforting. Geto flicked on the lamp beside his neatly made bed, illuminating your two faces. His room was immaculately neat, and it was kind of gross to look at. His pillows always had a partner, and his sheets had no stains on the precious cotton (or silk?) material. There wasn’t a scuff or scratch on any of the wooden furniture, and even his fucking shoes were color-coordinated.

“The shirt might be a little big on you, sorry.” Geto handed you a spare t-shirt that had The Weeknd written on it. “I got it at a concert a while back when I went with Satoru. It was really good.” he also handed you a pair of his sweatpants, boasting the school color of navy blue. “I’ll turn around and cover my eyes, don’t worry. I can even go out in the hallway if you like.”

You were taken aback at his politeness, not expecting it from a member of such an…interesting frat. “You can just turn around. I trust you not to peak,” you assured him, shimmying out of your dress once Geto faced the wall. He was whistling in an awkward attempt to break the silence, which you found kind of adorable. The fabric of his shirt wasn’t the best quality, but it was warm and quite big on you. His sweatpants were as well; you looked like a baby penguin. Your hair was put into a very messy bun, but your eyeliner and mascara still look okay.

“You can turn around now, I’m decent.” After giving Geto permission, he turned around and uncovered his violet eyes. His gaze instantly landed on how loose his shirt was on you like it was swallowing you entirely. He’d be lying to himself if he said you didn’t look absolutely adorable because you really did look so fucking adorable. Geto was tall, so his clothes usually made anyone else drown in them, but this time, it was different. This time, he felt attracted to the person wearing his clothes. Geto found his mind spiraling, thinking why he had never seen how cute you were before. Were you just not around his side of the campus? Geto didn’t know, maybe he was overthinking this whole thing. Fuck, seeing you in his shirt made him spiral for a moment there.

“You look comfortable,” he smiled, his sleepy eyes not leaving yours. “Do you wanna watch a movie or something? To distract from the shitty music downstairs, I don’t know why I let Nanami make the soundtrack when all he puts on it is My Chemical Romance…” Geto trailed off, putting a hand on his hips. His fingernails were painted black, which you thought was cute.

“Yeah, I’m down for a movie. What did you have in mind?” you sat down on his bed, bouncing slightly on the plush mattress.

Geto sat down beside you, giving you a comfortable amount of space. “Hm, wanna watch a horror movie? I know a trick that will turn everything the villain does into something funny.” he looked at you, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

You titled your head to the side and gave him a quizzical look. “Such as?”

Geto reached across your body, accidentally staring at your clothed chest for a second. He opened his bedside table and pulled out an expensive-looking dab pen.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker, Geto,” you smirked, leaning closer to look at the device better. “This doesn’t look cheap either; it’s got a battery and everything. Damn.”

Geto chuckled and clicked the pen on as the movie’s intro credits played. “I take it you know your stuff?” He held the pen to his lips, not taking a hit just yet.

You shrugged and pretended to brush your hair over your shoulders. “Maybe I’m just that smart,” you playfully wink, giggling. “Nah, I’m messing with you. My freshmen-year roommate was a pretty heavy smoker, so I got a good look at her supplies. I’ve smoked before.” You took the pen from his hand, clicked the button on the side, and took a minor hit. The vapor filled your lungs and came through your nose, causing you to cough a little. “Holy fuck, you have strong weed.”

Geto chuckled at your coughing, rubbing your neck. He took a hit of the pen, barely coughing at all. “Yeah, well, I like to relax. Keeps me sane, y’know? In this house, you gotta have your vices, or you might lose your mind.”

“Tell me about it,” you grumbled, looking at your feet in Shoko’s high heels. Why were you wearing heels to a frat party? Ugh, Shoko always managed to talk you into doing stupid shit. “I smoked a lot in high school, but that was mainly because of the academic pressure. I was an honor roll student and am now on the dean's list. Go figure, right? Huge fucking nerd over here.” you pointed to yourself and laughed, eyebrows furrowed.

Geto rolled his eyes and swatted your hands down, giving you a stern look. “Don’t put yourself down like that, not ever. Being a nerd is a good thing.” He gestured to his door, the only barricade from the chaos outside. “Eventually, the idiots out there will work for you. That’s gotta mean something, right?”

“Hell yeah,” you high-fived him, blushing at the contact. Once again, you were staring at how much larger his hands were than yours. In fact, all of him was larger than yourself. “All those assholes will work under me, just you wait and see.”

“Mm, confidence. That’s something the girl in the movie has too much of. She thinks she’ll survive,” the screen displayed a horrid image of the petite blonde girl with a bear trap encasing her rib cage, killing her instantly. “But she won’t. These things are so fucking predictable.”

You giggled as the girl’s face contorted in horror, her eyes lifeless on the small television at the end of Geto’s bed. “You were right; weed makes the deaths seem funny. Are they all idiots?” You smile at him, a loose strand of hair dangling from your bun.

Geto curled the strand of hair with his index finger and tucked it behind your ear, brushing gently on your tender cheek. “Yeah, they must all be idiots.” His voice was deep and low, mouth slightly agape. Maybe it was because he was high, but Geto was absolutely mesmerized by your beauty. How you looked fucking delectable in his clothes, in his shirt. Your lips looked so soft; would you mind if he kissed them? Just for a second, to see if they were as soft as a petal. Just for one agonizingly slow second? Fuck, Geto had never wanted anyone so badly in his entire fucking life.

“Geto, you’re staring.” You muttered, your voice falling upon deaf ears as Geto unconsciously leaned closer. “N-now, you’re getting really fucking close.” His hot breath made your skin tingle, goosebumps rising on the flesh of your exposed forearms. Your lips were parted as well, centimeters away from his own. You could see every imperfection on his face, especially the bags under his eyes, which made him even more attractive. He looked so tired, so sleepy, so ethereally handsome.

“Please,” he breathed against your lips, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. His voice was deep and desperate, breath somewhat shakey. “Please, let me kiss you, baby. You’re so pretty.”

Nodding slowly, you brought your lips to kiss so they were ghosting over each other; it was barely even a kiss. You wanted him to make the first move, to be the gentlemen he had been to you at the start of the party. “Kiss me, Geto.”

Having been given your approval, Geto pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was slow and gentle, his hands cupping your face while rubbing up and down on your cheekbones. The kiss was incredibly fragile, so very delicate. Your lips moved together in tandem, neither of you knowing if the other was okay with the intensity of the moment increasing to something a bit more depraved and desperate.

You cautiously reached up and grabbed the hair tie that held his bun in place, taking it off and snapping it around your wrist. Geto’s dark hair fell onto his shoulders, creating the most beautiful display. Your hands wasted no time grabbing his locks and tangling them with your fingers, curling the strands beneath them. A spark set off in Geto, his lips becoming more aggressive with your plush ones. He pressed his body closer to yours, his hand traveling from your face to your lower back, pulling you in. They landed on the small of your waist, dipping under the fabric of your (his) t-shirt. His hands massaged gentle circles on the flesh, eliciting the cutest little squeak from your occupied mouth.

Waves after waves of arousal surged through Geto’s body, his hands now desperately squeezing into your waist. He broke the kiss, staring into your eyes as the both of you gasped for air. “Fuck, baby,” he moaned softly, attaching his lips to your sensitive neck, trailing a path of fiery kisses down to your collarbone. His teeth grazed the bone as possession took over his body, latching onto the spot right above your collarbone. Your supple skin felt absolutely lovely under his tongue, he was struggling to maintain control of his faculties. The way your face contorted in pleasure didn’t help either, angelic moans falling from your bruised lips as your hands remained tangled in his midnight strands.

You pulled Geto away from your neck, his saliva covering the bright purple hickey. You stared into his violet eyes, your face flushed and your breathing heavy. The two of you stared at each other briefly, your minds fuzzy from the kissing high. Or was it the marijuana that made you feel like you were floating?

“Geto,” you muttered, your hands adventuring to play with the hem of his shirt. “Make me feel good.”

That was all Geto needed; what he longed to hear came from your pretty mouth. He shoved you down onto the mattress with a grunt, wedging his knee between your thighs. His lips attacked your neck once more, sucking and biting and licking with a purpose. His shirt was long forgotten, tossed behind him, and landed on the television screen. Geto shifted his knee to massage your clothed core, earning him a pretty little yelp. “Yeah, you like that?” He groaned against your neck, kissing the spot behind your ear. “You want me to grind down on you more, pretty thing?” Fuck, his voice was a drug in and of itself. It was practically fucking dripping with honey.

Your hands were running up and down on his abs, your long nails causing a sensation that Geto could only hope to describe. “Please, please, Geto. Need it, please.” You whispered, grinding yourself down onto his knee, so desperate for any kind of friction you could receive.

“Do you always get this needy when you’re high, dollface?” He purred against your neck, removing the top you wore with no trouble. The light from the movie only did so much to illuminate the bra you wore, not that Geto cared much for lingerie. He was too focused on what was hiding beneath the lacy fabric. “Take this off. Fuck, I love needy girls.” He commanded, the bulge in his sweatpants growing with each passing second.

You unclasped your bra and tossed it aside, shivering as the cold air made your nipples grow hard. Geto attacked your breasts within an instant, his tongue rolling over your right breast while his hand paid careful attention to the other, the sensations not being too weak or too strong on either side. Soft moans escaped your lips, the feeling of want bubbling inside your core as Geto suckled at your chest like he was made for you. “Ngh, not too hard! M’sensitive there,” you gasped as his teeth grazed the sensitive bud, scolding him.

“Sorry princess, s’not my fault you got such pretty tits,” he chuckled, letting go of your breast with a pop. His hand trailed down your midriff, toying with the hem of the sweatpants you wore. His sweatpants. “Let’s take these off, okay? After all,” he hovered his mouth against your ear, licking the shell like a tease. “You gotta be nice and prepped so I can fuck you senseless.”

Geto peeled his sweatpants off your legs, the fabric pooling at your ankles. He lifted your legs so they rested on his strong shoulders, pulling his face closer to your aching core. He smirked at the little wet patch displayed on your panties, his nose rubbing against your clothed cunt. His teeth bit down on the thin fabric and pulled them aside, the lighting in the room doing your gorgeous pussy no favors.

“Shit, you’re soaked,” Geto whispered, his hot tongue sliding up your folds, the cutest little moan falling from your lips. His tongue drew playful circles on your throbbing clit, smirking as you whimpered and pleaded for more.

The faint screams coming from the television were long forgotten as Geto indulged himself in your core, groaning occasionally as your sweet nectar coated his tongue. It was like ambrosia to him, the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. He dipped his tongue into your welcoming entrance, swirling around oh-so-carefully. He went as deep as he could, practically burying his face in your needy cunt.

“Shit, Geto!” You cried, your nails leaving angry crescent-shaped imprints on his muscular back. Geto didn’t mind, he could just show it off later. While the rest of those idiots were getting drunk on alcohol, Geto was drunk off of you. Your everything was so intoxicating. You relished the feeling of his tongue inside of you. Was he spelling his name with his tongue? He chuckled occasionally, sending vibrations so deep inside you that it almost sent you over the edge every time.

He rhythmically plunged his tongue inside your weeping entrance, desperate to explore every single inch of you. His tongue would accidentally flick over that most sensitive spot inside of you, making you whine in pathetic delight. Geto was observant, memorizing what flicking and sucking matters made your legs tighten around his face. He teased you relentlessly, just keeping you on the verge of orgasm.

Geto nibbled on your sensitive clit, moaning as you desperately tugged on his hair. “Geto, please! Fuck, oh my God! I’m gonna cum, shit!” You sobbed, thighs trembling in agonizingly extreme euphoria.

He pulled away as soon as those words left your mouth, his face covered in your slick and his saliva. Geto winked at you and shoved his sweatpants off of his toned body, removing yours from your ankles as well. Fuck, he needed to fuck you right then and there, or it would kill him. He craved to fill you, to fuck you, to make you scream his name so everyone downstairs would know who was getting it on.

His boxers long forgotten about, Geto’s dick stood hard and eager between his legs, slapping onto his rock-hard abs. You gasped as you saw the silhouette of his cock, wishing you could be able to see it in its full glory. “Fuck, you’re huge. A-are you sure it’ll fit inside me?” You whimpered, spreading your legs as you lay in missionary.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make it fit.” Geto purred, giving you a quick kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, a sensation you never thought you would experience before today.

“Uh, do you have a condom?” you sheepishly asked, squeezing your legs together. “No offense, but I don’t know where that monster has been.”

“Relax, don’t worry,” he assured you, reaching into his nightstand drawer. Geto rummaged around briefly before pulling out a little foil square. “I’d never make you uncomfortable.” He ripped open the packet with his teeth, rolling the latex onto his cock with ease.

Geto parted your legs, pushing them into your chest so you were on display for him and him alone. He had folded you into a mating press, his cock prodding at your entrance. “God, I can’t wait to fuck you senseless.” he groaned as his tip slid inside of you, your pussy practically swallowing it whole. You gasped at the sensation, hands desperately pawing at his biceps for support. Geto slowly pushed the rest of his throbbing cock inside of your core, hissing as he felt your gummy walls contract around him. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he moaned, kissing your neck tenderly.

“S-so fucking big,” you moaned, running your hands up and down his toned arms. “Just fuck me already, please, I need it,” your voice was laced with a desperate and demanding tone, eliciting a growl from Geto’s throat.

“Good slut,” he spoke with approval, his large hands slapping the backs of your plush thighs. He pulled out just barely and then quickly slammed himself back into your sobbing core. A grunt left his lips at the sensation, a squeak emitting from yours. You felt heavenly to him, a new kind of drug he had yet to take. Everything was fucking perfect at the moment, especially how your greedy cunt took him so well. You were such a slut, his slut. So warm, so wet.

He continued to pound into you, throwing his head back slightly to his massive Adam’s apple, which was front and center. Your arousal completely coated his length, and he was able to slide in and out with ease, especially with the help of the condom. God, he filled you up so fucking good. His head was hitting that perfect spot so deep inside of you, the most forbidden fruit. Geto’s thrusts were quick, calculated, and desperate. His cock bullied its way into your core over and over again, wanton moans and cries of pleasure leaving the lips that Geto loved so much.

“God, how are you so fucking wet?” Geto grunted into your neck, his hot breath making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “Had no idea that you were such a slut, I would have just bent you over that fucking couch and had my way with you.” He slapped the back of your thighs once more, observing how you squeezed around him. “Oh, do you like being hit, pretty girl? Is that it? Y’want me to hit that pretty face of yours?” His voice was laced with a mocking tone, punctuation at the end of his sentence with a quick slap across your flushed face.

“Fuck!” you squeaked out, the bubbling feeling in your stomach returning as Geto pistoned his monster cock in and out of your wanton cunt. The way his gentle personality was ripped away the second your lips touched his made you so fucking horny, your orgasm close.

Geto smirked wickedly and pressed his body even closer to yours, finding the new angle much easier to get those lovely little screams to come out of your mouth. “Yeah, you like it when I slap you, hm? I can feel that fucking pussy milking me, fuck, that’s gonna be the death of me.” He grunted, his thrusts becoming staggered and random. His cock twitched inside of you, equally desperate to feel nirvana. “Fuck, cum with me, yeah? Wanna feel you make a mess all over my fucking cock.”

“M-mhm! Fuck!” you sobbed, fat tears running down your face. Your hand desperately massaged your clit, allowing you to fall off the edge and into euphoria finally. Your mouth opened in the silent cry, eyes squeezing shut as heaven enveloped your burning body.

“Shit!” Geto gasped, his orgasm following without giving a warning. “Fuck, fucking take it! Yeah, fucking take me!” his thrusts eased down after a moment, his hands letting go of your legs. He collapsed into your chest, giving your breast a quick kiss. “Holy shit, baby,” Geto mumbled into your sweaty skin, pushing his hair away from his sticky face. “That was the best fuck I’ve had in a long time.”

You slowly nodded and kissed his cheek, Geto’s cock still buried inside your core. You whimpered as he pulled himself out, tying the used condom off and tossing it inside a waste basket. “That was the first fuck I’ve had here,” you mumbled, massaging his scalp with your long nails.

“Oh shit, I didn’t take your virginity, right?” Geto asked, slightly panicked. You quickly shook your head, cupping the left side of his blushing face.

“No, don’t worry. I’m not a virgin. I just haven’t had sex with anybody on campus. Until now.”

“Oh, thank fucking God.” Geto sighed in relief, sitting up against the headboard. He wrapped his arm around you, kissing the top of your forehead. “Still, that was one hell of a ride.”

