#maybe i just missed writing shorter stories

[galaxywhump]

Thunderstorm

[An Immortal Among Stars Masterlist]

Alternate prompt for Day 4 (Captivity Whump) of @whumpawoman's Whump Girl Summer event.

contents: lady whump, immortal whumpee, past captivity, death, starvation, isolation.

~~~

Karita woke up to new sounds.

Well, maybe not entirely new. She knew this sound, but she hadn't heard it in ages. Maybe it was a sound from an era long passed, like many. It was always startling to realize that some sounds and smells and flavors had disappeared completely after being present in her life for years, but… this sound was different. She could swear she used to hear it constantly, no matter the decade.

She pushed herself up from the couch and immediately stumbled. She felt weak, which was nothing new - she was starving, she was going to die soon, come back to life feeling marginally better, and the cycle would be repeated. At least she had access to water; she’d gotten used to the odd earthy taste, and it was her lifesaver, a way to temporarily cheat her hunger pangs.

The sounds continued, rhythmic tapping outside, and they filled her mind with longing for home, even though she hadn't had one in ages. She refused to call this prison home.

Looking around, she saw the same thick white fabric she'd always seen, a lounge, a kitchenette which had been stocked with food at some point, but she couldn't even remember what that was like. There were also hatches leading to two bathrooms and two bedrooms with bunk beds, but she'd decided to sleep in the lounge instead. Being the only person in a bedroom meant for eight people made her feel even more lonely than usual. Besides, most of the time she had been chained to her bunk at night. That was never pleasant, and not something she wanted to mentally go back to.

The tapping continued, but the dull pounding in her head made it hard to think. Her steps shaky, she walked over to the sink to drink some water. It helped, a little bit, and when she turned it off and watched the stream get thinner and thinner until it turned into occasional dripping, her eyes went wide with realization, confirmed by the unmistakable roar of thunder.

It was raining. It was storming.

Momentarily overcoming her weakened state, she ran towards the exit of the domed tent. The wait for the door to open felt endless, and she wasted no time getting outside and looking up at the sky.

The rain on her face felt incredible, refreshing and so new after the grim routine of the past several years. She opened her mouth to catch some raindrops, and for the first time in ages she couldn’t help but smile. The rain tasted so different to the water she usually drank, the barren planet was suddenly more alive, the rain mixing with the omnipresent dust, the temperature brought down slightly. Karita's heart was beating fast with excitement and joy, and she foolishly wanted to get lost in it, having forgotten what rain meant here, why she hadn't heard it in so long.

When she remembered, she couldn’t breathe.

"It only rains here every fifty years or so. That's why we need this bad boy." Zax slapped the machinery set on the ground, which was already hard at work, digging deep to reach the water reserves hidden far below the surface. "This and the condenser. Without them we'd be fucked."

"And when was the last time it rained here?" 

"Three months ago. Talk about unlucky."

"Fifty years," she whispered. Her legs gave out and she collapsed to her knees, her eyes still fixed on the sky. "Fifty fucking years."

Forty-nine years on her own.

"Wake up! Wake up, you bastard!"

He never did, and neither did any other member of the crew. She remembered kneeling there among corpses, too shocked to cry. That would come later, way later, when no one answered her SOS signal, when she realized she was eventually going to run out of food, when she scanned the planet and confirmed that there was no-one and nothing else there, just dust, rocks, and a single base camp of people working under the radar.

She never lost hope, she sent signal after signal, arranged rocks in a cry for help, their sharp edges cutting her hands, but as more and more time passed, her hope slowly grew dimmer.

Forty-nine years. Who knew how many more to come.

Her tears mixed with the raindrops on her face, and her scream, several decades’ worth of pent up grief, was drowned out by the thunder.

[waywardsalt]

im actually going to tear into totk’s dragon’s tears/ memories rn bc i remember feeling distinctly unsatisfied with them when i got all of them so im just going to write some general bullet points about them, about what i dislike or maybe what i do actually like about them, leaving out both master sword scenes and the mummydorf one because i’m here to talk about the stuff in the past not that

- off the bat (i play this game in english btw so all of this is based on the english text and translation i am aware some stuff is slightly different in other languages) im not really a fan of how the descriptions of all of the tears is just a literal description of what happens?? i think my issue with it is that some of the text is a little bit too in depth, as in it just tells you literally everything about the scene. this might be nitpick-y but i personally dont like it

- what’s up with zelda saying ‘but that must mean...!’ at the end of the scene. is it suggesting that she’s made the realization that rauru and sonia are the first king and queen of hyrule? because they literally tell her that like ten seconds before. i guess it’s suggesting she’s realizing she’s in the past but... idk the texts says ‘she’s left startled by a suspicion that she’s heard those names before’ yeah theyre the first king and queen of hyrule?? they tell her that. they tell her their names and that they are the first leaders of hyrule is she just now connecting the dots that she’s in the past? that’s what the next cutscene implies. but all of the surrounding dialogue and the description don’t suggest that that’s what she’s realizing i feel like this was kind of muddled in the translation

- why did sonia elbow rauru he was just standing weird he didnt say anything this isnt a nitpick im just confused. is it because he’s not being very empathetic towards what zelda’s going through? she elbows him and then she goes and talks to zelda why even elbow rauru. ordinarily you elbow someone like that if you mean for them to go do something why elbow someone if you’re going to do the thing you want anyways

- why doesnt zelda offer to help with the purah pad or anything like that. what happened to her sheikah tech fascination from botw. not even as someone actually familiar with the technology who could give mineru some points as to how it works

- what are sonia and zelda doing behind rauru when he shoots that insane fucking beam at the mulduga swarm they’re clearly doing something with their stones but like... are they amplifying rauru’s power somehow?? what do time powers have to do with the beam of light i dont- what were they doing please the text description only mentions him using his powers so are sonia and zelda just... supporting his powers? idk man

- dragon tear #5 is a whole can of worms with its worse-than-oot reenactment of that one scene from oot. why the focus on sonia and her tear btw. i mean yeah she dies to motivate rauru and zelda but like. why not aim for the new girl who probably doesn’t know how to use it as much and is probably more likely to be separate from the king who can shot insane lasers. im really not a fan of this scene for how strongly the game sides with rauru and zelda being passive and judgemental but ganondorf is literally the best part of it there’s a lot of character in just how he picks up his sword and stands up to leave

- putting memories 6 and 7 together just because of how there was just. no fucking care put into the idea of zelda learning to use her time powers. memory 6 zelda talks about wanting to use her time powers and sonia gives her tips on how she could use it and visualize the use of it and then in memory 7 she can just use it perfectly with great control and timing. why even bother talking about her nothing yet understanding how to use it when the very next scene she just uses it like it’s nothing. how much time has passed we get nothing to show us zelda trying to practice this power just. nope. she’s good she can use it perfectly. also more awkward dialogue sonia saying ‘what a picture zelda paints of him’ as she is. looking directly at zelda. change the line to like, ‘what a picture you paint of him’ she is literally looking right at zelda so why would she say it like that

- generally i feel like memory six should have been before 4 and 5 (4 being where she uses some power to... support??? rauru and it being before memory 5 so that there isnt this weird break in between the memories concerning ganondorf.) memory 6 does not have anything to do with memory 4 or 5 so just put it earlier so there isnt a weird shift in focus between the two big ganondorf scenes

- good god they introduce the idea of sonia and zelda being aware of ganondorf using a fake zelda but theres literally nothing about it having been a problem or them having experience or like. anything. they just TELL you that they know and suggest that it’s been like. a thing for a bit??? also obligatory ganondorf’s face model rigging is fucked comment he’s still the best part

- the pacing of these memories is just weird in general, memories 7 and 8 being separate but the same scene is strange when other memories are long as fuck but cover one event each, plus theres clearly barely any passage of time between memories 7 and 8 it almost feels like they were split up to fill space or just because otherwise it’d be... too long? man idk

- ‘queen sonia needs you!’ girl she is DEAD good fucking luck doing anything to help her

- ganondorf’s horse and its armor both look sick as fuck i really wish you got to see more of it outside the memory it appears in

- everything about the original sages honestly sucks. they aren’t characters they’re just walking macguffins. they have no names and are not relevant or mentioned or make any appearance until they are needed by the story. why does the zora sage talk about getting word about the attacked gerudo village in this scene when like. they’ve all met up and have clearly. been together for a bit. when she gives them the news it’s clearly the first they’ve heard of it... but... why would she wait until this moments to give this info unless for the benefit of the player watching the scene. why does the ZORA sage have this news and not... the gerudo sage?? what’s with the masks. they’re all made of zonaite or whatever sure theyre gifts from rauru but like. i hate that it kind of denotes them being subservient and lower than him and the zonai. honestly i really hate this scene in general mostly because of the uncomfortable showing of how rauru absolutely holds power over them and despite them being leaders as well they are expected to be wholly blindly loyal to him. rauru only gives them these stones when he needs their aid and they swear loyalty too him soon after but you also see that sonia and mineru have stones, too, so they’re clearly withholding these things despite it being kind of reasonable for him to give each race their own secret stone as further proof of their pact? there is so much shit to be said about the imperialistic themes or whatever in this fucking story and i really hate it

- i do kinda like how the next scene shows you that the one rock in the corner of that first hidden room in the forgotten temple is sonia’s grave

- zelda’s phrasing and description of how she and link found ganondorf is weird to me ‘he’s still alive’ ‘he lives on’ girl that was a mummy. he was not moving until you got there. he’s undead at best as far as you know. this is def a nitpick but eh. also the reliance on link is a... bit odd when zelda does not actually know that link is safe until she gets the master sword. its fine but still. also her shell-shocked expression after rauru talks about her being in the past for a reason is a bit... it doesn’t fit her emotion it’s kind of similar to the expression she had when sonia was killed

- the memory about the imprisoning war starts with practically the whole story up until now being repeated back to you by mineru with a decent amount of bias on mineru’s part and while it’s fine because of some of the extra stuff you learn but it does a lot more telling rather than showing when it comes to the actual imprisoning war and... idk the whole thing about their ‘fight’ kind of falls flat when you don’t actually see any fighting you just see that the sages have gotten their asses beat. i think it would have been a little interesting if in the god-awful repetitive sage-awakening scenes they had actually showed you the og sages fighting ganondorf instead of just. slow-mo freeze-frames for whatever. once again ganondorf if the best part of the scene

- the rest of the memories are fine idc

i get the feeling that the japanese-to-english translation was either all-around rough or somehow rushed, because some of the phrases in the game as well as some of the dialogue is really awkward and... could have been better. i don’t know how it works but it feels like a lot of it was very literal, direct translation and no one at noa thought that it ought to be tweaked just a little bit

these memories also do a fuck-ton of telling rather than showing and it really is like they don’t really trust you to connect the dots, and some of it does come off like they either didn’t want to make more memories or ran out of time or something. i felt like the memory of ganondorf just summoning his monsters and riding on his cool horse could have been a bit longer to actually show us the forces of hyrule fighting him and having a hard time with it

a lot of the character animations doesn’t have a whole lot of personality to them, ganondorf is the character who had the most distinct and interesting movements. rauru and sonia had their... singular movement (rauru putting a hand to his chin and sonia taking zelda’s hands) and zelda was kind of just... standing around and reacting to stuff, and neither mineru nor any of the other sages had any really interesting animations asides from mineru’s coughing fit in memory 16 (plus her reclining chair that was a nice touch). very few of their movements really express anything about the characters besides some really baseline values or traits.

