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angelbwrry · 2 months

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sex for dummies part 2. eren j. 2.7k. part 1

cw୨ৎ nsfw link, kissing, fingering, creaming, squirting, dirty talk, female oral, praising, cervix kissing, clit overstimulation, black reader, lowercase intended . . . am i forgetting anything? oh, in which eren fingers your pussy. . . a little too good:) minorssssss nottttt alllowed!

perfectly arched eyebrows knit together across your forehead, the pink pen clutched tightly between your fingers as you tried to decipher the mess of equations in front of you. eren’s handwriting was a chaotic jumble of loops and lines, almost as if he had scrawled them in a hurry without a second thought. frustration bubbled up inside you, your lips pressing into a thin line as you struggled to make sense of the numbers and symbols.

the room was silent except for the occasional scratch of your pen against the paper and the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. each tick seemed to echo louder, a constant reminder of the dwindling time you had left to prepare. you could feel the pressure mounting, a heavy weight settling on your shoulders. no matter how hard you tried, the concepts just wouldn’t click. it was like trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces.

a deep sigh escaped your lips as you leaned back in your chair, running a hand through your hair in exasperation. the thought of failing the test loomed over you like a dark cloud, threatening to shatter your dreams. you could already imagine the disappointed looks on your teammates' faces, the whispered conversations behind your back. the fear of losing your spot on the cheer team gnawed at you, adding to the sense of dread that had settled in your chest.

“rome wasn’t built in a day, ʚ♡ɞ,” eren speaks up, his voice breaking the silence as he repeatedly tosses one of your stuffed animals in the air and catching it with ease. he’d been so quiet you forgot he was even here. you breathe deeply, pulling your legs into your chest, trying to focus. it’s sunday, and you weren’t able to study with him yesterday since he was busy. yeah, you’re definitely fucked.

“i am so cooked.”

you’re pulled from your thoughts as you feel his warm body behind you, and you can’t help but hitch a breath. ever since friday night, eren had been secretly plaguing your mind. the way he’d kissed you, held you, all of it sent your mind into a flurry. you chalked it up to your raving hormones. besides, if it wasn’t for him being so good at math, you probably would’ve never talked to him. so why is your heart racing so damn fast when he’s simply just standing behind you?

“here, let me work a problem out for you. i’ll write down the steps and you’ll follow.” his voice is soothing, deep and almost hypnotic. one hand is placed flat on the desk, steadying himself, while the other wraps around you, sketching across the lined paper. you can feel the warmth radiating from his body, and his scent—clean, with a hint of something musky—is practically smothering. it didn’t help that he’d shown up in yet another tight compression shirt, leaving little to the imagination. his large hands make your pen look like a toy—they’re so big . . . snap out of it.

eren gives you the pencil to try a problem next, his fingers brushing against yours as he hands it over. "okay, so let's go over this one more time," eren hums, leaning over the table further to point at the problem on the worksheet. "remember, you need to find the derivative of this function first, and then you can apply the chain rule."

you nod, your brows furrowed in concentration. you take a deep breath and start working through the problem, your pen moving quickly across the paper. you can feel the pressure building inside you, the fear of making a mistake gnawing at your confidence. your mind races, but you push through, determined to get it right. eren watches you closely, ready to step in if you need help, but also giving you the space to figure it out on your own.

after a few minutes, you stop and look up at him, your eyes wide with excitement. "i think i got it!" you exclaim, your voice filled with hope and a hint of uncertainty. please let this be right, you think, your heart pounding in your chest.

eren smiles, taking the paper from you to check your work. his eyes scan the equations, and he feels a surge of pride as he realizes you got it right. "you did it!" he says, his voice full of genuine happiness. "you got it right!"

your face lights up with joy, and before you can stop yourself, you throw your arms around him in a jubilant hug. "oh my god, thank you so much!" you squeal, your voice muffled against his chest. "i couldn't have done it without you!" you feel a wave of relief wash over you, the tension melting away.he laughs, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close for a moment. "i'm so proud of you," he says softly into your hair, his voice warm and sincere. "you’re working so hard, and it’s paying off."

you pull back slightly, your face still glowing with happiness. your eyes meet, and for a moment, the world seems to stand still. he reaches down, his thumb gently brushing across your lower lip, his touch soft and tender. "can i kiss you?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. is this really happening? you wonder, your heart skipping a beat.

your heart skips a beat, and you nod, your eyes never leaving his. "yes," you whisper back, your voice trembling with anticipation. this feels like a dream, you think, your mind spinning.

he leans in slowly, giving you plenty of time to change your mind, but you don't. it’s a soft, tentative kiss at first, but when you kiss back, it deepens, becoming more urgent. before you know it, you’re both on the bed, the precalc problems forgotten as the moment takes over, his hands exploring, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

“i guess it’s time for your second lesson, fingering,” you mutter breathlessly against his lips, your voice quivering with a mix of excitement and nervousness. the intensity of the moment is almost overwhelming, as it’s hard to ignore the way your core throbs with anticipation, feeling him pressed firmly between your legs. his piercing green eyes lock onto yours, and in that instant, you swear you could melt at his touch, the heat of his gaze sending shivers down your spine and making your heart race uncontrollably. he simply nods, a silent yet powerful agreement, before his lips capture yours hungrily.

as he begins to undress you, his hands move with a deliberate slowness, each touch more electrifying than the last. his fingers trace the outline of your body, lingering on every curve and dip, leaving a trail of burning desire in their wake. the fabric of your clothes seems to melt away under his touch, and with each piece that falls to the floor, the tension between you grows more palpable. his lips never leave yours, maintaining a connection.

the sensation of his hands exploring your skin, combined with the heat of his kiss, overwhelms your senses. his touch is both gentle and possessive. every brush of his fingertips sends sparks of pleasure through your body, heightening your awareness of every little movement, every breath, every heartbeat.

you wanna cry out when his cold fingers pull open your legs, taking in the sight of you. you’re so damn perfect, your pussy is the prettiest one he’s ever seen. his breath hitches as he gazes at you, his eyes darkening with desire. the way your arousal seeps from your shivering cunt makes it clear that you’re aching for his touch. the anticipation is almost unbearable, each second feeling like an eternity.

eren isn’t a professional, but he’s learned a few things from porn sites and his friends. he’s eager to put that knowledge to use, to make you feel every bit of pleasure you deserve. his large hands grip your soft brown thighs, holding you in place. you’re so damn thick it drives him crazy, the feel of your flesh beneath his fingers sending waves of desire through him. he marvels at your curves, at the way your body responds to his touch.

he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. his fingers trace delicate patterns along your inner thighs, teasing you, making you shiver with anticipation. he loves the way you react to him, the way your body trembles and your breath hitches. every touch, every glance, heightens the intensity between you, making the moment almost unbearable with anticipation.

his lips find their way to your skin, placing soft kisses along your thighs, moving closer and closer to your core. the sensation is almost too much, your body arching towards him, desperate for more. he takes his time, savoring every moment, every reaction. he wants to make this unforgettable for you.

“eren!” you breathily whine,finally, his ring and middle fingers find their way to your pussy, gently parting your folds. the sensation is electric, sending shockwaves through your body. you can’t help but moan, the sound filling the room, mingling with the sound of your heavy breathing. he’s mesmerized by the sight of you.

he begins to explore you with his fingers, his touch gentle yet deliberate. he’s learned a lot, and he’s eager to show you just how much he knows. his fingers move with precision, finding all the right spots, making you gasp and moan with pleasure. he loves the way you react to him, the way your body arches and your breath quickens.

“such a pretty pussy , you’re so warm.” he can’t help but let out a moan himself as he fucks your pussy gently, cock twitching as he watches your greedy pussy grasp at his fingers.

"p-please, t-touch my clit!” it's hard to form a coherent sentence as he thrusts into you, his large fingers pressing against your cervix with a relentless rhythm. eren obeys without hesitation, his mouth moving sloppily against your sensitive bud. his lips and tongue work in tandem, exploring every inch of your pussy with fervor. he's not entirely sure if he's doing it right, but the way you’re chanting his name, your voice filled with raw desire, and the way your fingers are tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, he guesses he must be.

the taste of you is intoxicating, a perfect blend of sweetness and saltiness that drives him wild. he can’t get enough, his tongue lapping at your clit with an almost desperate hunger. you feel every flick, every swirl, each movement sending electric shocks of pleasure through your body. your legs tremble uncontrollably, your back arching off the bed as you try to press yourself even closer to him.

“oh my goddd,” you moan, your voice a mix of a whimper and a gasp, as eren’s pace quickens. his fingers dig into your thighs, holding you steady as he thrusts deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes your vision blur.

eren’s mouth never leaves your clit, his tongue working in perfect harmony with his thrusts. he sucks gently, then harder, alternating between soft flicks and intense pressure. your hands claw at the sheets, your body a live wire of sensation. you can feel the tension building, a coil tightening deep within you, ready to snap at any moment.

“mm, look at you creaming on my fingers,” his eyes glisten with a mix of admiration and desire as he watches the thick substance build at the base of his fingers. “didn’t take you as the messy type,” he chuckles, his voice low and teasing. he’s clearly enjoying the sight and feel of you.

he continues pushing his fingers inside of you, the slick wet sounds filling his ears, shlick, shlick,shlick spurring him on, his movements becoming more confident and deliberate. you’re a complete and utter mess underneath him, your body trembling with need and pleasure.

he had asked you for guidance, yet it didn’t seem as if he needed it. personally, he thought he’d fuck up because he wasn’t sure what to do at first just had an idea, but now he seemed to have found his rhythm. his fingers curl inside you, finding that perfect spot that makes you gasp and arch your back. each movement is precise, calculated to draw out the maximum amount of pleasure. he watches your reactions closely, his eyes never leaving your face, taking in every expression, every moan, every gasp.

“you like that, don’t you?” he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper. he can feel you tightening around his fingers, your body responding eagerly to his touch. he adds another finger, stretching you further, his thumb brushing against your sensitive clit the sensations are overwhelming, your mind going blank with pleasure.

“yesyesyes mm’fucking yes!”

his other hand roams your body, caressing your skin, tracing patterns on your thighs and stomach. he’s completely focused on you, on making you feel as good as possible. his fingers move faster, the wet sounds growing louder, mingling with your moans. he’s relentless.

“eren, i’m so close,” you manage to gasp out, your voice trembling with urgency. the words seem to ignite something in him, his movements becoming even more frantic and determined. he growls against your clit, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body, making you sob with pleasure. his desire to see you squirt drives him, and he places a firm palm flat down on your pudgy stomach. he remembers reading somewhere that this can help him access a woman’s g-spot from the outside, and he’s eager to see if it works.

tears prick your eyes as he continues to fuck you with relentless precision, an unfamiliar but intensely pleasurable sensation building in your stomach. instinctively, you snap your legs shut, the overwhelming feeling almost too much to bear. but eren’s palm smacks against your thigh, making you yelp and quickly open them again. “keep your legs open, pretty,” he commands, his voice rough with desire.

you nod shakily, trying to comply despite the intense sensations coursing through you. “ah! fuck!” you whine, your voice breaking as you feel the pressure inside you reach its peak. with a final, desperate thrust of his fingers, you begin to squirt, the release so powerful that it drenches the bed. eren watches in awe and satisfaction, his eyes locked onto the sight of you coming undone beneath him.

his fingers don’t stop, continuing to work you through your orgasm, drawing out every last drop of pleasure. your body trembles uncontrollably, your mind a haze of ecstasy. eren’s touch is both gentle and demanding, coaxing more and more from you until you’re completely spent, your body limp and quivering.

as you come down from your high, eren’s fingers finally slow, then stop. he pulls them out carefully, his eyes never leaving your face. he brings his wet fingers to his lips, tasting the evidence of your release with a satisfied grin. “you did so well,” he murmurs, his voice softening as he leans in to kiss you gently. you’re left breathless, your body still tingling with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you can’t help but smile at the look of pride and affection in his eyes.

what the fuck.

you didn’t even know you could squirt.

“ready to get back to studying princess?”

chile. did eren even really need a lesson for this? he ate down. as always, likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, bye babies 🫧

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f1goat · 1 year

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his teammate + lando norris x part three

In which you find yourself getting closer to your brothers new teammate who's a dick.

lando norris x fem!verstappen (sister) + cursewords + eventually smutty i wrote this before, but i'm rewriting it because i missed somethings. you can comment if you want to be added to a taglist :) thanks for reading!

masterlist x playlist

Lando has always been impulsive. When he was younger, he tried to control his impulses. Just like his parents told him to do. Since his successes in the racing world, he doesn’t try to control them anymore. His impulses make him stronger on the race track. He likes to say and do anything he wants without thinking about the possible consequences like hurting someones feelings. As if he cares about something like that. He’s aware that he turned a bit arrogant, but he blames his succes for that. Who wouldn’t be arrogant if they were him? Every girl wants to be with him and every guy wants to be him. He likes that. He knows he’s good looking and that the girls want him for his looks, money and fame. But he doesn’t care about that. He likes it most of the time to be himself. When he takes the time to overthink everything, he doesn’t know what to think about it.

Sometimes he wondered how it would be if he was still in contact with his parents. Other times his friend Max tells him that he’s getting too arrogant and needs to think a bit more. He knows he has an attitude, but doesn’t that make him himself? Who would he be without his rude behavior? Lando doesn’t even know anymore. He does know that he doesn’t want to think about that. He likes himself. End of discussion.

Lando knows that he’s one of the most hated guys in the motorsports right now. It’s hard to miss. Although he tells everyone that he doesn’t care about that, he sometimes finds himself thinking and caring about it. Sometimes he even thinks about bettering himself, but most of the time he doesn’t act any different. Until tonight.

You have made an impact on him. It was an impulse to text you. After you saved his ass - by offering yourself, he felt the sudden urge to thank you. When he came home, he texted Christian for your number. When he didn’t respond quick enough, Lando called him awake. The short text conversation that he had with you, made him feel good. Of course Lando is well aware about that being a bad sign. He can’t even remember the last time he felt good after texting with someone. He keeps telling himself that he only likes it because you talk back to him. It’s been a while that a girl was actually honest with him.

He can tell himself that, but deep down he knows it can be more. He just hopes that it’s not.

Lando can’t sleep. He decides to search for your Instagram. It’s not hard to find. Lando barely uses Instagram anymore. His notifications are making him crazy, just like his DMs. In the end he handed over his login to some mediaperson from McLaren, who passed it on to someone at RedBull. He cringes if he sees his own posts. Lando takes his time to look at the photos you have posted. He notices you post a lot. He reads your captions, cringes a bit at the sponsored posts but he secretly love the real captions you post. Before he knows it he’s many years into your Instagram feed.

Lando smiles when he reads the caption you once posted after your brother won his first formula one championship. Now he thinks about his new teammate, he regrets how he acted towards him. Maybe Max and him could have gotten along if he tried a bit harder in the beginning. It often surprises Lando how much he has in common with his teammate. He discards the thoughts and scrolls further.

He notices all your highlights on your profile as well. There are many of them. Without even thinking about it, Lando watches all of them. Because of those highlights he finds out that you’re having a free year after graduating from your study. Apparently you’re spending the whole year visiting races with Max. Lando likes that idea. It means he will see a lot of you this year. After watching all of your highlights he decided to follow you.

He scrolls a bit on his Instagram feed. It’s full with photos of you now. It doesn’t take long for him to be distracted. He sees your name popping up on his screen with a new text notification.

Y/N: should I feel honored to be one of the twenty people you follow on Instagram?

Lando can’t help himself and laughs at your text. It seems like he isn’t the only one with an attitude.

Lando: I think you should

Y/N: I think you want to fight with my brother again

Y/N: he’ll notice this soon enough and will question you about it

Lando: so?

Y/N: don’t make him mad on purpose by using me pls

Lando: i just wanted to follow you princess

Lando: no secret agenda

Y/N: okay, but Max will still question you about this

Lando: I’ll just tell him that I like to follow hot girls ;)

Y/N: that’s even more stupid

Y/N: but thanks x

Lando smiles at his phone.

Y/N: how did you get my number Lando?

Lando: goodnight princess

Y/N: ur annoying

Lando: goodnight princess xx

Y/N: fy

Lando: gladly ;)

Lando keeps smiling at his phone. He feels stupid because of it. You don’t react anymore. He gets it, his last message might have been a bit bold. It was the truth however. He would gladly fuck you. Maybe then you would get out of his system. He knows it isn’t a solution. And to be fair, now that he thinks about it. You would probably never get out of his system when he can fuck you. Lando imagines you standing in that short white dress. Why did you wear white? The innocent color makes him feel all kind of things. He tries to shake off his thoughts, but can’t succeed. Mindlessly he scrolls on his Instagram feed again. He refreshes it.

A new photo of you pops up on his feed. Oh for fucks sake. It’s a picture of you in that godsaken white dress. He takes his time to look at the picture. Since when has a simple picture this much influence on him? Lando decides to leave a comment on your post. He comments a simple heart eyed emoji. After that he puts his phone away and tries to fall asleep.

+++

When Lando wakes up the following morning, he first looks at his phone. Why does he have this many texts? He also notices a lot of Instagram notifications. Didn’t he put them out? He sighs. Firstly he looks at the different texts he has gotten.

Max Verstappen: Don’t use Y/N to annoy me. Leave her out of this.

Christian Horner: Online meeting with Max & me at 13:00. I’ll send you the Zoom link.

Social media manager: This is why you don’t do your socials yourself!