“Yeah, it was fucking amazing. You know I’ve never had a vaginal orgasm before that?” you giggled, leaning up to peck his lips. Your gaze turned to the television, noticing that the end credits were playing. “Damn, guess we missed the movie.”

“How tragic,” Geto spoke with mock sorrow, pulling you closer to him. “I guess you’ll just have to come to see me so we can rewatch it.” He smirked, trailing his fingers up and down your back.

You laughed and kissed his cheek again, rolling out of the bed. “I’d be more than happy to,” you bent down to pick up the clothes he lent you, earning you a swift slap on your ass. “Hey!” you grunted, turning to see Geto looking very pleased with himself.

“I did absolutely nothing wrong,” he teased, crossing his arms over his pectorals. “Keep the clothes, they look better on you anyway.”

You smiled and nodded, butterflies filling your stomach. “Can I wear them next time I come over?”

“I insist,” he got up from his bed, kissing your head. “I usually only do one-night-stands…but you’re different. I like that.”

“Man, stop with this flattery. You already fucked me,” you sighed, pretending to be annoyed with Geto. As soon as you were dressed, your hand hovered over the doorknob before it started rattling frantically.

“Yo, are you in there, girl? We gotta go, Haibara barfed on my shoes!” Shoko’s voice was incredibly loud and slurred, no different from usual. “They were my good shoes, too, that fucking dickhead!”

Geto laughed as you facepalmed, shooting him a look of disappointment. “Well, I should probably go. Do you want my number or something?” you bent down again to pick up Shoko’s dress and heels, making sure not to forget them.

“Please,” Geto handed you his phone, smiling to himself.

“There you go, put whatever name you want,” you unlocked the door and winked, licking your bottom lip. “Text me whenever you wanna see the rest of that movie.” you closed the door behind you and grabbed a very drunk Shoko’s hand, leading her downstairs and out the door.

Geto sighed and sat on his bed, reaching behind his back to run his fingers over the scratches you had left. A ghost of a smile touched his lips, looking at your phone number on his screen.

Maybe frat parties didn’t totally suck after all.

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #geto suguru #jjk suguru #getou suguru x reader #geto smut #geto suguru smut #suguru geto x y/n

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b14augrana · 1 day

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‘Scrubber’

Before you fly out for the Spain camp, you make the most of your ‘last day’ in Barcelona

Barça Femení x teen!reader

pt. 5 masterlist

Warnings: ✖️

A/N: a bit of a longer update than usual, but here’s the fridolina content people have been waiting for 🐾 sorry about this being a bit boring, it ends up being like that when bebita isn’t playing a game and making crazy tackles, but it’s not too far away from happening 💝

“Ale, you liar! You said we were leaving today!” you grumbled, wheeling your suitcase back to your room. Your backpack landed with a thud on the ground beside the suitcase, and you trudged back to the woman in the living room. “Don’t twist my words. I just told you to pack so you’re prepared for when we do leave, since you like to leave things till the last minute.”

“We’ve still got to walk downtown with all the trophies, chiquita,” Alexia added.

“So then when are we leaving?” you asked, and she responded with, “Tomorrow night… maybe. Remember, you’ve got school today as well. You wouldn’t had time to pack anyways and I did you a favour.”

“Whatever, I get it. Can we go now? Where’s Irene?” you said, walking out of your bedroom with Alexia. You two entered the kitchen and saw Irene sitting on the couch, eating a bowl of cereal.

“Ireeni,” you exclaimed, basically jumping onto the couch. She clutched her almost-empty bowl and laughed, “I could’ve spilled my cereal, nenita.”

“There‘s barely anything in it,” you replied, rolling your eyes and shuffling closer to her.

You were really tired for some reason. The fatigue of the last few days was seemingly catching up to you, and all you wanted to do was crawl into bed and stay there. Alexia wouldn’t let you do that though. She wanted you to come and walk with the trophy you helped the team earn, but you thought she was just giving you way more credit than what was due at that point.

“Ale, I didn’t even do much to be carrying the trophy!” you argued, but she looked at you with an eyebrow raised and a small smile. “Don’t be silly, you’re too humble. You did everything.”

“(Y/N), Fridolina said she is going to pick you up from here and take you downtown for breakfast,” Irene said, looking up from her phone.

You nodded happily. Fridolina was one of your most favourite people in the world. You always looked forward to café dates with her in downtown Barcelona, and she knew you better than you knew herself. She was like a mother to you.

A knock rung through the house, and you almost slipped while sprinting to the door. You wrenched it open and revealed the tall Swede on the other side of the door, smiling down at you. “Frido!”

“Hi kärlek, how are you?” the woman asked, engulfing you in a hug. “I’m good. I’ll just grab my shoes and then we can go, vale?”

“Vale,” Fridolina laughed. As you ran to your room to grab a pair of sneakers, she spoke to Irene and Alexia for a little bit. “Okay, I’m ready,” you said, emerging from your bedroom.

Fridolina waved goodbye to Irene and Alexia. You turned around and said goodbye to them as well, and then you walked out of Irene’s apartment. You two took the elevator down to the complex parking lot, and while you were stepping out of the elevator, you spoke. “Where are we going today, Frido?”

“Our usual spot. I figured you might want one of their pastries to get you going,” she smiled, opening up the door to her car, “Oh, by the way, I’m taking you to school today. I just talked about it with Irene and Alexia.”

You sat in the passenger seat, stretching out your legs, “That’s cool. Can I stay at your house tonight? I’ve been at Irene’s all week,” you asked. Fridolina nodded as she started up her car and reversed out of the car park. “Do you have clothes?”

“Oh shit, that reminds me… I have to go tomorrow. My suitcase is at Irene’s!” you exclaimed with a groan.

“It’s okay, you can always sleep over another time. That doesn’t mean you can’t stay for a bit, I can drop you off to Irene’s if you want to hang around,” Fridolina suggested.

“Perfect. Gracías, Frido!”

The rest of the car ride consisted of small conversations and a bit of singing along to the radio until Fridolina found a parking spot on the side of the street. You hopped out of the car and skipped around to the other side, then you walked into the café with Frido.

“So, how are you feeling? Are your legs alright after all those tackles?” the Scandi asked as you two sat down at a table, “I always forget you’re only 16.”

“My legs are alright for the most part. I guess the win cancels out all the bruises and grazes,” you giggled in response.

Fridolina smiled at you and added, “I’m glad you’re feeling well. You really impressed us all last Saturday. You kept us in the game.”

Your cheeks flushed a pale pink and you looked down at the table, smiling shyly, “It was all Aitana. She gave us the momentum.”

You examined the menu and tried to decide what to order. Frido discussed it with you and when you two settled on your orders, you went to the cashier and bought the food.

You had ordered a couple of almond croissants, an Earl Grey tea, and a grilled cheese. Fridolina got a coffee with a Boston cream donut on the side. While going extremely slowly, you walked over to the table with your food in hand and Fridolina’s in the other. As you placed it down and got back in your seat, she spoke.

“So, are you excited for the Olympics?” she asked, stirring her coffee and taking a sip. You took a bite out of your grilled cheese and nodded, saying between a mouthful, “Really excited.”

It was your first ever Spain call-up. Most people were a bit surprised as they expected you to have experience playing with Spain’s youth teams, and you received invites to the teams, but since you started playing for Barcelona at such a young age, your agent told you to turn them down. Somehow he knew that you’d get a call-up to the senior team not long after, and he was right.

You confided in Mapi, asking her about what she thought was the best decision to make since she had withdrawn from the national team. Despite the new management and Mapi’s reassurance you still weren’t completely sure, but you pushed it aside for the opportunity to win Olympic gold.

“What if we verse each other, Frido?” you said, thinking about the possibility. The Swede placed her cup of coffee down and leaned back in her chair and responded, “Then you treat me like any other opponent.”

“But you’re Frido, not any other opponent,” you replied.

“To you I’m Frido, but to the rest of your team I’m the rival, and they’re trying to beat me. You aren’t playing for Barcelona at the Olympics, you’re playing for Spain,” she said with a smile, taking a little bite out of her donut. She offered you some, but you declined with a quiet ‘thank you’.

As you two ate your meals, your conversation switched from that of football to more general things up until you finished your food and decided to go home. You considered going back with Frido, but you didn’t want to get too tired and annoy Alexia the next morning, when you couldn’t wake up in time, so you didn’t say anything and let her take you home.

Frido walked you to Irene’s apartment and knocked on the door. When Irene opened the door, she was met with you standing beside the Scandi, smiling brightly with both your arms wrapped around one of Frido’s. “Nenita, you’re back,” Irene exclaimed.

“I hope she didn’t blow too much of your money, Fridolina,” Irene continued with a laugh, and Fridolina laughed as well, shaking her head. “Don’t worry, she’s learning the value of it.”

“Bye bye kärlek,” Frido said, wrapping you in a warm hug. You hugged her back tightly, saying goodbye and running inside while her and Irene said bye to each other. “Where’s Ale? I thought she was staying for the day,” you spoke, flopping onto the couch.

“The trophy walk, remember? She’s meeting Fridolina, Patri and Sandra at headquarters,” Irene explained.

“Why aren’t you with them?” you questioned, looking at her with a confused expression.

“Because we’re going together. Come on, get your ‘Movem El Món’ shirt and get in the car,” the Basque replied, shaking her car keys. You completely forgot about the trophy walk and you were kinda hoping Irene forgot about it as well so you wouldn’t have to go, but you trudged to your room and snatched up the shirt anyways.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your school either!” Irene yelled from the living room. That was another thing you wish she had forgotten but the one thing you know she’d never forget.

The trophy walk was pretty straightforward. Alexia thrusted the Champions League into your arms and made you parade down the street with the silverware, showing it off. You did enjoy it, but it wasn’t worth the ache in your shoulders.

Irene let you skip your classes, and she took you straight home. She could see the exhaustion in your eyes, and she didn’t want you to suffer the consequences of being tired and unable to wake up when Alexia came to pick you up the next morning.

You skipped dinner, instead beelining straight to your room. You felt like a zombie, but you liked that kind of tiredness — it made sleeping feel way better than usual. As soon as your head touched the pillow, you were sound asleep.

Irene even did your Hay Day login for you.

Alexia had been the one to ruin your sleep since Irene had opted to travel with Mariona and Sandra. She shook you gently and was very surprised when she didn’t have to bang pots and pans. “Nena, I made breakfast for you. Come out when you’re ready, vale?”

You nodded slowly and rolled over, pulling the duvet to your chin and sighing deeply. At that point you were fully awake, you just wanted to soak up the warmth of your sheets.

You sat up on your bed, rubbing your eyes. You looked directly at the poster of Vidić stuck on your wall, your eyes lingering on it for a moment longer than usual. You looked at the picture of him holding up the UCL, knowing you felt the same euphoria just a few days ago as you held the trophy for the same title, all because you managed to capture his essence and make it part of your play style. It was amazing what a notable inspiration could do for you.

You emerged out of your room and sat at the bench, resting your head in the palm of your hand as Alexia pushed a plate of strawberry-topped waffles towards you with a smoothie. “Our flight has been rescheduled. We have to be at the airport in a couple of hours, sí?”

You nodded once again, taking a bite of the waffles.

“By the way, both our matches are against Denmark,” she added, putting some waffles on a plate for herself. “What’re we versing Denmark for? I didn’t know they qualified for the Olympics,” you mumbled.

“They didn’t. It’s for the Euros,” Alexia laughed, pulling out a stool and sitting beside you. The Euros had totally slipped your mind.

“There’s so many tournaments going on, I can’t keep up!” you sighed, shaking your head.

“You’ve been playing too much Hay Day, it’s gotten to your head. Maybe give Bagheera Land a break until we come back to Barcelona,” the Spaniard joked with a gentle nudge to your side, and you smiled.

“Even though you’re playing for the national team and there’s a lot of important tournaments coming up…” Alexia started, pausing to chew her food. You looked at her curiously as you also chewed your food.

“…You’re allowed to make mistakes because you’re still young. All of us have been where you are right now, but none of us were as talented as you. Cree en ti misma, mi chica, y florecerás.”

You had made as many daring tackles as it took to lead your club to glory for the third time in a row and complete a historical quadruple. On top of that, you had partaken in defeating the club your team has never been able to beat in a final. Winning Olympic gold with a World Cup winning nation is nothing compared to that.

“Venga, let’s get our stuff together and call the taxi. The earlier we get there, the more time we have to wander the airport without rushing,” Alexia announced as you put the last bite of food into your mouth and sipped the remaining amount of your smoothie. She grabbed your plate and put it on top of hers, then walked over to the sink and quickly washed them.

You wheeled your suitcase out to the living room and put your other bags on top of it, waiting for Alexia to grab her backpack. When she swept it up from the couch, you pulled the handle of your suitcase up. “I’m ready!”

Alexia smiled at you and nodded towards the door, “Vamos, estrella.”

You couldn’t wait to get on the plane just so you could pull out your neck pillow and have the best nap of your life. You were constantly checking the time, counting down the minutes until the gate opened.

The original plan was for the whole national team to travel on one plane together, but somehow, all the Barça girls including yourself ended up on the team commercial plane. You preferred it, because you wanted to properly meet the team and not on a plane when all you want to do is sleep.

You settled into your seat and quickly grabbed your neck pillow. The airline gave you a complimentary regular pillow as well, which you hugged tight. By the time you opened your eyes and sat up with a yawn, looking out of the window with squinted eyes, you weren’t in Barcelona anymore.

You were approaching Denmark. As the plane descended and got closer to land, a mixture of nerves and excitement formed in your stomach.

The last time you felt so nervous, you won a Champions League title. You were scared but you did it anyways, and that’s what you’d have to do when meeting your teammates for the first time and then playing against Denmark with them.

Do it anyways.

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princessfbi · 2 days

Note

bucktommy + “come here”

Bucktommy

"Come here."

No matter how many times Tommy did it, Buck didn't think he'd ever get used to the slight thrill that rushed through him when Tommy's fingers tucked under his chin and lifted his head.

He just wished it was under different circumstances. The wide worry in the cobalt blue that Buck could've sworn were one eyelash bat away from sweeping him up like a hurricane turned icy and hard in an instant. Fury rippled through Tommy's expression as his movements turned stilted and uncompromising, shifting Buck's chin further up and to the side so he could get a better view of the bruises. The same bruises he'd been hoping to put off from showing his boyfriend for as long as possible.

But after three months of going slow before becoming official, there wasn't much Buck could hide from his boyfriend these days.

It was usually something he loved. Tommy made him feel seen in a way he didn't know he wanted to be seen until one night in his kitchen during quiet confessions and a similar instance of Tommy's fingers tucked under his chin.

Tommy wasn't kissing him then though. In fact, besides the firm weight of his fingers, he looked almost... devastated. Resigned.

"He did this to you?" It was a question even if Tommy didn't say it like it was. Buck pulled away from the prop of Tommy's fingers and ducked his chin down as he cut his eyes to the floor.

"It's not a big deal." He tried to step back so the lie wouldn't land on Tommy and stain him too. But Tommy's hands, his big beautiful hands, curled over his waist and pulled him back to him.

"Evan!" Tommy's eyes flashed with something Buck couldn't quite catch but that was probably because he was still too busy being starstruck by the way Tommy said his name.

He loved how Tommy said his name. Like it mattered. Like it was important. The only other people who ever managed to handle the weight of his name without the normal strain had been Maddie and Eddie and they had witnessed to all the ways life had added more pressure to the load.

Tommy said his name like it was effortless.

Still, Tommy sounded upset and that was the last thing he wanted to do so he shook his head and met his gaze again.

"It's really nothing. I should've been watching where the hose line was."

Tommy's brow arched and Buck could see he didn't believe him. "The hose line? Seriously?"

Buck leaned into Tommy's hold and settled his hands on his chest, rubbing up and down so Tommy knew that Buck was fine. Really. He was fine.

"I clipped my face on an open compartment door. Hen checked me out. Nothing's broken. I promise that I'm fine. It's just a little bruise. It's nothing I can't handle."

Anger flared in Tommy's expression again as his jaw ticked. "You shouldn't have to."

And no, he shouldn't. Buck should have been coming home from a shift where his muscles were sore but his heart and stomach were full from another shift in the greatest job he'd ever had where Bobby was his captain and they had family dinners that didn't feel like hostage situations.

But everything would get fixed. Bobby would figure how to get back to his team and they would be waiting for him. He had to believe that.