the ordering of some memories is kind of odd, the excessive flashbacks in memory 17 are a bit much, the telling rather than showing, the sometimes awkward dialogue, a lot of the scenes are characters just... talking at each other, you don’t actually see very much of hyrule in the past or any characters beyond the main four, and it really did nothing to actually get me to care about these characters at all.

tldr i dont like totk’s dragon tears

[amaranthineghost]

hi! could u write a fic where lando and the reader were fucking and lando takes his phone out halfway through (to take a photo for himself) but accidentally gets it posted on his instagram story and they only find out in the morning idk i just thought this would be funny af

OOPS? ( lando norris. )

lando norris x reader

to commemorate the sight in front of him, he snaps a picture on his phone without realizing he's just posted it for millions to see.

warnings: smut

authors note: I really liked writing this!!! it's a bit shorter than usual, but I enjoyed it a lot so thanks anon!!! <333

HE DIDN'T KNOW HOW HE DID IT. maybe he was just in the haze of sex, buried deep in her cunt with her leg over his shoulder, her other around his lower back pulling him in further.

he was hovering over her, hand pressed against her mouth as strings of muffled moans spilled from her lips, warm tears against his skin. god, she looked so good, too good. he just wanted to remember how fucked out her expression was.

leaning over to the nightstand, slowing his thrusts ever so much as he clutched his phone, flash on to compensate for the darkness of the bedroom. he snapped the photo, throwing the phone to the side, face side up.

he turned his focus back to the messy masterpiece in front of him, returning to the pace he had set before.

he pulled his hand away from her mouth to hear her symphony of moans, music to his ears. his hand took its place on her neck.

lando norris has posted to his story

he was so lost in the moment, he should've realized sooner the mistake he made. he should've realized at the instant texts that lit up his screen because who would be texting him this late?

all he did was flip over the phone, ignoring whatever notified him as he pulled her leg off his shoulder, pushed her leg down from his back. he fell beside her, prompting her to crawl across him, straddling him weakly as his hands settled on her hips.

fuck, she looked so good from this angle. hair messy from the pillows, face red from the tears down her cheeks, but also flushed from how hard he fucked her. he had already coaxed one orgasm ouf of her.

she sank down on his cock, causing him to curse under his breath with praise, “fuck, such a good girl.” his hands clawed into the flesh of her hips, guiding her pace once he saw her struggle.

the view was immaculate, he could've came at the sight of her tits bouncing up and down as she slid on his cock alone. it was salivating.

his hands left her hips to grasp her breasts, and he couldn't care if her pace faltered because everything felt too good in the moment.

if only they knew.

he planted his feet firmly against the bed, grasping her sides again as he lifted his hips to meet her halfway. it was rough, causing her to steady herself with her hands against his chest as he thrusted up and forced her hips down. his cock buried deep in her brought her over the edge so easily as tears fell from her face onto the bare skin of his chest.

she collapsed against his chest as his cock sank into her, feeling the warmth of his seed inside her cunt. she groaned against his chest as his arm spread across her bare back and pressed a kiss to her hair. the tears from her face wet his skin.

“did so good, baby,” he cooed, running fingers across her flesh as she hummed into his chest.

they laid together for a while before going and cleaning up. since it was already late in the night, they got back into bed and fell asleep.

when lando awoke the next morning, his phone was nearly dead and hundreds of texts and missed calls from his friends was the cause. hot to the touch, he carefully held his phone, brows furrowed as he laid on his side, back to his girlfriend, who was still fast asleep on the other side of the bed.

first, he opened the texts from his friend, max, who’s messages were in all caps. his eyes widened at the content, squinting at the screen in disbelief. no way he was that stupid, no the photo he took was in his camera roll—no it wasn't.

he discovered that, unfortunately, the photo he had taken was posted to his Instagram story, and it hadn't been taken down.

if it weren't for the circumstances, he could've stared at the photo all day because it was truly that good, but first he had to get rid of the post—and get the photo into his camera roll.

he nearly jumped out of his skin when she stirred in her sleep, now right against his back with her cheek pressed to his bare skin.

“morning,” she groaned and he mumbled back. she moved to rest her head on his shoulder, squinting to see what was on his phone screen, “why’re you on your phone so early?”

“i'm sorry.” he gulped, turning his head to watch the expression knot on her face, mostly confusion.

she sat up, leaning on her arm as she practically hovered over him, “lando, what did you do?”

“i’m so sorry,” was all he could say.

“lando,” she paused, an underlying tone of irritation laced in her voice as she emphasized her words, “what did you do?”

he glanced back at his phone, not even trying to hide the guilty expression written all over his face. she snatched the phone from his hand, and he didn't stop her. he covered his face with his hands, rubbing his eyes before leaving them to cover the lower half of his face as he watched her face.

“what the fuck?” she shoved his shoulder.

“i didn't mean to!” he sat up, throwing his hands up before running them through his messy curls, “i don't know how i did it.”

“oh my god,”she muttered under her breath, rubbing her temples as she hunched over the phone, “i’m deleting it.”

“wait–” his hand touched hers, he bit his lip, “at least save it to my photos–ow!”

she hit the backside of his head at the idiocy of his words. she exhaled deeply, anger taking over her body. of course, he didn't care as much as she did. he wasn't in the photo at all to begin with and this wouldn't affect his career as deeply as it would affect hers.

“why? so you can post it somewhere else? text it to your friends?” she raised her voice, groaning out in frustration.

“baby, calm down–” he tenderly placed a hand on her shoulder, which she shrugged off.

“how can i calm down, lando?” she threw his phone down on the bedding, falling back down onto the bed with her hands covering her face in shame. now that picture is all everyone will ever see her as, all thanks to her idiot of a boyfriend.

he grabbed his phone back, seeing the photo had been taken down from his story, but they both knew that image would be circling the internet for a long time.

“at least the photo didn't show anything,” he tried to make light of the situation, but it was to no avail as she spat back with venom in her tone.

“you don't even care about the photo because you aren't the one in it, lando.” she scoffed.

“i’m sorry, okay?” he turned to her, “i really didn't mean to, you know i would never do that.”

she sighed, “i know, but i’m still mad, lan.”

“i know, darling,” he laid beside her on his side, looking at her side profile as she stared at the ceiling, “you have every right to be mad.”

she stayed silent, and he didn't know if it was a good or bad thing.

he gulped again, speaking up, “and i promise to never take a photo of you when we're fucking ever again.”

a laugh forced it's way past her lips, “oh, please we both know you'll try and fail,” she said with a smile on her lips, shaking her head.

“okay, yeah, but i promise i’ll triple check it's not in any social media post,” he flipped over onto his stomach, propped up by his elbows with his pinky held out. she took it and the promise was made. the situation dealt with, for the most part.

“did you happen to save the photo though–ow, okay!”

—

taglist (found here): @poppyflower-22 @sapphiccloud @slut4lrh @kaa12 @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @nhlfs @beskardroids @hiireadstuff @lorenica @delululeclerc @c-losur3 @casperlikej

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Meeting Up With Ken After He's Moved Back To Japan

Ken Sato X FemReader

Rating: G

Warnings: Reader has a slight panic attack, touch of angst, fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

(A/N:) I have never watched Ultraman in my life and I never planned on it honestly. But dang I saw the trailer ad for Ultraman Rising and they barely give you a glimpse of Ken but it was enough. I watched it. I loved it. And now I'm obsessed with Ken Sato. End of story. I have lots in my drafts I want to write for him so keep an eye out! But until next time happy reading! ~Countess

The day that Ken Sato had moved out of your life had been the saddest one you could remember. Being kids, the adults didn't see it as such a big deal but between the two of you, it seemed like the world had ended. You both kept in touch but it still didn't make the distance seem any shorter. Years passed by and video calls turned into phone calls. Phone calls turned into missed calls. Missed calls turned into text messages and even then that didn't last long. As you grew older you let the thought of seeing Kenji again go and then the pain finally eased. You never felt that ache again, until you watched the news.

Super star player Ken Sato returns to his home country and that is the day your little world stopped spinning. Your phone rang off the hook as your friends tried to call you.

"Did you hear," your friend screamed making you grimace, "Kenji is back!"

"Yep," you sighed. "It's all over the news. Hard to ignore it."

"You don't sound excited! I thought he was your best friend when you were kids?!"

"He was, but that was a long time ago and now he's this superstar baseball player. Why would he remember me when he's made it so big?"

"Don't make that excuse, you need to go see him. You'll see that he'll be just as happy to see you as you are of him."

Despite your better judgement and a long sleepless night, you found yourself at the Giant's stadium. You had tried Ken's house only for him to be gone. And despite feeling like a stalker you tried both day and night. When that didn't work you tried looking at the restaurant you both loved as kids, no luck there either. You knew the stadium would be your best bet but you didn't want to get carted off for trespassing or embarrass Ken by your being there. Maybe you were using those as excuses. Or maybe you were terrified by the face that he probably wouldn't remember you or he'd laugh in your face that you came crawling back. Your heart slammed against your chest and your breathing turned into panicked gasps. This was impossible, you didn't know why you even bothered.