Social media manager: Please don’t let the internet think that you’re dating Y/N

Dating Y/N? Is this because of his simple comment? Lando sighs. He actually doesn’t get social media anymore. It was just a comment. Not some love declaration. He notices that you have also text him, the only text he’s actually excited for.

Y/N: you’re such an idiot that it’s actually funny

He’s quick to respond to you.

Lando: What did I cause?

While waiting on your reaction, he checks his Instagram. He sees over a thousand notifications and the most of them are all from his reaction under your post. Was his comment so weird? He reads some of the comments underneath his own.

User1: ariana whatcha doing here?

User2: ooeeh what if they’re dating and that’s why Max doesn’t like him???

↳ User3: ur delulu

User4: she’s too ugly for Lando

User5: why is everyone so obsessed over this???

↳ user6: because Lando never uses his insta

↳ user7: he never leaves a comment

↳ user8: so this must mean something :))

User9: jealous

User10: first he pushes his new teammate off track and now he flirts with his sister, poor Max

↳ user11: this season of DTS is going to be insane!

Since when is Instagram like this? Lando has no clue what is happening. About what are all those comments talking? He just wanted to get a bit of your attention with his comment. Not the attention of the whole world. Lando closes the app and opens his messages again. He’s right on time to see your text pop up. Before answering you, he sends a thumbs up to Christian his message. He ignores Max and his social media manager.

Y/N: i already thought you didn’t understand instagram anymore lol

Y/N: your fangirls are monitoring everything you do on your socials

Y/N: so the fact that you’re commenting for the first time in months (?) means something to them

Lando: oh fuck

Y/N: ur an idiot

Y/N: succes with my brother and christian

Lando: thanks princess x

+++

Lando is glad that his meeting with Christian and Max is online this time. Max looks like he’s ready to fight with him again. He’s surprised Christian doesn’t ask any questions about his nose, which is a bit bruised up since yesterday night. Maybe Max already informed him. He wouldn’t be surprised, Max and Christian are like a father and son. Christian spend his time by lecturing Lando about how to use Instagram and what impact a comment can make. Lando bites back his tongue sometimes. He nods like a schoolboy at everything Christian says. Later Christian informs him over the online harassment girls have to deal with when they’re linked to a formula one driver. This time Lando is actually paying attention. He never knew about all this hate on those innocent girls. He wonders what this will mean for you. Is your inbox already full with all kind of terrible messages? Hateful messages about his comment? Lando starts to feel guilty of his impulse action. Without asking it, Max already answers his question.

“Y/N her phone is blowing up because of this,” Max states annoyed, “I told her to ignore the messages, but I don’t know if she listens. This is all because of you Lando!”

Without thinking about it, Lando responds truthfully to Max. “Fuck,” he sighs, “I didn’t know about any of this. I’m sorry. I just wanted to leave a comment.”

“Why did you even want to leave a comment?” Christian asks, “I thought you didn’t like her.”

“Yeah, is this to annoy me? Because you really need to leave her out of that,” Max adds angrily.

Lando sighs. He thinks about a good reason to justify his comment, but he can’t make one up. He just thought you looked hot in the picture. He still thinks so. He just wanted a bit of your attention. Is that so bad?

“I thought it was a nice photo,” Lando eventually says.

“Since when do you even follow her?” Max questions, “And why do you follow her?”

“Yeah, you don’t even follow me,” Christian adds.

Lando feels himself getting annoyed. “I like to follow hot girls,” he states annoyed, “and you’re not a hot girl Christian. Be glad I follow the RedBull teampage.”

Max starts to look even more angrily. Christian just sighs defeated. Before Max can say anything, Christian speaks up again.

“Listen boys, if you both keep behaving like this things won’t work,” he explains, “We need to fix this tension between the two of you.” Neither of them say anything back to Christian. Max is still sending angry glances through his webcam. Lando is pretty sure they’re meant for him. “I chose you Lando because you can challenge Max, but this isn’t what I meant with challenging. I don’t even know how everything went this wrong. You two have a lot in common, just act friendly with each other and you will notice soon enough.”

Max sighs defeated. “I’ll try,” he says, “but you need to leave my sister alone. I don’t want her to be dragged into this mess and I certainly don’t want you to hurt her. I know your reputation Norris.”

Lando almost confesses that Y/N is different from any other girl. This isn’t some meaningless flirt with even more meaningless sex. He’s actually interested in the sister of his teammate, but now doesn’t seem the right moment to confess something like that. So he keeps his mouth shut.

“She’s always with you, it’s hard not to speak to her you know,” Lando states eventually, “and if I need to get closer to her, I’ll probably get closer to her as well.”

“That’s right Max,” Christian agrees with Lando.

“Just don’t see her as another one night stand girl,” Max mutters, “and please don’t try to date her.”

“I don’t see her like that,” Lando confesses, “and I promise you I won’t use her and won’t hurt her. But I can’t make any promises about dating.”

Max lets out a big sigh, but nods defeated.

“I’ll find you when you do hurt her,” Max threatens.

“I think I’ll find myself first,” Lando mutters. He doesn’t even know why he said something like that, but he feels the truth in his own words. Where is this feeling coming from? Max seems interested in his answer as well. Before he can question anything, Christian talks again and ends the meeting.

part four

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris imagine #ln4 #formula one #f1 #lando norris imagines

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causenessus · 2 months

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try again

part 0.1. EVERYTHING AT ONCE

“she starts her day with music. she always does. when she wakes up, on the way to work, even while she’s at work, she plays songs in her waiting room. she can’t hear them, but her clients waiting outside can, and she hopes they enjoy them. she’s always trying out new playlists, looking for new songs, trying to expand her music taste. it’s not like any of them really mention it or talk to her. they probably barely pay attention to the lyrics or know what the songs are about, so it’s like an inside joke with just herself. after her last client leaves, she sits in her own waiting room for a little bit, waiting for the current song to finish before she shuts off her speaker. she doesn’t need to put this much effort into something simple. no one cares, but she hopes maybe someday someone will notice them and ask her for a song that played, or about the playlist she’s using. she'd be grateful for anything.”

sometimes he wakes up in cold sweat still thinking about it.

the day will haunt him forever. every time he’s on the court and his arms stretch behind him as he prepares to jump. it is behind every spike, every sharp prick of frustration he gets in his neck every time he starts to get stressed; it is always there.

he knows stress is normal. it’s a part of everyday life and every single game he plays. the stress of winning, of trying to outmaneuver his opponents, get past their blocks, and read their minds as well of the minds of his own teammates as he tries to work fluidly with them.

but now there is a chill that runs down his spine every time he feels himself getting a little too frustrated, or feels the suffocating feeling of being shut down again and again, and his heart rate quickens at the thought of the numerous effects his failures are having. and then there is the single thought that runs through his mind, as he can’t help but steal a glance at his coach, sitting on a metal bench nearby. a silent plea, in response to whayever the man is thinking, watching his performance, ‘please don’t bench me again.’

he never wants to be on that bench again. never wants to feel the cool metal against the back of his legs contradict the red-hot anger flooding the rest of his body. never wants to feel the relief in his legs when he finally sits down again; because he would rather stay on the court and destroy his body, running, diving, jumping, doing anything until he is physically unable to move another inch again. he had always been one to prioritize care for himself over anything else, but not since that day.

the one day that has haunted him ever since–the day they stopped him before he was ready to be done.

the day they took him out of the game. when he heard that whistle, and looked to see who was being switched out, everything stopped when he saw his own number staring back at him: 15. everyone on his side of the court froze, watching him walk to take the sign. he doesn’t even remember who switched with him; the moment he stepped off the court his vision was spotty, and the only thing he could hear or feel was the blood pounding in his ears.

he was numb all over otherwise. he didn’t process his own feet moving, dragging himself to sit next to his coach, who had pointed at the spot next to him on that silver bench.

“you need to calm down, kiyoomi,” he barely registered the man’s voice, or his own name. it sounded grating against his ears, and his vision was still focused on the ground beneath him, a single thought going through his mind, ‘i need to get back on the court. now. now. now–’

“kiyoomi.”

he looks up this time, to his coach, but his hands are balled into fists, nails digging into his own skin. he’s not even sure what he’s feeling. if it’s blinding anger, disappointment in himself, both, or everything at once. if he’s angry, he doesn’t know at who. at his coach, for taking him out, at himself, for getting himself here, or his teammates; he’s not one to blame others, but he can’t help but feel they’re all out of alignment today. or maybe it’s just him that’s not fitting in today.

“kiyoomi listen to me. you’re getting too much in your head. you’re making irrational decisions that are costing the team points. you're not telling anyone what you're doing or planning and it's making everyone else uptight because they can see how angry you are. you need to calm down,” his coach is talking again, and his throat closes up.

his knee is bouncing, and he’s restless, looking at the game go on right in front of him and yet he’s not there. he’s not on the court. he's on the sidelines, like a weak, useless bystander. “i understand,” he forces himself to say. “i can calm down. i’ve calmed down. i see that i was affecting my teammates. i will communicate with them and think more about my decisions. will you put me back in the game?”

it’s his coach’s turn to not respond, and kiyoomi feels like his own life is being taken from him right in front of his eyes and he can’t even do anything about it. he forces himself to breathe normally and clear his mind without losing his focus on the game. he relaxes his shoulders as best as he can and he ignores the choking feeling in his chest. he's hidden all signs of his anger, but it’s still stuck in him–he can feel it–but that doesn't matter, as long as he gets back on the court. he tries his best to appear calm and relaxed, hoping his coach will see and let him return to the game.

but he doesn’t.

sakusa kiyoomi sits on that bench for the rest of the game.

not allowed to go back.

ever since then, he’s learned to catch himself before he gets too angry. he’s learned to hold in all of his pent-up feelings. he keeps them buried deep down inside of him where no one will ever see them and maintains a calm face. he knows not to let it show until the game has been finished, and he has bowed to the stands and retreated back to the locker rooms.

he’s always the first one in there, trying to grab his things as quickly as possible and be the first one out, too, while the rest of his teammates are still out on the court cheering. he hears their voices the entire time until they near the locker room and hush, knowing he’s in there. he slams his locker door closed in a futile attempt to relieve some of his anger, leaving before anyone can talk to him, and so that they can talk to each other without feeling like they’re walking on eggshells around him.

he doesn’t want to be treated like glass–as if he can’t handle being around them–but he knows they’re better off without him, anyway.

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

I FORGOT TO MENTION IN THE PROLOGUE that the way i'm doing song reccs this smau around is very much inspired by the way they are done in static by @eggyrocks !!! you should definitely check out their works <3

i included the tiniest "previous texts" in the peas in a pod gc mainly just to show that omi and the whole group is still silly :) he's just going thru it (there used to be another snippet of previous texts between atsumu and omi but i removed it)

atsumu is definitely playing cupid and is purposely witholding names so that neither omi or y/n know they're going to see each other

it's like a blind date except for it's therapy

yay!!!

AND ATSUMU HAS A LOT TO SAY AND THAT'S OKAY LET HIM BE

y/n is very prone to texting in a very "professional, therapist" voice but then will switch up on accident. she does it to everyone all the time and sometimes it is a little unnerving bc out of nowhere all of a sudden she'll start ending her texts with periods and you think you've done something wrong

apologies for any pacing issues!! i've changed things like 15 times and i'm tired now

taglist: @wyrcan @guitarstringed-scars @strawberryuri @violetesensou @kakeru-eem @glmge @heytheredemonsss @mollyrolls @bemebiu @daszy @snail-squasher @0moonii @thiisisntlovely @todorokiskitten @rory-cakes @hyenagoated @iatethemochi @yuminako @savemebrazilhinata @kismyscars @bokutoko @nobodybutnnoorr @wolffmaiden @daisy-room @softpia @lees-chaotic-brain @v3nusplanetofluv @crispchocolates @phoenix-eclipses @hhoneyhan @encrypta @rockleeisbaeeee @cr4yolaas @zombriesworld @localgaytrainwreck @moucheslove @hibernatinghamster @notverymarley @certaindreampost @akaakeis @ciderscape @lucien-luna @strawbrinkofdeath @wave2mia @samuel1004 @01trickster10 @dazqa @cosmiicdust @chemiru

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tboybuck · 11 months

Text

Batter up!

Chapters 1 & 2 coming to AO3 on November 12, 2023, featuring art by @thatnerdemryn and a playlist by @steves-strapcollection, written for @steddiebang

Summary: All Steve wants for the 2023 baseball season is for the media to leave him alone for once. His reputation is still suffering after he was caught last season in a very compromising position with one of his teammates, and he just wants to lay low and play a good season. A trip to the World Series wouldn't hurt either. A voice from his past has other plans, though.

Eddie hasn't been able to forget what the two of them had together when they were in high school, or his promise to Steve when they parted ways the summer after senior year: Someday I'll write a whole album for you. It's been a decade, and all the pieces are in place for Eddie to finally make good on that promise.

Steve is in for a roller coaster of a season.

Sneak peek under the cut

It’s around sunrise when he wakes with his alarm, properly this time, and he finds seven missed calls from Robin, and another text message from her.

Call me. This is a PR call, not a bestie call. Get up.

So Steve calls his publicist, Robin Buckley, rather than his best friend Rob.

“Jesus, it’s about damn time,” she says by way of greeting.

“I just woke up, Rob. What do you want?”

“Eddie’s album came out today.”

Steve waits, but Robin doesn’t say anything else. “Okay? Why am I supposed to care? I haven’t spoken to Eddie Munson in almost ten years.”

“I need you to open Spotify and just. Look at the album art.”

“I don’t even remember what his fucking band is even called,” Steve lies, putting Robin on speaker, and then he thumbs his way through his apps to open Spotify. Pulling up the search feature, Steve taps in the name of Eddie’s band and right there, under recently released, is the new Corroded Coffin album.

Batter up!, it’s called.

On the cover is Eddie Munson, looking just as wild as he did in high school and not a day older than he looked the last time Steve saw him. Eddie’s big, dark eyes are trained on the camera, and he’s got his body turned sideways. He is wearing a generic baseball uniform in blue and gray. He’s got a baseball bat positioned between strong thighs, sticking out from between his legs in an obscene suggestion of an erection. There are nails sticking out of the end of the bat and the album title is embossed on the barrel. Eddie’s hand, big and veiny, is gripped around the taper, a light gray sweatband on his wrist. He is either wearing an athletic cup underneath those fucking pants or he’s sporting some very real half chub action. What the hell.

“Jesus H. Christ. Is that… Robin, is that a number seven on his fucking wristband?” Steve asks flatly.

“That’s what you’re focusing on?”

Steve ignores her. He can’t focus on anything else. Not if he wants to keep his hard-won sanity. “We could always sue him.” “That would mean owning up to a lot,” Robin says carefully. “I listened to it, Steve. The lyrics aren’t subtle.”

#batter up!#bee's blurbs #steddiebang23 #drops this and runs

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theemporium · 1 year

Note

15 with steve please!

15. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

As sad as it sounded, Steve got pretty used to people zoning out when he spoke.

Yeah, he had people who fawned over him and girls who flirted with him and guys who wanted to be him when he reigned as King Steve, but none of them ever really listened to him. Neither did his teammates on his basketball team. Neither did his parents.

Nobody ever really focused on the words he said, nobody ever really bothered to remember them either.

Things shifted when the world of the Upside Down came crashing into his life. When his close knit group of friends became a group of rangly kids that Steve never considered would change his life for the better. When he learnt that popularity and numbers meant shit when you had people who would die for you, who would care if you died even.

And as much as he loved and adored his little found family, his luck with girls didn’t become any better as the years passed.

When he was King Steve, they just used him for his looks and social status. When he was working at Scoops Ahoy, they flirted with him in hopes of a discount or a freebie. When he moved to Family Video, they just saw him as a cute face to play about with but eventually leave in the dust.

And the saddest part of it all was that Steve never expected it to change, he never expected that his life would be anything but bad luck and bad dates.

Then, after being dragged into a campaign last minute for the sake of filling numbers by Dustin and Eddie, he met you.

You were pretty. So fucking pretty that sometimes it made his heart race and his brain stop working and he was pretty sure he would forget his own name if someone asked him. And you were funny, in an effortless way that made his cheeks hurt every time he was around you because you just made him so happy. And, by some fucking grace of god, you liked him.

Or at least, he thinks you do.

He really fucking hopes you do.

But his doubts got the best of him and he allowed himself to push away the question he was desperate to ask you, no matter how much Eddie and Robin hounded him to just bite the bullet and ask you out on a date. He couldn’t fuck it up, and he couldn’t lose you.

And then you sauntered into Family Video less than three hours after his shift started, smiling brightly as you dumped a container on the counter in front of him.

“Uh,” Steve glanced down at the container before looking up at you, finding his cheeks flushing slightly at the smile you gave him. “Not to be a stickler or anything, but this doesn’t look like a copy of Jaws.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging the container closer to him. “Open it.”

“Open it?” Steve parroted.

“Yes, open it,” you said to him, almost rolling back on your heels as you watched him reach for it. “It’s for you.”

Steve remembered a vague conversation he had with you a couple of weeks back. He offered to drive you back home after a campaign and ended up parked outside your house whilst you spoke for two hours before eventually leaving the car. It had left him giddy for days after—much to Robin’s amusement.

He didn’t think you had actually listened to him during that conversation, let alone remember a single fact from it. Maybe because Steve wasn’t used to being the one having something done for him.

“You said they were your favourites when you were younger,” you started when you noticed the way he fell silent after opening the container. “The bakery didn’t make them anymore so I tried my best go at making them myself but, uh, I’m not really a baker.”