Buck thought about pretending like he didn't see exactly what had taken root in Tommy's worry. But Tommy wasn't the only one who could see things other's couldn't.

"Baby," Buck said as he cupped his cheek. "You got out."

"He's doing this to you because of me." Tommy bit out.

"He's doing this because we aren't scared of him." Buck corrected. "None of us are."

They'd all been practically daring Gerrard to suspend them. Hen had been the first to point out how it wouldn't be so easy to get rid of them now that the chief had made a media frenzy of their crew. Gerrard may have been in charge but they didn't bend like they used to under the sharp oppression of his command. They clashed into a bruising, straining stalemate that didn't have an end date anytime soon.

But the team would hold. It's what Bobby would've wanted.

That didn't mean Gerrard didn't make their life a living hell.

Tommy frowned as he let out a long breath from his nose, his hands coming up to circle Buck's wrists so he could kiss the bolt of his palms.

"Ice," Tommy said decisively. "You need ice so I can kiss you properly."

Buck grinned despite the pain that pulsed along his cheek where he was sure the purpling bruise looked worse than it was.

Gerrard could say or do whatever he wanted to Buck. It wouldn't change the fact that, at the end of the day, Buck had Tommy to come home to and could kiss wherever he wanted. And Buck would do whatever it took to keep Tommy away from the dark cloud that was his former boss. The same boss who made him so afraid to be seen that he'd hid for years.

Buck would take a million bruises to the face before he ever let that happen.

#evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #the ally and the beast #my fic writing #royal decree #buddie-buddie #prompt game

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justonemorebite · 3 days

Text

honey, you work too hard at the gym! i think you should start having a cheat day, once a week.

no exercise, no counting calories— then you can go back to your routine the next day, and it’ll be like nothing happened! doesn’t that sound nice?

hm? you think i ordered you too much fast food? you’re not supposed to count calories on your cheat day. i promise, a couple burgers and large fries and milkshakes won’t do anything.

don’t worry about anything, don’t think about anything. relax. i’ll take care of it.

you want mcdonald’s? but it’s monday, baby, it’s not your cheat day. no, no, it’s fine! just making sure that’s what you want.

besides, you’ve already worked out today. you’ve earned it, haven’t you? go get comfortable on the couch, and i’ll bring you your food.

in fact, why don’t you skip the gym tomorrow? you’ve worked so hard today, you should let those muscles rest. you know, i’ve heard that overworking yourself can actually ruin your progress.

this is what’s best for you. and i know what’s best for you, don’t i?

what’s wrong? oh, your workout clothes feel tight? hm, how strange! they must’ve shrunk in the wash. getting fat? don’t be ridiculous, honey, you’re just as fit as you’re always been.

you think i’m lying? why would i lie to you? sure, maybe you’ve gained some weight, but it’s all muscle! just trust me. you can trust me.

in fact, why are you trying on those clothes anyways? …you’re going to the gym? oh, about that…i cancelled your membership. it was pointless to keep it! you haven’t gone in months. it was just a waste of money.

of course you can renew it— but we’re already halfway into the month. why don’t we wait until next month, so you don’t have to pay full price for less time? you can just do home workouts until then, can’t you? it’s basically the same thing.

don’t give me that look. would i really lie to you?

honey, what have you done to yourself? have you looked in the mirror lately?

oh, of course, you don’t like to. then allow me to describe what i see: someone who was once a fit, muscular, active athlete; but has turned into an obese, pathetic, lazy hog.

god, you’re such a fatass now. i can’t believe how much weight you’ve gained, you’re barely recognizable.

ha! you want to blame me? point that stubby little sausage finger back at yourself, pig. i never forced you to binge on fast food nonstop. i never forced you to give up on your workouts. i never said you couldn’t renew your membership.

you wanted this— you want more of this. remember those shorts you whined about outgrowing? i bet you couldn’t even pull them up past your knees, now.

look at me. tell me you want to go back to the gym. tell me you want to give up fast food. tell me you’re ready to be active and healthy again. i won’t tell you that you can’t. i can delete doordash. throw out all the chips and cookies and junk food in the kitchen that you asked me to buy. you can redownload that calorie tracking app and start counting macros again. i can renew your gym membership. hell, i’ll even go with you. tell me that you want to change and go back to your old self.

that’s right. you can’t. you’re too far gone. it’s time you accept it.

now, go sit on the couch, turn that tv on and turn what’s left of your fried brain off. dinner was almost an hour— it’s time to eat again.

#ffa #feeding kink #female ffa #male feedism #feedee encouragement #feedee.#feedism.

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lucy90712 · 3 days

Note

heyy love your writing:>

Could you pls do clingy jude x fem!reader?

This season has been an incredibly long one so many games so many ups and downs but it has been a lot of fun. I have loved watching Jude blossom at Real Madrid and win trophies which he has very much deserved. The one big downside is that we haven't spent as much time as we would like together Jude is always away for games or at training and when he's not I'm at work and even now the domestic season is over the euros start in a few weeks so we are going to be apart again.

Just yesterday Jude was at the champions league final which I couldn't go and see in person and now in a few days time he has to head back to England to join the England team. When I went to bed Jude was still at Wembley but now that I've woken up he's asleep beside me so he must've made it home at some point during the night. His arm was loosely hung over my waist as he slept soundly. I wished we could stay like this forever but I have work and I'm sure Jude has celebrations to attend later with the team. As much as I should get up I can go without breakfast and use that time to just lay in bed with Jude for a few more minutes, out of habit my hands went to his hair playing with it which woke him up. Once he realised where he was he pulled me closer to him and just held me tightly which is really going to make getting up even harder.

"Good morning" he said in his morning voice which I love so much

"Morning and congratulations you played so well last night I'm so sad I couldn't be there" I said

"Thank you but don't worry I know you had work I'm just glad you're here right now" he said

"I wish we could spend more time together you've got to leave me again in a few days and then I won't see you until the euros have started" I said

"Do you have to go to work today?" He asked

"I'm afraid I do there's a few others off this week and we've got a lot to get done" I replied

That made Jude frown and hold onto me tighter. The time indicated that I should've got out of bed 10 minutes ago but I still don't want to leave and I don't think Jude will let me just yet. My routine is completely ruined but I don't really care as I love to soak up moments like this as they have been rare recently. As time went on Jude only held me tighter and started pressing kisses to my face and neck almost teasing me as he was yet to reach my lips but eventually he pulled me down to give me what I had been waiting for. I've missed Jude's kisses so much so I let him keep kissing me for a few more minutes before I pulled away and tried to get out of bed. Jude didn't let me get up I tried but he was just too strong for me to be able to break free.

"I have to go to work love" I said

"Do you really have to" he whined

"You know I do" I said

Jude didn't say anything else he simply just grabbed my phone from my bedside table and started looking for something which confused me until he put the phone to his ear. He had called my boss and phoned me in sick which had me laying there completely shocked. I never thought he'd do something like that just to spend time with me but I can't say I'm mad about it because I've missed him so much and I haven't had a day off in months. It didn't sink in for a few seconds that I really didn't have to go to work but when Jude put my phone down smiling I realised I could snuggle back into his arms for as long as I wanted to.

We stayed in bed for a while until we were both starting to get hungry but before we could eat I wanted to brush my teeth. Jude joined me in the bathroom to brush his teeth too but he didn't let go of me even for a second he even stood behind me with his arms around my waist as I washed my face and did my skincare. Once I was done he picked me up and put me over his shoulder and carried me down the stairs which I would complain about but he used to do it all the time when we got to see more of each other so I just enjoyed getting to be like we used to. He took me to the kitchen and put me down and just stared at me which to others might seem weird but I knew exactly what he was asking. He wanted to order breakfast and I wasn't going to say no as I didn't really want to cook.

I let him order whatever he thought I'd want as he usually gets it right then I suggested we make some fresh orange juice as for some reason we have a load of oranges that we definitely won't eat before they go bad. Jude got the juicer we have for whatever reason and I cut the oranges so they can go in the machine but I wasn't tall enough or strong enough to actually press the oranges into the juicer. I needed Jude to help me so he got the little step stool we have in the kitchen to help me reach things and put his hands on mine to help me push all the oranges through the juicer. We made a pretty good team and made a good amount at least enough for a glass for both of us which I poured while Jude answered the door as our food arrived.

We ate breakfast before sitting on the sofa where we stayed for pretty much the whole day just cuddling and catching up on the shows we like to watch together but have become quite behind on. Both of us are normally quite active people and hate to sit around all day but I loved spending all day just cuddling with Jude and that's how I know we've both missed each other's company. Thinking about the fact that I'm just a few days we will have to be apart again made me so sad. I didn't realise just how much I missed him and our days together until we actually got to be together and now I don't want him to leave again.

"Have you got work for the next few days?" Jude asked

"Yeah sadly I really wish I didn't but if I want time off the the euros I can't take any more they will fire me" I said

"You don't need this job if you want to work you can find another company to work for that is more flexible we never see each other as they always make you work overtime and extra days" Jude said

"I know but my coworkers will end up with so much more to do and then I'll feel awful" I said

"If that wasn't a factor would you prefer to stay or leave?" Jude asked

"I think I'd prefer to leave" I admitted

"Then do it spend the summer with me and then look for a new job once the season restarts" Jude said

"Are you sure I have some savings but not enough for a few months of not working" I said

"I'm completely sure I can afford everything and I'd much rather you be happy and I want to enjoy the summer with you" he said

"Then it's settled I'll hand in my notice later today and take the rest of my holiday to cover my notice period" I said

Jude didn't say anything else he just kissed me and held me tighter. This definitely feels right and I can't lie that I'm really happy and relieved that I can spend the whole off season with Jude and experience pre season and the euros with him properly.

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #football imagine

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hcsiqs · 2 days

Note

wait “bad idea right?” was cute 🥹🥹🥹 i need more kate x singer!reader! perhaps singer!reader moving her life to go live with kate in vegas? 🥹 please please pleek and thank you !

| we really were timeless

• pairing: kate martin x fem!reader

• summary: reader is on tiktok live showing her new home in las vegas and her fans get a glimpse into the life of her and kate.

• word count: 1.1k

• find part 1 here

“Heyy!” you waved into the camera with an unknown background behind you, that your fans had seemed to question as soon as they noticed the room. “No, I’m not in Iowa” you laughed, setting the camera down in the bedroom you and Kate shared. The bedroom was decorated with plants and books all along the room as well as small photos and polaroids the couple had taken of themselves as well as photos of their friends.

“I moved!” you said dramatically using your hands to show off the room behind you in all of its glorious adornments that you and Kate had managed to set up in the past few weeks. “I’m a Las Vegas girl now” you smiled, standing up from the bed, “What if I give a house tour? But, mind you we have barely had time to decorate anything, so it’s a little bare!” you giggled, holding the phone close to your face as you walked through the house. You moved your head out of view as you entered into the living room and lowered your voice to a whisper as you spoke to your blonde girlfriend, “I’m gonna do a little house tour, alright?”

“Wait, can I be like the tour guide?” Kate asked cheerfully as she looked up from her phone and put her full attention to you.

“Mhm” you nodded, biting your lip trying to hold back a smile. Kate then got off the couch and planted a soft kiss on your lips off camera. “Ok guys I have a special guest for y’all!” you smiled, hovering your finger over the flip camera button. “Kate!” you exclaimed, turning the camera around to proudly show off your girlfriend, who did a stupid little dance causing you both to fall into a fit of laughter.

they are my favorite couple ever

stop kate is so cuteee

“Ok, ok!” you laughed walking towards the front door.

“So, when you first enter the house we have this lovely bench where you can take your shoes off” Kate spoke displaying the area, before you turned the camera around to face yourself, “Because we don’t want no one’s nasty shoes on our floor,” you turned the camera back around to show a nodding Kate who was in agreement.

“Then straight off there is our living room!” the blonde announced, showing off the plush couch that sat in the middle. “This is y/n’s favorite part” Kate pointed down at the green rug on the floor. You just rolled your eyes behind the camera because the rug was fully Kate’s choice because she said it would be perfect for the house. “But yeah, not much in here yet beside the PS4, so I can play games, and the couch,” Kate shrugged.

“And if you come this way,” Kate used her hands to direct you and the camera to follow her, “our kitchen! I know it’s all white and bland at the moment but we’re working on it” she laughed showing the kitchen island and then walking over to the fridge and opening it, “Oh!” you both let out as the fridge revealed to only hold some take-out food from the night before and a thing of pink lemonade.

“We’re working on grocery shopping” you laughed from behind the camera.

“Yeah, we’re doordash feens” Kate responded, pointing her finger at you. She then closed the fridge and brought you over to the small table you two had bought the other day. “This is our newest addition,” the blonde smiled, showing off the table that had been set to look fancy.

The tall girl kept showing off the home until getting to a room she thought that you should take over and show off to the viewers on live. “Babe, you wanna show them?” Kate’s voice was in a whisper, but it could still be heard by viewers, which caused the comments to go crazy.

DID Y’ALL HEAR THAT???

UGH I NEED WHAT THEY HAVE

“Yeah” you nodded, handing the phone over to Kate and appearing in front of the camera for the first time since the start of the live. “Kate was so kind to let me use our spare room as a little music room!” you said with a smile never leaving your face, as you opened the door and revealed the soundproofing pads on the walls and the different music equipment showering the room.

“This is where all the magic happens,” you said, running your hand across the piano, allowing random notes to be played. “Guys! This right here is my most prized possession!” your face glowed as you pulled a guitar off the wall and showed it to the camera, “It was signed by the one and only Taylor Swift! I still can’t believe it” you shook your head slightly recounting the memory of when you had met her.

“Still jealous you met her and not me” Kate said behind the camera, clearly showing her jealousy.

“Maybe, I can pull some strings for you, hm?” you cocked your head to the side resting your hands on your hips. Your eyes caught a glimpse of Kate’s blue ones from behind the camera and you found yourself wanting to look into them forever, but you knew you needed to move on with the tour. “Anywho! Let’s continue!” you laughed dragging Kate out of the room to have her follow her.

After a couple more minutes of the tour and being on live you decided it was time to go, so that you could spend time with Kate before she had to head off to practice.

You two were sitting on the couch, your legs draping over Kate’s as a tv show played quietly on the tv. “I’m so happy you’re here with me” Kate dropped her head into the crook of your neck, as her hands found their way around your waist.

“I’m so happy to be here with you,” you giggled, feeling her breath on your neck that almost tickled. She then began to place small kisses on your neck and exposed collarbone, that sent a shiver down your spine. “Kate, you have to get to practice” you groaned.

“But, I wanna stay here with you” she whined, still leaving kisses on your shoulder.

“Come on, time to go,” you got off of Kate and held your hands out to pull her off the couch. Her hands reached up to yours and you pulled her off the couch. She placed a small kiss on your lips before walking over to get her keys.

“See you late, love you” she smiled, circling the keys on her finger.

“Love you too” you smiled back before she walked out the front door to head to Aces practice.

allie’s corner.

i hope you like this!! they’re so cutie

#iowa women’s basketball #kate martin #las vegas #las vegas aces #money martin #wnba #wnba basketball #kate martin x reader #kate martin fluff #kate martin fanfic #singer #fanfic #fiction #oneshot #iowa wbb #iowa news #university of iowa #lv aces

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amongemeraldclouds · 3 days

Text

so high school

you know how to ball, I know Aristotle

Mattheo Riddle x f!Reader (Modern AU)

Warning: fluff, no use of y/n

Author's note: I can't think of a good summary for this, but it's all about going on a motorcycle ride with Mattheo because he aced the test you tutored him for.

✿ Masterlist | TTPD Masterlist | 643 words

“Come on, pretty girl,” Mattheo said, handing you his spare helmet. You eyed it suspiciously, but held your hand out anyway, accepting it.

Your plan worked a little too well. Tutoring Mattheo was anything but easy, so to motivate him, you agreed he could get a reward each time he scored well on a test.

He said he would show you how to have fun. You smacked his arm and he promised he would be an honorable gentleman and keep things wholesome, unless you wanted more. To which you insisted, you did not.

Never mind the way your stomach fluttered when you were near him, or how your thoughts would get derailed when his arm brushed accidentally against yours. You knew better than to get involved with the resident troublemaker at your school.

You countered instead that fun looked like different things to different people. So if he showed you something he found fun, you’d also get to show him something you enjoyed. He shrugged his shoulders and agreed. Besides, if he got top marks in class, you’d receive a hefty bonus, which was more than enough of your savings goal for university.