Reporters began to exit the building, pushing you along as you tried to calm yourself. The chatter of the group was too much for you at the moment. You stepped away towards a quieter part of the stadium, not noticing that you were entering in a restricted part for players and managers only. The quiet helped calm you and now you finally realized where you were at.

"Miss are you lost," a man wearing a security uniformed approached you and your panic starting to rear it's ugly head once more.

"I'm sorry I got lost," you eased back, clinging tightly to your bag's strap.

"It happens," he said politely. "May I escort you back to the main entrance?"

"Yes please."

You deflated as you followed the security guard. It didn't seem like you were ever going to see your best friend ever again. Your heart broke and you refused to let yourself cry until you got home. You almost made it back to the hall where you got lost in the flood of reporters when a voice calling your name had you freezing. He couldn't possibly know it was you? After all this time did he really remember you so well?

"Kenji?"

"I thought it was you," he grinned.

You sucked in a breath at the sight of the boy you once knew. You could tell he was handsome on the TV screen but you weren't prepared for the sight in real life. Even as a kid you had a crush on him, you just didn't realize it until later. Your mom thought it had been cute but now you just felt embarrassment. With longer sleek black hair and eyes that were so dark they sucked you in. You stopped breathing for a second when he finally stood in front of you. His eyebrow raised, he bent over waving a hand in your face. Lean and tall, it was no wonder he was an amazing athlete.

"Hello," Ken stared leaning over. "You still with me?"

"It's so good to see you," you stumbled stepping back at the proximity. "I didn't know you were coming back so soon."

He grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. "It wasn't planned honestly. Losing mom and dad needing me."

You gasped grabbing his arm, "Kenji I'm so sorry."

You glanced to your hand and you quickly let him go, cheeks flushing brightly.

"It's okay," his smile wavered. "Have to grow up sometime."

"But," you started feeling horrible.

"It was good seeing you again," Ken replied turning away. Though this was the first time you'd seen him in so long, he still had that same way of showing his true emotions. The slightly hunched shoulders and it felt like all the warmth suddenly left the room.

"Kenji wait," you yelled.

He turned keeping his hands in his pockets. The sorrow in his eyes had you blinking back tears and you knew it was time to be brave. He remembered you and though he wasn't the same person when he left, he was still your friend. Yeah a little taller, a little more selfish, a lot of ego (you couldn't deny he earned the right), and a lot more handsome, but Kenji Sato all the same.

"Wanna go get something to eat? Our old haunt is still open and I would love to treat you. I've," you paused. "I've missed you a lot actually."

Though it didn't quite reach his eyes Ken smiled, nodding in agreement, "I'd like that. But I'm buying, no arguments."

"Fine Mr. Super Baseball Man."

He laughed, "You haven't changed at all."

That was a little disappointing. You were hoping he'd at least see how much you've grown, while he was away.

The restaurant was busy, a line forming outside but you both didn't mind waiting. Kenji hadn't eaten here in years and if you were honest, you hadn't either. You tried once after he left and though the food always tasted delicious, it wasn't the same without him. You both were ushered in a little bit after arriving and after all this time the owners remembered you both. Ordering the same thing as you both did all those years ago, it didn't take long for contentment to ease between you both. Ken's foot tapped beneath the table and you could tell he was struggling.

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to," you spoke up. Not wanting him to feel like he had to do anything to make you comfortable. Though you still felt awkward, especially when fans made their way to him for pictures and autographs, you couldn't deny that it was still easy being around him.

"It's not that I don't want to," he groaned, now drumming his fingers on the table. "It's been forever. I should have so many things to tell you and I do! I just...I don't know where to begin."

"Start with baseball that seems to be going well," you grinned.

"Ha! You could say it is going decent," he nodded. "It was different in America, I'm curious to see how it's going to go being back home."

"I imagine so. Not going to lie though, home wasn't the same either when you left. It felt like I had to start all over, it was kind of terrifying."

"I'm sorry."

You touched his hand, "It's not your fault. We were both kids. Life changes, gets in the way, separates us from loved ones. We had no control over it, like we don't have much control over anything now. I'm glad you were able to find your way Kenji. I'm glad you made a life for yourself and I'm glad you got to follow your dream. I can tell how much baseball means to you."

Ken nodded a small smile pulling at his lips again, "It does. But I think this moment right here with you means more to me than baseball right now."

You flushed brightly. You weren't expecting a reply like that but it made you feel warm inside. You opened your mouth to reply, though unsure of what you could possibly say when your orders were set down before you. Saying thanks for the food and the chime of you both breaking chopsticks apart. Another peaceful silence stayed between you both as you both slurped noodles. True to his word Ken paid for the meal and you both left with full stomachs. Your heart felt lighter and you could have sworn you were walking on air. Glancing up at Ken, you caught him watching you intently.

"Something on your mind there Mr. Sato?"

Ken shook his head giving you a look like he'd tasted something bitter, "Please don't ever call me that again. Making me feel like my father over here."

You could tell things weren't good between Ken and his dad so you didn't pry. "Okay Kenji," you crooned making him shiver.

You didn't realize how you made him feel. When Ken saw you lost in the stadium, following that security guard his heart had skipped a beat. You two had always been close as children and even though you had stopped communicating for years, what he felt for you never waned. Having you here by his side, so close and yet still so far away, it felt like a dream. One he never wanted to wake from. With a soft touch, his fingers trailed down your arm leaving goosebumps in it's wake. You stared up at him, soft eyes taking in every bit of him. He never felt so naked or alive. He didn't stop until he found the back of your hand and still he slipped further, pointer stroking against your digits. Then he bit the bullet, taking your hand into his. He almost laughed at how much smaller your hand was compared to his, but he didn't want to ruin the moment. He squeezed tighter, careful not to hurt you in anyway. You stiffened at first, shocked at him being so bold. But you had to remember he was used to getting what he wanted.

"Would it be possible that we could do this again," he asked. "Maybe somewhere more formal?"

You nodded unable to speak. He kissed the back of your hand and you could have melted right then.

"I would like that very much Ken," your voice wobbled but you didn't let it keep you from speaking.

The answering smile had you in a puddle, the only thing keeping you upright was Kenji himself as you both started reminiscing. And now that some things had been brought out in the open, you both found yourselves talking a lot easier as the past few years passed by with every verbal exchange. You never felt so happy and all it took was for the game of baseball to bring back your best friend and you were ready to see what the future held in store.

[mononijikayu]

delicate — geto suguru.

Suguru glared at Gojo. “I’m not concerned, I just—” “Uh–uhuh, keep talking.” “I’m just some friend—acquaintance. Worried.” Suguru narrowed his eyes. “Seriously, Satoru. I don’t know what you’re going on about. If I'm in love with them, shoot me.” Without missing a beat, Gojo grinned, “Bang.” He made a playful gun gesture with his hand and gave Suguru a wide grin. “Cupid’s bullets confirm!”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Modern AU!;

WARNING/s: Fluff, Romance,, Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Friendship, Confessions, Humor, Getting Together, Mutual Affection, Love, Pining, Kissing, Profanity, Mention of Fighting, Mention of Bruising, Outcast! Geto Suguru, Popular Cheerleader!Reader;

WORDS: 6.9k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i made this while thinking about what dynamic i wanted to see between cute couples. and here we are. this was supposed to be shorter too, but it ended up way way longer than 4k words. but im satisfied with this. i hope you enjoy!!! i love you all <3

ADDENDUM: i just found out gege akutami said jjk ends in five chapters and i just want to say that this is going to be hard for me since ive been a fan since 2019.

but i will say ill continue to write as much as i can for this story, enjoy the anime with you for years to come. im sad of course, but im thankful. im grateful for gege akutami for letting me meet his lovely story and his bountiful characters.

and of course because of him, i met all of you. i am very grateful. from beginning to end. i am crying but i am happy too. i love jjk a lot you guys. hugs and kisses to manga fans everywhere. lets hope for a happy end to the story we have loved 🥹🫶

main masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 900;

if you want to, tip! <3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🌌*ੈ𑁍༘⋆

YOU WEREN’T LIKE EVERYONE ELSE. You were the it-girl, so sought after. The shining star. You were the girl everyone wanted to be—effortlessly beautiful, charming, and the center of attention at Jujutsu College. As a cheerleader, you had it all: the admiration of your peers, the envy of others, and the kind of popularity that opened every door.

Everywhere you went, eyes followed. Whispers trailed in your wake, a symphony of awe and envy that only fueled your rise to the top. You were untouchable, your smile a weapon, your presence a force. Parties, events, and the campus buzzed with your name. Everyone wanted to be near you, to bask in the glow of your effortless charisma. But all of that came crashing down when you chose to stand up for what you believed was right.

The whispers got worse the moment they took to the locker room. One of the newer cheerleaders, a girl named Emi, was their target—shy, awkward, and an easy mark for their cruelty. You watched it unfold for days, biting your tongue, hoping it would stop. They were the same, the seniors who already graduated. You let them do it then, because you hoped they’d stop like the seniors did. But they did not. Instead, it went too far.

You looked at them for a moment, trying not to be obvious. This was going too far. The girl was about to cry, maybe she’d even get even more hurt. This is enough. You cannot stay and just stay silent anymore. Maybe it was the memory of your own first days on the squad, when you weren’t yet the queen bee, when you still had something to prove. Or maybe it was just a sense of fairness that you couldn’t ignore. But you knew that this had to stop. This has to end.

"God, Emi, you can’t even get a basic cheer right. Why are you even here?" one of the girls sneered, her voice dripping with disdain.

Emi stood frozen, her eyes welling up with tears. The other cheerleaders laughed, egging each other on, pushing her closer to the edge. You bit your lip, closing your locker with a loud bang, causing everyone to look at you. You could feel Emi’s eyes on you too, shaking with fear as tears fell from her cheeks. 

“Leave her alone, you freaks!” you said, your voice sharp as you stepped forward. “That is enough. She doesn’t deserve this. You’ve gone too far, even more than our seniors!”