Steve stared at the box in front of him, containing around ten dinosaur shaped cookies with green icing and multi-coloured sprinkles decorating them. He felt his throat close up when he noted the different faces and expressions on each cookie, all homemade by you just because Steve stupidly admitted to you that he used to love the dino cookies the local bakery made whenever he stayed with his grandmother before she died.

The nerves started to eat at you the longer he stayed silent. “Do…do you like them?”

Steve finally tore his eyes away from the cookies, blinking back the wetness in his eyes as he gave you such a soft smile it made your heart sore. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

“Dino cookies are hard to forget,” you joked lightly, your expression a little sheepish. “I’m sorry if they taste like shit—”

“They are perfect,” Steve said with certainty.

Your brows furrowed. “You haven’t even—”

Not missing a beat, Steve grabbed a cookie from the top of the pile and shoved a large chunk in his mouth as he took a bite. His eyes widened a little as he looked down at the cookie before shoving the rest in his mouth.

“Holy shit,” he murmured, blushing a little when he heard the way you giggled at his muffled words before he made sure to swallow the cookie before continuing. “You actually made those?”

“With my own two hands.”

“They’re insane,” Steve said, pretending like his heart wasn’t thundering against his chest. “I—thank you. So much.”

“Anytime, Stevie,” you answered with a smile.

“You think you can teach me the recipe?” he asked, partially joking and partially serious because anytime spent with you was a win in his books.

“Does Friday work for you?” you asked and he nodded. “Perfect. It’s a date.”

Steve didn’t even get the chance to respond before you turned on your heel, walking out the store before he even opened his mouth. But he looked down at the box of cookies, a wide grin spread across his face and found himself eager for Friday to roll around.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things one shot

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blasphemecel · 9 months

Text

Shidou Ryuusei — Like Teeth

PAIRING: Shidou Ryuusei/Reader WORD COUNT: 3.6k TYPE: Humor, Feelings realization, idfk what this even is but i threw in some surprise fluff at the end WARNING(S): Nsfw jokes but cmon it's shidou you gotta forgive me for finding sex funny this once, play-fighting that doesn't seem very playful, canon-typical mental illness, canon-typical unnecessary dramatics, canon-typical overly intense soccer rivalry NOTE: Reader is a part of the blue lock project but no concrete gender identity or pronouns are specified

It starts like this:

After the freaky nerd from the ceremony whose name you hadn’t bothered remembering finishes with his instructions about this game of tag you’re supposed to be playing, the biggest asshole in the room immediately targets you once he realizes you’re the one with the highest number on your jersey. You trap the ball with ease and then kick it straight into his face with as much power as you can muster, knocking him out, the force sending him reeling.

While the timer continues ticking, no one dares to make a move or even exhale too loudly in your presence, scared you might take their bodily functions as a challenge to your authority. Like every opponent before, they’ve submitted to you.

You stare at the ceiling, your lips set in a tight line, the despair settling in. Just this once, you want to meet someone who can excite you, and you’d hoped this ridiculous place could help.

___

As the top scorer of your pathetic excuse for a team — though behind your back they call you ‘the top red card holder,’ but considering how far up your own ass your head is, you’re yet to pay attention to this remark — by the second qualifying match they already know to pass the ball to you no matter what. In your defense, you’re not any more tyrannical than the average douche in this competition. It’s not your fault they’re too worthless to do what you can.

Two of the opponents are blocking your path, and you shuffle the ball between your feet trying to get the positioning right while they attempt to steal it. Everyone is making noises, but they never mean anything to you. You back up once you’ve felt that the stars have aligned and strike the ball through the tight opening between their bodies, taking the first goal of the match.

“You’re good!”

You blink, the words bringing you out of your perpetual trance to look at the guy in front of you. He starts rambling some nonsense about explosions and how he’s going to beat the ass of anyone who can’t give a good show and you think at some point he has started finding new roundabout ways of saying that he basically wants to bust a nut on the field. It is absurd. You understand it down to your bones, except maybe the last thing. For the first time, everything is coming into view. You can make out his face and you can hear his words and you see your teammates in your peripheral vision. How you didn’t notice him before, what with the hairstyle and his cartoonishly beautiful eyelashes, you’re not sure, but you’ve never been more present during a game before.

“Alright, gyaru,” you say. “Show me how you explode.”

“Gyaru?” he tilts his head, grin wide like a demon’s. “You think I’m pretty?”

Though Jinpachi Ego officially writes down what ensues as a round-robin tourney in his notes, the spectators (meaning literally anyone else who was in your physical proximity) would describe it as ‘The Longest Dick Measuring Contest They’ve Ever Seen.’

The way he moves fascinates you like nothing else. Just like you, he is a creature of instinct. You both circle around while trying to score or steal the ball, only to find that stopping the other is impossible.

After this match, two monsters glance at each other and think, ‘Maybe there is someone out here who understands me.’

___

There are still jitters in your veins. You can’t sleep. Is it ridiculous and maybe parasocial that the thought of ‘I want to see this guy again’ is keeping you up at night? Yeah, probably. You also feel like a creep lying down in the dark with your eyes wide open, yearning to bulldoze through something like you do when you want to calm down.

Frustrated, you slip out of the futon and leave the room while the rest of them are sleeping. The hallways let out ominous flickers, trailing after you while your steps echo and bounce off the walls. This building looks like a prison, you think, though you hadn’t noticed before.

You hate to think that your desperation is so strong you’ve developed the power of manifestation overnight, but when you step inside of the training room, he’s already there. He doesn’t have the decency to seem surprised at your entrance when you close in on him. His arms are crossed and he has a smug aura about him, but for the love of everything you cannot comprehend why he’s standing there doing nothing. At least you planned on being productive when you headed here with your plan to obliterate whatever you could get your hands on. Just so happens it’s him that you found.

The weird silence stretches, but it doesn’t bother either of you because as it turns out you have the same kind of social incompetence. You realize you don’t even know the guy’s name, but he declares, “You really came.”

You don’t really know what he means by this considering you didn’t arrange to meet here beforehand, but he’s saying it as if this was some unanimous agreement you came to earlier. “Waiting for me in the middle of the night all by yourself, handsome?”

“Every cell in my body was calling out to yours,” he says as if it explains anything. His expression is bordering on maniacal. Anyone else might’ve realized this was a bad idea, read the warning signs, but to someone like you who has lived their entire life sleepwalking, the excitement of such a strange encounter is addictive. “We’re the same… That’s why you felt it.”

“In that case, please avoid summoning me so late,” you say. “I value good sleep.”

He cannot tell if you’re just taking the piss or if you’re on the same page, but it’s rare that anyone entertains him when he says anything of that nature. To him, this is an amusing turn of events. “They say you’re some kinda unhinged delinquent. ‘s that true?”

“Sure, if that’s what you call putting a few sorry bums down in their place after they crossed me.”

“So you know how to scrap too, right?”

Right now, Shidou Ryuusei is like a kid at the candy store. You can’t discern any reason for him to swing at you, but he does, smiling all the while. After you respond to his provocation with a duck and a kick of your own — you avoid using your hands for anything if you can avoid it, finding it beneath you — you decide to consider this your friendly introduction to each other.

If he wants to coax the crazy out of you with his punches, then you’re trying to get him to settle down every time you retaliate, daring him to pipe down and turn boring just like everyone else. You’re not sure for how long you duke it out, but at some point you grow sloppy, and the last you remember of it before succumbing to your exhaustion is the last round of boneless slaps you offered each other.

___

Two of your teammates hatefully watch you and Shidou from across the cafeteria. You’re a selfish and insensitive person, of course, they know that. Before this, you’d always eat alone, but ever since the match where they were forced to watch you two flex on them, you’d hang out with him. Still, “I can’t believe [L/n] would rather have a romantic dinner with the only goddamn bastard in this goddamn building who gets better meals than share with us! I’m sick of this natto.”

“You’re telling me,” the other boy says, sadly eating a radish.

This must be an advanced form of psychological torture administered by Ego himself. Even if you don’t notice the audience, Shidou seems to be reveling in the negative attention. They can only watch and drool while you two push at each other and try to steal ingredients. At some point, you put Shidou in a suplex, making him cough out something. Then he wrestles his way out of your maneuver and shoves your head into your plate, forces you up again, and licks the food off your face while you scowl at him.

“I’d hardly call that a romantic dinner, though.”

“A guy from blondie’s team said he caught them asleep on top of each other in the training facility once.”

“Do you think they’re-?!”

“Oh my god, they’re…!”

They scream and point at each other and then hug as if traumatized. To add insult to injury, your voice rings from afar, “Are your eyes really pink? There’s no way that’s natural,” while some of the sauce still sticks to your skin.

“What? You think I’m some kinda fake?” asks Shidou, apparently offended.

“I’m gonna expose you, trust.”

How are you blowing everyone in your cell out of the water in terms of performance? You have to be the dumbest person in this entire wing.

___

“I want you,” he says.

Granted, this is out of context, but you still find that the words have some effect on you. But this won’t do no matter how hard you want to give in. With the first stage of the second selection cleared, you can’t continue as you are. You’ve been complacent in your talent. To expand your abilities, you need to observe whatever other powerful players there are in here instead of still chasing after him. Even the wet wipes on your old team have started catching up.

Besides, you’d always thought your appeal to him is as an opponent, someone who he wants on the other side of the field to face off against, and now Shidou is demanding to work together with you.

“I was in a coma before I met you,” you say. He pinches his eyebrows together, which is probably the first time you’ve seen him pull such an expression. To think you have the ability to utter something so strange, it weirds out even Shidou. “You pulled me out of it, but now I need to see other things, too.”

“If you tell me you wanna go watch other guys, I might get jealous.” Despite the initial waver, he sticks his tongue out at you, trying to be playful like always.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

Shidou grabs you by the collar of your jersey and pushes you against the wall. You blink at him, finding this an inappropriate time for a spar seeing as this is regular enough for him, but then he invades your personal space in a way which doesn’t feel particularly combative, your noses brushing against each other, and he blatantly glances at your lips before closing his eyes. You don’t think about it when you pull him in by the neck, your body reacting to his cues.

It’s not even that great, he’s not really being effective at what he’s doing, mashing your mouth against his almost pointlessly, teeth clashing and all before moving far too quickly onto the tonguing part of making out. Your nails are digging into his neck and his hold against your waist is tight enough to bother you. There’s a latent aggression in it like there is in any other interaction between you two.

And you don’t enjoy this for the surface-level sensations but rather for the strange tightness in your chest, the headrush, the closeness where somehow he’s enveloping you and you’re enveloping him at the same time and it feels like you’re about to fuse. You don’t want to let go yet, maybe under the assumption that if you keep kissing him, he’s going to be polite and return your breath to you.

Steps come near the entrance of the hallway and then, “Ah! Uhhh…”

You snap out of it and push Shidou off of you. He has the gall to look offended, glaring.

There’s some puny kid with a buzz cut, standing there with his confusion clear on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, uh… whatever it was you were doing!” he says in a panic, waving his hands back and forth.

Yeah, that’s a good point. What the fuck were you doing? You just jumped at each other on instinct, ruled by some bizarre, mysterious need.

It must be because the air is so charged between you. Shidou is always in overdrive and he has a penchant for pulling you into his madness. You’re always doing something when you’re together — trading blows, trying to show the other up in soccer, saying heavy-handed things for no reason — and now a moment of stagnancy happened and you both turned into even bigger morons than usual.

He didn’t think about it either, you’re sure. Besides, even if you’re a crazy bastard on the field, you’re not like him. Shidou will meet even stronger players once he advances and he’ll move onto his next obsession. This doesn’t mean anything, at least not to him, you’re convinced.

You untangle yourself from him and ram your shoulder into his as goodbye before lamely saying, “I’m going now,” and offering a nonchalant wave.

He frowns before kicking imaginary dust off the floor. “Sure, fine. Be this way!”

Igaguri isn’t super puritanical or anything. Yeah, he grew up in a temple and all, but seeing two people kiss doesn’t offend his sensibilities. What freaked him out was how you managed to make it look like a fight while you were going at it, and like, he knows the hallway was deserted before he came out of thin air, but this is still a public place. Whatever happened to shame?

And now he has to be in the same vicinity as this scary guy who’s glaring daggers at the spot you were standing in, vein bursting out of his forehead and all, as if you ruined his life by walking out of here. He looks like a manchild who’s sulking because his mom forgot to make him chicken nuggies. A bead of nervous sweat rolls down his forehead.

___

Ever since the beginning, Isagi has been honing his technique, always hungry to add another skill to his repertoire. Rin and Shidou have no synergy; fine, he thinks, it’s not like he really even wants to set up a goal using them. It’s not enough to satisfy him anymore, not after the last match. He’d much rather score himself.

But the problem with the spatial awareness he has developed is that he can’t turn it off at will, or say ‘la-la-la’ and ignore something to focus on what’s important.

Well, being on the same stage as you and Shidou has to be the worst thing of all time. He wants to smell a goal for himself, but the most likely chemical reaction he can predict is one between you two, and you’re not even on the same team. It’s like a ticking time bomb, like those explosions Shidou has been vaguely rambling about, and it permeates the air.

You’ve started adapting his bodily control and precision, almost coming close to scoring with your back on the net. And Shidou has managed to pull off one of ridiculously tight angled shots to break through a two-on-one, passing the ball to Rin. If the phenomenon Isagi observed and achieved before is ‘consumption,’ then he has a first row seat to watch you two cannibalize each other.

The most unfortunate thing is the chase. The ball will come to you, but Shidou will steal it. He’ll be in the air ready to strike, but you’ll sabotage him from below. Isagi recognizes this as an unconscious prediction — on a molecular level, you know where the other one will be, and you’ll race there. It’s like he’s watching both of you swing neon signs and desperately scream ‘Please look at me!’ and overall beg for attention while also stubbornly refusing to make eye contact in fear of rejection.

It is revolting. He wants to gag.

Sure, Ego talked about how luck is a skill and how a pro takes advantage of it, but he never mentioned what to do when someone on his team is living through a low-rated soap opera episode with an opponent. With all of the emotional constipation among the participants of this godforsaken project, he’s sure this won’t be the last time he’ll need it.

___

Sitting down in the middle of practice isn’t productive, but you’re ‘taking a break,’ by which you mean you want to snap someone’s neck. It’s been boring again, ever since Shidou started disregarding your presence. You’re even on the same team now and it’s like you’re no better than air to him.

Of course, you’d predicted he’d find someone new to excite him. You just hadn’t anticipated it’d hurt your feelings. Why do you care, anyway? You should be used to this. The soccer you’ve played has always been selfish and lonely, and moping and jealousy are below you.

But during the match against U-20, you saw him look at Itoshi Sae the same way he first looked at you on the day you met, spouting nonsense with his unique expert-level yappery. And you don’t like that. You don’t like it at all.

He’s off doing his own thing again when you search for him with your eyes. You stand up.

And then you don’t think at all, breaking out into a sprint at full speed.

You’re behind him in the matter of a minute or so, slipping your foot between his and kicking the ball overhead so it lands behind him. He bristles, perhaps at your unwanted company, but you’ve already turned on your heel to run in the other direction.

You’re dribbling the ball when you glance over your shoulder. He’s onto you, trademark grin on his face. You’re not even sure what you’re trying to accomplish here, but all that comes to mind is, It doesn’t matter if it’s going way too fast or way too hard anymore. Just chase after me one more time.

You’re almost all the way over to the other goal, maintaining your lead, when Shidou kicks the ball after lunging around your side. It slips off half-assedly, but you don’t have much time to mock him for his technique because he grabs you by the wrists and pins you down, straddling you to the ground.

“That’s a foul,” you say, displeased.

“I don’t care.” His smile is so big you feel like he’s going to need to visit an orthodontist after you’re done here. The annoying strands of hair he keeps loose are hovering near your face, taunting you.

Your eyes dart again with your head in the fake grass and you see it straying off. “And the ball didn’t make it. To be honest, you were sloppy.”

“I don’t care.”

“You… don’t?”

There’s that sick fluttering feeling in your stomach again and your heart kicks against your chest painfully. Your cheeks are growing warm and you feel uncomfortable by the heat with Shidou so close to you. What the hell is wrong with you? Seriously, he didn’t even tell you a line or anything. He just said ‘I don’t care’ twice. That’s not game! You need to get a grip.

“Yeah, why should I? I’ve got you right where I want you now.”

You raise an unimpressed eyebrow. If making you look like an idiot is his revenge to you for making him mad, then fine, you’re going to pretend you can’t make your way out of his grip with ease.

“You can’t give me a big dopamine hit like that and pull away,” he says, leaning closer. By this point you really can’t see much apart from his big ass head right in your face. Does he even know what he’s implying to you while looking at you straight-on? Does he realize you know his weird euphemisms are all figures of speech for whatever makes him horny?

“What do you mean?”

“Tellin’ me all that romantic stuff and running away…” Shidou narrows his eyes as if the memory is enough to annoy him.

You blink. Oh. You thought he was throwing a temper tantrum because you refused to team up with him. But once again, you’re unimpressed. “So did that turn you on or what? I don’t get it.”

“Well, I’d put it in other words, like, let’s say, hypothetically, maybe you made me explode because you’re an oxidizer and I’m an organic-”

“Ok, I know, but I’m trying to figure out what’s going on here-”

He retreats and rolls away from you, allowing you to sit up again, so you cease talking without reaching the point you were trying to make. It flies out of your head anyway when he links his hand with yours, staring at you, seemingly subdued now. You’re not sure why you’re both acting like shy middle schoolers now while indulging in something so chaste considering you’ve done way more indecent things together, but you intertwine your fingers and offer him a smile. The sight catches him off-guard.