That was how you found yourself rock climbing, racing cars, and now, your arms were tightly wrapped around his torso, hair flying in the wind, as he whisked you both away in his motorcycle.

After a while, you found yourself relaxing as you got used to the speed and found you enjoyed the rush as you cut through the air, cars and buildings blurring past you. There was something freeing about it and it certainly did not hurt to feel his toned body snug against yours.

You almost complained when he slowed down as you approached the beach. “So?” He asked, grinning as he took off his helmet. You were tempted to fix his helmet hair and run your fingers through his luscious locks, but held yourself back.

You couldn’t, however, stop yourself from mirroring his grin, adrenaline pumping through your veins. “Not bad, Riddle.”

He laid out a blanket he packed and you both settled in, listening to the waves, as the sun painted the sky a blend of red, orange, and yellow. You took a moment to breathe it all in, the salt air and the warmth of Mattheo beside you.

It was your turn to tell him all about the book you were reading about. You showed him how fun could also exist in far away realms with magic and dragons. How books were portals to these worlds where mysteries get solved and people find happy endings. Despite his initial eye roll weeks earlier, you found he was a great listener who seemed genuinely enthralled by your stories.

Little did you know it was because of you. Mattheo loved watching you come to life, the spark twinkling in your eye when you showed him something you thought was fun. You were a captivating storyteller. He could listen to you for hours and it would only feel like minutes. You always left him wanting more.

Your eyes could rival the sun and he wanted to kiss you then and there, but stopped himself. He watched your feelings bloom slowly with the way you had to pause when his arm ‘accidentally’ brushed yours. How you always seemed to have his favorite pack of candy around and you always leaned into him when you laughed.

He loved your laugh, and everything else about you. He was going to wait until your feelings grew to the point where you could no longer deny them. Then he would be honest. It had been a few weeks since he fell for you with the exact same approach he took with everything else in his life - fully and unapologetically.

When it was your turn to fall, he was ready to be a safe place to land.

✿ Masterlist | TTPD Masterlist

A/N: This is one of the least literal interpretation out of all my TTPD fics so far, but the song ‘So High School’ is just PERFECT for this vibe.

#mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle x you #matheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #slytherin boys #amongemeraldclouds fluff #amongemeraldcloudswrites #matt riddle #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you

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vivwritesfics · 18 hours

Text

Hungry Like The Wolf

Chapter Nine

She hadn't seen her best friend, Lando, in years. She didn't run into him the last time she was visiting her father and she doubted she'd see him this time. Things were different now. She wasn't aware of his furry little problem. Just like she wasn't aware of the vampires plaguing the town.

1.4K

Vampire!Oscar x Reader x Werewolf!Lando

Series Masterlist

Feel free to buy me a coffee ☕☕

She stood in front of her mirror, checking her reflection over one last time. She looked perfect, but she couldn't stop herself from finding faults.

But there was no time to change into something different. Something hit her window and she rushed to open it and stick her hand out.

There was Lando, his suit just slightly too small, revealing his ankles and wrists. Okay, maybe he was a little bit overdressed. "I can't climb up!" He shouted, gesturing to his suit.

From behind her, her phone buzzed. She held her finger up to Lando as she checked the incoming messages. "Go round to the front! He's here," she called and pulled the window shut.

Slipping her phone into her little black purse, she left her bedroom.

"Where are you going?" Her father asked from the bottom of the stairs as she made her way down them.

"Out with Oscar," she said quickly. Maybe a little too quickly. Swallowing, she waited for her father to reply.

But he didn't have to. Susie grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the way. "Let her go and have some fun," she said as she pulled Toto away from the door. Her eyes sparkled as he step daughter walked forward, walked out of the door.

She strode towards Oscars car, looking for any sign of Lando. But Lando was nowhere to be seen. Frowning, she pulled open the passenger side door and slipped into the seat beside Oscar.

"Hey," he said, hand immediately settling on her leg.

She smiled at him. "Hey, Osc," she replied and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "Where is Lando?"

Oscar put the handbrake down and began to drive away from the house. "Oh, he's around here somewhere."

Suddenly, from the back seat, Lando sat up. "Holy fuck!" She cried when she looked in the mirror to see him sitting there, in the middle seat. Turning in her seat, she smacked his knee a few times. But, to Lando, it felt like a fly landing on his skin. "That was so fucking scary, you ass!"

Both of the boys grinned through their laughs, revealing pointed teeth. But Oscar's were sharper, definitely more deadly.

The three of them didn't know what to speak about on the drive to the restaurant. A restaurant on the vampire side of town.

The vampire side of town was a lot more tolerant than the werewolf side of town. If Oscar was to try and get a meal on the werewolf side of town, he would have found himself as the meal for a pissed off werewolf. But the restaurant on the vampire side of town (which Oscar had called up before he started getting ready for the date) had food for all three of them.

He parked out front and rushed to open the door for her as well. "Thank you, Osc," she said, wearing a grin as he helped her to step out.

Lando climbed out of the car after them. He offered her his arm and, suddenly, she had no idea what to do.

She held her bag as she followed Oscar into the restaurant, Lando bringing up the rear. A waiter showed them to their table and the three of them sat down, immediately ordering drinks.

"So," she began as the waiter walked away from the table. "What do we do from here?"

Lando looked at Oscar. It was something he'd been wondering, too. He'd wanted to do what came naturally, but what came naturally to him wasn't what came naturally to them.

Oscar grabbed his hand on the top of the table. He reached across and grabbed her hand as well. "We set boundaries. We learn things about each other and we find out what we're comfortable with." He squeezed both of their hands in tandem.

They could do this. And the dinner they had just proved it.

It surprised Lando, just how easy it was for him to split his attention between the two of them. He didn't find himself paying special attention to one over the other. There was no conversation where two of them were leaving the remaining one out.

She and Lando could share food, but Oscar couldn't be a part of it. He didn't feel jealous when she scooped some food from her plate and fed it to Lando. No, if he joined in he would have been throwing up everywhere.

As soon as they'd eaten, the three of them stood. This time she offered Lando her arm, and he offered his to Oscar. They walked out like that, arm in arm (until they got to the door, where they were forced to let go of each other).

"Can I drive?" Asked Lando as they approached the car.

Oscar just pushed him into the back. She got into the passenger side and Oscar was the one to drive them away. "Where to next?" She asked, turning towards the two of them.

Oscar glanced at Lando in the rear view mirror. "I don't think we should go back to either of ours," he said honestly.

Suddenly, Lando met her eyes, a smirk crossing his face. "Treehouse?" He questioned, eyebrows raising and face full of mischief.

"What's the tree house?"

She sucked in a breath, her own grin dancing across her features. "When we were kids, our dads built us a tree house out in the woods. Somehow, it's still standing," she answered, and turned her attention back to Lando. "You really want me to climb up the ladder in my dress?"

"I don't mind," he answered and winked.

"Neither do I," Oscar said quickly.

She looked at them and folded her arms over her chest as sat back in her seat. "I'm sure you guys don't," she muttered, but she was smiling the entire time.

She and Oscar hadn't done anything yet. They'd kissed and she'd climbed into his lap, but they hadn't gone any further than that. But still, the idea of them watching her as she climbed the ladder had her suppressing her shiver.

Oscar parked up just up the road from her house. The three of them climbed out of the car and Lando began leading the way through the woods. He kept his hand outstretched behind him, as if it would help to guide them.

Holding Oscar with one hand, she grabbed Lando's to let him pull her through the woods. He and Oscar could see better than she could, Oscar's hands settling on her waist when she stumbled.

And, finally, they made it to the three house. "After you," Lando said to her, holding the ladder still.

She stuck her tongue out at him and began climbing up the ladder. The boys watched, Lando unashamed as he looked up her skirt and Oscar trying to look anywhere but. It wasn't as easy as that, though. He couldn't help it, breath hitching when he saw her pretty, lacy underwear.

Oscar climbed up next, followed by Lando. The two of them climbed up into the tree house, Oscar coming to sit beside her and Lando immediately crawling to the beers left in there from the last time he'd been in there with her.

Both boys knew it wouldn't get them drunk. Well, it wouldn't get Lando drunk, and it would take double the amount they had to get him pissed. Still, all three of them cracked their drinks open and began sipping.

They talked, but the talking didn't last very long. No, soon her beer was discarded to the side and she was crawling into Oscars lap. Her mouth was on his immediately, arms around his neck as Oscar pulled her closer.

Lando just watched. He sipped his drink, watching, until Oscar's eyes met his.

He crawled over after that. His lips touched her neck and a gasp left her lips, one that Oscar swallowed down. And then she started kissing down Oscar's pretty, pale neck. The kisses were soft and gentle, until her teeth grazed his skin and he chuckled.

Lando was kissing him suddenly. Leaning over her shoulder he kissed Oscar, caging her between their bodies. Oscar lifted one hand from her hip to run it through Lando's curls. He dragged his pointed teeth over Lando's bottom lip and the werewolf let out a throaty whine.

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Series taglist (CLOSED): @cmleitora

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a-dogboys-sweet-lovers · 3 days

Note

neuvie cuddles? fem!reader pls :)

Whoops, I got carried away and this is a bit long! (?) Anyways, general tags: sfw - cuddles - f!reader - established relationship - Neuv is being a workaholic again - Neuv calls reader "princess" and "love" - half dragon form Neuv (I am but a weak man)

It's nearing midnight; you've been quietly reading a book alongside your perpetually-busy Iudex, who, predictably, is still working on reviewing some cases. You frown slightly: immortal primordial being or not, Neuvillette, too, needs a rest. Unfortunately, there aren't many people that he would listen to regarding this matter; fortunately, you, being his lover and confidante, are one of them. Still, you decide to choose an indirect approach.

-Neuvilette, love? - you call out quietly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He leans into your touch much like a cat, rubbing his cheek on your hand.

-What is it that my princess desires?

This is where you put on a bit of a show.

-I'm feeling so lonely... I know you're right here, but you're so busy all the time!

It's not entirely untrue; while you enjoy just exsisting alongside Neuvilette, quietly going around your day even if you two don't interact, you do miss the rare occasions when his attention is entirely on you and you only. Besides, he does need a rest, and as do you.

Neuvilette makes an apologetic face.

-I'm sorry, love, I know I've been paying less attention to you lately... What do you want us to do?

-May we cuddle for a while?

He plants a kiss on your hand and gets up, suddenly lifting you up into a princess carry, smiling slightly. You giggle, not quite expecting him to have done that. His rather impressive height and inhuman strength mean you practically weigh nothing to him, and he does carry you around a lot because of that, but somehow he still manages to surprise you every time he does.

-Do you want us to lay down, or...?

-Yes! To the bedroom, please, - you ask him in a mock-commanding tone, pointing towards your shared bedroom in a spoiled princess impression. That makes him smile wider. He carefully maneuvres you around all the doorframes and finally places you gently onto the big, soft canopy bed, taking time to shed some outer layers of his complicated outfit to enter a more relaxed state. Meanwhile, you fluff the pillows, making some sorts of a nest for you two. With an exhausted, but still somewhat content sigh Neuvilette plops onto the bed next to you and immediately throws his arms around you. In this position his head is on your chest, and you really want to pet him like an oversized affectionate cat. When you give in to your desires, you hear a purr - right. Dragons, it turns out, purr. Because Neuvilette sure wasn't perfect before. You smile, looking at your adorable lover, who under your hands on his scalp has relaxed into a semi-conscious state... Oh, wait, what's -

You feel something slithering against your leg, waiting to circle it. It feels strange,and at first you get startled - but then you realize: Neuvilette's tail. Your lover became so deeply relaxed in your presence, his human form shifted into a more natural semi-draconic form. And his tail wants cuddles, too. You giggle quietly, planting a kiss on top of your lover's head; your legs become entangled with Neuvilette's tail, and, fast asleep, he mumbles something resembling "my love", before his body goes completely slack against yours.

Well, you definitely don't mind cuddling him throughout the night, then.

#genshin x reader #romantic #neuvillette × reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #jen's barkings// own writing #requests

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arcane-apathy · 2 days

Text

Chapter 11

Prologue | Previous | Next

AN: Firstly I'd like to apologize for teasing y'all in April. However family and my mental health always come first. Turns out that planning a funeral, attending said funeral, and grieving one of the most influential people in your life sucks. Again thank you all for your patience and support. And I hope you'll enjoy it! 🌻

Warning(s): Self Mutilation, Blood Ritual

The morning came too quickly. For once you weren’t the first awake, as Kurakh shook your shoulder. “Come on Odmili, it's morning.” You groan in protest but still sit up, knowing well enough you asked for it. The fire was barely lit, meaning Kurakh mustn't have been awake long. As if he read your mind, “I still have the sand in my eyes.”

“Would you like me to tend to the fire?”

“If you feel so inclined,” he yawns while slowly standing up. You follow behind him, quickly slipping on your boots to protect your feet from the cold stone floor. Fabric rustles behind you as you feed a new log to the fire. The flames were now high and illuminating the small room well. You quickly glance over your shoulder to make sure Kurakh was decent enough for you to tolerate. With a sigh of relief, you turn around. "I don't know how you can function in this cold."

"Years of training," you chuckle while pulling your stay over your shoulders. You didn't even bother to look while you re-laced the front, muscle memory taking over. "Besides, this isn't the worst of it. Wait until the snow is above your knees."

"Only when you say things like that, I regret coming north," he sighs and slips on a furred vest over his tunic.

“I doubt that is true,” eyes rolling at his antics.

“I speak this truth. I have yet to lose a warrior, Moltschab’s horde is too scared to travel this far north, I have gained allies… And I met you.”

You pause in the middle of tying the final knot, fighting to ignore the fluttering of your heart, "that is the most saccharine thing I've ever heard you say." Surprisingly you were met with silence, making you pivot on your heel. Kurakh's confusion was written all over his face. Again the fact that the two of you come from completely different worlds dawned on you. "Saccharine means something is very sweet," you explain while stepping into your habit.

"Oh, I couldn't tell if it was good or bad," he chuckles a little and stands. Retrieving his cloak from a hook on the wall. "If Mazna asks, please tell him I'm out hunting."

"Of course, he should still be asleep, right?"

"Yes, and hopefully for a few more hours. For Roldza's sake."

"Indeed, bless that woman," you smile and begin to re-lace the habit. "Should I assume it shouldn't take long, considering our numbers have grown?" Your smile quickly disappears as a knot forms in the laces.

"Correct," he smirks and approaches you. He gently moves your hair aside, breath fanning across your neck. "You said our numbers."

"Yes, and," you counter while a blush starts to make its way up your neck.

"You're no longer considering yourself an outsider," he carefully takes the laces and undoes the knot. His fingers gently graze along your back as he finishes lacing the habit for you. "That is good."

"Oh... And you don't have to do this for me. I can lace this thing in my sleep."

"I know," his voice didn't give room to argue.

"Then why are you insisting on doing it?"

"Why must you be suspicious of everything I do?"

"Well, we didn't start on the right foot."

"Fair point," he lightly tugs on the laces to signal he's finished. "Would you like me to tuck the laces?" You only nod, trying not to tense up as he tucks the laces into the habit. Kurakh's hand finds its way to your hair and moves it back to how it normally lays. "There. Save for that blasted headcover you look like a proper Maid of Eia."

It felt like you could finally breathe as you stepped away from him, "I'm also missing the pin... But that's the last of my worries right now."

"I'll be fine."

You smack him in the chest playfully, "and what made you so sure I was talking about you? I'm more concerned about Schelura cutting my hair!"

"Right," he smirks, "don't worry, you'll be in good hands. Schelura's family has been hairdressing for generations."

"I thought she was a beadmaster?"

"Most beadmasters are also hairdressers. The work goes hand-in-hand." He hovers in the middle of the room, contemplation written all over his face. "I suppose I should go to the main hall."

"I believe so, Otoschlibt. I'll be right behind you, I just need to fix my stockings." He nods and slowly walks to the door. Taking a deep breath before he opens it, bracing for the cold air of the hallway. "The faster you do it the sooner it'll be over with," you tease. With a quiet laugh, he opens the door and enters the hallway. You watch as he goes, kindly closing the door behind him so you can have more time to savor the warmth.

It didn't take long for you to deem yourself fully dressed. With your cloak fastened you step into the hall. The cool air hitting your face, properly waking you up. The halls were lowly lit with glimmerstone, and eerily silent. As you stepped into the main hall it almost felt like a different world. Warriors bustle about as they prepare. The sound of blades on whetstones surrounded you as you made your way to the center of the room. Kurakh and the commanders surround a table covered by a makeshift map.