They turned to you, surprise flickering across their faces before it morphed into mockery. You moved forward to the captain, eyes narrowed as you glared at her. You shook your head at her. “Just leave her alone. She’s a freshman. She doesn’t need your shit.”

“What, are you her knight in shining armor now?” one of the lackeys taunted, crossing her arms. “You’re supposed to be on our side, aren’t you? This is a tradition for us seniors.”

“I’m on the side that’s not full of bullies.” you shot back, your anger boiling over. “Being bullied doesn’t mean you should be one!”

“What’s your problem?” another girl snapped, stepping closer, her tone threatening. “She’s dead weight, and you know it.”

You clenched your fists, trying to keep your temper in check. “My problem is that you’re all acting like a bunch of jerks. If you can’t see that, then maybe you’re the dead weight.”

The tension in the room exploded like a storm that had been brewing for too long. You could feel it in the way the air seemed to thicken, in the way eyes narrowed and lips curled into sneers. It started with a harsh word—one of those sly, cutting remarks that slid under the skin like a blade. But this time, you couldn’t let it slide. Not when it was aimed at Emi, the quiet girl who had been on the receiving end of too many of those slights.

You were on your feet before you even realized it, the words spilling out of you in a rush of anger and defiance. “What’s your problem? Why do you always have to pick on someone who’s done nothing to you?”

Your voice cut through the chatter, silencing the room. The others stared at you, shocked that you—of all people—would dare to break ranks. The lead cheerleader, the queen bee, glared at you, her eyes narrowed into slits. “What, are you her bodyguard now? Don’t act like you’re better than us.”

It was the spark that lit the fire. The room erupted into chaos as insults were hurled back and forth. You didn’t back down, not when they turned their barbs on you, not when they sneered at Emi. It all escalated so fast—too fast. Suddenly, hands were shoving, nails were scratching, and before you knew it, you were in the middle of a full-blown fight.

You could barely make sense of it all. The adrenaline surged through you, drowning out the pain as someone’s fist connected with your cheek, leaving a nasty bruise that would bloom later. All you could think about was protecting Emi, keeping her out of the fray, even as the world around you descended into chaos.

The chaos only ended when the coaches rushed in, their voices booming as they waded into the mess of tangled limbs and flaring tempers. They pulled you all apart, demanding to know what had happened, their faces a mix of shock and anger.

But it was too late—the damage was done. You could see it in their eyes, the way they looked at you now, like you were the problem. The principal was called in, and you found yourself standing in his office, staring at the floor as he lectured you about school spirit and the responsibilities that came with your position.

Your words fell on deaf ears. They didn’t want to hear about the bullying, about how you were just trying to protect Emi. All they saw was the fight, the disruption, and the girl who had gone from golden to tarnished in a matter of minutes.

When you returned to the locker room, it was like a slap in the face. Your things had been removed from your team locker, stuffed unceremoniously into a bag and left on the floor. You were no longer welcome. The cheerleaders, the same girls who had once been your closest friends, looked at you with cold eyes and turned their backs.

You had wanted to protect Emi, and now you were left with a throbbing bruise, a reprimand from the principal, and a cold emptiness where your friends used to be. But even as you walked out of that locker room, head held high despite everything, you knew you’d do it all over again. Because some things were worth fighting for, even if it meant losing everything else.

The next day, you found yourself officially kicked off the squad. Well, Emi was also kicked out too, but you were glad that she wasn’t at all hurt. That was what mattered. The news spread like wildfire, and the people who once idolized you now whispered behind your back. Your world felt like it was crumbling, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d made the biggest mistake of your life.

Later that afternoon, you found yourself sitting alone outside, trying to process everything that had happened. Emi had repeatedly apologized to you today, but you kept waving her off and told her to stay safe around school. It wasn’t really her fault. Maybe if you had acted much earlier, maybe Emi wouldn’t have had to go through the worst. Perhaps this was your punishment. This was what happened because of your inaction. And you feel like you deserve this. You deserve to be punished like this. You could only sigh.

That’s when you heard someone approaching.

“You know, I always thought cheerleaders were supposed to be a tight-knit group.” a voice drawled. 

You looked up to see Gojo Satoru standing there, hands in his pockets, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “Guess I was wrong, huh?”

“Guess so.” you muttered, feeling the sting of his words even though they weren’t meant to hurt. “I’m sorry, have I met you before?”

“I don’t think so.” He says, removing his round sunglasses. “Have we met before too?”

“Don’t think so.” You admitted also, face scrunching in confusion. “I don’t meddle around with unpopular kids.”

“Hey, hey, I’m not unpopular.”

“Then why have I never heard of your name before?” You raised your brow.

“I don’t know, maybe you were too focused on being a cheerleader and me being a Digimon stan?” 

“Oh, so you’re a nerd!” You clapped your hands together. “That makes sense why I haven’t heard about you.”

He sighed. “You cheerleaders are cut throats, aren’t you?”

“I’m an ex–cheerleader now. Not really much of a cheerleader anymore.” You snickered. “Those pom pom waving mean girls, goodbye them!”

He plopped down next to you, stretching out his long legs. “So, what’s the plan now? Are you gonna go all lone wolf, or are you open to a new company?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Why do you care?”

Gojo shrugged, his smile widening. “Because I’m curious about the girl who went from queen bee to outcast in one day. That takes guts.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though it came out a little bitter. “Or stupidity.”

“Or both, you know?” he agreed easily. “But I like guts. So does Shoko. And Suguru. And Kento and Haibara. You’d fit right in with us.”

“Fit in?” you echoed, not sure if he was being serious. Your face reminded Satoru of how Kento reacted to him asking to be his friend. 

“Yeah.” he said, leaning back on his hands, looking up at the sky. “We’re not exactly the most popular kids on campus, but we’re fun. And we don’t care about that petty stuff.”

Before you could respond, Shoko Ieiri appeared, hands stuffed in her lab coat pockets, a cigarette dangling from her lips. “You’re not bothering her, are you, Gojo?”

“Me? Bother someone? Never, Sho.” Gojo said, feigning innocence. “Just making a new friend.”

Shoko rolled her eyes and looked at you. “He’s right, though. You’re welcome to hang with us if you want.”

You hesitated, glancing between them. “I don’t know…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shoko said with a lazy grin. “We don’t bite. Well, maybe Gojo does, but only if you ask nicely.”

You laughed again, this time more genuinely. “Okay… I guess I’ll give it a shot.”

As the days passed, you found yourself drifting away from the cheerleaders and into a new circle. It started subtly at first, with Gojo casually inviting you to sit with him and Shoko during lunch. Gojo’s easygoing nature made it hard to say no, and Shoko’s dry humor quickly drew you in. 

They didn’t seem to care about the drama that had turned your life upside down. Gojo’s bright grin and carefree attitude were a stark contrast to the cold shoulders you’d been getting from your former friends. Shoko, with her sharp wit and laid-back demeanor, offered a kind of friendship that felt refreshing, real in a way that the cheerleading squad never had.

Soon, Geto Suguru and Nanami Kento joined in. Suguru had a quiet confidence about him, a steady presence that was both comforting and intriguing. He didn’t ask about the fight or why you weren’t with the cheerleaders anymore. Instead, he offered a warm smile and an understanding nod, as if he knew without needing to be told.

Nanami, on the other hand, was more reserved. He didn’t speak much at first, but his presence was reassuring. There was a steadiness to him, a sense of reliability that you hadn’t realized you craved. He welcomed you into their group with a subtle nod, a small but genuine gesture that told you he saw you for who you were now, not who you had been before.

Each of them, in their own way, made room for you. They didn’t treat you like the fallen star or the girl with the tarnished reputation. With them, you didn’t have to pretend. You could be yourself—no masks, no expectations.And slowly, you began to feel something you hadn’t felt in a long time: belonging.

That afternoon, all of you were sitting together under a tree on campus, watching the world go by. Geto Suguru was in the middle of explaining something, his voice calm and soothing, while Nanami listened quietly, offering his thoughts every now and then. Yu was more excited trying to make friends with you than before. You think it's interesting, how this ball of sunshine saw you as some sort of superhero for what you did, even if you didn’t.

Yu Haibara, ever the sunshine in human form, plopped down beside you with a grin. “Hey, I heard about what happened with the cheer squad. Pretty badass, if you ask me.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of genuine friendship for the first time in what felt like forever. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing, but…”

“It was! You’re so cool, you know?” Haibara said firmly. “Standing up for someone who needed it? That’s always the right thing.”

“Besides, it’s just what it is, you know?” Geto added, looking over at you. He was smoking his cigarette roll, one he made himself. “You don’t have to be what you aren’t.”

“Yeah.” Nanami agreed, his voice steady and reassuring. “You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not with us.”

You looked around at them—this group of people who had taken you in without hesitation, who saw you for who you really were, not just the image you had projected for so long. And for the first time in a while, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

As the weeks went by, you found a surprising sense of belonging with Gojo, Shoko, Suguru, Nanami, and Yu. They had become your new circle of friends, and their acceptance gave you a fresh start that you didn’t know you needed. They were a new sort of fun, a different kind of excitement that was worlds apart from the polished, high-pressure life you’d known as the it-girl.

With them, your days became filled with spontaneous adventures. Gojo was always dragging everyone to the arcade, where his competitive streak made every game feel like a high-stakes challenge. Shoko would roll her eyes at his antics but still join in, her laughter adding to the cacophony of beeping machines and cheerful music. Suguru, ever the cool-headed one, had a knack for choosing the perfect music stores to visit, introducing you to tracks that soon became the soundtrack to this new chapter of your life.

Nanami and Suguru were more reserved, especially at first. You could tell they were still feeling you out, trying to figure out if you really fit into their group. But even in their uncertainty, they made an effort. Nanami, despite his serious demeanor, would show up at the burger joints Gojo loved, quietly indulging in the greasy food and ridiculous banter. Suguru, with his calm presence, would often give you a slight smile or a nod, a small but significant sign that you were being welcomed, even if it was cautiously.

Yu was the glue that held it all together, his infectious energy and boundless enthusiasm pulling everyone along. Satoru was as enthusiastic as he was, but unlike him — Yu was someone that tried to keep everyone in good peace together. And he was good. He had a way of making you feel included, whether it was by handing you a spare controller at the arcade or making sure you got the best seat at the burger joint.