Before he can bask in another achievement (this time being the first person to make you express any kind of joy when everyone knows you’re one distant asshole), a ball hits him straight on the forehead.

Without any preamble, Rin deems it fit to announce his presence by saying, “Your lukewarm displays are appalling. You should both just die.”

You stare at him and then at each other and burst out in laughter, pointing at him. Though you finish your laughing fits at about the same time, you spur on another one by asking, “Do you think he even knows what lukewarm means?”

“No, I seriously doubt it!”

Rin thinks to ask you how come you think it’s chill when your shitty boyfriend or whatever he is says the grossest things imaginable, but suddenly it’s a problem when he wants to say his favorite word, though he doesn’t want to seem too offended or otherwise invested.

___

Im sorry if this is in any way contradictory or shitty or sucks balls I havent slept in 4 days except for a one-off 3 hour nap and wrote this while possessed. Maybe ill sleep again at some point and this will be the worst thing ive ever seen and ill have to delete it. God forbid.

#shidou x reader #shidou ryuusei x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x you

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skelnexswriting · 2 years

Text

His Sun, Her Moon.

➪ | Pairing: | Ghost x reader

➪ | Warnings: | Fluff, Y/n used, fem reader, a sweet little story!

➪ | Summary: | Everyone had someone who was their sun or moon. And for ghost, Y/n was his sun. But for Y/n, Ghost was her moon.

➪ | A/n: | I thought this concept was cute, so hope you enjoy!

—

Ghost never expected to find love in his life, given his past and career. Yet he did..

He fell for the medic of his own team.

He always thought she was just as bright as the sun. Especially the smile that never seemed to fall from her lips.

He found that she was also just as warm as a spring day. She was kind to the people she met. She also cared for those on her team.

Ghost couldn’t count the number of times she saved him.

He still remembers the first day she was put on the task force.

…

They were told that a field medic was being assigned to the task force. Ghost wasn’t fond of the idea of a new teammate.

He didn’t know who he was expecting but it definitely wasn’t a woman who was so bright. He disliked the thought at having a female version of soap on the team. One of him was just fine.

The first weeks he found himself avoiding the medic. He just didn’t have much interest in getting to know y/n.

It wasn’t until ghost got shot that the two talked.

Y/n didn’t hesitate to get to work. She pulled ghost to cover, sat him down, and got to work. Ghost was caught off guard at how she could work fast and accurately yet so…gentle.

Maybe he should get to know her..

…

And he did.

He kept finding excuses to talk to her.

“come eat dinner.”

“We have a debriefing.”

“Price needs you.”

It didn’t matter what it was, he just needed to talk to her.

Soon he got the courage to make small conversation. He’d talk to her while walking to those said debriefings, or when they sat next to each other, even when they were on the way to a mission. He learned small things about her that he hadn’t before.

…

As a few years pasted, he grew close to Y/n. At first he couldn’t stand the idea of a new teammate but now he can’t seem to go without her.

She was the only one who he trusted. The only one who could make his heart pick up in speed. He even gave her the codename sol because to him. She was the only sun he needed.

…

And to y/n, Ghost was like the moon.

He wasn’t bright or colorful.

Ghost was surrounded by darkness yet to Y/n he still shined. At first she was intimidated by the famous skull mask solider. But overtime she saw past that. She saw the secret care he had for his team.

How he’d talk to soap during missions to calm soap’s nerves. Or the way he’d train gaz so he’d be prepared for future missions. Or how he made sure price didn’t over work himself with filling out reports.

To everyone ghost was as scary as darkness itself. But y/n slowly saw the light that bled through. Like the way a full moon softly lit up the sky.

She was relieved when he started to open up. She learned more about Ghost. Even some dark parts of him. But even the moon had a dark side. He was just misunderstood.

When the two finally got together, things changed for the better.

Y/n brought out the light of Ghost. Most saw it, even soap. They saw the slight change in him. He had someone to fight for.

Ghost needed Y/n and Y/n needed Ghost. Just like how the sun needed the moon and the moon needed the sun.

She was his sun and he was her moon.

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alwritey-aphrodite · 1 year

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Putting Roots In My Dreamland

Chapter Three of There’s Nothing Like This

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x fem!footballer!reader

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 2.5k

Author’s Note: here’s the Jamie I promised :) another shoutout to @buckychristwrites for helping me out when my brain shuts down

When you wake up on Sunday, body sore and head aching and mouth dry, you vow to never drink again. You wonder what had possessed you to make plans for today when you knew exactly what your night was going to be like as soon as your locker room celebration started. At some point, everyone had made their way from Nelson Road to a club, and it was all downhill from there.

Luckily for you, Jamie was in the same boat as you and was hopefully regretting his decisions just as much as you were. Though, knowing how unfair the world is, you’re sure he feels fresh as a daisy right now. He’s probably been up for hours and had time to make himself some sort of healthy, superfood smoothie before doing an intense workout followed by a shower with a complex hair and skincare routine, because he was insufferable like that.

You, meanwhile, were wondering how you’re able to stand on your own, let alone play a full football match. You’re reminded of the creeping end of your career, coming much faster than it should, so you throw yourself into the shower just so you have something else to think about. The warm water soothes your muscles and your overactive brain until you’re actually looking forward to spending the day with Jamie.

The shower takes longer than it typically would, mainly due to how long you just stand under the stream of water without doing anything, simply letting the water wash over your body as you psych yourself up for the day ahead of you. It wasn’t that Jamie made you nervous, but spending time with new people, getting to know new friends, was always a little nerve inducing for you. You and Jamie had only spoken a handful of times and never for any longer than five minutes, so the thought of spending a whole day with just him made your stomach flip.

After spending far too long in the shower, you check your phone to see a message from Mackie, along with plenty of pictures. You groan as you scroll through them, confronting your decisions from the night before. They aren’t bad pictures, and you’re surprised at how good of a photographer Mackie is even though she had just as much to drink as you did.

In all of them, you look exuberantly happy, your mouth wide open in a grin or mid-laugh with a drink in one hand and the other slung around the shoulder of a teammate or one of the boys. You’ve been happy, but it’s been a while since you’ve seen it, since you were able to look at your own face and see the joy so clearly written on it. Even just looking back makes you smile, until you get a text from Jamie and your stomach fills with nerves.

He’s sent you an address, asking if you want to meet at a coffee shop around noon so he can show you around Richmond, and you don’t even remember giving him your number.

Can’t wait! You reply, even though you’d love nothing more than to wait and spend the rest of your day lounging in front of your TV and eating nothing but comfort foods. Instead, you finish getting ready before standing in front of your closet and taking far too long to settle on an outfit. You know you’ve already met and that you’ve literally tackled the man, but you still want to make a good first impression outside of Nelson Road, outside of whatever you said or did last night.

All you hope is that you didn’t embarrass yourself too much.

You decide to walk to the cafe, knowing the fresh air will help you calm your nerves more than driving on the confusing London streets would. To your shock, Jamie is already sitting there when you arrive with fifteen minutes to spare. Even from a distance, you can see the way he alternates between checking the time on his phone and pushing his hair out of his face, the headband he wears at Nelson Road nowhere to be seen.

When he finally spots you coming towards him, he launches himself out of his chair and rushes forward to meet you halfway. He’s wearing dark colored pants and a nice button-up instead of the matching tracksuit you’d been expecting and looks nowhere near as hungover as you feel. He looks like he’s been up since the sunrise and went on a run just because he wanted to, and it makes you momentarily hate him just a little until he smiles at you and you’re reminded that he’s really just a boy who happens to be a professional footballer.

Pleasantries are exchanged as you both take a seat, and you can’t help the way your eyes drift from the menu in your hands to his face, the way he’s pouting slightly as he thinks and pushes his hair away from his face in what you assume is a nervous habit, something to keep his hands busy. It’s endearing in a way that makes you want to stand and run and never leave your house again.

After the two of you order, the conversation stills and the silence becomes awkward and you have no idea what to say. It’s not like you can ask him about himself, because your guilty pleasure is trashy tabloids and you’ve read more of his interviews with well-known papers than you’d like to admit. Jamie doesn’t seem all that eager to break the silence either and there’s been a furrow in his brow since you sat down, so you take it upon yourself to get the ball rolling.

“Thanks for offering to show me around, I really appreciate it,” you say, setting down your utensils as you finish eating, “I feel like I haven’t done anything except train since I got here.” And really, you weren’t wrong; you’d gone to the grocery store and stopped at a coffee shop with Mackie after practice one day, but other than that you haven’t been anywhere except Nelson Road and your house, and you’ve already been in Richmond for more than a month.

“Yeah,” he nods along as you speak before he adds, “I’ve been here a lot longer than you and I still don’t really know Richmond that well.” You can’t help the confusion that clouds your face as the man who offered to show you around Richmond admits that he doesn’t know the area and Jamie notices immediately so he scrambles to add, “I know a lot of places! Just not everywhere, but I’ve got my favorites.”

It’s becoming more and more difficult not to smile when you’re around him, there’s just something about him that makes you feel so open in a way you haven’t experienced since you met Mackie. He’s attentive, listening to everything you have to say with his full attention, nodding along as you answer questions about your favorite things and what you miss from back home and how you’re liking London so far.

It’s obvious that he genuinely cares about your answers, that he wants to hear what you have to say, and you can’t remember the last time anyone paid attention to you like that and it makes your skin prickle in a way that isn’t completely unpleasant.

The two of you start your tour around Richmond, questions and stories being volleyed back and forth as you walk along the streets. Jamie contributes to your conversation and he answers all your questions openly, but it’s clear that he’d rather have the focus be on you and the majority of his contributions are nods and “mhm”s thrown in when appropriate.

You can’t help but to wonder if this is how he acts with everybody or if it’s just because you’ve really only just met or if he’s regretting offering to show you around Richmond. You always make it a point not to talk about yourself, wanting to keep the focus on anything other than you and your life, and even though you’re not spilling out your deepest darkest secrets, you still feel exposed in ways you hadn’t expected.

“I love all the girls, and the coaches, and Keeley and Rebecca are great,” you say after Jamie asks how you’re liking Richmond so far. You know that’s probably not what he meant by that question but you can’t fathom opening up to him any other way, definitely not in the middle of a Sunday in a public park while you’re still a little hungover.

The last person you’d really, truly opened up to, shared all your deepest fears and hopes and dreams with was Mackie, and you’d been friends for almost five years now. The idea of exposing yourself, of someone truly getting to know you made your skin crawl, despite how much you’re coming to enjoy being around Jamie.

“Yeah, Keeley’s awesome, she’s one of me best mates,” he replies and you’re glad that the conversation has shifted away from you and onto someone you’d much rather talk about.

Jamie’s tour ends up being less like a tour and more like the two of you aimlessly walking around Richmond with him vaguely pointing out restaurants and shops that he likes, but you don’t mind at all. It’s much nicer than you’d expected just to talk with Jamie, and you find yourself looking forward to spending more time with him while also feeling terrified of seeming childish if you were to ask him to hang out again.

Despite your football playing strategies, you’d never been one to be exceptionally forward or confident in your personal life, so even just the idea of spending a day with Jamie seemed unbelievable. Although, he really was nothing like you’d expected.

The Jamie you were spending time with was considerate and a little awkward and told awful jokes that you couldn’t help but laugh at, and the more time you spent with him the more relaxed you became. By the time you find yourself in front of your house, you’re debating whether or not you should lie and say it isn’t your place just so you can keep walking, and you can spend a little more time talking with Jamie.

“This is me,” you say instead, throwing an arm backwards to point at your front door, “I had a really nice time today, thanks for showing me around.” You try not to smile too wide, try not to seem like a child who’s overly excited about making a new friend even though on the inside you’re practically jumping up and down.

Once you’d gotten past the fact that you were talking with the Jamie Tartt, football star, you were really just overjoyed at the idea of finally having a friend that wasn’t just a teammate, someone who you’d need to see outside of training and who’d drag you out of your house to experience life.

“Yeah, of course,” Jamie responds, his hands hovering out in front of him before he settles them into his pockets, “we’ll have to do something again sometime.”

You can’t help but to smile at Jamie and how uncharacteristically shy he seems, but when he notices you smiling, he beams back at you. You say your goodbyes before heading inside, internally debating whether or not you should have asked if he wanted to come in.

——

As Jamie watches your front door close, he takes his first deep breath of the day. It seemed like he was held together by nothing but nerves all morning, and now that he’s heading home he can finally relax. He’d been so worried about saying something dumb that he’d barely talked, choosing instead to ask you question after question to keep the conversation on any topic except himself.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to share with you, because he really did, he just couldn’t risk ruining what was shaping up to be a comfortable friendship with his own insecurities and fears. And, he could listen to you talk for hours and hours no matter what you were saying. You could read him the dictionary and he’d sit with rapt attention the entire time, overjoyed just to be near you.

He’d been worried he’d come off too strong and scare you away, but it seemed as if you enjoyed yourself as much as he did. He can’t help the little bubble of pride that fills his chest over the idea that you enjoyed a day he’d planned, enjoyed spending time with him enough to say you wanted to meet again soon.

You'd been so different from how you were at the Dog Track, than how you are on the pitch, but Jamie doesn’t mind at all. He wants to learn everything about you, all your quirks and fears and everything you love.

Being around you feels like being punched in the chest, and Jamie can’t remember ever feeling this way about anyone, not when he met Roy Kent for the first time or when he told Keeley he loved her, but he doesn’t mind. It’s a new feeling, and it scares him a little, but it’s not a bad feeling at all. It’s like he can’t breathe around you, but he’d rather struggle for breath than never see you again.

Ever since that moment when your eyes locked your first day at Nelson Road, Jamie hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you. He remembers checking Instagram every morning and night until Keeley posted the women’s team roster and then he spent hours scrolling through your page.

At first, he’d felt like a creep, like he was intruding on something private even though your page was public and you’re a professional athlete. He was careful not to like any of your old photos, careful not to do anything that would send you a notification that he was spending hours scrolling down your profile.

There were photos of you and Mackie and the rest of the US Women’s Team, there were professional photos of you at events or at photo shoots for brand deals, there were action shots of you on the pitch, but his favorite photos were the ones you’d taken yourself, selfies and group photos and pictures of your travels.

If anyone was around, Jamie would have been beyond embarrassed when he realized he was smiling as he scrolled through your photos, taking in those little aspects of you that he hadn’t gotten the chance to experience yet in your minimal contact with each other. Even more embarrassing to him was the fact that he didn’t follow you for another week, needing time to work up the nerve as if it was outlandish that he’d follow you on your public account, as if all the other players on his team weren’t already following you.

He just loved getting to see the world, see Richmond and Nelson Road from your eyes.

There’s something about you that makes him want to learn everything about you, that makes him want to spend every moment of his free time with you, that makes him want to fall asleep and wake up next to you. He’s not sure what it is yet, but he knows some of his teammates are starting to pick up on it, Sam even going so far as to call him out on his starry-eyed staring.

All he hopes is that you don’t pick up on it.

Tags: @andr0medafallen @buckychristwrites @benedictscanvas @whimsical-roasting @sokkigarden @guccilongboard @onceuponaoneshot @presidential-facts @yepyeahuhhuh @loveslide @allthefandomtherapy @gibby31 @buddyjuststop @ellietartt @cancvr @brianandthemays @sonyume @aiyaiy @captainfrisbee @dalebo3 @theloud-yet-quietone @imsoluckyeverythingworksoutforme @rockchickrebel @legobatmans9thab @curlypeter @lostinwonderland314 @yokolesbianism @jamietarttdodo @kno-way-home @fan-goddess @innocentbi-stander @skewedcherries

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fic #jamie tartt fluff #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #there’s nothing like this

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humanradiojmp · 1 month

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My blind reaction to the Murder Drones Finale Part 1

Contains spoilers

Of course, got to have Cyn’s theme for the world ending. Fitting

Wha- REBECCA?!

The teacher could not care less the apocalypse is happening again. He is such a mood

Well there is no air in space, so it makes sense that there wouldn’t be sound, and that Uzi can’t really talk. communicating with space rocks and screens is a good solution

I like the parental advisory sensor. Do the worker drones have that automatically, or can they remove it at a certain point?

Space ship pilot!!! Makes you wonder though how and why they crashed the first time. got distracted or nervous or something?

I half expected the Wall-e kiss, but forehead taps are still good. got to have that comedic sensor cut off as well. I love this show.

Stop that. get help.

Not the Falling for You theme as they fall back to the surface!

That’s the understatement of the century

The ship being brought in looking like the creepy-ass hand that the solver drones got at the manor is such a nice touch

So J is aware of who Cyntessa really is and working with her. interesting. Like to know her reasoning why

Lizzy could not care less she’s about to die-

Is- is it?

SHE’S ALIVE! V’S ALIVE!!! YEEEEESSSSS!!!!!

Was holding my N-doggo plushy and squeezed him so hard and did leg tappies when I saw she was alive. V is back ya’ll!

With a little bit of Eternal Dream as well. I love this soundtrack and the attention to detail to it so much!

Not the sentinel wearing Beau’s hat. I feel like that’s horrible in a way but matches so well.

I laughed so much when I saw the meme.