Eteos seemed to be the mastermind of the attack, effortlessly explaining as he pointed to the map. No one seemed to pay attention as you sidled up to Kurakh. “We will attack from all sides. Dogar and I will lead the larger group attacking from the south. Kalos will lead the western group and Aren will lead the eastern. Kurah and Galta will lead the northern group to capture the lieutenant and the maid.”

I lean in closer to Kurakh, trying to keep quiet, “the maid I understand, but the Lieutenant? Have you gone mad?”

“We need leverage, and Eteos says the winter will work in our favor by slowing rescue efforts.”

“It could also lead to our slaughter.”

“The council has already voted,” the finality of his tone kept your mouth shut. You could see a hint of doubt in his eye as he refocused. His fingers tapped on the table absentmindedly. Usually, Kurakh was able to keep still, but within the last week, you’ve caught him fidgeting more than usual. Hopefully, it was only his secret project he was worried about.

“Alright everyone, ready your weapons. We must leave before dawn,” Eteos calls to the crowd. Kurakh gently moves you away from the table as he also leaves.

“I'm unsure what we should do for the new Maid, should she stay with us?”

“I don't see why not, but it depends on who she is. It's usually the newly ordained Maids that get drafted.”

“Except you?”

“There might be some marks on my record.”

Kurakh laughs, “So I'm not the only one who's dealt with your attitude?”

“The Elders didn't appreciate the fire in my eyes like you have,” you scoff as you follow him outside. The wargs were already lined up waiting for their riders. Sukkori wags her tail at the sight of you and Kurakh. “With all seriousness, please try to be gentle with this Maid. She is likely not even twenty years old.”

“I'll make sure of it,” Kurakh mounts Sukkori swiftly. “I’ll task Galta with her care. She’s the gentlest option.”

“Gentle is not a word I would use to describe Galta, but it is the better option.”

Galta scoffs from a few steps away, “I heard that!” Even with the lack of sunlight, you could make out the warpaint on both of their faces. The dark red paint dripped from their foreheads and onto their cheeks. While the design was simple it got the point across.

“You’re lucky we don’t have any more to say Galta,” Kurakh laughs before returning his attention to you. “We’ll be careful.” The rest of the warriors make their way towards the gate around the two of you. “I must go.”

You grab his hand, causing Kurakh's breath to catch in his throat, “come back in one piece.”

He brings the back of your hand to his lips, “I promise.” He gently squeezes your hand before joining the group as they speed past the gate. Save for the guard closing the gate you stood alone in the yard. And you stood there until you could no longer hear the centaur’s hooves hitting the frosty ground. Once you made yourself go back inside you began to mentally scold yourself over your lovesick antics. With your mind so distracted you didn’t notice someone walk into the main hall behind you as you set up your triage.

“Didn’t want to go back to sleep I see,” a soft voice startles you from your work. When you looked up there was an Elven woman merely a foot away. Of course, you didn’t hear her coming.

“There was no point, I would’ve just laid awake with worry.”

“I’m the same way when my brother goes out on those missions. I’m Artenna,” she extends her hand. You first noticed the delicate and glowing tattoos that littered her pale hands. It was difficult to pull your eyes away from the faint pink light as you shook her hand. “Sorry, I probably should have given you a warning.”

“You’re a hypnotist?”

“Yes, I promise I’m not as scary as the King makes us sound.”

“It’s not that, I’ve never met a hypnotist before. It’s a niche field of magic, even before the decree.”

Artenna shrugs, “it depends on where you are. My mother also said it used to be more common when she was a child. Can I help you with anything?”

You glance around to see if there is anything left to do, “not at the moment. I already sped through everything I could do. Unless you wouldn't mind keeping me company until they return?”

“It would be my pleasure,” she smiles and sits on a bench across from you. Thankfully Artenna proved to be pleasant company as you exchanged stories, jokes, and camp gossip. After some time passes you both venture outside. The sun was finally over the horizon, signaling for you to continue preparations, and for the rest of the camp to rise. Artenna helps you break the ice and carry water from the well. The luxury will only last a few more weeks until the ice is too thick to break. Then the camp will have to rely on melting snow.

With the last bucket you were willing to carry in hand, the sound of hooves began to echo through the valley. It was urging you to hurry back into the main hall. Setting the bucket beside your tools, hoping no one else will try to use it. As much as you didn’t want to be scolded by Schelura, you quickly shove your hair into your linen cap. Infections are always worse to treat in the winter.

You didn’t know what you expected when the warriors returned, but it wasn’t the Lieutenant being carried in by Kurakh. “What happened?” Kurakh quickly sets him on a table before you.

“He poisoned himself, and we don’t know what he used,” Kurakh grumbles. Galta quickly approaches beside you, with a vaguely familiar shadow cloaked in blue. “Their Maid also doesn’t know what he could’ve taken. The officers are cowar-”

“It’s new, all high-ranking officers are supposed to take it if they get captured,” a meager voice interrupts.

“What is your name,” you glance at her as you roll up your sleeves. Her fair skin was red from the wind and her deep blue eyes were wide in shock.

“Yulla.”

“Cut off his armor and enough of his shirt so I can access his neck,” you reach for your satchel with determination. “Kurakh we’re going to need charcoal, and more wood added to the main fire.” He thankfully didn’t question you and made haste. It didn’t take you long to find your most treasured tools. A tiny iridescent blade that was easily the size of your hand, and almost as thin as your fingers. And a cast iron press of Eia’s true sigil. You carefully set it on the table before searching for other ingredients and bandages.

Yulla sees it and immediately stops in her tracks, “is that a Kisarvuhevstabler?”

“Yes, is he ready,” you didn’t even look up as Kurakh returned with a small bowl of charcoal. Muscle memory takes over as you begin to mix your ingredients in a brass bowl decorated with ancient runes. Before Kurakh gets comfy you push the cast iron press towards him, “this goes in the fire. Long handle facing out obviously.”

Before Kurakh could take it, Yulla attempted to smack his hand away, “Elder, are you insane?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Blood magic is forbidden!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “it’s only been forbidden for the past six years. While Maids of Eia have used this magic for centuries. I’m not throwing centuries of tradition down the drain, simply because our King gets nauseous at the thought of it. Now you are going to watch and learn a technique that can no longer be taught in the temples, or Commander Galta can find you something else to do. He doesn't have much time left.” Yulla doesn’t respond or leave, conflict written all over her face. You spare a glance at Galta who looked as equally concerned as Yulla. “Galta we’re going to need a bucket that we’re not afraid to get dirty.”

When Galta steps away from the table, Yanna takes the opportunity to stand beside you. You place the bowl on the table, “the potion is made with crushed unicorn horn, charcoal, and stinging nettle. I’ll tell you the exact amounts later.” With a deep breath, you pick up the blade and remove it from its sheath. “It doesn't have to be a Kisarvuhevstabler for the spell to work. They are more a sign of status, to show you know the magic.”

You take a second to examine the disheveled Lieutenant laid before you. His skin was paling, a mysterious gray forming around the mouth. And his veins looked as if his blood turned black. His breathing was ragged, but strong enough to tell he was alive. It appeared as if he wasn’t able to finish the full dose of the poison considering he survived the journey from the battlefield. By now a crowd has formed around the table, and you try your best to ignore them. The sound of an empty bucket hitting the floor signaled it was time to begin.

With the iridescent blade in your right hand, you turn to Yulla, “I will need you to turn him towards me when I give him the potion. But first, the bucket should be closer to where he will vomit when he is turned.”

“Understood,” she quickly moves the bucket before getting into position. You take a second to scan the crowd, surprisingly unable to find Kurakh anywhere. With a deep breath, you move the blade closer to your left wrist.

The blade pierces your skin, immediately stinging. In the ancient tongue, you pray, “Noble Eia, hear my prayer as I spill my blood as a testament of my conviction to thy doctrine.” As you drag the blade up your arm diagonally, blood pools atop your skin. As soon as the first drop hits the bowl the runes carved inside begin to glow. “Hear my prayer so I may rid this soul's vessel of poison. Hear my prayer so I may heal in thy name.” The pain finally catches up to you, causing the blade to fall on the table.

You steady yourself by leaning on the table, “hear my prayer so this blood is not wasted.” You force yourself to push through the pain, picking up the blade and using it to stir your blood and the ingredients together. The room was silent around you, and every eye was focused on you. You gently lift the bowl to the Lieutenant’s lips, coaxing him to swallow the potion. Once the bowl was empty Yulla tilted him towards you. Luckily for him, it didn’t take long for the potion to work.

The visible darkness in his veins crept up his chest and into his neck as the spell expelled the poison from his body. It was almost like tiny black snakes were writhing in his veins. At this point, you knew he would be saved, and now it was time to save yourself. Weakly you raise your left arm, keeping your wound above your heart, and turn towards the main firepit. The crowd quickly parts for you as you step away from the table. No one said a word to you, mostly staring at you in disbelief. With the silence, it was easy to hear the Lieutenant retch the poison into the bucket.

It was a struggle to move your body through the pain and blood loss. But you've done this before. As you neared the fire it felt like the world around you was spinning. Within the blink of an eye, you were on the floor. Crawling instead of walking to the fire. Many voices were shouting your name. But nothing could shake you from this trance. And none of them could save you from this, there was only one with that power. And you couldn’t help but mutter apologies in the ancient tongue, hoping for a sliver of mercy.

The world around you was slipping away, and all you could see was the hot iron in the coals. It felt like someone was kneeling beside you, trying to talk to you but there wasn’t much time to listen. You grab the handle of the hot iron, determined to prove yourself. With no hesitation, you laid the flat end decorated with sigils and runes onto your wound. The scream that escaped you would be considered unholy by some, but to the clergy, it was one of obedience and understanding. The pain was blinding, no matter how many times you've done it. Perhaps that was the point. The iron was lifted from your arm, most likely not by you. And despite how much you fought it, the void consumed you.

#m orc x f reader #tpow series #the prize of war #original content #male orc x female reader #fantasy #high fantasy #orc x reader #exophilia #tpow

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iamred-iamyellow · 3 days

Text

Good Luck, Babe!

♥ part 1 / chapter 1

♥ pairing: oscar piastri/carlos sainz jr

♥ ballet au - enemies to lovers

♥ @liamlawsonlesbian

♥ PLEASE READ THIS AUTHORS NOTE (none of the pictures are mine)

♥ ao3 link

♥ warning: this fic has swearing and uses some ballet terminology

♥ I’m finishing the folklore series I SWEAR I just really wanted to start this as well lol

♥ masterlist

No one has ever gotten under Oscar’s skin the way that Carlos does. Since the beginning of time there’s been competitiveness in ballet, but as two of the very few men at their company, their rivalry became a little more personal.

Carlos took his spot at the barre, a few people lunging out of his way. He practiced a few relevé’s to get his feet moving until he heard a group of girls whispering.

“He talks so much shit about Carlos…” one of them said as he reached down and fixed the elastic on his ballet flats.

“I guess Oscar really does hate him.” another mumbled with a shrug.

“You can tell him it’s mutual.” Carlos pipes up, staring at them directly.

The group quiets down, turning away from the man and pretending to stretch.

“Who are we waiting on?” Toto, their instructor said, strutting into the room.

A few people mumbled Oscar’s name in response. Everyone knew it was a dangerous game pissing off Toto. He never forgave tardiness.

Oscar showed up a few minutes late, sneaking through the crack in the door with his head ducked. Toto had his back turned to the class, adjusting the speaker.

“Piastri,” he said, turning around. Oscar dropped his bag and lightly placed his hand on the barre beside him.

“You’re late.” Toto crossed his arms.

“I suppose I am,” Oscar smiled and a few girls around him giggled.

“Get out of my class.” Toto nodded towards the door.

“Sorry?” he questioned.

“You heard me. Out. Late students do not dance.”

“You’re joking,” Oscar grabbed the barre tightly. “I’m the leading man, you can’t practice this dance without me.”

“Carlos will take your place today,” Toto stated. Carlos met Oscar’s eyes, smirking at him deviously. This did nothing but inflate Carlos’ ego.

“This is a fucking joke,” Oscar mumbled, grabbing his bag.

“Watch your mouth before I replace you completely.”

“Let that be a lesson to all of you.” Toto sighed, watching Oscar leave the class. “We’re going to start with some simple grande plié’s, tendu’s, and penché's. Then the girls will put on their pointe shoes, we'll do a few across the floor combos, and then work on the pas de deux. Carlos, thank you for filling in today.”

Carlos nodded in response.

“Looks like Oscar fucked around and found out.” A girl in the class whispered, eliciting a few laughs.

Oscar was first in class the next day, stealing Carlos’ sacred barre spot. It was ballet etiquette to let the older and more experienced dancers take their position first. A couple of people eyed him while he warmed up. Carlos arrived just a few minutes before class started as always and immediately noticed the man in his place. He took the spot behind Oscar and whispered:

“You’re petty.”

“You took something of mine, now I take something of yours.” he referred to the incident yesterday.

“Still mad that you showed up late? That was your own fault.”

Oscar rolled his eyes.

Toto entered the room, a group of women following behind him. The last person through the door was Susie Wolff, prima ballerina. The girls sat on the floor with their pointé shoes, hitting them on the floor to bang the noise out of them. No one wanted to have them clomping around the stage during their graceful variations.

“Abbi and Oscar, you’re up.” Susie said, gesturing for them to come to the center of the room. Oscar snuck a few glances at Carlos as the other dancers watched from the sidelines. Everyone stood with a complete poker-face, watching intensely for a misstep that never came. At the end of their performance all the students clapped and stared blankly.

"Abbi that was truly amazing." Susie praised her. "Try to get your leg a little bit higher during your développé's and I think it will be perfect."

Oscar was too busy watching Carlos to hear Toto’s critiques. “Piastri, are you with us?”

“Huh?” he snapped out of his stare. “Yea, yes I am, sorry.”

Toto sighed, “Alright, you two go stretch while Amna practices her solo.” As they made room for her, Oscar could hear his phone buzzing in his back. This caught the attention of both him and Carlos. He snuck over to it pretending to get water, hoping his instructors were too preoccupied watching Amna to notice. He checked the notification on his phone reading:

Lando

party tonight @ Charles’ be there at 10

Oscar

sounds good i'll be there

“Too bored to be paying attention to your fellow dancers?” Carlos asked.

Oscar flinched, not expecting a voice to come from behind him. He quickly shut off his phone and hid it in a pocket.

“I just had to check something,” Oscar muttered.

“Well, try to stay off your phone before you get in trouble again.”

Another hour passed and class ended.

Oscar

Is there anyone at your company you just despise?

Lando

no…?

Oscar

no one, really?

Lando

should I? lol my company is contemp, jazz, and hip hop so the vibes are pretty good over here 🤷‍♂️

Oscar pushed himself through the crowded party, spotting Lando and Charles laughing and drinking.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he muttered, noticing another person with them. It was Carlos.

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kybercrystals94 · 14 hours

Text

Neon Warfare

Read here on Ao3!

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 | Week 1 | Main Prompt: Water Gun Fight | Alt. Prompt: "It's not what it looks like."

Rated: G | Words: 3109 | Summary: Wrecker buys two little water guns. What's the worst that could happen?

“Hey, look at this?”

“How much do you think something like that costs?”

“They call that art? I’ve blown up things that ended up looking nicer than that!”

“If we could get one of those, would you want red or blue? I know red is part of our colors, but blue is nice.”

Crosshair tries to ignore Wrecker’s incessant commentary as they cut through a district of novelty shops. Keeping Wrecker on task during slow paced missions is like herding wild tookas: impossible and incredibly annoying.

“We’re not here to sightsee,” Crosshair finally snaps. “Are you even watching for our contact?”

“I thought you were watching,” Wrecker says, “I’m just backup.”

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “So help me…”

Wrecker gasps, and Crosshair turns to see what has distracted his brother now. Small, neon colored, plastic pistols. “What are these?” Wrecker asks the shopkeep.

“Water guns,” the man says.

“What do they do?” Wrecker asks before Crosshair can haul him away.

The man looks unimpressed with the question. “Shoot water.”

“They’re so tiny,” Wrecker croons. “You just fill ‘em with water? Simple as that?”

“Simple as that.”

“Wrecker, come on,” Crosshair growls.

“They’re on sale, two for a credit,” the man says.

“Sold!” Wrecker whips a credit out of nowhere, drops it in the vendor’s waiting hand, and snatches up a green and a pink pistol from the basket.