That’s just how it was with them. You didn’t have to worry about the petty dramas or the constant pressure to be perfect. With this group, it was all about the moment—the thrill of a high score, the taste of a greasy burger, the discovery of a new song. And you liked it. You liked who you were becoming with them.

Gojo leaned back in his chair, tossing a sugar packet from one hand to the other. “You know, you fit in with us better than you did with that cheer squad.”

You shot him a playful glare. “Are you saying I was too good for them?”

Shoko rolled her eyes. “Stop teasing, Gojo. You’re ruining the vibe.”

“Hey, I’m not!” Gojo argues as  his grin spreads, “Just that our new friend here is way cooler than they ever gave them credit for.”

You looked at Shoko, who was sipping her coffee with a look of amused tolerance, added, “He’s right. They were just too busy with their drama to see how awesome you are.”

Suguru, sitting across from you, offered a more thoughtful observation. He bit into his fries. “Sometimes, it takes getting knocked down to realize where you truly belong. You were always meant to be with people who appreciate you for who you are.”

Nanami, who had been quietly observing, nodded in agreement. “You’re a good blend with us, I think. We’ve had a lot of fun since you joined us.”

Yu Haibara, always the optimist, leaned in with a grin. “Yeah, and you’ve made things a lot more interesting around here. It’s not every day we get someone with your… spirit.”

You smiled, feeling a warm flush of gratitude. “Thanks, guys. I wasn’t sure where I’d fit in after everything that happened, but I really appreciate how welcoming you’ve all been.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics, and you found yourself laughing more than you had in a long time. It was a refreshing change from the pressure and pretense of your previous life. 

As the night wore on, Gojo suddenly stood up and stretched. “Hey, who’s up for a late-night walk? I heard there’s a new food truck downtown.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “You just want an excuse to get more snacks.”

“Guilty as charged.” Gojo admitted with a wink. “But you’re all welcome to join if you’re up for it.”

“Sounds good to me.” Suguru said, standing up and grabbing his coat. 

You looked around at your friends, feeling a genuine sense of contentment. “I’m in.”

“You feeling cold?” Suguru asked as he saw you stand from the booth. 

“A little—” He threw you his jacket, which you were barely able to catch.

“Put it on.”

“O–oh, okay.”

As you all walked together through the city streets, the cool night air filled with laughter and conversation, you realized how different this life felt from the one you had left behind. There were no superficial judgments, no hidden agendas—just a group of people who valued each other’s company and had each other’s backs.

Later, as you shared food and stories under the streetlights, you found yourself in a moment of quiet reflection. You had come so far from the popular girl who had been kicked out of the cheer squad. You were no longer defined by your past status or the mistakes you’d made. Instead, you were part of a new chapter, one where you were valued for who you truly were.

Gojo’s laughter broke through your thoughts as he tossed a piece of popcorn into the air, catching it with a grin. “See? This is what life’s about—good friends, good food, and not taking things too seriously.”

You laughed, feeling the weight of the past lift off your shoulders. “I couldn’t agree more.”

In that moment, you knew that despite everything you had been through, you had found something real and genuine. And as you walked beside your new friends, you felt a renewed sense of hope for the future, knowing that wherever life took you next, you would face it with people who truly cared about you.

But in that moment, Geto Suguru looked at you and thought to himself for a moment, just for that moment — how good happiness looks on you.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🌌*ੈ𑁍༘⋆

IF HE WAS BEING HONEST, HE’S NOT ONE TO TRUST PEOPLE EASILY. But coming from a rough place in life, it was something that can’t be helped. So, in the beginning, Geto Suguru had his reservations about you. He’d heard the rumors about the cheerleader who had once been the queen of Jujutsu College, and he wasn’t impressed. To him, you seemed like just another snob who was used to getting their way and couldn’t be bothered with anyone outside her circle.

When Gojo tried to blend you into the group, Suguru’s attitude was guarded, and for a good reason. So, he kept his distance and even interacted with you, he tried to be casual, trying to not get too deep into it.

He remembers what he said then — “I’m not really into the whole ‘cheerleader’ thing,” he’d said with a shrug. “Not my style. So they're still not my style either.”

You had sensed his cold demeanor but tried not to let it bother you. Instead, you focused on being yourself—friendly, outgoing, and always ready to lend a hand. You wanted to prove that you weren’t just the image people had of you. Even though you could still be rough in the edges with your personality, it didn’t stop people from enjoying your company. 

And over time, Geto Suguru began to see a different side of you. You didn’t just laugh at his jokes or offer superficial compliments, nor were you as stuck up as people make you out to be; you were genuinely kind and considerate. You had a really good way of making others feel comfortable, and it wasn’t long before he found himself intrigued by the real you, the one who went out of their way to help others despite their own struggles.

One evening, as the group hung out at a quiet park, you were sitting on the grass, talking animatedly about a new project you were excited about. If he was being honest, excitement was a beautiful color on you. And he thinks that he wants to see more of that in you. He could only sigh as he thought about how much you’ve occupied his mind. He shakes his head. Suguru looks above the sky, trying to distract himself while Satoru spoke to everyone about his new date. 

“You know, Suguru.” you said, glancing over at him, snapping him back to reality. “I really appreciate how you’ve been around lately. And how not awkward it is between us now. It means a lot to me.”

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “I’m just here because Gojo dragged me along. Don’t get any ideas.”

You laughed, unfazed. “Yeah, yeah. But seriously, you’re not as bad as I thought you’d be. I guess we’re not so different after all.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe. But don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not here to make friends. I’m here because I have to be.”

Despite his words, you noticed subtle changes in his behavior. He was more engaged in conversations around you, his smiles more frequent, and he’d even started teasing you back. You found yourself drawn to him more and more, your feelings shifting from admiration to something deeper. The way he would look at you, even with his usual aloofness, made your heart race. 

After a particularly lively conversation about your favorite books, Suguru caught you off guard with a rare moment of vulnerability. He looked at you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. 

“You’re really persistent, you know that?” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I didn’t think I’d be saying this, but you’ve managed to get under my skin.”

You grinned, feeling a rush of hope. “Is that a good thing?”

Suguru looked away, his expression turning more serious. “I’m not sure. I told myself I’d just tolerate you, but… the more I hang around, the harder it is to keep my distance.”

He was fighting it, trying to convince himself that his growing feelings for you were nothing more than an annoyance. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do.” he continued, frustration evident in his voice. “But I’m not someone who easily changes his mind. So don’t expect too much.”

Despite his words, there was a softness in his eyes when he looked at you, a clear sign that he was fighting a losing battle. The more you interacted, the more he found himself charmed by your genuine warmth and infectious enthusiasm. And he didn’t know what to feel about that. He doesn’t know how to react to you.

You were infatuated with him, and it became clear that you wanted his attention—more than just casual conversation, more than friendly banter. You wanted to be the one who made him smile, the one he thought about when he was alone.

And though Suguru tried to keep his distance, you could see the cracks in his resolve. His stoic exterior was melting away, little by little, with every shared laugh, every meaningful conversation. He couldn’t deny the way he felt any longer, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise.

In moments of quiet, when it was just the two of you, Geto Suguru’s demeanor softened. He would catch himself gazing at you with an expression that betrayed his irritation with his own feelings. He was torn between his desire to remain aloof and the undeniable pull he felt towards you. As you continued to be your bubbly, charming self, Suguru found himself drawn to you more and more, fighting a battle he wasn’t sure he wanted to win.

The house party was in full swing by the time you and your friends arrived. The sorority house was buzzing with energy, and the crowd was a mix of familiar faces and new ones. You were excited to be there, especially because you had a date with you—Mark, a guy you had been seeing for a few weeks. 

Suguru Geto, always the reserved observer, was there too, though he seemed more detached from the festivities. He had taken a spot near the snack table, his gaze scanning the room. When he noticed you with Mark, he gave a curt nod but didn’t say much.

As the night progressed, Suguru found himself cornered by Mark, who was chatting animatedly with a group of people. You had gone off to mingle with others, leaving Mark to his own devices. Suguru, being the stand-up guy he was, decided to introduce himself.

“Hey, I’m Suguru.” he said, offering a polite smile. “So, what’s your story, bro?”

Mark took a swig of his drink and grinned. “Oh, I’m just here to have a good time, mess around, party hard. You know how it is.”

Suguru nodded, trying to make conversation. “Yeah, I get it. So, how long have you and my friend been seeing each other?”

Mark’s smile faltered slightly. “A few weeks. But, honestly, they're kind of a handful.”

Suguru’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept his tone neutral. “Oh? How so?”

Mark shrugged, looking around to make sure no one else was listening. “They’re always so cheerful and in-your-face. It gets old pretty fast. And don’t get me started on their mood swings. Sometimes they’re all sunshine and other times, they’re just… exhausting.”

Suguru’s smile faltered, and he could feel a simmering anger rising. “I wouldn’t say that. They’re actually really kind and caring. Maybe they’re just passionate around you.”

Mark snorted. “Passionate? More like over–dramatic. You must be used to it, though, considering you hang out with them.”

Suguru’s jaw tightened. “I think you should stop talking about them like that.”

Mark raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the reaction he was getting. “Why? It’s the truth. You know, they could be a lot better if they just… toned it down a bit.”

Suguru’s eyes darkened as he took a deep breath. “Seriously, stop it.”

Mark continued, oblivious to Suguru’s mounting frustration. “They’re always making everything about themselves, always trying to be the center of attention. I don’t get why you’d even bother with them. They’re literally like….a bitch..”

Without warning, Suguru’s hand tightened around his beer bottle. He took a step forward, his voice low and dangerous. “I said, stop.”

The tension in the room was thick, a simmering undercurrent that everyone felt but no one acknowledged—until Mark pushed too far. He had been needling Suguru all night, his criticisms growing more pointed, more personal with each passing minute. The rest of you tried to steer the conversation away, but Mark wouldn’t let it go, his words becoming sharper, crueler.

Suguru had been holding back, his calm facade cracking only slightly as he tried to keep his temper in check. But when Mark ignored him and continued with his relentless criticisms, something inside Suguru snapped.