And the name for V in Lizzy’s contacts. Wow

So much like V with her initial antagonizing towards Uzi, J sided with Cyn out of fear and a need to survive. She rationalized this was the best course of action, even if it’s siding with the obvious ‘bad guy’. But it’s nice to see J does have some semblance of care for her former team mates. Wonder if she also did it all for their sake as well as her own.

The sunglasses and cool pose. Their so cringe

I really like the animation of how Cyn walks in Tessa’s sink. Like it doesn’t quite fit and she doesn’t have complete control over it. nice touch to the creep factor of her existence

Oh yes, emotional and mental torture and manipulation is simply just ‘hurting his feelings’. It’s tots fine, he just needs to get over it.

And just like with Uzi, he can’t shoot Tessa, even if it’s no longer her. or maybe he knows it won’t work?

Nice little moment, but lesson number one kids – never take your eyes off the enemy, ever. Because then you’re going to get your heart stabbed out of your chest

Trying to push her core back in with no hands is so morbid

Of course she has wings. Why wouldn’t she?

I take back the J cares about her teammates statement. Unless she’s trying to make it less hard on herself?

The callback ping with the hands trying to find them, with N on the verge of a panic attack seeing Cyn clawing him out as well as the manor flashback is just so (satisfied grunting)

And Uzi’s heart trying to leave her chest because of the callback ping, her trying to keep it in but it’s pushing out like the monster from Alien (grunting continues)

Oh shoot, they don’t know she’s alive, and you can see just how traumatized the boy is. I really hope they get therapy after this if they survive. They really need it

You protected her from a trap, but at what cost?

V really was operating on fear, I knew it. I know a popular theory is that V remembered most if not all of what happened before Copper-9 and I wonder now if that theory has been proven true. Because she knew what this thing was capable of, and thought if she were to just follow orders, keep her head low, and not incite any callback of former memories, then maybe, just maybe, everything would be ok. But it never was going to be ok, was it? *draws V in for a hug* you need this. A lot.

Oooh, it was N’s core she was going to eat. Oh no.

Wait, Khan has the solver? Or was that a remote for something? (even watching it back, I’m still not 100% sure)

I really like how Uzi has full control of herself and her version of the solver, and how it’s hinted she has some control over the solver in general with how Cyntessa’s eye flickered purple. I kind of half wished they delved into that a little more in the fight to ensue, as it would have shown a cool mental version of a battle of wills. But…

Second part coming because of character limit

Second part

#murder drones #murder drones episode 8 #it's over guys #I'm happy #i'm sad #i'm all the things #radio rambles #humanradiojmp #text post #not art

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mattybraps10 · 9 months

Text

Don't You (Taylor's Version) (From The Vault)

Part of the Fearless (TV) series.

Summary: Cole Caufield realizes he's always loved Y/n and chooses to distance himself as he tries to work through everything. Cole represents the opposing perspective to Taylor's "Don't You."

word count: 831

by: M

Don't You (Taylor's Version) (From the Vault) ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10

Cole Caufield had a thing for his best friend and everyone knew, except him. Whether it was a passing comment from teammates in the locker room or a bump to the shoulder when she walked by, Cole’s friends were anything but subtle. Despite the knowing glances his way, Y/n remained oblivious to her best friend’s teammates.

The moment Cole realized how he felt, he’d been on the phone with Y/n listening to her ramble on about the differences between movie adaptations of the books she loved and the books themselves. He found himself lost in her voice, smiling at the passion she felt for her stories. Y/n had asked if he was even still listening, laughing about her tangent.

God, that laugh.

He wanted to hear that laugh forever. It was the best sound he’d ever heard, the way her face lit up on facetime as she laughed at his clear indication that he had no idea what she’d been talking about. He heard what she was saying, he wasn’t not listening, he was just preoccupied. Preoccupied by the freckles on her face, the way being the reason she smiled made his days. He’d come to the conclusion that something must be wrong with him, and he’d called the only person he thought of, Jack Hughes.

The call had gone something along the lines of Cole telling Jack he thought he liked her and Jack saying “duh” and hanging up. The call really didn’t clear anything up for him, if anything it raised more questions about when he’d started feeling this way. The next day at practice his mind wandered and he found himself skating laps to make up for it at the end of practice. He promised his coach and his teammates that it was a one time thing, but thoughts of Y/n clouded his mind when he was on the ice, leading to sloppy line changes and missed passes. His teammates, understandably, began to worry but he maintained that nothing was wrong.

Y/n had noticed something was wrong as well when he’d started pulling away from her, canceling plans last minute and creating half-assed excuses for his absences. She’d called his teammates, his friends, hell even his coach to see what was up with him and no one had any idea. Weeks passed and Y/n began to accept that she’d lost her closest friend. She stopped reaching out, and he never even tried.

By the end of the season, Cole Caufield had the lowest number of goals in his draft year. Without daily phone calls and the promise of seeing Y/n’s smile in the crowd, his game had fallen flat and he was widely considered as the biggest draft bust of the twenty-first century. He didn’t really care about his game, he cared that he’d lost Y/n in an effort to avoid exactly that. He’d thought that pulling away from her would help him manage his feelings, but it just made everything worse. When she’d stopped reaching out, he’d found it impossible to break the silence, opting to late nights out and unhealthy habits.

During the offseason, Cole found himself spending late nights at clubs, partying until he couldn’t remember his own name. On one of these nights he’d taken his phone out and called Y/n, leaving a message about how much he wanted her and how he couldn’t risk losing her. The message was obscured by his slurred speech and the noise of the club.

The next morning Cole had woken up with a pounding headache and three missed calls from Y/n. He hadn’t really remembered what he’d said the night before, but he hastily listened to her messages, trying to piece the night before back together.

“Hey Cole, look you really hurt me when you pulled away a few months ago. I really can’t have you calling me shit-faced at three am with promises we both know you won’t keep.”

“Cole, it’s me again, I was kind of rude before, just let me know if you get home safe, yeah?”

“Cole… I loved you. But you really hurt me. I- I just want to know you’re okay, so call me, yeah?”

Cole called Y/n for the first time in months and they talked. They talked for hours about everything Cole had been going through, the way he felt he couldn’t reach out once it’d been a few weeks. Y/n shared what it was like to have radio-silence from someone she loved, how her life had changed, how she’d found someone who truly saw her. The bond that was once there would never really be what it used to, but they were getting closer. Cole really didn’t want to lose her again, and if it meant hiding how he truly felt, well, he’d just have to deal with it. She was everything he’d ever wanted and he’d have to live with stolen glances with hidden meanings.

#cole caufield #cole caufield x reader #fearless tv x nhl #hockey fanfiction

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writtenbymisunderstoodnerds · 2 years

Text

I kinda, maybe slept with your bestfriend (Tobin Heath x Reader)

Warning: Tiny smudge of smut

Words: 2.9K

"Hey guys, this is my girlfriend Y/n."

"You uh you're Tobin's girlfriend?" The voice I hadn’t heard for a long time asked. I froze next to Tobin briefly before clearing my throat. This was not what I expected when I met Tobin’s team. Things were about to get awkward.

"Christen? Hi."

Tobin looked between us confused as I stood there awkwardly. Anyone would be awkward if they just found out their girlfriend and their ex almost girlfriend were teammates and best friends. "Wait, you two know each other?"

"Kinda yeah, it's uh good to see you again."

After a few minutes of small talk, Tobin excused us and pulled me away from them, "What was that?"

"There's something you should probably know."

"Please tell me you didn't date my bestfriend." I was quiet for a few seconds, trying to think of how to explain the situation. "Y/n."

"We didn't really date. We uh slept together a couple of times though."

Tobin looked less than pleased at my confession. She took a step back, arms crossed over her chest, "You slept with her? When? Is that all it was?"

"About 2 years ago. It was going to go further, but I was put undercover before anything more could happen. I didn't have time to tell her, by time I came back, I had lost her number and I couldn't find her."

"You didn't think to tell me?"

"Tobin, I didn't know who she was to you. When you talked about her, I never made the connection."

She scoffed turning to walk away, "Sure."

I grabbed her arm, but she shrugged me off, "Tobin wait, I wasn't hiding this from you. Don't walk away from me."

"You slept with my best friend."

"I hadn't even met you when it happened. You can't be mad at me for that."

"You didn't tell me."

"How was I supposed to know who she was to you? You never introduced me to her, never showed me or posted any photos of her. Maybe if you weren't ashamed and hadn't kept me a secret for so long, I would have told you sooner."

"Y/n."

"No. Call me when you're ready to talk about this properly." I stopped in front of the group on my way out, "I have to go, it was nice to meet you."

---

It had been a day since the fight with Tobin, I hadn't talked to her and she hadn't contacted me. We were supposed to be sharing a room while they were at camp since I had taken time off work. Instead, I had gotten my own room last night. I was hurt that Tobin thought I would lie to her or keep something like this from her. Since we started dating, I had made sure to always be honest with her even if it would cause a fight, the only time I ever withheld the truth was when I was organising a surprise which also wasn't often. I was getting ready to leave the hotel when I saw Christen walking up to me.

"Hey, you alright?"

"I'm fine, just going to get some lunch."

"I was hoping we could talk? About what happened between us."

We sat down on a bench in the lobby, both quiet for a bit until I spoke up, "I'm sorry Christen."

"What for? Obviously you weren't interested, we weren't together, you had no obligation to tell me. Would have been nice to know you already had a girlfriend though."

"Whoa hold up. Tobin and I weren't together then, I'm not a cheater. For the record I was very interested in you Christen. You remember how I told you about that big case I was working back then?" Christen nodded, "I can't go into detail, but something big came up suddenly, I was sent undercover. I had less then 5 minutes from the time I was told to the time I had to go. I wanted to tell you, I really did, but I didn't have time. The stakes outweighed what I wanted."

"What about after? You could have called me. I just, it would have been nice to get an explanation."

I rest my hand on her knee, squeezing before dropping it back to my side, "I know, I'm sorry. A lot of things happened, my phone was busted. I lost your number, I tried to find you, but we hadn't told each other our last names yet. I didn't watch soccer, I didn't know who you were. I didn't even know who Tobin was until she told me."

"It's okay Y/n, things happen. I admit, it sucked at the time, but I'm glad you're happy. Tobin is a great person."

An involuntary smile made it's way onto my face at the thought of Tobin. She always made me smile no matter what was happening. If I had a shit day she was the one I could count on to make it better, at least for a little bit. A frown appeared once I remembered that we weren't talking. I hated it more than anything, "She is, although she's not happy with me right now. Are you happy?"

"I am, I have a beautiful girlfriend now. Tobin will come around, she just needs time to process. I mean it's got to be a lot finding out that your girlfriend and your bestfriend slept with each other. Look, I don't want to overstep, but we heard a bit of your argument. Tobin's not ashamed of you, she didn't keep you a secret, we knew she had a girlfriend. Tobin talked about you all the time at camps, she wouldn't show photos or anything, but she talked about you."

"Then why did it take her so long to introduce us? Why didn't she show you photos? That doesn't really make me think she's not."

"That is something you need to talk to her about."

"I will once she apologizes."

Christen laughed, shaking her head, "You're a bit stubborn huh?"

"Normally, no. Tobin and I don't fight often. When we do, we talk it out. She crossed a line this time. I get that she was surprised, shocked or whatever she was, but I will not tolerate her accusing me. I've never been anything, but honest with her, if I knew who you were to her, she would have known. That's enough of this though, I'm not going to put you in the middle. It's really is nice seeing you again even if the circumstances are a lot different."

"You too Y/n."

Tobin walked up, stopping in front of us, posture tense as she looked between us, "What are you two talking about?"

I stood up, arms crossing over my chest, "You're really going to be that person Tobin?"

She sighed, relaxing a little bit, "No, I'm not. It doesn't matter, you can talk about whatever you want. I'm sorry Y/n. "

"We were talking about why I disappeared, I figured she was owed an explanation."

She bit her lip, looking at Christen then back at me, "Can we talk?"

I kissed her cheek softly, "Give me an hour or so, I need to do some stuff"

Tobin frowned, but quickly changed to a small smile. I knew it was a front to hide her disappointment which made me feel bad, but it was too late now, I had already committed, "Work?"

"Unfortunately, I know I said I wouldn't, but they called me yesterday after our fight. Guess it was payback of sorts. After this I'm all yours for 3 weeks."

She pulled me closer, I didn't fight her instead kissing her slowly. It had been a long time since we went more than a few hours without a kiss or a hug. It sucked big time. I pulled away, placing another quick kiss to her lips before leaving.

---

"Hey ladies, you seen Tobin?"

"Hey Y/n, last we saw she's in your room. Bailed on dinner and drinks so she could be here when you got back."

"Thank you, we'll join you for a drink later."

Tobin was sitting on the bed, leg bouncing and fidgeting when I walked in. I sat down next to her, but she just sat there, not saying anything. I nudged her shoulder gently, "I promised your team we would get drinks with them later so talk."

"I'm sorry Y/n, I was out of line. I overreacted, said stuff I didn't mean. I know you would have told me if you knew who she was. I just, I got jealous at the idea of you being with her."

"Why? You know that I love you Tobin. You know that you're the only one I want or at least I thought you did."

Tobin wouldn't look at me, her fingers seemingly the most interesting thing in the world, "I do, I just-"

My fingers laced with hers when she cut herself off. She was nervous, something I didn't see very often. It honestly made me worried, "Toby, talk to me."

"She's gorgeous, funny, smart, she's an amazing person. I got insecure, with what you've told me in the past, she's exactly your type."

"Maybe she is and yes she is everything you said, but Tobin it doesn't mean anything. You are all of those things and more. My type is your laugh, your smile, the way you cuddle closer to me when you are about to wake up, the way you scrunch your nose when you wake up, the way you kiss me softly except when I'm leaving for work and you kiss me with so much love and passion. Tobin, I could go on all day. My point is, while yes Christen may have been my type in the past, you are my type, you are the one I want. Besides. we both have girlfriends."

Tobin wrapped her arms around, "I'm sorry, I know that, I never meant to make you feel like I didn't trust you, I do. I trust you more than anything Y/n. Wait, Christen has a girlfriend?"

"Yeah, maybe I wasn't supposed to tell you that." I pulled her in for a soft kiss, my forehead resting against hers, "You're forgiven Toby."

She groaned, pulling me down so we were lying on the bed, "You're going to call me that in front of everyone aren't you?"

I smirked, straddling her waist, "You're my Toby, of course I am. Unless you uh don't want me to."

"No, I won't admit it to anyone else, but I like it when you call me that, only you though." Tobin ran her hands up my thighs before speaking again, "What you said about me being ashamed and keeping you a secret, I never kept you a secret. They all knew about you. The only reason I didn't introduce you was because of timing issues, I wanted to, but our schedules never lined up properly. I'm definitely not ashamed of you Y/n, I've been so excited for them to meet you. I just don't like showing your picture."

"If you're not ashamed of me then why Tobin? I don't understand."

"What you do scares me Y/n, you go undercover all the time, your life is dependent on people not knowing who you are. Of course I trust them, but I'm scared I'm going to show it to the wrong person or the world is going to find out. That scares me, I can't have you getting hurt."

"Come here," I whispered pulling her so she was sitting up and I could hug her. This was the first time Tobin had showed or said anything like that before. I knew she worried about me when at work, but never realised how much it affected her. "I'm sorry Tobin, I wish you would have told me sooner. I never realised how much it scared you. I can cut down if you want me to."

"No, no baby I would never ask you to do that. I know how much you like it. This was something I knew going into this relationship with you."

"I wouldn't have mentioned it if I wasn't okay with it, there are other aspects of the job I like just as much. Just think about it okay?"

"I love you Y/n."

"I love you too Toby, now we need to go."

Tobin kissed my neck, hands trailing up my thighs. "Do we have to?"

I stopped her hands, lacing her fingers with mine and pushing her away, "Nice try, but I didn't make a very good first impression so come on. We can do this later."

Tobin groaned, but kissed me quickly and let me get up. I quickly got changed into black jeans, maroon button up and a leather jacket. It was a look I knew drove Tobin crazy, my own little bit of payback. She tried again to get us to stay in, but I just chuckled, "Don't start being a brat now Toby." I warned pulling her out of the room.

She smirked, placing a kiss on my cheek, "Wouldn't dream of it."

---

We arrived at the bar where Tobin's teammates were. I was quickly introduced to them properly this time before being bombarded with questions about myself, my job, even the situation with Christen. I avoided that last topic though, figuring it was too soon to bring that one up. Tobin rest her hand discreetly on my thigh the entire night, both as a comfort and a way to work me up when she moved her hand higher. The small smirk told me she knew what she was doing. I reached my hand over, gently digging my nails into her thigh, a warning to stop. I saw her shudder slightly before I laced our fingers together, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand, "I'm going to the bathroom."

"Do you want me to come Toby?" I knew she would be okay by herself, but I always worried about her especially in bars. It was something I couldn't help, not after the things I'd seen happen in places like this. She nodded before pulling me up. I waited outside the stall for her to finish and wrapped my arms around her when she was washing her hands, "I told you not to be a brat, I had plans that I might need to rethink now."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be."

"Tell me how that works Toby? I saw the smirk on your face, you knew what you were doing."

"You know how I get when I'm nervous."

I spun her around, hands finding her hips, thumb stroking her hip bone, "Why are you nervous baby?"

"You're meeting my team, properly this time. I want them to like you, I want you to like them."

"It's going okay isn't it? We seem to be getting along. You don't need to be nervous."