It takes every shred of patience for Crosshair to keep his mouth shut until they move away from the cart. “Put your toys away, we’re busy,” he hisses.

“We’re always busy,” Wrecker says, ignoring him as he fiddles with the tiny orange stopper at the top of the pink pistol. Once he dislodges it, he hands the green pistol to Crosshair. “Hold this.”

“I’m not holding your toys!” Crosshair cries, taking the pistol anyway.

Wrecker gets out his canteen and tries to delicately dribble a stream of water into the hole at the top of the gun. Most of the water ends up in a puddle on the ground.

“I’m not sharing my canteen with you when you’re thirsty later,” Crosshair mutters.

Wrecker either doesn’t hear him or doesn’t care. “There!” he says, triumphantly, poking the stopper back into place. Before Crosshair can react, Wrecker points the gun at Crosshair and pulls the trigger. A spurt of water splatters harmlessly across Crosshair’s visor.

He’s annoyed nonetheless. “Ugh! Grow up, Wrecker!”

“Here,” Wrecker says, unperturbed, reaching for the green pistol, “let’s fill yours up.”

“It’s not mine!” Crosshair says, thrusting it into Wrecker’s hand.

“Sure it is! I bought it for you.”

“I don’t want it.”

Wrecker’s shoulders slump. “Aw, c’mon, Cross. You’re no fun.”

“We’re not here to have fun. We’re here on a mission. Now, put your kriffing toys away.”

Crosshair starts walking, and hears Wrecker start trundling along behind him. And then he feels it. Something wet on the back of his neck.

“Ha! That was a good shot!”

Crosshair sighs. This is going to be a long patrol.

Surprisingly, Wrecker seems to lose interest in the water guns the moment they come within sight of the Marauder. He shoves them in one of his pockets and goes about his chores without a word about his newfound toys that he’d been harassing Crosshair with nonstop.

Crosshair isn’t complaining. Maybe the stupid water guns will be forgotten, lost in a crate somewhere…or found by a certain sniper and shot out the airlock while in deep space.

However, Crosshair’s hopes are dashed when he opens his firepuncher case the next cycle and finds that someone has put a neon green water gun inside. A torn piece of flimsi is folded beside it. Crosshair picks it up and opens it. Got plan. Practice. Secret. - W.

Shaking his head, Crosshair picks up the tiny pistol. He can tell by the subtle weight that Wrecker has already filled it with water. With a scoff, he aims idly at a bolt in the wall and shoots. The spurt of water misses by at least nine centimeters to the left. Crosshair’s jaw drops. He missed? He adjusts the pistol in his hand. Shoots. Five centimeters too low.

Crosshair swears under his breath.

Squirt, squirt, squirt, squirt…

Miss, miss, miss, miss…

He’s about to throw the water gun across the ship when a rumbling voice says behind him. “Harder than it looks, huh?”

Wrecker’s pink water gun appears in his hand, comically miniscule in his massive fingers. He aims for the exact bolt Crosshair was aiming for.

Direct hit.

Crosshair actually chokes on his gasp of shock. He’s coughing so hard that Hunter comes back to check on them, Wrecker slapping Crosshair on the back as if that’s gonna do anything to help.

“Everything alright?” Hunter asks.

Wrecker grins. “Yeah, he’s just fine, sarge.”

Hunter quirks an eyebrow at Crosshair, and Crosshair can only nod. With one last bewildered look, Hunter retreats back to the cockpit.

“That’s why you gotta practice,” Wrecker says loftily. “Otherwise, I’ll just be a better shot than you with a water gun.”

Crosshair glares at his largest brother, seeing the shameless goading for exactly what it is. And yet, he will not be outdone by Wrecker, not even with a stupid little toy water gun. “Oh, you’re on.”

Echo is tracking their flight plan when he hears Wrecker start sniffling behind him. He ignores it.

“Sure is dusty in here,” Wrecker comments offhandedly.

“Whatever you say,” Echo mumbles.

More sniffling. “My nose sure feels funny. It’s like a sneeze is stuck in there.”

Echo grunts in vague sympathy.

Then comes the shuddering breath of an attempted sneeze, loud and exaggerated…and prolonged.

“For force sake, Wrecker, if you’re gonna sneeze, sneeze!”

“ACHOO!”

Wet droplets shower the back of Echo’s neck. His reaction is immediate. “Wrecker! Did you just sneeze on me?” Echo squawks, standing and whirling on the giant.

Wrecker doesn’t look the least bit ashamed. In fact, he looks alarmed and frantic as he tries to shove something bright neon pink in his pocket. Echo is faster when he’s annoyed or angry, and it pays off now. He snatches the mystery item out of Wrecker’s hand. A tiny, cheap water pistol.

“You shot me with this and made me think you sneezed on me?” Echo demanded. “That’s disgusting!”

“It’s called a prank,” Wrecker says, sounding offended by Echo’s evident lack of humor.

Echo rolls his eyes. “A childish prank.”

“It’s called fun,” Wrecker says, holding out his hand. “Now give it back. I still need to shoot Hunter and Tech with it.”

“Do you honestly think that’s going to end well?” Echo asks, deadpan.

Wrecker smiles. “Not sure, but I’m willing to find out.”

Echo hesitates, weighing his options. If he returns the kriffing toy and Wrecker pranks Hunter and Tech with it, Echo risks being called complicit in the crime.

If he keeps the toy…

“C’mon, Echo,” Wrecker whines, making a grabbing motion with his outstretched hand. “It’s water. It’s not like it’s gonna hurt them.”

The manchild does have a point.

Echo sighs. “Fine. But so help me, you shoot me again with this thing, I’ll send it out the airlock.”

Wrecker grins almost apologetically and snatches the toy up the moment it’s placed in his hand. “Ah, it was a good prank. You can’t actually be mad.”

He’s not, but Echo narrows his gaze anyway. “You wanna bet credits on that?”

“Fine! I won’t shoot you with water again,” Wrecker grumbles, folding his arms, hiding the water gun from view. Echo shakes his head and turns back to finish his calculations. He chooses not to react when Wrecker mutters, “Killjoy.”

Hunter is on the very cusp of sleep on one of the bunks when something hits the side of his face. Something cool and wet. He jerks awake with a gasp, hand flying up to touch where the attack occurred. His glove comes away damp. Turning, he sees Crosshair, polishing his rifle.

“What was that?” Hunter demands.

Crosshair looks up. “What?”

“Someone splashed me with water,” Hunter says.

“Someone splashed you with water,” Crosshair echoes. He rolls his eyes. “Sure they did.”

Hunter glares at him. “You did it.”

“How?” Crosshair asks.

“Easy. You threw water at me.”

“Where did I get this water?”

“Your canteen.”

“Does it look like I have a canteen on me?” Crosshair asks, glancing around himself pointedly. “Maybe you’re just imagining things.”

“My glove is literally damp!”

“Maybe it’s sweat. Between that mop you call hair and that bandana, you must be roasting alive.”

“I’m not sweating!”

Crosshair shrugs, returning to his task. “Whatever you say.”

Hunter watches him a few more moments before he closes his eyes, keeping his head turned toward his brother, and tries to resume his nap.

Another water strike, square in the middle of his forehead. Hunter’s eyes fly open, and Crosshair is still there, not looking at him, polishing his rifle with the same leisurely ease as before.

“You did it again!” Hunter cries, sitting up.

Crosshair meets his gaze. “What are you on about? I didn’t do anything!”

“Yes you did! You’re the only one in here! There’s no other explanation!”

“How the kriff did I do it then? Explain it to me!”

Hunter grits his teeth. He can’t explain it. But he knows it’s true. “You’re the one doing it, so you tell me!”

“I’m not doing anything! I’m cleaning my rifle. Maker!”

Hunter stands up. “You know you’re the worst sometimes?”

“So I’ve been told,” Crosshair muses, going back to his task.

Hunter starts to storm to the cockpit when something hits the back of his head. He whirls around and Crosshair is still at work, an almost imperceptible smirk twitching at the edge of his lips. Hunter growls a curse under his breath before making his retreat.

“What are you doing?”

Wrecker and Crosshair startle and look up to find Tech standing over them. The casings of two water guns are on the floor between them, taken apart, amongst a plethora of spare parts from Tech’s stash for his projects. A stash he has very deliberately told his brothers not to touch without express permission.

And neither of the clones in front of him had any such consent.

“It’s not what you think,” Wrecker says. He has the decency to sound guilty.

Tech frowns. “What I think is that you are modifying toy pistols using my personal collection of parts.”

Crosshair shrugs. “Then it’s exactly what you think.”

“Put the parts back immediately! They are meant for serious projects, not hobbies.”

“Ah, c’mon, Tech,” Wrecker complains, “this isn’t just a hobby. It’s for science.”

“How so?” Tech asks, unimpressed.

Crosshair holds up a data pad with crudely designed schematics. “We’re going to increase the weapons’ accuracy by approximately one hundred and five percent.”

Tech takes the data pad and examines the modifications. “No you are not.”

“Why?”

“Because I am not giving permission to use my parts for these modifications. Give them back.”

“Maker, Tech, don’t be stingy,” Crosshair protests.

“It is not being stingy to say that these parts are for specific purposes. Not a single one of those purposes include water guns. Put them away.”

“Or what? You’ll tell Hunter on us?” Crosshair snarks.

Tech glares. “You are being immature.”

“Fine!” Crosshair says, “We’ll put your precious parts away. We don’t need them.”

Wrecker frowns. “Yeah, we do.”

“No, we don’t,” Crosshair says. He scoops up the spare parts and dumps them back in their box. He hands the box over to Tech, now a jumbled mess to be sorted.

“You are behaving like a juvenile,” Tech says irritably.

Crosshair smiles, but there is no friendliness in the gesture. “Oh, you haven’t seen juvenile yet.”

“Is that a threat?” Tech asks.

“Of course not,” Crosshair says, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “Just something to think about.”

Tech calls a meeting between himself, Echo, and Hunter, closing the cockpit door while Crosshair and Wrecker are distracted with cataloging inventory. At least, that is what they said they were doing when they disappeared into the upper hold.

“Something has to be done about Wrecker and Crosshair,” Tech says.

“What do you mean?” Hunter asks.

“Are you talking about their stupid little water pistols?” Echo asks, rolling his eyes.

Hunter’s jaw drops. “That’s how Crosshair got me!”

“And Wrecker got me,” Echo says.

“I caught them trying to modify them to have better accuracy,” Tech says. “I stopped their attempt, but it is only a matter of time before they find alternate means.”

“I told Wrecker if he shoots me with water again, I’ll send his water gun out the airlock,” Echo says with a shrug. “I say we follow through.”

Hunter shakes his head. “No. We should fight fire with fire.”

“Water with water, as it were,” Tech chuckles.

“Please no,” Echo entreats. “Let’s end this before it gets out of hand.”

“I’ve been doing some research,” Tech says, bringing out his data pad. “I believe I have found the perfect solution.”

****

“We have four standard hours of shore leave,” Hunter says, “That means you’re all back to the ship in three and a half. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Crosshair snarks with a lazy salute. He and Wrecker saunter off, leaving Hunter, Echo and Tech without a backwards glance.

Once they are out of earshot, Hunter turns to Tech. “You got those coordinates?”

“Affirmative,” Tech says, pulling up the directions on his data pad.

“Are we really going to spend hard earned credits on water guns?” Echo asks.

Tech frowns. “These are not simply water guns, Echo. They are classified as super soakers.”

“Cross and Wrecker won’t know what hit them,” Hunter murmurs almost gleefully.

“Do you even hear yourselves right now?” Echo cries.

Hunter ignores him. “We need to head out. We have to be back here and in position before the targets return.”

Echo rolls his eyes, but follows Tech and Hunter anyway.

They turn more than a few heads when they walk into the toy store; however, Crosshair ignores the incredulous stares of the other patrons. He walks straight to the counter, Wrecker at his shoulder. “We had an order for pickup,” he says.

“Sure, what’s the name?” the clerk asks.

“Crosshair.”

The clerk disappears into the back room and returns with two packages. “Two special order water guns?”

The burning sensation of embarrassment creeps up the back of Crosshair’s neck. “Yes,” he says.

“Aw, yeah! I can’t wait to try ‘em out,” Wrecker crows.

“Can you be quieter,” Crosshair hisses at him.

The clerk rings up the order and accepts the payment before relinquishing the packages to the soldiers, fully armored sans helmets. Wrecker takes them both eagerly, tucking them under one arm. They leave the shop and nearly collide with three more armored figures about to walk in.

“What are you doing here?” Hunter demands.

“Nothing!” Wrecker cries, sounding panicked, shoving the packages behind his back.

“We could ask you the same thing,” Crosshair counters.

Hunter crosses his arms. “We were following you.”

“Why?”

“We’re suspicious.”

“Of what?”

“Of what you’d be getting from a toy store.”

“How did you know we were coming to a toy store?”

Hunter doesn’t have a comeback for that, and changes the subject. “What did you get?”

“Nothing,” Wrecker reiterates guiltily, “It’s a surprise.”

Tech adjusts his goggles. “Which is it? Nothing or a surprise?”

“How about,” Crosshair says, stepping in front of Wrecker, “none of your business.”

“This is ridiculous,” Echo grumbles.

Crosshair reaches back and grabs Wrecker’s arm. “C’mon. We’re leaving.” Dragging Wrecker behind him, he shoves through the suspicious trio.

“See you lot back at the ship,” Hunter calls after them.

“Not if we see you first!” Wrecker hollers back.

“Shut up!” Crosshair growls. “This is bad enough as it is.”

They watch until the suspicious duo disappear into the crowd.

“Those packages were definitely within the dimensions of super soakers,” Tech says.

Hunter nods. “We should have known they’d do something like this.”

“We’re doing something like this!” Echo exclaims. “I never asked to be part of this. I’m never going to be dry again!”

“Stop whining, Echo,” Hunter says, opening the door of the shop. “It’s three versus two. We’ve got the advantage. They might have started this, but we’re going to end it.”

When they return the Marauder, the ramp is down, but it is quiet. Too quiet. Hunter holds up a fist, and Echo and Tech immediately stop short. Hunter’s eyes rove over the ship’s exterior.

“Are we within range?” he asks Tech, a whisper over his shoulder.

“If Crosshair is positioned on top of the ship, affirmative. He will have gravity on his side.”

Echo groans. “Need I remind you all that we are in public?”

“We split up,” Hunter says, voice low, gripping his colorful weapon and holding it in ready position. “Circle the ship.”

Echo sighs and takes the left side while Tech goes right. Hunter bravely takes center. He barely makes it four steps forward before he is hit in the face with a stream of water.

And that’s when all hell breaks loose.

No one says anything until the Marauder is settled in a hyperspace lane. The only sound is the hum of the ship and the faint sound of water dripping off five drenched commandos.

Until…

“They had no right to confiscate our weapons!” Wrecker grouses.

Echo huffs. “It was that or the city putting in an official complaint with the GAR.”

“I find it a little extreme to be prohibited from an entire planet. No one was injured,” Tech says.

“Crosshair shot a child point blank with a super soaker and made them cry,” Echo points out.

Crosshair chuckles darkly. “In my defense, I thought it was Hunter. They were similar heights.”

Hunter scoffs. “You are such a liar.”

“Wait, who was it that then shot an officer sent to investigate the disturbance?” Crosshair asks, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Oh, yes. It was Hunter. That’s what got us in real trouble.”

“Now wait a minute,” Hunter starts indignantly.

Echo stands up. “I just want to go on the record and say I didn’t want to be involved in any of this!”

“This is true,” Tech agrees, “Although you are the one who soaked the second officer.”

“That was an accident.”

“That’s not how the officer saw it.”

As the bickering escalates, Crosshair catches Wrecker’s eye and holds out his hand, mostly fisted, but open enough that the demolitions expert sees a glimpse of pink and green. He grins, looking back at Crosshair. Crosshair puts a finger to his lips. Wrecker nods.

The war is far from over.

END

Finally got my first prompt fill done for my own prompt event 😂 It's been an absolute joy and delight to see all the fills so far! I dedicate this story to @just-here-with-my-thoughts' kiddo 😉 A lot of work went into getting this prompt in the top 13 🤣

12 more weeks of Summer of Bad Batch!! Can't wait!!

✨Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!✨

Tag List: @followthepurrgil @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @nagyanna424 @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver

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tickly-tufts · 3 days

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Teased

finally letting miguel be a ler after four whole fics dedicated to wrecking him

ft. lee!peter cuz he’s earned it, and ler!mj cuz i love that for her <3

—

“You paralyzed my husband.”