In an instant, he moved. With a swift, fluid motion, Suguru swung his beer bottle, the action so smooth it was almost graceful. The bottle connected with Mark’s face with a sharp crack. The impact was immediate and satisfying, sending Mark stumbling backward as beer splashed across the floor, the bottle shattering in Suguru’s hand.

The room fell into stunned silence.

“Goddamn it, Suguru!” Shoko’s voice was the first to break the quiet, a mix of shock and exasperation. She stepped forward, ready to pull Suguru back if needed, though there was a slight smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. “Couldn’t you have at least waited until he finished his drink?”

Nanami, who had been lounging in the corner, raised an eyebrow but didn’t move from his spot. “Well, that escalated quickly.”

Shoko sighed deeply, looking around. “I’ll call someone to clean this up. And maybe get some ice for Mark.”

Mark, clutching his face where Suguru had punched him, looked up in stunned disbelief. “What the hell, man? You’re crazy!”

Suguru’s eyes were cold as he glared down at him. “No. I’m done listening to your crap. You should’ve known when to shut up.”

“You all are a bunch of crazy freaks! Especially that bitch!”

“You don’t get to talk about them like that!” Suguru said, his voice steady but filled with a cold edge. “Not on my watch.”

Mark looked up at him, a mix of pain and surprise in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, just backed away slowly, still holding his nose. Yu came between them. “Hey, hey. Let’s all calm down, okay?”

Suguru turned on his heel and walked away, heading outside to cool down. He needed some fresh air and space to collect his thoughts. You, having witnessed the altercation from a distance, rushed over to Suguru, concern etched on your face.

You spotted Suguru standing alone in the hallway, his gaze distant as he tried to calm down from the confrontation. Determined to get some answers, you made a beeline for him, your concern and curiosity palpable.

“Suguru, what happened back there?” you asked, trying to piece together the events of the night. “Why did you hit Mark?”

Suguru glanced at you, his expression a mix of embarrassment and frustration. “It was nothing. He just… he crossed a line.”

“No,” you said, putting the pieces together with a sudden burst of realization. “He called me a bitch, didn’t he? That’s why you hit him. You hit him for me!”

Suguru looked away, his cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. “No, that’s not—”

“Yes, it is!” you interrupted, your excitement and relief bubbling over. “I know I can be a lot sometimes, and I am a bitch! But you actually care about me. You love me, don’t you?”

Suguru’s face turned a deeper shade of red, and he mumbled, “No…I didn’t…”

Suguru’s thoughts were still a whirlwind, his mind racing to process the events of the night and the emotions that came with them. He needed to clear his head, and talking to Gojo seemed like the quickest way to do that. He excused himself and quickly went back inside. As he entered the kitchen, the room was a stark contrast to the chaos outside—bright, warm, and filled with the comforting aroma of Gojo Satoru’s sandwich-making.

Gojo stood by the counter, casually assembling a towering sandwich with practiced ease. His movements were relaxed and carefree, a stark contrast to the tension that Suguru was radiating. He glanced up, taking in the scene with a curious, slightly amused expression.

“What’s going on, man?” Gojo asked, his tone light as he continued to layer on the ingredients. “I heard there was a bit of a commotion.”

Suguru tried to compose himself, but the frustration was evident in his voice. “Mark was being a complete jerk. He was bad-mouthing them, and I… I lost my temper.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “He was talking about them? What did he say?”

Suguru’s jaw clenched as he recounted the encounter. “He kept going on about how they are a handful and how they’re exhausting. He was just being really disrespectful. Even called them a bitch, mind you!”

Gojo’s eyebrows knitted together in surprise. “And you punched him for it?”

Suguru nodded, his gaze intense. “Yeah, I did. He wouldn’t stop, and I just couldn’t let him keep talking like that.”

Gojo’s expression shifted from amusement to genuine concern. “Are they okay?”

Suguru’s frustration softened a bit as he considered your well-being. “They’re fine. I mean, they did seem surprised, maybe in some way upset, I don’t know. But they’re okay. It’s just… I don’t like seeing them being talked about like that.”

Gojo’s eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and understanding. “So, you’re defending them, huh?”

Suguru’s face flushed slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not just about defending them. It’s just—”

Gojo looked up from his sandwich-making with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, but is your lover okay?”

Suguru froze, caught off guard. “They are not my lover, Gojo.” he snapped, defensively. “They are just—”

Gojo’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh? Then why’d you hit him? Seems like you’re more concerned than you’re letting on.”

Suguru glared at Gojo. “I’m not concerned, I just—”

“Uh–uhuh, keep talking.”

“I’m just some friend—acquaintance. Worried.” Suguru narrowed his eyes. “Seriously, Satoru. I don’t know what you’re going on about. If I'm in love with them, shoot me.”

Without missing a beat, Gojo grinned, “Bang.” He made a playful gun gesture with his hand and gave Suguru a wide grin. “Cupid’s bullets confirm!”

Suguru stared at him, dumbfounded. “Are you serious? This is not—”

Gojo laughed, clearly enjoying the confusion. “Just kidding, Suguru. You know I’m just messing with you.”

Suguru sighed heavily, his frustration giving way to a reluctant chuckle. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Gojo shrugged, still grinning. “Just having a bit of fun. But seriously, if you need to talk or if something’s going on, I’m here. Just don’t let things like this get you too worked up.”

Suguru nodded, a mix of relief and embarrassment on his face. “Thanks, Gojo. I guess I needed that.”

With a final, reassuring pat on Suguru’s shoulder, Gojo returned to his sandwich-making. He took a deep breath and went back outside. You were talking with Shoko when you noticed Suguru come back outside towards your way. You were about to speak when Suguru turned back to you. There was a softer, more earnest look in his eyes as he met your gaze.

He looked at you with a determination, his voice steady but kind. “Take your coat, doll.” he said, offering it to you. “We’re getting out of here.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden decision but relieved by the prospect of escaping the party. Without protest, you slipped on your coat and followed him out into the cool night air. The contrast between the cold outside and the warmth of the party was a welcome change, the crisp air a refreshing balm against your senses.

As you walked to the parking lot, Suguru’s silence was a comforting presence. His demeanor was calm and purposeful, a stark contrast to the turbulence of the evening. He led you to his car, and you both got in, the engine’s hum a soothing sound against the backdrop of the night.

Soon enough, you found yourselves parked in the lot of a nearby fast-food chain. The neon lights of the restaurant flickered against the dark sky, casting an almost surreal glow over the scene. It felt like a world away from the party, a simple, unpretentious refuge.

Suguru ordered a handful of burgers and fries, his movements deliberate and focused. You followed suit, choosing your favorites with a sense of familiarity. As you both settled on the hood of the car, the comfort of the fast food and the tranquility of the night began to ease the tension.

You took a bite of your burger, the flavors surprisingly comforting. Despite the simplicity of the setting, there was something deeply satisfying about the moment. “This is the best date ever.” you said with a grin, the warmth of the food and Suguru’s presence making the night feel a little brighter.

Suguru looked at you, a bemused expression on his face. “We haven’t talked in half an hour.”

“That doesn’t matter,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s nice just being with you, even if this doesn’t seem like much.”

Suguru looked away, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not as bad as going bowling.”

You blinked, puzzled. “Bowling? I didn’t know you liked bowling.”

He shrugged, leaning back against the car. “I do. It’s something I enjoy, and being with you is kind of like that—enjoyable and relaxing, even if it’s not always fancy.”

You tilted your head, contemplating his words. Then, feeling bold, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. Suguru’s eyes widened slightly, but he responded, kissing you back with a tenderness that melted away any remaining tension.

When you finally parted, you looked up at him, a soft smile on your lips. “Not too bad?”

Suguru’s gaze softened as he met your eyes, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Not too bad.” he agreed, his voice warm.

You both shared a comfortable silence, the world outside the fast-food restaurant feeling a million miles away. As you finished your burgers and settled back into a peaceful quiet, you knew that despite everything, moments like these were what mattered most.

You and Suguru remained on the car hood, finishing off the last of your burgers. The night was crisp and clear, the occasional hum of passing cars providing a steady backdrop to your conversation.

“So, what’s your favorite part about bowling?” you asked, genuinely curious and trying to keep the mood light.

Suguru chuckled, a soft sound that warmed the chilly air. “It’s the combination of skill and luck, I guess. Plus, it’s fun to just throw the ball and watch it knock down the pins. It’s simple, but satisfying.”

You smiled, enjoying his enthusiasm. “Maybe we should go bowling sometime. It sounds like it could be a lot of fun.”

Suguru’s eyes twinkled as he looked at you. “I’d like that. I think you’d be pretty good at it. You’ve got a good arm from throwing those frisbees around at the park.”

You laughed, leaning into him. “You think so? I’ll hold you to that.”

Suguru wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. “It’s a promise.”

The warmth of his embrace was comforting, and you snuggled closer, resting your head on his shoulder. The night was quiet, and for a while, you just enjoyed the peacefulness of the moment.

Suguru glanced at you, his expression softening even further. “You know, despite everything that happened tonight, I’m really glad we ended up here. I like these moments with you. They remind me of why I care so much.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, your eyes reflecting the soft glow of the streetlights. “Me too, Suguru. It’s the simple things, like eating burgers and talking about bowling, that make me realize how much I enjoy being with you.”

Suguru gave a small, affectionate smile, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek. “Sometimes, it’s the simple things that mean the most.”

You sighed contentedly, feeling a deep sense of connection. “I guess that’s true. And, even though tonight didn’t go as planned, it ended up being pretty perfect in its own way.”

Suguru chuckled softly, his gaze fixed on you. “Yeah, it did.”

You both sat there for a while longer, sharing soft kisses and quiet laughter, savoring the simplicity of the moment. The night air was cool, but the warmth between you made it feel like the coziest place in the world.

Eventually, Suguru shifted slightly, pulling you closer as he gave you a tender kiss on the forehead. “Let’s head back. I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

You nodded, standing up and stretching as Suguru helped you off the car hood. “Sounds good. But we definitely need to plan that bowling trip soon.”

Suguru laughed, offering you his hand. “It’s a date.”

As you walked back to the car, hand in hand, the night seemed a little brighter, and the world a little warmer. The small, spontaneous moments were what made your time together truly special, and you both knew that, no matter what, you’d always find a way to cherish them.