Tobin nodded before kissing me softly, "I'm sorry I was a brat, plea-"

I ran my fingers along her cheek, then down her throat, the outline of her breasts and her stomach until I reached the waist band of her pants. She let out a shaky breath, hand resting on my wrist, "You're forgiven, I'll let you off this time. Doesn't mean I'm not going to get a little punishment in though." I turned her around again so her back was flush against my front. Before I did anything, I locked the door then slipped my hand into her pants, the other slipping under her shirt to cup her breast. She moaned quietly, head resting back on my shoulder. I knew we didn't have much time without being questioned so I circled her clit quickly. She was quick to turn into a moaning mess, hips bucking for more, close to falling over the edge. I stopped before she could though, removing my fingers and kissing her cheek softly. She pleaded to finish, but I silenced her with a kiss, "That wouldn't be a punishment now would it? Get cleaned up, I'll meet you out there."

"Everything okay? You guys were gone for a while, where's Tobin?" Christen asked when I sat back down.

"There was a little bit of a line and Tobin just needed some reassurance, she's taking a minute."

"Reassurance for what?"

I contemplated what to tell them for a second before deciding it was better then them knowing what we had done in the bathroom for Tobin's sake. What we did in the bedroom was something she never wanted anyone to know, "She's nervous, about us meeting and getting along. Don't tell her I told you."

"You two seem good for each other even if the first time we met you guys got into a fight," Kelley spoke up with a quiet laugh.

"It doesn't happen very often. I just want you to know that I care about Tobin a lot, I love her. There's nothing I wouldn't do for her."

They looked at me for a few seconds before smiles appeared, "Good, you can stay I guess."

A hand was placed on my shoulder and a kiss to my head, "Where are you staying?"

"With you. I got the tick of approval." Tobin smiled widely, pecking my lips quickly and sitting back down.

"So how did you two meet?"

"I was working a crime scene at a coffee shop when Tobin wandered in, clueless of what was going on. We talked a bit, until my boss started giving me looks so I had to make her leave, but I gave her my card."

"You wandered into a crime scene?"

"You actually called her?

"To be fair, I hadn't had coffee yet and no I didn't, I chickened out."

"It was pretty disappointing actually, I don't give my card out to just anyone. We met again when Tobin's apartment got broken into, once the case was over, I just straight up asked her out. The rest is history I guess. She's stuck with me now."

Tobin kissed my cheek softly, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #tobin heath x reader #tobin heath imagine

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youcouldmakealife · 10 months

Text

LBTE: Jared (118-121)

We head to Vancouver! And Joey makes the news.

If you want to follow along, the series page is here.

TW for a homophobic slur in here.

118. Niceties

Jared calls Bryce back, and manages not to cry on the phone. He packs with the help of an even quieter than usual Julius. He calls his mom, and promises he’ll talk to his dad tomorrow, because he can’t yet, he knows his dad being furious on his behalf is going to be just — too much.

They’re often so united on a hockey standpoint — remember Don’s gone to hundreds if not thousands of Jared’s games over the years, accompanied with almost as many debriefs — that talking to Don about stuff, especially stuff that they’re both angry or upset about, is often hearing his own thoughts from another person. And when he’s trying to suppress some of those thoughts so he doesn’t burst into tears, talking to Don is unhelpful.

He’s got a text from a 604 number when he gets off the phone. Hey, welcome to the Canucks! This is Gabe Markson. I’m probably your new centre. Sorry about the downgrade. Let me know if there’s anything you need. Whether that’s a ride from the airport or help finding a place, we got you.

Gabe!!!

It’s nice, especially since Jared’s used to being basically the only person he knows who uses proper capitalisation and punctuation in his texts, with the exception of Raf and Grace.

Love that Jared immediately approves of Gabe thanks to the magic of punctuation use.

hi new teammate! it says, followed by a slew of hockey related emojis and four blue whales. Jared guesses there aren’t any orcas.

Dmitry! Who forgot to identify himself.

“I can’t believe my mom gets to see you tomorrow and I don’t,” Bryce complains.

Which one is he more jealous of, I ask?

“We’re going to talk shit about you behind your back,” Jared says.

“Pft,” Bryce says, with the certainty of a man who knows his mother would never, even though his husband totally would.

Elaine is a Saint, and you can’t tell Bryce otherwise (or Jared, honestly)

He grabs a smoothie at Booster Juice, can just see Raf’s judgmental eyes, since it’s like, okay, only a smoothie in the loosest sense — chocolate almond milk and banana and frozen yogurt, a vaguely more socially acceptable milkshake for breakfast. Whatever. He deserves it.

The Funky Monkey is delicious. It also contains 67 grams of sugar. But jokes on Raf, the ostensibly more nutritious one he ordered after loser bought the winner a smoothie in their rookie years? Has 73. (and way more protein, but!)

Jared’s kind of figured out the standard of lying about his and Bryce’s marriage is that lying by omission: cool and also often necessary. Lying by lying? Not okay.

The current status of their compromise.

“I think you just jinxed me to get injured like, my first practice,” Jared says.

“Please don’t, our LTIR is literally just a list of all my former linemates right now,” Markson says.

Gabe is unfortunately not exaggerating. But on the bright side, their D is very healthy!

Raf says Oleg Kurmazov tells him not to take anything his brother says seriously, and between that and Markson’s surprise at how tame the text Jared got is, he’s getting a faintly terrifying picture of what to expect. If he got away from Jacobi just to play on a line with another Jacobi, he swears —

Jared is going to suffer and I will enjoy every minute of it.

That seems like the kind of thing the hockey gods would do. Not that Jared believes in them in a non-joking way, but the irony of Bryce and Jared swapping hometown teams feels exactly like something those non-existent hockey gods would do.

I am the hockey gods. It's a fun job, honestly. And also truly is hard to avoid a bit of sadism, I understand the not-real-but-also-don’t-wash-that-jersey IRL hockey gods.

Jared writes ‘Bryce Marcus’, and, in case there was any doubt it’s just a weird name doppelganger, Bryce’s date of birth probably cancels that out.

It’s not like the Canucks can trade him until the season’s over anyway.

Way less scary to write it in a form than tell your GM in a face to face meeting, but still pretty big.

“The leftovers are the best part,” Elaine says serenely when Jared questions her judgment on portion size. “Just pick whatever you like.”

What Jared apparently would like, is everything. Elaine may have made a good call, because he’s famished.

Her mom sense extends to you now too, Jared. And she’s right about leftovers.

“How jealous are you right now?” Jared says.

“I want to be there too,” Bryce complains.

“We had Chinese,” Jared says. “I’m sleeping over.”

“Stop rubbing it in,” Bryce says.

He's so pouty right now.

19. Acclimation

Jared’s nervous, walking into practice. It feels like the first day of school, but more — maybe the first day of school after you transfer. To a school of your enemies.

Evil Orca High.

Jared doesn’t ask what she needs to be downtown for, because he suspects the answer is ‘so I can drive you home’ but she’d make an excuse, so.

I mean, yes, but also: she's going shopping. Bryce didn't get that from nowhere.

but Elaine’s like Bryce — doing nice shit genuinely seems to make them happy.

Jared does not understand.

“We do not do this last names bullshit here,” Kurmazov says sternly, before tossing him a roll. “Dmitry. I don’t care if you pronounce it wrong, everyone does.”

Unlike his poor brother, stuck being referred to solely as Kurmazov by his own adopted hockey child for literal years.

“Please tell me you’re not like doing a Riley-Lapointe, married to a rival thing though,” Foster says.

“Um?” Jared says.

“Okay!” Foster says. “Okay. I. That’s fine!”

Poor Brian has not learned a key GM duty: keeping his inside thoughts on the inside.

“Good,” Foster says. “Maybe have a chat with Gabe? If there’s anything you’re concerned about, or — he’s good people, he’ll listen.”

Brian leaning so hard on 'please talk to our queer player about this' without actually saying it.

“Have I told you how happy we are to have you on the roster?” Brian says, and Jared has the sudden urge to hug him, but he’s pretty damn positive hugging your GM is not appropriate.

As far as GMs go, he is pretty huggable, despite the fact he could still likely snap Jared in two.

“I redecorated your room a little today,” Elaine says. “Bryce told me which mattress you guys like and they delivered it right away, it was terrific, and I’ve put Bryce’s spare clothes in storage, so there’s space in the closet and the dresser for your things, and in the bathroom too — I got a shower caddy, and the medicine cabinet’s —”

Count is at 3 magic beds now. Also she's nervous, bless her: she really wants Jared to feel welcome.

She’s taken the Canucks stuff out too, which he appreciates, because it was funny when he was visiting with Bryce, giving him shit about it, but feels faintly weird now that’s playing for them.

Can you imagine how much shit he would get. Can you.

“It’s like ten years old,” Bryce says. Jared wonders if Bryce and Elaine rehearsed the ‘override Jared’s protests’ together. “Need to play at your best, you know?”

Well, Bryce had to prepare her for Jared's tendency to turn down gifts.

The Canucks aren’t the Oilers, and if Jared wants to stay in the roster, avoid getting sent halfway across the continent to Utica, there’s no slacking off here.

The Canucks' AHL team is now in Abbotsford, which is a mere 70 km from Vancouver, but for literal years it was in upstate New York and boy were emergency recalls of players a fucking mess. Only arrangement I can think of that was less convenient was Montreal's farm team briefly being in Newfoundland, less because of distance (though there was plenty) and more because of weather and lack of alternate forms of transportation if Canadian winter was being Canadian winter (inevitably, it was).

Anyway, Jared has nothing to worry about: those cursed former linemates are all pretty far off from rejoining the roster.

“Okay, we’re both equally awesome,” Jared says.

“You’re more awesome,” Bryce says huffily.

Even their arguments are gross.

120. Machiavellianism

Jared has now seen a lot of Joey Munroe. Like — all of him.

Joey is not having a good day, everybody.

“You and Bryce don’t send each other nudes, do you?” his mom asks instead of saying ‘hello’.

“What!” Jared says. “Mom!”

“It’s a valid concern!” his mom says. “Just tell me you don’t and I’ll drop it!”

The cold fear that went through her body when she saw that article.

“How was your day?” his mom asks.

“Well, no one leaked nudes of me, so better than his,” Jared says.

“You said there were no nudes!” she says.

“I meant it hypothetically mom, oh my god,” Jared says.

They're both actively shrieking at one another at this point.

Greg’s sent him an email with no subject, the body reading ‘Would this be something to worry about? Greg’ because everyone in his life is collectively trying to murder him with embarrassment.

Greg also had the cold fear moment.

Jared’s too mature to respond with ‘No, oh my god’. Well, he clearly isn’t, because that’s exactly what he said to his mother, but he responds to Greg with a simple ‘No, nothing to worry about’, then, after a moment of thought, cc’s Summers in the email so hopefully Bryce doesn’t have to deal with the mortification too.

This is why Jared's Dave's favourite.

Maybe Jared’s too dumb to be Machiavellian. It’s distinctly possible.

I like that Jared has this thought and then later just goes straight back to schemes, some of which work out…poorly

“You see the thing with the Scout?” Jared asks before their game against the Golden Seals, voice carefully pitched low so Dmitry won’t overhear.

“Yeah,” Gabe says. “That was super fucked up.”

“That he’s gay, or—”

I know Jared's fishing. You know Jared's fishing. Gabe just hears a dude saying 'yeah it's fucked up he's gay' when he's already in a clenched stomach bad mood about this.

He feels even more off when he notices Gabe talking to Munroe at centre ice, both of them looking serious. Maybe they know one another, but Gabe wasn’t talking about him like he knew him personally when Jared brought it up. Gabe skates away, skates back when another Scout calls his name, and Jared watches warily. It doesn’t look like a fight, or like Gabe was giving him shit? But then, there’s no way to tell.

Gabe's a good boy. Reminder that the other Scout was Scratch communing with Gabe, as he is obligated to do with every other Torontonian, while Joey silently sighed at him. Already married.

“What’d you tell Munroe?” Jared asks.

“That I was really sorry that happened to him,” Gabe says. “And that I don’t know what he’ll deal with from other teams, but that none of the Canucks are going to be assholes about it.”

“You can’t exactly guarantee that,” Jared says.

“I know our room,” Gabe says, then frowns at him. “I don’t need to tell you not to be an asshole about it, right?”

All members of Canuck leadership would lose their shit if someone was an asshole about it. Well, that's not true. Gabe would do 'I'm really disappointed in your behaviour', and that would hurt the most.

Oh great, Jared’s just — really hitting his accidentally appearing homophobic stride with Gabe lately.

He could not do better if he tried.

The loss isn’t his fault — the Scouts terrifyingly talented first line is responsible for every single goal

Stupid sexy Willy. Stupid shitty Shithead.

“But would you be cool about it?” Jared asks. “I’m pretty sure he’s going to be cool, he’s the YCP rep—”

“Casterley’s the YCP rep for the Flames,” Bryce says. “And he calls the refs faggots every time we get a goal disallowed.”

Hey remember when Andrew Shaw got suspended for calling the ref that exact thing and became the Canadiens' YCP representative after? Because I do.

Also: you may recall Casterley as the dude low-key cheating on his wife in Luke's narrative. He sucks.

“I get it,” Bryce says. “Good luck?”

Jared’s faintly concerned at this rate he’s going to somehow come off as homophobic when he’s coming out, so he probably needs it.

I mean, if anyone could…

“Elaine and I hate it,” Jared says. “No more fights.”

“You can’t just team up with my mom against me,” Bryce mutters.

“We’re an awesome team, though,” Jared says. “The best team.”

Way to shut Bryce down. Man can't argue that.

121. Confession

“I can—” Jared interrupts, because if he doesn’t get it out soon he knows he’s going to balk. “I’m um. I’m married.”

“Okay,” Gabe says, frowning the exact same way Foster did, like he’s confused by the nonsequitor. Which is understandable.

Generally the wedding ring speaks for itself.

“Dude,” Gabe says. “I’m not kidding. You met Stephen. Like, for a minute, but you met him.”

“Your roommate?” Jared asks.

“He’s my boyfriend,” Gabe says, and the living arrangements suddenly make way more sense.

To be fair if there was anywhere someone making NHL money would require a roommate, Vancouver’s near the top of the list.

“Dmitry, all of the vets know for sure,” Gabe says. “Pretty much everyone who’s been here since before this season. I think the entire roster has figured out he’s my boyfriend. We’re not shouting it from the rooftops or anything, because the media—” he makes a face Jared wholly agrees with, “— but we’re not hiding it from the team.”

Stephen routinely hosting wine parties for the WAGs is a pretty big tell, there.

“I don’t think they’d be adopting my husband any time soon,” Jared says before he can stop himself.

“Stephen’s like the grumpiest person alive sometimes, if they adopted him I’m sure your husband will be part of the crew in a day,” Gabe says.

Yeah, he'll do okay.

“I told him you guys have the same sense of humour and view of the world and stuff,” Gabe says.

Jared is no less confused, and now he’s kind of curious what Gabe thinks Jared’s sense of humour and view of the world is.

“Like —” Jared says finally. “Snide? And — cynical? Or—”

“Yeah, he’s going to love you,” Gabe says with a laugh.

A minion of his very own?! Gabe, you shouldn't have!

Schmid’s in the shower when Jared gets back, and who knows when he got in it, how long that’ll last, but he’s a bathroom hog, takes forever with his whole grooming thing — Jared has no clue what takes so long, dude always looks unkempt, but maybe that’s a purposeful look? — so Jared’s probably safe.

Poor Schmid doing nothing but minding his own business in the proximity of the most judgmental man alive.

And that’s on top of Jared getting to play for Bryce’s childhood team, to live in his childhood home with Bryce’s mom. Jared’s pretty much living the life Bryce would have wanted growing up. Except not even, because Jared’s probably living the life Bryce would never have dreamt he could have possibly have when he was growing up. And there wasn’t a hint of resentment in Bryce’s voice when he told Jared he was happy for him.

“I love you, you know that?” Jared asks.

“I know,” Bryce says, which Jared needs to hear more than ‘I love you too’ right now, though Bryce says it immediately after, because he’s Bryce.

Bryce <3

“Chaz could come, it could be like,” Bryce says. “Chill. Like, we could grab drinks or dinner or something somewhere. Maybe not like — I don’t know if I’d be ready for him to like, know who we are to each other, not when I don’t actually know him, but like — meeting him’s the first step, you know?”

Chaz will not find this chill. Chaz will find this the opposite of chill, in fact.

“Because I’m snide and cynical,” Jared says. It maybe comes out a little snidely, because seriously, how is Bryce still confused.

“No you aren’t,” Bryce says.

“Bryce,” Jared says.

“But like in a good way!” Bryce protests. “I like it from you!”

<333333 Bryce

Though it’s faintly worrying that Gabe picked up on those things within weeks of meeting him, especially because Jared has been on his best behaviour the whole time. Apparently Jared’s best behaviour’s still noticeably snide.

Such a lack of self-knowledge. And actual good behaviour. Jared is admirably true to himself, though!

#liveblogging the end

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simslegacy5083 · 5 months

Text

NSB (Straud Legacy) Gen 9 Ep 60: Luigi Lawbourne, E-Sports Pro

The Story of a Family

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

Noemi’s “Talk” had thrown Luigi for more of a loop than he’d realized while she was still in his arms. The idea that he wasn’t actually back in a committed relationship was an unwelcome distraction during his first “meet the pros” esports event as one of the starting line-up “pros” in question.

He did his best to put his personal issues aside as he cheerfully greeted his teammates and the random students there to show their stuff, settling down at a PC and turning his focus to the scuffle.