“He deserved it.”

“Probably, but I’d like an explanation anyway.”

“He was annoying me…” Miguel paused. “…and said I had fangs like a kitty cat.”

It took everything in MJ not to laugh. The mental image was simply too good. Miraculously, she managed to hold back, though she did smile at Miguel’s pout.

“So, you bit him to prove a point?”

“The fangs are no joke,” Miguel defended. Then, sounding just a bit sheepish… “The venom will wear off in an hour.”

Whatever he expected MJ to say next, it wasn’t what she actually asked.

“How much can he feel while he’s stuck like this? Does the venom cause any numbness?”

“He can still feel everything… but this is a punishment. If you’re planning to-“

“That’s not what I mean.” Leaning in with a conspiratorial glint in her eye, MJ made her proposition. “How’d you like to help me get some payback?”

—

Peter’s face lit up when MJ entered the room, and if he’d been able, she knew he would’ve rushed her. Beyond the change in expression, however, he didn’t move a single muscle. Miguel had placed him in the center of their bed, arms laid neatly at his sides. Noticing the pillow under Peter’s head, MJ smiled. What a softie.

“How ya feelin’, Tiger?” She sauntered over, taking a seat right beside her husband.

“Migs is mean,” Peter pouted. “I can’t believe he actually bit me.”

“Well, you did make fun of his fangs. Not your brightest idea,” MJ countered lightly. Peering at his neck, she soon spotted the bite marks. “Want me to kiss it better?” she offered sweetly.

Peter couldn’t nod but his gaze turned hopeful, and MJ leaned down to hover over the marks. Her breath puffed against them, and Peter would’ve shivered, but his muscles simply refused to respond. He smiled when he felt MJ’s lips, soft and warm against his skin. Then she began peppering small kisses along his neck, and he instantly remembered that kisses could tickle.

“Hmph!” Peter stifled the urge to giggle. The situation was already embarrassing enough. At least MJ would be pulling back soon. He just needed to control himself until-

“AH!” he yelped when kissing became nibbling, right where Miguel had bitten him before. “W-Wait, Em- Nohoho!” he cracked when he realized her true intentions.

MJ paused a few seconds later, shifting to whisper in his ear. “Do you remember that time you strung me up in the living room, then decided to tease me until the webs dissolved?”

Oh. Oh no. Peter did remember. He remembered that evening quite fondly, actually. MJ had collapsed into his arms afterwards, thoroughly flushed and swearing revenge. Of course, Peter had laughed it off at the time, doubting she’d ever catch him that compromised. It would be another decade before Miguel found them… and now, he’d served Peter right up for MJ.

“You’ve got to tell me the full story later,” Miguel interjected, done hiding his presence. Peter gawked as MJ patted the other side of the bed, giving Miguel a peck once he was close enough.

“Have you two been plotting against me?!”

“No, I specifically bit you for being a nuisance. The plan was to leave you in here alone… but MJ came up with a better idea.”

MJ beamed at Miguel, then focused her attention back on Peter. “Now, let’s find out where you’re most sensitive…” Peter cringed as his past words were echoed back at him.

Her fingers grazed across his ribs first, nails easily felt even through his shirt. It really wasn’t that bad a spot, but Peter’s breath still hitched at the touch. He had no chance of resistance, mouth curling up as nails dragged down. The fact he couldn’t even try to turn away made him overly aware of his own nerves.

MJ went from his uppermost left rib all the way to the bottom, then wiggled her fingers on the way back up. It was ticklish enough to earn a few snickers, but nothing too dramatic yet. That was until Peter felt a dig on his right, squawking when the tickling crept between his ribs.

“Wait- Wahahait!”

Miguel did not wait, fingers burrowing in without hesitation.

Peter’s mind demanded he move, but all he could physically do was laugh. It only spiraled when MJ switched spots, pinching at his much more ticklish side. The squeal he couldn’t quite suppress didn’t escape either tormentor’s notice.

“Shitshitshit! Thahat’s sohoho unfahahahair!” Peter swore when Miguel’s claws traced down his other side.

Claws and nails… it was a deadly combination. Peter couldn’t say which side was worse. If he’d been able, he would’ve been wriggling from one to the other, indecisive and frenzied. Unfortunately, as things stood, he had no choice but to endure both together. Miguel scratched carefully along his right flank, while MJ raked ruthlessly at his left.

“Mehehean! You’re bohohoth so mehean!”

“Pobrecito,” Miguel replied.

“Oh, babe, you think this is mean? Just you wait,” MJ promised.

A nervous thrill shot straight through him. How wrecked would he be by the end of this? He’d never felt so uniquely defenseless, safe from real harm, but not from this. His sides were bad, but not terrible. What would happen when they found his actual weakness?

All these thoughts were quickly halted by MJ poking around his waist.

“Nonono- Dohohon’t!” Peter giggled uncontrollably.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re helpless,” MJ cooed, kneading his love handles. Her hands slipped under the hem of his shirt, bypassing his only means of defense. It tickled so much that Peter’s laughter pitched higher, which didn’t escape Miguel’s notice.

“Que precioso,” Miguel teased, knowing it was a phrase Peter would understand. Right on cue, Peter blushed, and Miguel smirked in satisfaction. It was the exact reaction he’d been seeking, after so many instances of Peter flustering him.

Revenge garnished with extra affection, easily shared among three.

Peter flushed even further when MJ proceeded to lift his shirt. She pushed the hem all the way to his chest, exposing his pale abdomen. Just like that, he was on display for his equally gorgeous wife and boyfriend… and then insecurity reared its head, reminding him of his current physique.

Objectively, it was absurd. They'd both seen his gut before, and he was hardly one for bashfulness nowadays… but still, to have all their attention focused right there, while he couldn’t even cover his face? Apparently that was just a bit too much. Peter didn’t tense up, mainly because he couldn’t, yet his partners still noticed the shift in his mood. Of course they did... observant as ever. He shut his eyes to avoid examining their expressions.

There was a beat, then finally movement, but not from the direction he'd been expecting. Instead of MJ, sweet and familiar... it was Miguel whose lips brushed bare skin first. Peter's eyes shot back open and MJ caught his gaze, understanding reflected in her own. Then she glanced at Miguel, her lips quirking, and Peter’s attention jumped to him.

His heart skipped when he found Miguel staring, intense and analytical. Then it dropped as Miguel inhaled deeply, before blowing the most devastatingly ticklish of raspberries.

Peter screeched, barely calming when Miguel ultimately switched to nibbling. The tips of Miguel’s fangs grazed against his belly, pressing down too gently to break any skin. That was when MJ joined back in, too, peppering tickly kisses wherever Miguel wasn't. Peter giggled, then released a squeak when she poked at the softest part of his stomach.

If Peter had been a luckier man, the pair might've concluded around there. He rarely was, though, so of course they weren't done. MJ's next statement sealed his fate.

"We should lift his arms," she suggested to Miguel, and Peter nearly broke into a cold sweat. He didn't say a word as they guided his limbs. Miguel raised an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic silence.

"Hold on, are you nervous?" he had to ask, curious amusement coloring his tone.

"Wha- No! I'm just... getting tired?" Not entirely false, but not convincing either.

Indirectly calling his bluff, MJ reached out a hand, watching Peter's eyes. He anxiously tracked her slow approach, worsening the suspense for himself. Abruptly, Miguel inched forward, and Peter would've flinched if he'd been able. There was no way to track both of them.

Not that it mattered, once the tickling restarted.

"NOHOT THEHEHERE!" Peter screeched after a swear unbecoming of the Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman. MJ's nails scribbled at his left underarm, while Miguel's thumb massaged his right hollow. “DOHON'T- I CAHAHAN’T!" He wanted to thrash, but he couldn't even manage a twitch. "PLEHEHEHEASE!” It was a maddening experience. Being tied up had nothing on this.

If only he could lower his arms, or twist away, or struggle at all. It didn't help that he was just too damn ticklish in that spot. Miguel and MJ exploited his weakness in distinctly different ways, and thus it didn't take long at all for the contrasting sensations to overwhelm him.

As soon as tears rolled down Peter’s cheeks, they both pulled back to let him breathe.

“Alright there, Tiger?” MJ pet his hair, a hint of worry entering her voice.

“…Could I get some water?”

His partners relaxed, and Miguel nodded. “Be right back.” He returned a minute later with a bottle and towel, first wiping Peter’s face, then sitting him up on the pillows, then carefully lifting the bottle to his lips.

“Thanks,” Peter said after a long drink. “You two are weirdly diabolical.” He glanced at MJ. “Especially you.”

“Just means you have a type,” MJ countered smoothly.

"Hot and sadistic?"

"You said it, not me~"

And then before his brain could stop his mouth-

"Just as ticklish, too." Why would he say that.

Miguel's eyes narrowed dangerously.

“You know, we’ve still got time before the venom wears off.”

“Doesn’t seemed like he’s really learned his lesson, huh?”

Peter squeaked when something soft caressed his ear. MJ had a feather… no, make that two.

“W-When did you get those?!” He watched helplessly as she handed the second feather to Miguel.

“Aww, did you think I came unprepared? I knew you’d talk back enough to earn this~”

And then both feathers were twirling inside his ears, and he could only squeal for mercy.

#also happy ATSVersary to those reading the day im posting!#tickling #a tickly fic #peter b parker #miguel o'hara #mary jane watson #atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #spiderparents #spideysjane

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m1ckeyb3rry · 2 days

Text

── PEREGRINE // FIVE

Series Synopsis: The ways that you and Seishiro Nagi fall together and fall apart over the years.

Chapter Synopsis: You, a new transfer to Hakuho High School, have a first day that is even worse than you had expected.

Series Masterlist

Pairing(s): Nagi x Reader, Kira x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.2k

Content Warnings: unhealthy relationships, cheating, non-linear narrative, probably ooc, angst, nagi is endgame, kira sucks, alternate universe, original characters

A/N: just a reminder that this is an AU so things will in fact be different from how they are in canon (i think this is mostly evident w reo?? he’s really something in this past arc LMAOAO like i love him but he is so…interesting…) also dw guys reo is NOT a love interest he’s just bored and has nothing better to do because he hasn’t discovered the joys of soccer and babysitting nagi yet

divider credits: @/benkeibear

The first time you had a crush on a boy, you made the mistake of telling the girl who you had, at the time, considered to be your best friend. That was what people did with their best friends, so you had pointed at him and squeaked out your feelings in hushed whispers. Now, of course, you couldn’t recall anything about him, not his face nor his name, so irrelevant he had been, but you could not say the same about the girl who had been your first lesson in betrayal. Her, you remembered everything about.

Even back then, she had been tall and slender, with beetle-bright eyes and hair like an oil spill, her small mouth the color of strawberries and her round face pale like the moon. If she had stood beside anyone but you, she would have been widely considered lovely, but unfortunately, Orie Watanabe would forever have to be content with second place — because when it came to looks, there wasn’t a girl in the entire town who could claim to be your equal.

You had thought that that didn’t matter. You had thought that Orie loved you as much as you loved her, that she brushed aside what others said with the same ease that you did, that the comparisons drawn between you two were made by halfwits and easily ignored.

You had thought wrong. Orie had narrowed her eyes at the boy you had told her about, and then she had smiled at you.

“He’s cute,” she had whispered. “You really like him? A lot?”

“I think so,” you had said.

“Like, you love him?” she had said. “My parents told me that love is when you want to marry someone and be with them forever. D’you love him?”

“I dunno. Guess I do,” you had said before returning to your coloring page, shading between the black lines. Abstract concepts such as love and marriage and eternity hadn’t even made sense to you at that point in your life, so how else could you have answered the question?

Because both you and Orie lived far from your elementary school, your parents and hers used to take turns dropping you both off and picking you up again. That afternoon, your mother had been the one who came to get you, her freshly-washed car shining in the afternoon sunlight, her dark sunglasses reflecting the world around her.

“Mrs. L/N,” Orie had said as your mother pulled out of the spot she had been waiting for you in. “Did you know that there’s a boy Y/N wants to marry?”

“Of course there is,” your mother had responded coolly. “Reo Mikage. We’ve told her since she was young that she will end up as his wife one day.”

“No, it’s someone in our class,” Orie had said, despite the way you had kicked her leg and shaken your head at her, pleading with her to stop.

“Orie,” you had pleaded under your breath. She had glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, and it had been such a baleful expression, so foreign on her demure features, that you had shrank back into your seat.

“She’s in love with him,” Orie had said. “She told me in class. She wants to marry him and be with him forever.”

“I see,” your mother had said. “Thank you for telling me, Orie.”

All of you had spent the rest of the car ride in silence. Orie hadn’t felt the need to speak again, so she had only murmured a farewell to your mother and gazed at you over her shoulder before darting into her house and leaving you alone. As for you, you had been too afraid to even move, let alone say anything.

You hadn’t understood it at the time, but you had known intrinsically that you had done something wrong. Those feelings, which you had shared with Orie in the hopes that she would keep them secret, were of the sort that had hurt your mother, hurt her to the point of anger.

“Y/N,” she had said when you had entered the house. You had peered up at her then, still needing to crane your neck to meet her eyes, and at the fearsome expression on her face, you had shied back before you could stop yourself. “Who taught you about such things as love?”

You had stammered, more out of apprehension than anything, your first instinct still to protect Orie, though she had not shown you the same consideration. “No — no one, mother.”

“It wasn’t us, so it must’ve been someone,” she had said, clicking her tongue before her eyes had flicked to the television. “Ah. Have you been watching those silly American movies again? Did you really think you’d get to be Cinderella? Those stories aren’t real. Love isn’t something you can believe in. Maybe other people can chase those kinds of ideals, but we’ve raised you to be better than that.”

“I’m sorry, mother,” you had said. She had sighed then, so aggravated, obviously not believing anything you were saying — and of course she had not. You yourself hadn’t known what it was that you were apologizing for, so how could she have accepted it?

“Love is a luxury that only the most hedonistic and privileged of ignoramuses can indulge in. When things grow difficult, when your existence is no longer assured, you’ll find that love is meaningless,” she had said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Go to your room. There’s no need for you to have dinner tonight. We’ll talk in the morning.”

You had cried until you had fallen into an uneasy sleep, your stomach rumbling and sore, but neither your mother nor your father had budged. You hadn’t seen either of them again until the next day, when your mother had come up to wake you for school.

“Good morning,” she had said flatly. You had blinked at her, your head aching peculiarly, your neck cramped, and then you had scrambled to your feet, kicking the sheets aside so you could throw your arms around her legs.

“Good morning, mama,” you had said. “Can I have breakfast?”

Your mother had patted you on the head. “Do you still love that boy?”

You hadn’t even hesitated. “No.”

She had scoffed at that but motioned for you to follow after her. “There it is. See how easily love fades? In the face of hardship, it’s the first thing forsaken. If a man tells you that all he can give you is his love, then I want you to remember this day and run, Y/N. Run as fast as you can, because if he only has love to his name, then he has nothing at all.”

“Y/N L/N, your uniform is ready.”

You brushed past the amassed throng of parents, making your way to the counter where a woman with glasses was passing out the uniforms for the next school year. It was your first time at this store, but you did not dare let your face betray your nervousness, walking with your head held high and your shoulders squared, your nose lifted in the air as if you found every other person in the room to be beneath you.

“Here you go,” the woman said, sliding the clear packet over to you. “Are you new? I don’t remember ever seeing you before, but our records show you’re a third year.”

“Ah, yes, I just transferred,” you said. “I’ve been attending the girls’ academy until now, but for my final year of schooling, my parents thought it’d be prudent that I have some exposure to a blended environment.”

“Well, welcome to Hakuho High School. I’m sure you won’t regret your decision,” she said.

“I’m sure I won’t,” you said, bowing slightly at her, holding the packet with your uniform in it to your chest. “I’m very excited to be here.”

“We’re excited to have you, dear. Seishiro Nagi! Your uniform is ready,” she said. You smiled tightly and turned to leave, narrowly avoiding slamming into a comically tall, pale-haired boy as you wove through the crowd. Far too lost in your own thoughts, you waved off his mumbled apology, seeing no point in even responding in kind.

Of course, you had lied to that woman. Your parents didn’t really care whether or not you ever interacted with boys your own age. In fact, if they had their way, you would stay shut in your room for the rest of your life, a delicate flower preserved in a state of full bloom. There was only one thing that had convinced them to move you to Hakuho — the fact that Reo Mikage attended.