[acis-arts]

Hello everyoneee, I got super busy recently, but I was still able to do some art and writing in the meantime! Here's all my Cult Leader Designs as well as mentions of the AUs I have!!

Some of these will probably change over time, if I feel like it. I just wanna info dump on my AUs and I also think it's good to post how they currently look instead of waiting for too long.

Down below is the info dump on my AUs:

(Before you start reading: "Kali" is the name of my Lamb)

Lost Crowns AU (/Forgotten Lands of the Old Faith):

This AU was called "Forgotten Lands of the Old Faith" at first, but I refer to it as "Lost Crowns AU" mostly because that name fits too and is shorter.

This is my main AU! In it, the entire story of the game is pretty much unchanged, this AU focuses more on what happens after the events in the game. I haven't finished the game yet and I'm assuming after getting all Bishops, the game is pretty much done. (update because I wrote these notes some days ago: I got Shamura in my cult today so I finished the main story at last)

"A few days after freeing all the Bishops, Kali wakes up and something is missing. The Red Crown is gone, all Crowns are gone. They run to find Narinder and the Bishops, but none of them are behind it. Together, all 6 of them try to confront the Mystic Seller next, but upon arriving at the gate they were always situated in, they find nothing."

The Mystic Seller left the Lands of the Old Faith for good and took everything supernatural with them. I haven't thought about a solid reason for that yet, because my main idea behind this is that Kali and the others are now forced to live without all their supernatural powers. They can't perform Rituals, they can't resurrect, they can't summon weapons and none of the Follower necklaces work anymore. The only thing that was left is the immortality of Kali, Narinder and the Bishops. They won't age but the risk of dying permanently is there.

I have no idea if I want to keep this idea or if I want to scrap this, but I also thought about Kali finding a gateway into the lands of the Gods and together with Narinder, they try to find the Mystic Seller to get answers. The reason Narinder comes along is because he's more familiar with that place and Kali would need someone like that. The second reason obviously being that I want to pair them up and have them develop their relationship over this adventure (with a proposal at the end of it perhaps). Third reason: it's fun to have the Bishops take care of the Cult without Kali and Narinder around.

I have so much more stuff for this AU, but this is already so much text. Let's hope I get to post more in the future!

Swap AU:

This is pretty self explanatory and the majority of what I posted on here so far. As a short summary: Narinder is now the Last Cat remaining, becoming the Vessel of Kali as The One Who Waits

No Mercy AU:

This is based on the second save file I have in COTL, on which I'm trying to do an "evil route". In this AU, Kali isn't kind and optimistic, instead becoming a callous, cruel cult leader after receiving the Red Crown. Up until that moment, they were at the bottom of the food chain and upon receiving the power of a God, they were finally the one in control for the first time in their life. They decided to never let go of the Crown and their Powers.

Orange Crown AU:

This AU is pretty much just my close circle and me inserted into Cult of the Lamb. So far my partner and me are inserted as NariLamb and my brother is the Mystic Seller because he looks like them. This one is probably uninteresting to most of you, as you don't know any of us. I won't be posting that much about this and keep it private mostly, but maybe some of you are still interested in the art, so let's see.

As always, Thank you so much for reading up until this point!! I hope you all had a good week!

[nikkeora]

For All the Mary Janes

summary; 'in every other universe, gwen stacy falls for spider-man. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well'. what about the mary janes, then?

or, in which you're the mary jane to miles's spider-man

pairing(s); e-1610! Miles Morales x reader, e-42! Miles Morales x reader

warning(s); i didn’t have any specific gender or race for r in mind while writing, but rio calls r ‘mija’ once and i think that’s ab it

maybe some incorrect usage of Spanish? Spanish speakers who can respond to my weird questions pls hmu

maybe ooc but it’s been in my drafts so long i just wanted to get it out tbh

implied/mentioned parental issues with reader, not proofread, written (mostly) at ao3 hours

You and Miles were always joined at the hip. Your parents knew each other well, so your families were together a lot. Mr. and Mrs. Morales saw you like their own daughter, often joking that you and Miles would be engaged when you got older with the way he could never leave you alone.

At least, up till around two years ago.

You and Miles started to grow apart when you got into Visions Academy. He thought it was a stupid school full of stuck-up rich kids who only cared about making connections that would help them along further down the line. You thought it was a good school that had a good track record of producing students that had a lot of success in what they wanted to do.

Some things were said the day before your transfer.

Since then, the two of you rarely texted or called. Mrs. Morales would often come by for coffee with your mom, tell you about how her son was doing and gush over 'how much you've grown' from last Tuesday, but that was about the only way you knew the vague outline of what he was up to.

You'd admit you felt lonely for a while. After all, Miles had been your best friend ever since you could remember. But you also weren't going to go running to him after everything he'd said.

I mean, was it really that bad to want a good future?

Soon enough though, you felt like yourself again. You met new people, made new contacts, and actual friends. Because contrary to popular belief, the people there weren't all mini business men and heartless CEOs in the making. They were just kids, after all.

And then, Miles won the draw. Just a few weeks before the start of the new semester, your parents mentioned that he'd be going to your school from now on in passing.

You didn't think much of it at first. I mean, everyone has that one childhood friend that they fell apart with, right? For the first week or so, you didn't even see his face much. In fact, you didn't see him at all, not even a glimpse in the halls.

That was about to change drastically.

Short story shorter, you caught a glimpse of him walking on the side of the school with pigeons stuck to his hands. A month or two later, Spider-Man climbed through your dorm window, ripping off his mask and ranting about some villain of the week.

"I couldn't even catch the guy-"

"Miles?"

"...You're not Ganke."

The two of you made up that night. He apologized, admitting he was being unfair and was upset that you were leaving his school. It didn't exactly clear everything, but it was a start. The two of you caught each other up on everything they had missed. In the end, the sun was about to come up and the both of you realized you hadn't gotten a minute of sleep on a school night.

From then on, the two of you get closer again. He went to you for the occasional rant or patch up, and he actively sought you out in school now, relieved to see a familiar face in the halls. Gradually, you got close to the point you'd call him one of your best friends and vice versa after around a year of radio static.

Everything was great. He was cute, funny - in an awkward way, but hey, he made you laugh - he looked out for you, and when he talked to you he did this cute little thing where he would play with the strings of his hoodie which he somehow always managed to layer on with like two other jackets and—

Oh yeah, did we mention the crush you had on him?

Because there was one.

Big huge one, right here. Materialized out of thin air looks like.

Which should have been fine. You were perfectly capable of hiding a crush. I mean, come on, it's high school. You would've been eaten alive if you couldn't.

Normally, you would even be confident that you could make your crush like you back. I mean, why wouldn't he?

Two words. One person.

Gwen Stacy.

It was like he could never go even one conversation without mentioning her.

Slight exaggeration? Maybe. Maybe not.

"Oh yeah, that's cool! Y'know, Gwen told me one time that—"

"You got an A, I knew you could do it! I told you so. Did you know Gwen got A's in—"

"Oh hey, you got your hair cut! Reminds me of that time when me and Gwen—"

At first, it was bearable. Sure, she came up annoyingly often whenever you talked, but she had just left this dimension, never to be seen again. Of course he was gonna miss her.

You laughed at all his stories, listened to every one even though he told the same six or seven ones over and over again. You even grew to like Gwen, as if you'd known her for the short amount of time Miles did, too.

But then two months passed. Then six. Then a whole year. Before you knew it, a year and four months had passed since the departure of Gwen Stacy.

And he still. Wouldn't. Shut. Up.

You had tried to understand. You really did.

But you can only hear the same damn jokes so many times before you get a migraine.

Pick any story. You could list off every variation of how Miles would tell it off the top of your head.

Gwen Stacy became the daughter of one of your mom’s friends, so to speak. That one girl in the neighborhood you couldn’t help but envy.

And worst of all, it was like he wished you were her.

Whenever you did something, he would tell you how Gwen could do it better. He would ask you whether or not you thought Gwen would like certain trinkets he found around town, and kept a collection of them in one of his drawers so he could give them to her one day. He was even studying quantum physics instead of art so that he could make his own multiversal gateway - a safe one, so that he could unlock the multiverse, possibly for good.

It hurt when he zoned out while you were telling him about you, thinking about her; your day, what you wanted to study, how your parents were fighting a lot again lately and you were struggling because of it, how you'd joined a new band—

"A band, huh?" Miles suddenly perked up, finally looking up from his sketchbook. "Did I tell you Gwen's in a band? It's called the Mary Janes—"

"Miles would you please stop?"

A pause, both of you mildly surprised at how you'd snapped at him.

The two of you were at your dorm, seated side-by-side on the bed with your legs folded in front of you. It was Friday, the day before Mr. Morales’s pre signing-in party.

The boy looked at you, a questioning look on his face. "What's wrong?"

And that tilt with his head - he really didn't know, did he? You couldn't decide if that was better or worse.

"Miles, I know Gwen's in a band," He tried to say something, but you didn't let him speak before you continued. "I know she's a drummer, I know she does ballet, I know she had to shave half of her head because you couldn't control your powers - hell, the whole school knows that—"

"C’mon, don’t bring that up—"

"—I know every single story she told you while she was here, and I know every single detail of what you two did and how you did it. And I know she does everything I can do and she does it better. I’m tired of hearing it, Miles." His eyebrows furrowed, a slightly hurt look flashing across his face. "I’m sorry you miss her and I’m sorry she’s gone, but I just can’t be around you if all you’re gonna do is compare me to her."

A moment of silence settled in the air. You hoped Miles would understand. Surely, he’d see how tedious this was getting.

"All I’m asking is for you to tone it down."

Another beat passes without a word from the boy. He’s looking into your eyes, but it doesn’t seem like he’s all there. Like there’s a world past your irises that he’s seeing for the first time.

"I- I’m sorry, y/n, I can’t do that." Miles finally says, his gaze turning away from yours and to the sketch he’d been working on for the last hour. You glanced down at it as well, the bright blue eyes of the one and only Gwen Stacy meeting yours.

"You’re the only one I can talk to on this," he said quietly, softly closing the sketchbook and tapping a finger nervously on the cover.

"Ganke?"