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This time around even Professor Silva had decided to get in on the fun. Their advisor had been an e-sports team captain in his own university days, but “powering through” untreated gamer’s thumb for a season had left him only able to play occasionally. The permanent damage he’d done to himself made him both very careful about injuries like the one which had sidelined Beau the previous season, and very excited for the special occasions he returned to the “field”.

Even playing carefully, his experience made him hard to beat, and Luigi offered him a hearty congratulations when he ended the match in 3rd place.

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Luigi stuck around after the match to build connections with prospective new fans and teammates: the main reason they held this event.

His first contact of the evening was a pretty girl with a shockingly close buzz cut. Luigi wasn’t one to throw stones, given his own choice to sport “army green” hair throughout his teens, but it certainly made her stand out! After learning her name, he asked Amaya if she was interested in e-sports.

Amaya surprised him by announcing she didn’t actually care that much but found it funny to see a room full of adults taking the game so seriously. Then she shocked him by leaning in for a sudden bold kiss. A stunned Luigi stared as she happily announced it her very own prize for “a job well done”.

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Luigi was a bit weirded out, but he had to admit, it had at least been a very pleasant surprise. She followed up by proposing that he “blow this popsicle stand and find someplace to get to know me better”, which he found immediately appealing, but also felt a lot like being unfaithful to Noemi.

He had to force himself to remember that they were supposed to be casual, not committed. Still, he did have a commitment to the team just then.

Luigi told Amaya he needed to stay and keep chatting with visitors and students, but they could exchange numbers and get together soon. She put his digits into her phone with a big smile and kissed the screen, replying “I can’t wait to see you again Hot Stuff” before skipping away.

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His teammates couldn’t help but witness the whole strange exchange and as a result Luigi got to endure his fair share of good-natured ribbing when the professor invited them all to dinner on him at Pepper’s pub afterwards as a thank you for making it a great campus event.

As they sat around, chatting about the fun they’d had and the prospects who might show up to tryouts over the break, Luigi tried to remember that his own prospects in the romance department were looking up.

He still held out hope that Noemi would eventually change her mind, but if not, he was excited to see if his unusual e-sports “meet and greet” might lead to the “happily ever after” that had thus far eluded him.

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View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

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tired-biscuit · 2 years

Text

Twenty-three Minutes

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: hinata hyūga/kiba inuzuka

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: slightly suggestive content, but nothing too explicit. mutual pining, friends to lovers.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 6.8k+

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: During a prolonged game of seven minutes in heaven, previously sheltered feelings come to light between two friends.

FOR a woman so passionate about clothes and all things fashionable, it comes to no surprise that Ino Yamanaka’s closet ends up being pretty cramped.

Filled with towers upon towers of shoeboxes and a seemingly never-ending row of hangers that all contain pricey jackets, thick sweaters and colourful skirts most of Konoha has yet to see her wear, the already tight space feels even more excruciatingly small when accommodated by a single person, much less two.

Especially if one of those people is a rather tall and burly man, who cannot for the life of him keep still, and the other one is a woman whose anxiety – invoked by that very same man, albeit unintentionally – makes her fidget all over the place, no matter that she so desperately attempts to make herself seem smaller than she actually is.

To be fair, Hinata has good reason to be nervous. During a round of seven minutes of heaven she had never actually agreed to playing with her very, very intoxicated group of friends, the poor – and completely sober – Hyūga had somehow ended up shoved inside a closet with no one other than Kiba; her former teammate and friend.

And much to her astonished surprise, he’s felt more than just that as of late.

Hence the anxiety. And speaking of the dreadful thing, Hinata’s breathing is ragged now as she assesses the current situation she’s wound up in.

Let’s see. She’s all alone in the dark with him – the man she has a mellow, albeit steadily growing crush on. His arm is touching her own with the close proximity. He’s been giving her fleeting glances the entire night. Smiling even more sweetly at her than usual, too; the signature feral grin growing larger and larger with every downed drink.

I mean, who wouldn’t be nervous?

Staring at the sheer, sparkly fabric, which she assumes belongs to a dress of some wicked style she’d never dare wear herself, Hinata attempts to calm down her wild heartbeat by channeling her focus on wondering how such an outrageous number of outfits can possibly belong to one single person.

All right, the person in question is Ino Yamanaka… but still. Surely even a woman like her would have some sort of limit? Right?

Judging by the slight crinkle of his nose when she reaches out to touch the shimmering dress as a failed attempt to seem busy, Kiba seems to be thinking the exact same thing.

“Damn, this place is fuckin’ drenched in perfume, huh,” his gruff voice reaches her ears all of a sudden, the familiar drawl to lace it even more prominent because of the fact that he’s ever so slightly tipsy.

Hinata merely blinks at the curse, seemingly unfazed by it. Over time, she’s learned that all Inuzuka talk in the same crude way; sharp and straight to the point, despite the tendency of swallowing down most of the words as if they can’t be bothered to say them in their entirety.

And yet, they still put in the extra effort to keep them as blunt as possible every chance they get.

Back in the day when they had been mere Genin, Hinata had been shocked to hear what filthy vocabulary Kiba opted to use on the norm right there – amongst elders and other children alike.

She remembers it quite clearly, actually. Being so, so worried about what his mother might think of it if she were to catch him using that kind of coarse language. However after meeting Tsume and spending a single afternoon inside her home with Shino, her worries proved to be entirely unnecessary. After all, the moment the clan leader had opened her mouth, it made sense where Kiba had picked up the habit from.

But now, after spending so many years in his company and going on missions, running errands with him and reporting to the Hokage, she’s grown used to it – somewhat.

If she looks past the rudeness, the way he speaks is almost one of his more likeable features. Right next to his messy brown hair, of course. And his wide smile that he only brings forth whenever he feels like it, as well as the dimples in his cheeks, and the red fang markings that accompany the grin.

Looking at it now, his grin still remains boyish even if he’s no longer the ditzy boy she’s always known him as. After all, standing in that boy’s place is a grown man, now. A fully capable man; a Jōnin with experience underneath his belt – no, not in that way!

Christ. Where had all the years gone? Hadn’t she been participating in low-ranked missions with him and Shino just yesterday?

Speaking of years, it had taken Hinata plenty to acknowledge the change, to force herself to admit that he’s grown into a person she could admire in more ways than one. Especially now, as she turns to look at her former teammate from underneath her lashes, and realizes that the childish roundness of his face and the insolent upturn of his nose have long since disappeared.

Because as far as appearance goes: Kiba has become all sharp and precise lines; all high cheekbones and an equally defined jaw. He’s got these piercing eyes that have the power to pin her down with just one look alone, and full lips that hide a rather dangerous set of teeth she’s never been afraid of – never.

Where her body gently curves, his own cuts. His skin is also darker than hers; tan and sun-kissed, like the sun itself appreciates the fact that he’s willing to walk under it, while it turns her red in return, mocking her by making her look like a damned sea crab.

But it’s not just his looks that have changed. He’s also become more attentive towards others, more easy-going with the passing years, too. The war had changed him, had turned him calmer and gotten rid of most of his immature foolishness, whilst it stirred and riled her up in return.

It’s nothing to fret about, though – his sudden calmness. He’s still got that snarky attitude that always made the hair on the nape of her neck stand to attention, sometimes in a bad way, other times not as much – he’s got plenty of it, actually. However, the only difference is that he’s also got the whip to tame it into submission whenever the need calls for it, now.

Submission.

The word lingers in her head for a tiny bit. Unlike her, Kiba had always been the exact opposite of it. More of the domineering sort. But now, standing in this tight space with him; sharing every single one of her breaths with him and feeling the warmth that just won’t stop radiating from his body, she can’t help but wonder if he’s also like that during… during…

Hinata’s pulse turns erratic once more as treacherous heat creeps up her pale neck and stains her equally as white cheeks with the sudden rush of blood to pool everywhere inside her body. Her thoughts run haywire for a second, and as if on cue, she feels Kiba move again.

The sleeve of his forest green sweater brushes against her cream-coloured one with the movement. She swears that she can feel that wretched heat of him right through the thick layers of cotton they’ve both donned on to fight the unsuspecting cold autumn had brought upon the village. Swears that she can feel it scorch her skin.

“Hina?” As if he can sense the change within her, Kiba also turns to look at her, now. Unlike her, he moves with his entire body; all until the middle of his chest – his heart – is pointing right towards her. As if the call for help she’s silently emitting is too strong for him to ignore, he unknowingly offers her his undivided attention just from the way he stands now.

He has always been like that, ever since they were kids. Always so open and transparent with his thoughts and emotions, he had always been there – right by her side. Soap-sliver thin, translucent. Relentlessly urging her to grow stronger and strive for something big, something special; not once had Kiba turned his back on her, whilst so many others did.

Like her father, for example. And Neji, back when the anger he’d felt for their entire clan had been unfortunately misplaced and aimed towards her instead.

Neji. The bridge between her and her cousin had been repaired at some point, a kernel of hope starting to take root somewhere deep within her as they at long last met at the middle of it. She grew; prospered. But then the war had happened, and its cruel wrath had taken Neji from her for a second time – this time with no chances of ever binding back the ropes that held that bridge together.

She’d cried a fucking river because of the loss; that already delicate bud of nearly blossoming hope withering right back to dust as if it had never even existed before. It had taken both Kiba and Shino literal years to piece her back together. To mend her back into what she once had been, what she has now become again – but this time stronger, and at long last willing to pick up the reins that held the power to control her life.

Hinata still remembers them both sleeping on the floor of her apartment that she’d moved into after the war as a means to isolate herself from her clan. Every single night they were there: Shino asleep on his back, those quirky sunglasses still sitting atop the bridge of his nose, while Kiba and Akamaru lay curled together into a mess of thrashing limbs, blankets and hefty paws.

She had never told Kiba that she heard him mumbling her name in his sleep on some nights, the furrow of his brow tight and his fingers twitching as if he was trying to reach out for the phantom version of her he’d conjured up in his dreams. Had never mentioned the look she’d exchanged with Shino when he caught her reaching over to run her hand through the Inuzuka’s hair in an attempt to calm him down on night number six.

It was easier to pretend, to feign blissful ignorance. After all, Kiba did just the same as he rose with the sun each morning and whisked those pesky late-night thoughts away for the day ahead. Shino did, too.

“Hina? Hey.” Kiba repeats the silly nickname the elders of her clan would never allow him to use, yanking her back from her thoughts with a snap of his fingers in front of her nose; pushing her back to this moment, to him.

The inside of the closet is dark, but she knows that his peculiar eyes allow him to see just fine in it – much like she’s able to use her own to discern any movement hiding in the shadows. And because of them, she now sees him as clear and bright as day as he tilts his head, studying her intently before he asks, “You all right?”

“Yes,” Hinata croaks in answer almost immediately. Her rosy lips form a thin line as she presses them together before she swallows the saliva that’s gathered inside her mouth. The sound is loud in the small space, too loud. So she clears her throat, her tone slightly more even as she says, “I’m fine.”

“Mm. You don’t seem fine to me,” he retaliates immediately, tapping his nose with the tip of his index finger with a small, albeit signaturely arrogant grin. Hinata tries not to look at the glint of his fangs too much when he drawls, “I can smell how nervous you are, you know.”

Unbeknownst to her, Kiba doesn’t mention the fleeting whiff of sweetness he’s caught emitting from her amongst the bitter tang of nervosity. Doesn’t allow himself to get his hopes up, even if he’ll trust his keen sense of smell right to the day he dies and gets lowered into his grave.

So instead, he watches as her pretty eyes dart onto his hand that he still keeps lifted to his face. Her gaze slides across the scars that litter almost every one of his knuckles; rises upwards to acknowledge how blunt and short he prefers to keep his nails, even if he possesses the ability to form claws.

Speaking of them, they’re all fully healed – the scars. Some are fading, others are thinning out, but Hinata still doubts they’ll ever completely go away. After all, the one that runs along the edge of his thumb in one clean, straight line, reaching down right to the upper side of his wrist, is still there even if it’s ages old.

It had been a not-so-kind courtesy from her kunai during one especially intense sparring session when she’d still fought like a goddamn lioness to try and impress her father – her clan. Back when she thought that she actually stood a chance.

Even to this day, Hinata still thinks of Kiba as an idiot for never getting back at her for it. She had been seething with blind rage, not caring if she actually caused him any sort of hurt or injury whilst chasing her father’s approval during what was supposed to be just a simple day of training.

The action had been so unlike her, had been a nearly polar opposite of her normally demure nature, and he had just… endured it. Had encouraged it even, and smiled that wide grin as she stepped back and dropped the kunai at the first sight of a droplet of blood dripping down her teammate’s hand.

He had never once winced as she cleaned up the rather deep gash only minutes later, her emergency medkit splayed wide open in the grass next to her. Had never once complained about it. Just told her that he was proud of her for sticking up for herself. That if she kept it up, she would be able to kick just about anybody’s ass real soon.

Hinata blinks. This closet – this closeness – is going to give her fucking whiplash. She doesn’t sound fully like herself as she says, “I-I’m not nervous.” Yeah, that oughta convince him.

“Aha, sure ya ain’t,” Kiba says, all sarcasm and blatant disbelief as if he can read her thoughts.

He ignores her characteristic stutter that she’s only now slowly ridding herself off - at the ripe age of twenty-five. Pauses to look at the faint tinge of pink on her round cheeks; at the thinnest layer of sweat that gathers on the column of her neck. Christ, she smells so sweet, so sugary. All he wants to do is bury his nose into the crook of her neck; inhale her fucking essence until–

“What?” she asks now, catching the way his pupils expand when he flicks his gaze up to look her in the eyes again. Her voice sounds so small, she hates it. He thinks it’s the cutest thing ever. Especially when she tries to give him a defiant glare.

Long seconds pass. Her heart is pounding like crazy inside her chest. Ouch, ouch, ouch.

“Nothin’,” Kiba finally mumbles, still staring at her. But instead of adding anything more to his answer, he rather sucks in a deep breath through his nose. As if trying to read her more thoroughly. Trying to pinpoint the exact emotions, the exact hormones that are altering her scent.

As if coming up with a plan.

Hinata swears that her nerves twitch with anticipation at how he quietly grunts after the inhale – twitch with whatever the hell it is that makes her feel like her pulse is thundering inside her ears. It just makes her sweat all the more. Makes her scent turn all the more prominent.

The tension in the small closet rises with inhumane speed when he tilts his head to the side and looks at her with a glint inside his eyes that she could only describe as purely predatory. He’s different now; his jaw clenched tight and his gaze so intense that it pins her down to the spot, making her breathing hitch in the back of her throat.

Flames are beginning to lick up her legs at the heat of his stare that burns like a forge, now. She can feel its warmth nipping at the tips of her toes, her calves, her thighs as they continue to run their ember tongues along her now-flushed skin.

“I’m not nervous,” she repeats meekly, as if the denial can serve as a shield of some sort. Her upper lip quivers in the same way her whisper does. She says the words but doesn’t even believe them herself, how silly.

Kiba seems to notice it, too, because a dumb smirk is plastering itself onto his even dumber face as he takes a step towards her and taunts, “Not nervous ‘bout what? Being stuck in here with me? All alone, jus’ you and me?”

And despite her instincts telling her not to, Hinata pushes back when he leans in, towards one wall of Ino’s stupidly cramped closet. She guesses that he’s just toying with her like he always does; but fuck, he’s so close to her now that she can smell the cool scent of his nettle shampoo and the spearmint chewing gum that sits on top of his tongue.

For how long have they been stuck inside this closet? Surely longer than seven minutes? He wouldn’t just pounce at her this fast. This quickly.

Right?

“C’mon, Hina,” he mutters, his voice deeper than usual; so raspy and warm that it reminds her of crackling wood in a fireplace she never got the chance to lounge in front of. “Just admit it. I can smell how you feel, you know damn well that you can’t hide that kind of stuff from me.”

“I-I–” she starts, heart suddenly hammering; jumping inside her ribcage from the surge of adrenaline to shoot throughout her. “I’m not... not–”

“Not nervous?” Kiba finishes for her, still advancing closer. “Yeah, you’ve already told me that. Now do me a favour and tell me what I wanna hear instead.” Dear god, has he always been this big? This demanding?

His intimidating presence fills the small space so rapidly that she feels like fainting. Even the previously pink blush that had lingered on her cheeks deepens into a furious shade of scarlet. It tingles across her entire face, the blush. Makes it prickle with heat.

Hinata blinks, her long eyelashes rapidly fluttering. It’s a struggle to form sentences from how fast her brain deteriorates to pathetic mush from being this flustered. “N-No, I–”

“You what, mm? Know that scent doesn’t lie?” He’s so close to her now that he’s towering over her in the dark, cornering her and caging her right between himself and the wall.

His scent envelops her, overrides Ino’s perfume that surrounds them and makes her toes curl in her knee-high socks. He smells heavy; like the rain and the rich soil it hits, nothing like her dainty notes of lavender and vanilla. A forest, something ancient and powerful. It’s enough to turn her slightly dazed, if the nearly non-existent proximity hadn’t done that to her already.

She’s frozen to the spot as he twirls a strand of her silky midnight hair around his finger before tucking it behind her ear. And whilst doing so, he accidentally – or not – brushes the sensitive spot right where her jaw meets her neck.

The immediate zing of electricity to surge through her makes Hinata’s knees wobble. Makes her thighs clench together and her vision spin. She sags against the wall, nearly going limp from how soft her legs turn.