After all, he was their ultimate goal. If you could just marry someone like that, then you would never have to worry a day in your life. You would always be happy, always be safe, always be secure. He was the ideal of stability and success, and so, in their eyes, there was no one better for you to one day wed.

Unfortunately for your parents, you had long ago decided that Reo Mikage was a person you despised, though the two of you had never met. You had your own reasons for wanting to go to Hakuho High School, reasons which you could never tell them about for fear of losing your one chance at escaping for good.

For being as prestigious as it was, Hakuho High School was a relatively ordinary building. There was nothing special about the place — it didn’t sparkle, and no angels sang when you took your first step through the entrance, self-consciously adjusting your shirt collar and skirt, though you already knew that they were perfect.

This was your first impression on your classmates. The last thing you wanted was to come off across as some kind of an idiot or blundering dunce who could barely even put one foot in front of the other. You had experience being hated, but never had you been afforded the pity and derision of others, and you were not overly keen on earning them now.

Your first period was Physics, and according to the schedule you had on your phone, the classroom was located on the second floor of the high school. You climbed up the stairs carefully but quickly, ducking your head so that you blended in with the masses of students, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself.

It would be embarrassing to pull out the folded map you had tucked away in your back pocket, so you visualized it in your mind, tracing the routes you had gone over in colored markers last night and trying to apply them to the maze of hallways you were standing in. Despite your best efforts, though, you could not make sense of any of it, and as the minute hand of the clock drew closer and closer to when the bell would ring, an uneasiness brewed in your stomach. Were you seriously going to be late on the very first day of school?

Just then, a vaguely familiar looking boy ambled past. You couldn’t quite place where you recognized him from, but it was more than you could say about anyone else in the entire building, and you didn’t have many other options. Swallowing your pride, you chased after him, closing the gap between the two of you and tapping him on the shoulder.

He had a messy mop of cloud-like hair, and his large eyes were the color of turtle-doves. His soft face wore a drowsy expression, like he was not quite yet awake but was rather drifting through the school like a half-asleep ghost, and instead of the typical button-down shirt, he wore an oversized sweatshirt under his blazer. When he turned to face you, your hand still resting on his shoulder, his eyebrows drew together, and he cocked his head in a manner reminiscent of a lost puppy.

“Hello, I’m Y/N L/N! I just transferred here. Um, I think that I’ve seen you somewhere, so I hope you don’t mind me stopping you in particular,” you said. Wordlessly, he shook his head, though you were not sure which part he meant to refute. “Ah, or maybe not. I must’ve confused you for someone else; well, anyways, it hardly matters. I was just wondering if you knew where the room for the third year Physics class was? I have it with Mr. Tachibana, if that provides any necessary clarification.”

The boy stared at you for a moment before he slightly lifted his shoulders in what you could only assume was a shrug. You waited for him to elaborate, to say something or perhaps introduce himself, but he must’ve deemed the response satisfactory, as with that, he trudged off, rounding the corner and leaving you fuming.

What a rude, despicable person. It wasn’t like you wanted to be particularly friendly, either, but when the situation called for it, you could at least pretend like you cared about others. The bare minimum was answering someone’s questions with actual words, but this boy could not even muster up the energy to do that much.

“Psst,” a voice said. You turned to see a girl standing there, her face bright, her hair perfectly curled and held half-back with a clip, her makeup applied with an artful hand. “That’s Seishiro Nagi. Don’t bother with him. Come on, I’m going to Physics as well, so you can follow me.”

“What do you mean?” you said, grateful that not all of the Hakuho students were as standoffish as Nagi. The girl used her hand to cover her giggle.

“He’s cursed. We think he’s the child of the devil or something; only bad things happen to people who talk to him, so everyone avoids him,” she said.

“The child of the devil?” you said.

“Mhm, he’s a total weirdo. He doesn’t speak to anyone, and the only things anyone’s ever seen him do are play video games and sleep. He’s not in any clubs or activities or anything, and he has no friends, mostly because no one wants to go near him,” she said.

“Interesting,” you said. It was a shame, really, that such a slacker was taking up a space at Hakuho. He must’ve been at the bottom of the class, but then again, there had to be those people, too. Not everyone could be number one; there would always be those who came in last, whether due to a lack of aptitude or passion or both.

“I hope you’re okay, though,” the girl said. “You even touched him! That’s basically a guarantee that you’ll be jinxed.”

“He’s just another high schooler. I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you said. The girl shook her head rapidly.

“No, no, you don’t get it! One time, this girl I knew spoke to him, and the next day, her boyfriend dumped her! I really don’t want anything like that happening to you,” she said.

“I don’t think that Nagi had anything to do with that,” you said as you entered the classroom. “Things like curses aren’t actually real, you know. He’s just an abhorrently detached and self-involved layabout. It’s a shame to see, but there’s always going to be people like that, you know. They’re the worst sort, but the explanation isn’t supernatural.”

“Just you wait and see,” the girl said. “By the way, you’re super beautiful. What’s your name?”

“Y/N L/N,” you said. “Thank you. And what is yours?”

“Sonoko Ishioka!” she said. “You should sit with my friends and I at lunch today. I think that you’ll fit in perfectly with the rest of us.”

You didn’t have any great desire to acquaint yourself with Ishioka, but she was the first person who had offered, and after all, she had shown you the way to the classroom, so you hummed in agreement.

“Thank you,” you said, setting your things down in the seat beside her for the time being. Surely, your teacher would reassign your partners for the year once the period began, but until then, you supposed Ishioka was your best option.

“Welcome, class. I am Akihiro Tachibana, and I will be your Physics teacher. I would like to start the session with a warning to you all: this year will be of an unprecedented difficulty. You will be preparing for entrance examinations and completing applications to various universities, and at the same time, your classes will be more advanced than ever,” your teacher said as soon as the bell had finished ringing. He was a tall yet stocky man, his hair more silver than black, his eyes deep-set in his severe face. There was an aged sort of wisdom about him, as if his great knowledge was an accumulation of experiences instead of the result of extensive study.

“Mr. Tachibana is totally intense,” Ishioka whispered to you. “He’s super tough on his students. It sucks that we got stuck with him as our teacher instead of the other one. She’s apparently way nicer.”

“Hm,” you said.

“Since this is your first period of your first day, I will take the moment to remind you that this is your third year, which means that all of you are now in direct competition for the prestigious Hakuho Scholars award,” Mr. Tachibana continued. You straightened in your seat. “For those of you who forgot, the Hakuho Scholars are those two students who receive the highest and second-highest marks on their final exams. Every year, this select pair receives funding from the Hakuho Alumni Association in order to achieve their future goals, and as someone who has been teaching here for almost as long as all of you have been alive, let me be the one to tell you that the award granted is generous.”

“Sounds stressful,” Ishioka said, wrapping her arms around herself. “I bet Reo is going to get the top spot again, so there’s only one slot open. I’m not even going to try. What about you, L/N?”

“Of course, I’ll give it my best shot,” you said, the pleasantness of your voice just barely masquerading the greedy anxiousness simmering beneath the surface. You wouldn’t just give it your best shot — you had to be a Hakuho Scholar. That program was the only reason that you had even agreed to transferring in the first place.

“Now that that’s out of the way, let me read out the seating chart,” Mr. Tachibana said, his voice fading into a monotonous background noise as he listed off the partners that you would sit with for the rest of the class.

You waited for your name to be called, but it took a while. Ishioka was assigned before you, leaving you behind with a promise to meet you at lunch and an empty seat at your side, which you resolved to make your future partner occupy. You were hardly about to move, and anyways, most people were quick to oblige your demands, as you had this method of disguising them as sweet pleas instead of bratty commands.

“Y/N L/N and Reo Mikage,” Mr. Tachibana said.

Nagi had somehow jinxed you. You had thought Ishioka was full of drivel when she was going on and on about it, but she had actually been right, because now you were paired up with the one person you had wanted to avoid for the entire year. What sort of coincidence was this? How pleased would your parents be, that Reo Mikage had all but fallen into your lap before you could even do anything to get him there? And how furious were you, that you could not escape him even when you wanted to so desperately?

“Normally, people move to my table, but it’s nice to stretch my legs every once in a while. Thank you for that.” Even the way he spoke grated on your nerves. Reo Mikage. He talked like a prince, his words dripping with charm and grace, his movements elegant as he pulled out the chair Ishioka had sat in previously so that he could lower himself into it. His clear eyes were a shade of violet that shimmered like mountains in the mist, and his hair was the same color, hanging around his face in a neatly parted curtain. Unlike that accursed Nagi, who was the only other boy you had thus far encountered, Reo wore the expected shirt and tie, his blazer and pants impeccably pressed, his shoes shined to the point of reflection. “Are you Y/N L/N? I don’t recognize you, but neither do I recognize the name, so it makes sense. Are you new?”

“Just transferred,” you said shortly, taking out a notebook and busying yourself with your pencil case, though of course there was nothing in it that could really hold your interest for very long.

“I see,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Uh-huh,” you said. “Look, here’s how it’s going to go: we’re going to get our assignments, and you’re going to let me do them, and then we’ll sign both of our names on the top and get full marks and be quite happy with ourselves.”

“Excuse me?” he said. You unscrewed the cap of your pen, labeling the top of the fresh page with the date and the material that you would cover in that class.

“I don’t have any interest in working with you, but I don’t trust you to do anything on your own, so if it means saving my grade, then I’ll take care of it,” you said. “I won’t complain or rat you out or anything. Not that anything would happen even if I did.”

“What are you talking about? Are you quite mad? I’ve been the top of our class for the past two years,” he said.

“You’re also the son of one of the wealthiest men in the entire world,” you said. “I am certain that those two things have no correlation whatsoever, of course. It’s just an observation I’m making.”

“You’re suggesting that I pay for my grades?” he said. There was a faint color to his cheeks now, but it wasn’t the rosy hue that your mother would’ve swooned at. It was an angry flush that made you snort as you copied down Mr. Tachibana’s slides, not even bothering to look at Reo when you spoke next.

“Pay for your grades, pay for your work, pay for shitty work so you can pay even more to get good grades regardless…there’s unlimited options available for a person with as much money as you, right? I’m not suggesting anything, naturally, so there shouldn’t be a need for you to be so upset, unless what I’m saying is close to the truth,” you said. “Though either way, it doesn’t matter to me. Look, I’m sure you’re used to people asking you to do their work for them, so how about you just act happy that I’m offering? It’ll save you money. Or time. Or whatever.”

“You’re presumptuous,” he said, but inquisitively, without a hint of the rage you had anticipated. “We’ve only just met, and yet you’re speaking aloud these horrible assumptions, which you have made not just about my integrity but also about my wits. I mean, what kind of a person would pay for terrible work just to spend more money on bribing their teachers into accepting it?”

“How could I begin to understand the lifestyle of the rich and famous?” you said. “Don’t bother explaining what it’s really like. As with everything related to you, I don’t much care.”

At that, he laughed. He did not yell or argue or have any other normal reaction. He laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders and squeezing you to his side affectionately as the bell rang to signify the end of the period. Startled, you shoved him off of you, glaring at him as much because you were flustered as because you were vexed.

“Do you really hate me that much? I’ve never met a person who didn’t like me. It’s interesting. I think that I like you more for it,” he said.

“What?” you said. “No, you don’t. You are as apathetic about me as I am about you. Perhaps there is even exasperation at my impudence brewing deep within your consciousness, but certainly there are no fond feelings between the two of us.”

“Just you wait,” he said, lifting your bag before you even had the chance to reach for it, hefting it over his shoulder like some kind of gentleman. “I’ll make you change your mind. You’ll agree to be my friend one day.”

“Why would you do that? And give me my bag back!” you said.

“What’s your next class? I’ll walk you there,” he said.

“You will do no such—” you broke off in the middle of your staunch refusal. Technically, you didn’t know how to get to your next class yet, so if Reo was offering, then you’d be a fool to deny him, no matter how much you wanted to steer clear of his general presence. “—World History.”

“Aw, I have English,” Reo said. “But that’s in the same area of the school, so it’s not a problem.”

You rolled your eyes. “What a shame.”

“You’re being sarcastic, but soon enough, you’ll mean that,” Reo said.

“Honestly, I don’t get what the end goal is here,” you said. “I’d much prefer if you just left me alone, and you’d have an easier time of it, too. Don’t you already have plenty of friends? If not, then please find some that actually want to be around you. With your income level, it should be a breeze, but should you somehow be unable, then you can probably pay someone to keep you company. Someone who isn’t me, that is.”

“That’s just it,” Reo said. “At the moment, I can easily become friends with anyone in the entire school without any effort at all. The exception is you, which means that you’re the only one I want.”

No. No. No. Reo couldn’t want you, not in any way. Platonically, romantically, even as an unpaid intern…he absolutely could not want you. If your parents ever found out that he was saying such things about you, then you would never hear the end of it. And they would find out. Always, always, they found out.

“Y/N!” Ishioka squealed, bounding up to you and embracing you tightly. You weren’t sure where this sociability came from at first — the two of you were barely anything more than classmates, so she ought to refer to you as L/N. And since when had you allowed her to hug you? Was everyone at Hakuho this brand of touchy? But then you noticed that she had strategically maneuvered herself in between you and Reo, batting her eyelashes up at him, and it all made sense. “Are you still planning on coming to lunch with us?”

“No, she’s eating with me,” Reo said.

“Since when?” you hissed, though you were as much a part of the conversation as a cactus would’ve been, considering how neither of them paid any heed to you.

“You’re friends with Y/N? She and I are very close, so of course, she’ll want to spend time with me today. But you can come as well, Reo; we’d never say no to you,” she said.

“Er, it’s a lovely offer, but I think that I’ll have to pass,” Reo said. You took advantage of the moment to snatch your bag back from him, clutching it to your chest so that he could not take it again. He glanced over at you in confusion before returning his attention to figuring out a way to bow out of eating with you and Ishioka.

“Is it like that, then?” Ishioka said, her eyes darting between you and Reo. “Do the two of you want to eat alone?”

“No!” you said. “No, not in the slightest. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s the opposite of that. I don’t want to eat with him at all. I would much prefer having lunch with you and your friends.”

But Ishioka didn’t want to have lunch with you anymore. She hadn’t said it directly, but she didn’t need to; her expression was pinched and sour, a lemon-sucking sort of expression that you were all-too-familiar with.

“It’s fine,” she said. “On second thoughts, we don’t have any space left at our table.”

Your shoulders slumped. It was the same story again, and though Ishioka wasn’t anyone special nor important to you, just the reminder was enough to pinch at your heart. “Maybe next time.”

“Maybe,” Ishioka said, though most likely, she only did so because Reo still stood there, somehow managing to maintain a dignified air about him despite how out-of-place he was. “See you around, then, Reo, L/N.”

“Thank goodness,” Reo said as soon as she had left. “I really didn’t want to spend time with her. Her and her friends are a little odd.”

“Yeah, thanks a lot,” you snapped. “She was the first one to be nice to me, and now that I’ve made an enemy of her, I doubt anyone else will want to show me any kindness. If this is your attempt at befriending me, then it’s terrible. I hate you even more.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think of that,” Reo said. The apology didn’t feel feigned, which only made it worse — he really was sorry, and he really hadn’t thought of that outcome. Why would he? It wasn’t something he would’ve ever had to worry about.

“Just show me where my class is so I’m not late,” you said. “We’re already cutting it close as it is.”

He was well-mannered enough not to point out that it had been Ishioka’s interference that had delayed you, but then again, although Ishioka had used you as a pretense, her true goal had been Reo, so you were nothing but faultless in the matter of your possible tardiness.

“I’ll wait by this door for you once the period is over, so that we can take our lunch break together,” he said once you reached the entrance to your World History class.

“Do your ears need cleaning? I said I don’t want to eat with you, didn’t I?” you said.

“Who else would you eat with?” he said.

Right. Because stupid Reo Mikage had ensured that no one else would ever want to hang out with you, not after what you had inadvertently done to Ishioka came out — what a bitch, she went for her friend’s crush? And after Ishioka was so nice, too — leaving him as your only choice.

“I’ll eat by myself,” you said. “And you’ll agree to that if you ever want to have even a chance of me liking you, because if I have to look at you for one more minute, I believe that I will scream and then attack you in a most violent and vicious way.”

He grinned at you. “I’ll get to my own class before that, then. See you tomorrow.”

You stuck your tongue out at his receding back and prayed that he grew bored of this new game of his quickly, lest you be driven to insanity before the end of the month.

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