But when he reaches out to catch her, her hand shakes as she suddenly slams it flat against his chest. Right where his heart is. Her fingers clutch his forest green sweater, pretty nails, clear of any sort of polish, digging into the cotton; desperately clawing.

“Stop it,” she blabbers, evident panic clear in her voice. “You can’t– No, no, n-no... Enough!”

Kiba stops at the jumble of words she throws at him. Looks at her. Really looks at her. At her wide eyes, at the blush that still sears her entire face, making her look like a ripe tomato. At the quick rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathes, and breathes, and breathes, as well as at the sweat that gleams on not just her neck now, but also her brow.

And then, he chuckles. This deep sort of rumble that’s pleasant to echo within his chest. That outright confuses her. Especially when that same chuckle turns into a snicker, that finally turns into full-blown laughter.

“Wh–...” Hinata starts, heart still thumping, thrill still coursing her veins. She still feels light-headed. “What’s so funny?”

“Ah, I’m so sorry, Hina,” Kiba manages to let out between boyish snickers, his eyes crinkling with guilty delight. He wipes at the corners of them, now, upper lip quivering, showing off one pointy fang. “I couldn’t resist, hah…! You should have seen the look on your face, ahah!”

The raven-haired Hyūga blinks, feeling the colour draw away from her face, tinting her cheeks back into a faint rosy shade of blush instead of the previously intense red. “What are you going on about?”

“I was just messing with ya,” he explains through a wheeze, nose scrunching when he grins again – all broad and wild. He takes a shuddering breath, tries to quiet down the little giggles that just won’t stop erupting from him before he scratches the back of his neck and looks at her again.

Her brows lift, hiding beneath her bangs as she waits for further explanation.

One corner of Kiba’s mouth kicks upward at how sternly she looks up at him this time. “Did you really think I’d believe you’d be nervous ‘cause of me? C’mon.” He pauses, and looks her directly in the eye as if to challenge her before flicking his wrist, dismissing her. “I know I’m dumb, but I’m not that dumb. Have some faith in me, please.”

Hinata’s stare continues to remain unmoving, even if her legs still feel like jelly. Christ, who knew he had such an impact on her? The entire thing lasted what, a mere minute? And here she is – mere putty in his hands already.

She doesn’t comment on his level of intelligence, just asks, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

His smile falters slightly at the question, at the tone. Even his eyes seem to lose just a smidge of that mischievous glint as he simply shrugs and says, “Well, you’re still pining after Naruto, are you not?”

Silence stretches between the two friends despite the small space. The heavy, slightly uncomfortable kind.

“Everyone makes me nervous,” Hinata says finally. “Not just Naruto.”

Saying his name doesn’t bring the thrill it used to. Doesn’t make her heart clench, nor her tongue taste any sweeter. She cares about the future Hokage, of course she does, but not in that kind of way anymore. Not in that desperately, hopelessly infatuated kind of way that he never seemed to return.

He didn’t even see her, after all. At least not in any way Kiba did. Like he still does, actually, even to this day.

“Yeah, but he’s the only one that could… ya know,” Kiba finds himself running his mouth when she turns quiet again, attempting to fill the silence with words, words, words, “provoke you in that kind of way. ‘Cause of how madly in love with him you are, and all that lovey-dovey crap, hah.”

“Being in love is not ‘crap’,” she mumbles at his fake laugh, the curse tasting foreign on her modest tongue. Even he blinks in surprise at the fact that she used it.

But then he shakes his head. Loses the smile.

“Yeah, it is,” he says.

“No, it isn’t,” she counters right back. “Why would it be?”

“‘Cause all it does is bring you pain,” he retaliates finally. He pauses, that short beat of silence skipping as his eyes suddenly start to avoid her. “I mean, I don’t know ‘bout you, but that seems like a pretty crappy thing to me.”

Hinata gets the feeling that he isn’t talking about her struggles concerning love when he says the words.

But instead of saying anything, she just watches as he pulls back from her then, giving her space to breathe; to calm down. His touch to her neck had left the skin there burning in its wake, but that’s not why she frowns now. No, the reason as to why she pouts, bottom lip just barely jutting out, is rather because of the lack of that exact physical connection.

Kiba looses a sigh at the sight of that freaking pout. Runs a frustrated hand through his chestnut hair. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?”

“Mhm.”

“C’mon… Don’t be upset with me, it was just a joke.”

“Well, I am.”

“Ugh.”

She sits down next to him, still wearing that adorable pout on her face, when he motions her to join him by patting the warm floorboards right after he slides down the wall and plops down onto them himself. The closet is so small that their thighs are touching. His joggers rub against her bare skin, making her pleated skirt rustle.

Neither of them moves their leg away.

They stare at the dark for a moment, not focusing on anything in particular. The slits that are his pupils grow wider when she sighs herself and rests her head on his shoulder, they eat up the white space where his irises should have been. Meanwhile, Hinata’s own eyes serve as polar opposites to his own; the milky circles dilating with no visible pupils in sight.

Briefly, she wonders what the eyes of their children would look like. What abilities they’d possess. What kind of life that would be for her. If he’d be as much of a good husband to her as he is a friend.

“Hina?” His tone is careful when it reaches her again.

“Mm?” she mumbles, her soft cheek nudging his shoulder as she readjusts herself. She brings her knees closer to her chest, but makes sure her skirt stays in place.

“I’m sorry.” Genuine this time. Torn.

“Did you really mean what you said,” she utters after a brief pause of thought. “About love?”

He’s silent for a moment, too. As if contemplating. She’s just about to switch the subject to something a bit more ordinary, something a bit more safe, when he finally says, “No.”

Silence lingers once more. And then she says, “I’m not in love with Naruto anymore.”

She can feel him stiffen beside her. Can hear his breath ever so slightly shudder as he whispers, “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“How so?”

“I’ve found someone new.”

“Oh.”

He rests his head atop her own. Inhales the fruity scent of her shampoo and cherishes the sugar in it whilst he still can. “Not to overstep, but… You don’t need to love someone just to feel fulfilled, ya know.”

“I know,” she replies, his words making a rather delicate part of her heart glow, glow, glow. “But trust me when I say that even I was surprised by it… It happened so unexpectedly, even though it had kind of… Always been there. In a way.”

“Mm,” Kiba hums, deep in thought. “So, wanna tell me what the lucky bastard is like?”

Hinata chuckles at the question. At the fact he’s unknowingly called himself a bastard just now. She rests her hands atop her lap, fingers intertwining together.

“Well… He’s rather annoying and stubborn. Loud… Like, so, so loud; you wouldn’t believe how loud he is.” Her insides warm up when he snickers at the attention she gives to the word. “But… He’s also genuine. Incredibly passionate and determined. Open, and supportive, and loving... Gosh, he’s so loving.”

“Okay, damn, don’t start drooling all over my shoulder ‘cause of this dude, now.” Kiba chuckles again as he mulls her descriptions over. Looks up at the ceiling. His toes wiggle as he thinks. “He sounds a lot like Naruto.”

“No, he’s different.” Firm, her answer. He’s his own person. Special in his own peculiar way.

“Is he nicer or somethin’?”

“Well…” The corners of her lips twitch. “Only when he wants to be, I suppose.”

“Towards you, I mean. Does he, like,” he mumbles, trying to find the right words, “see you? Treat you well?”

He’s the one. He really is. Maybe it’s time to admit it not just to herself, but to him as well.

Maybe.

Hinata stills at that; heart beginning to thunder again. Her fingers fidget, palms starting to feel clammy as she fiddles with the hem of her skirt. “I don’t know, Kiba,” she says, her voice so, so quiet that he can barely hear her despite the closeness and his sharp hearing. “You tell me?”

Kiba goes silent for a long moment, as if he’s attempting to paint the bigger picture inside his head. And then, at long fucking last, his breath hitches. His heart begins to race. Realization begins to dawn upon him and settles in, in, in.

“What?” He turns completely rigid, spine straightening, causing Hinata to lift her head from his shoulder. His face goes blank, eyes widening in the dark again. He swallows, not caring how stupid he may look as he repeats a meek, “What?”

“What?” she echoes innocently, the expression that lingers on her face completely coy. “What is it?”

“Are you saying– No,” he starts, cutting himself off with a wild shake of his head. As if he doesn’t dare believe the mere thought of her returning his feelings. As if he doesn’t dare say it. “You better not be fuckin’ with me right now as some sort of sick revenge… ‘Cause if you are, I swear to god I’ll–”

“I’m not messing with you, Kiba.”

His face flushes red now. This deep, crimson shade that almost matches the colour of the fang markings on his cheeks that tell everyone what clan he belongs to. “Stop messing with me. It’s not funny.”

“I’m not messing with you,” Hinata repeats sadly. She frowns at how lowly he actually thinks of himself. At how stubbornly he’s beaten it into his head that he doesn’t deserve to be admired by her, much less loved. For so long that he’s actually started to believe the denial.

He sucks in a deep breath. Through his mouth this time, to fill his lungs quicker with air because his chest feels way too tight all of a sudden. “But I’m not–”

I’m not Naruto.

“I know that you aren’t,” she interrupts him gently, taking his bigger hand and clasping it with both of her smaller ones. His callouses scrape against her own, thick fingers curling around her daintier ones by pure instinct. She can’t help but smile at the affectionate touch he seems to execute without even thinking about it. He’s always known how to make her feel seen. “I never asked of you to be him.”

“But I’m not… special, like he is,” Kiba continues, his voice so low as if he’s ashamed to admit it. “I didn’t– I can’t do the stuff he does. I’ve tried, but I just… can’t.”

“So? You’re special to me,” she says and it’s true. She blinks. Runs her tongue along her front teeth. “Do you really think I’m that shallow to only fall in love with a man because he’s the strongest of them all?”

“No, but I do think that you need somebody like him,” he retaliates stubbornly. “You’re, like… royalty, or whatever. And he’s a war hero, a-a…”

“I don’t need anyone,” she cuts in again, looking up at him underneath her lashes with fire burning behind her pale eyes. “You’ve said it yourself; that I don’t need anyone to feel fulfilled… And yet, I want you.”

“Why?” He can’t understand it. How? Why? Why him?

“Because I see you,” she answers, frowning at the evident doubt that’s still present in his own eyes. “It took me a while, and I am sorry for that, but it’s true when I say that I finally see you; see the things you did and continue to do for me.”

Kiba’s teeth sink into his bottom lip. The prickle of one fang that the action invokes helps when it comes to grounding him, because if it didn’t, he’s sure as hell that he’d be floating up towards the clouds right now. Like a balloon – right through the ceiling of Ino Yamanaka’s closet.

She wants him. Sees him. Him, him, him; nobody else. At long last, he can stop pretending. Can slowly rid himself of all the doubts and the insecurity he’s managed to hide deep underneath his thick skin. Can stop wondering if he’ll ever be good enough; ever be enough.

“Kiba?” Hinata whispers, and goddamn had his name always sounded so good, coming from her mouth like that? Always so pleasant?

“Yeah?” he whispers back. Her face is so close to his own now that he can smell her strawberry chapstick and see the subtle dip of her Cupid's bow. At how faintly it trembles as she reaches out to run her hand through his unruly hair before resting it atop his heaving chest.

She’s the one to take a deep breath this time around as she tries to calm down; to mentally prepare herself before she asks, “Do you want me, too?”

Does he want her? Does he fucking want her? What a stupid question. What a silly, foolish question.

“Yeah,” Kiba croaks out, heart pounding – hurting in the best way possible. His voice cracks; he hates it. “‘Course I want you, Hina. I-I’ve always wanted you. Ever since we were kids.” She’s so close. Goddammit, she’s so, so close. If he pushed forward by a mere inch, he could probably kiss her, oh, Christ.

Just the mere thought of her soft lips touching his own makes him feel dizzy. Makes his head spin; brain doing the same cartwheels his own heart executes in his ribcage. Thump, thump, fucking thump.

“Can I kiss you?” she asks. He can’t fathom the fact that she’s actually bolder than him for once.

“Yeah,” he repeats like a parrot, like a lovesick moron because he is one. “Mhm, yeah, yeah. Of course.”

Honestly, he’ll consider himself the luckiest man alive if he actually manages to live for long enough to experience a kiss from her. This beautiful, kind-hearted, nurturing deity of a woman. Because judging by all the thrill that’s pumping through him right now, he doubts that he will.

And yet, he’s still around as Hinata leans in; cautiously, warily. Not because she’s scared of him and his brash nature, more so because she’s enticed by it – enticed by him. Her cheeks are so rosy, he wants to kiss them and touch them to feel their warmth. To squeeze them until her lips purse, and–

His jumbled train of thoughts diminishes and turns into pure silence when her mouth presses against his own gently and she at long last, after so many years of confusion, and lingering glances, and yearning touches and sleepless nights spent tossing and turning in separate beds, kisses him.

And fuck, the kiss is so soft. So sweet. His hand lifts to touch her cheek, feeling its warmth, her own two back to holding onto his other one that had never left her lap. Stroking his knuckles in a way that she can feel the scar she’d given him all those years ago and that he, unbeknownst to her, wears proudly today.

He melts completely into her. Melds himself with her very soul through every panting brush of lip. He calls himself an arrogant bastard, but he’s become as soft as a teddy bear that she gets to squeeze and play with to her heart's content.

Every kiss they exchange continues to grow in intensity. Turns to subtle click of teeth and swipe of tongue. Their lips don’t touch in the usual needy, feral tempo he opts for, but it’s still one that he can appreciate just as deeply – even more so, now that he thinks about it. Like he’s wound up in an alley he’s not at all familiar with, but surprisingly enjoys the stay in nonetheless.

Kiba pushes into her more deeply, makes her release this shuddering gasp that lights his body on fire as he takes over. He wants to pull her into his lap – to ravage her, taste her all over because he’s been waiting for this day, for this moment, for so long. To cherish her, adore her in more sinful ways. Make her feel special with his hands, mouth, tongue.

And how couldn’t he wish for that? After all, Hinata, his Hinata, tastes like sugar and everything nice, countering the bitter taste of beer he possesses on his own tongue because of the little party they’ve still got going on.

Shit, the party–

The closet door slides open a mere moment after Hinata senses movement and Kiba catches another scent. They part swiftly; with a quiet, albeit slightly lewd pop! Thank god for being ninjas.

The two rapidly blink at the sliver of light to seep into the closet as the third member of the former Team 8, Shino Aburame, gives both Kiba and Hinata a pointed look through his tinted spectacles, now. Their respective heartbeats are still all over the place by the time he peers inside the darkness himself.

They watch as he looks down, looks at their entwined fingers; at Kiba’s hand that still rests on Hinata’s cheek. At their panting chests. At how closely they sit together, how fucking red they’ve become.

“Hmm,” is everything Shino contributes to the conversation that’s yet to begin. Their friend merely quirks a dark brow as if he knows exactly what they’ve been up to.

And perhaps he does, Kiba thinks. Hiding a tiny bug amongst so many clothes the wretched Yamanaka owns, would be a piece of cake for the nosy insect user. But alas, who on earth would believe him if he exposed Shino as the true gossiper he actually was?

Luckily for him, however, Hinata is the first one to stumble into movement out of the trio. Her eyelashes can’t stop fluttering as she stutters a tiny, “H-Hi, Shino.”

Goodness, she’s so pink in the face; the blush blooming as furiously as ever now that they’ve been caught. So cute. Especially as she releases Kiba’s hand to run her fingers through her hair frantically, trying to smooth down the strands he’d managed to ruffle whilst kissing her like a madman.

“Hey, man,” Kiba plays along, seemingly unable to wipe off the dopey grin that remains plastered on his face, now. Still wearing the wild grin, he pushes from the floor and offers Hinata his hand to help her back up to her feet as soon as he stands up to his full height.

Swiftly standing right next to him a moment later, Hinata never lets go of Kiba’s hand. Neither does he let go of hers. Of course he’ll hold her hand if she wishes for him to hold it. At this point, he’ll do just about anything for her.

His eyes are on Shino as he clears his throat, trying so hard to be casual when he says, “What’s up?”

Shino’s gaze dips to their entwined fingers once more. He stares at how Kiba strokes Hinata’s knuckles so tenderly that the action almost seems alien for a brute like him, and how she shyly lowers her head until that curtain of midnight hair almost entirely obscures her from the view of the two men.

It doesn’t last long, however. After all, Kiba feels the need to tuck it behind her ear rather quickly. Feels the need to make her feel seen even quicker.

So after a silent couple of seconds, the poor Aburame finally looses an exasperated sigh at the new item to stand before him; at how their entire dynamic is surely bound to change, now. Gesturing them to follow, he merely utters, “Time’s up.”

“Is it, now?” Kiba drawls in answer. The Inuzuka swears that he can still feel the tingle of Hinata’s lips on his own. When he pokes the tip of his tongue out, he tastes strawberries – sweet!

“Yes,” Shino replies, stepping out of the closet so the pair can do the same. With his back turned towards them, he adds somehow amusedly, “It’s been up sixteen minutes ago, actually.”

Hinata and Kiba exchange a look as they head back for the living room where loud chatter suddenly erupts; all of their friends most surely anticipating their return and the juicy story to follow.

His grin grows, stretching even wider than usual when she gives him a single nod of her head. A silent approval.

Who knew that all it took was a cramped closet and twenty-three minutes to spare in the dark?

#this is my first character x character fic and i'm lowkey nervous lol #pls be kind #kiba x hinata #kibahina #naruto fanfiction #hinata x kiba #kiba inuzuka #hinata hyuuga

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