"Ganke’s fine, he’s great, he’s just.. not someone I can go to for these things."

You took a deep breath, the guilt of having to tell him ‘no’ building up in your chest. You knew his relationship with his parents were complicated at the moment, and he didn’t really have friends outside of you and Ganke. But still.. it was like he wasn’t at all interested in what was going on in your life ever since your initial reconnection.

It wasn’t like you expected a complete 50:50 give-and-take in relationships, but honestly you felt like you were talking to a robot with very limited audio cues.

"Miles, you don’t listen to me anymore. The only time you actually respond to anything I say is when it’s something even remotely related to Gwen."

"That’s not true!" Miles protested. You watched as he tried to find something to argue his point, only to come up empty. His shoulders sagged a little.

"But you gotta understand, Gwen - I’m not gonna see her again, at least until I figure out.. everything." He said in a quiet voice. "I need to talk to someone. Can’t you understand?”

"I’m not trying to shut everything down, I’m just asking you to pay attention to me every once in a while." You sighed. "And if you’e not willing to do that… do you even think of me as a friend?"

-

Miles left your dorm not long after that little talk, sneaking out the same way he snuck in; through the window. You dug your nails into your palms, breathing in and out in a steady rhythm to push down any sadness you may have felt. It was the second time you and Miles had grown apart, this time maybe your fault a little more than his. It felt like it, anyway.

Still, you felt like you’d done the right thing.

You hoped so, anyway.

-

It was an hour before Jeff Morales’s technically-not-captain-yet-but-will-be-soon celebration. Your dad and yourself had come early to prepare everything and set up all the decorations. Your mom apparently ‘couldn’t make it’. It was the third time in the last two weeks she cancelled on plans that your dad was involved in.

You stacked red plastic cups on one of the tables, a cooler full of ice and two-litre soda bottles to your left. Miles’s parents had insisted they didn’t need any help, but your dad had insisted right on back that the two of you wanted to. You didn’t mind. You’d cleared your evening for the event anyway, so it’s not like you had anything better to do.

The one thing that made you kind of regret coming was your lack of a jacket. It’d been really sunny in the morning, so you’d figured it would be a warm night. A breeze picked up and sent a light chill through your body, causing you to just barely shiver.

"Mija," Mrs. Morales called, coming up from behind you and laying a hand on your shoulder. "You’re freezing."

"Oh, I’m fine, mama," you replied, smiling at her. She gave you a look that said ‘we both know that isn’t true’.

"Miles might have something in his room," she suggested, "I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you borrowed one of his clothes."

You thanked her but refused, claiming it might get warmer once the guests started to arrive and the party was at full swing. She must have noticed something was off when she mentioned Miles, because she raised an eyebrow and shook her head lightly before asking,

"What did he do now?"

Either you’re really bad at hiding things from her or her motherly sixth-sense worked on you too. You hesitated, but decided it wouldn’t hurt to tell her. After all, Rio had always been like a mom to you.

"We had a fight - if you can even call it that, anyway, about a girl," you said, fiddling with a plastic cup. "We’re not on real good terms right now, I don’t think…"

Rio looked slightly surprised for a moment, then something seemed to click into place. She sighed and put her hands on your cheeks. "He’s a little bit slow," she said, giving you a sympathetic smile. "But he’ll get there. Eventually."

She then squished your face before immediately letting go, making you laugh. "Now go get yourself a jacket. I don’t want my only daughter to freeze to death."

You held your hands up in surrender as she pointed to the stairs, swiftly making your way down to the Moraleses’ flat. You had a spare key that Miles’s parents had given you a long while ago, when your parents used to have full on screaming matches in the middle of the living room every other day.

Within a couple minutes you’d grabbed one of the dozen coats, hoodies and jackets strewn about Miles’s closet, pulling the soft material over your shoulders as you took a glance around his room. Everything was about the same as you’d seen two or three weeks ago, save for a few new stickers laid about the desk.

There was an all-too-familiar sketchbook on the bed, one similar to what Miles had been scribbling in last night in your dorm, just in a different color. This one looked a bit more used, so you supposed he’d gotten it and packed it full of Gwen Stacy just after she left this reality. The thought put a bitter taste on your tongue.

-

A half an hour into the party, Miles still hadn’t showed up. He was supposed to be here at least twenty minutes ago, and you could tell his parents were getting both worried and annoyed. Rio asked around for her son as Jeff chatted with some colleagues. Suddenly, an auntie shoved a mic into Mrs. Morales’s hand, drawing everybody’s attention to her by clinking her glass. Jeff looked away in what could only be described as complete horror.

"Um, hi…"

You grinned as she continued with embarrassing stories about her husband, from little anecdotes from when they were dating to how he was almost 10lbs as a baby. It was then that Mr. Morales jumped in, quickly taking the mic away from her and giving his own speech.

"—And to my son…"

You grimaced as he raised his cup, looking around for someone who wasn’t there. The two of you met eyes instead, and you shook your head to tell him he hadn’t showed with an apologetic look. He turned to his wife, only for her to do the same. He cleared his throat before continuing.

"…The reason I do any of this in the first place. So.. I love you Miles."

Afterwards, the DJ put the records on again. People are talking, laughing, congratulating, creating a warm, buzzing atmosphere. You’re dragged away by a few little kids to play with them over by a small cluster of barrels, which they’ve decided is their ‘lair’. You play make believe with them for a little while as their parents stand a bit away with your own dad, occasionally glancing over at you to make sure the kids are behaving.

It’s then that Miles finally shows up, pushing the door open with two boxes in his arms. You follow him through your peripheral vision as he tries to avoid his parents, ultimately failing. You’re not sure what they’re saying, but it doesn’t seem to be going that well. He shows them the contents of his boxes, which doesn’t seem to impress them too much.

After a couple more words, Mr. Morales raises his voice, the DJ trying to divert people’s attention away by upping the volume but ultimately giving up.

"What do you got to tell me so bad?"

"You know what? Never mind."

Miles walked away, pulling his hood up as his dad yelled after him about him being grounded for two months. Must’ve been really bad, huh?

You waited for the music to come back on before you made your way to the exit, ruffling one of the little kids’ hair as he skittered away with his sister. You’re just going to check on him for a minute, just to see if he’s okay. You can do that… right? I mean sure, it might be awkward since things had ended like that last night, but still.

No one else was going to.

You let yourself into the flat once again, approaching Mile’s room with soft footsteps. You’re just outside the door when—

"Are these your drawings?"

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart freezes right along with you. For a moment, you felt like a deer in headlights.

A feeling crawls its way under your skin, cold and slippery. You don’t know how you know, but you’re absolutely positive.

"Missed you too."

Gwen Stacy.

-

You’re on your way home, your hands rubbing up and down your arms to try to warm yourself up during the walk. You lived a little while away from Miles’s place, but it’s nothing you can’t walk.

You’d left the jacket on the Morales’ couch, turning on your heel and leaving the moment you heard her voice.

Damn it.

When had she gotten back? How had she gotten back? What was Miles’s reaction?

What were they doing now?

…Did you really want to know?

As your brain clouded over with questions, you took a wrong turn. Maybe two. Or three. Honestly, you didn’t know. Once you realized that this definitely wasn’t your neighborhood, you stopped yourself mid-step, looking around to see if anything was familiar at all.

Your eyes settled on a building, as there really wasn’t anything other than that around here other than some roads and bridges. One of the windows were glowing.

Then the whole structure began to rumble.

The ground beneath your feet started to turn… black…?

Wha—

-

You fell.

Not for too long, but you did.

You dropped around six feet onto hard concrete, twisting your ankle in the process. You cried out in pain and surprise.

"What the—?"

"Y/n?"

You looked up at that. You knew that voice.

Except, you didn’t.

The first thing you noticed is that this definitely was not the place you were in before. This place was more narrow, more dark. Light rain pattered on your skin as your hands supported your sitting position, wondering what the hell was going on.

The person who’d said your name was at the entrance to the alley you’d been.. teleported? to.

They took hesitant steps over to you, and, for some reason, you didn’t feel scared that this complete stranger had cornered you in a place you’d never even seen before.

Maybe the voice is what made you think it was alright.

Or maybe it was his face, which made your heart stop its primary function for the second time today.

"Miles?"

But he wasn’t Miles. At least.. not your Miles. This one was skinnier, just a little shorter. His accent had more of a Spanish touch to it and, most of all, his hair was braided into two sections that reached just below his shoulders.

No. He was very much not your Miles Morales.

Nevertheless, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. There was something in his eyes — regret? Happiness? Sadness? Anger? Confusion? Probably all of the above.

He got closer, and closer, and closer. Once he reached where you were half-laying, he crouched down and tilted his umbrella until it sheltered your body more than his.

"…Are you hurt?" He asked, giving you a once-over. You just nodded, still putting all the pieces together.

Had you—

Did you—?

The boy in front of you studied your face for a little while, but then ultimately shook his head and shrugged off his jacket, handing it over to you.

"Come on. It’s cold outside."

[puck-luck]

okay since you wanted requests to switch it up a bit.. could you write trevor zegras x fem!reader smut where his gf is less experienced than him and wants to give him head but she’s never done it before so he guides her through it 🫣

other requests: “could you write a smut with some fluff in it too, with trevor zegras walking his gf through giving him head because it’s her first time and she’s nervous/doesn’t know what to do”, “obsessed with the idea of trevor zegras talking his gf through how to give him head when it’s her first time and she’s nervous about not knowing what to do.. like literally giving her instructions throughout, with lots of praise and reassurance, but also dirty talk bc let’s be real, it’s trevor.” warnings: oral (f and m receiving), dirty talk, inexperienced reader x experienced partner, praise, coming on face, masturbation joke warnings: tw: los angeles angels (i prefer the dodgers), in a world where tz never broke his ankle during the 2023-2024 season… pairing: trevor zegras x inexperienced!fem!reader summary: see requests above. wc: 3089

Trevor Zegras was the most giving, patient man you had ever known. Maybe his patience came from having younger siblings, but it was more likely that it came from years and years of working with teammates in a cutthroat sport. You had grown up watching hockey, gaining intimate knowledge of the sport when you had started dating Trevor. Trevor, in exchange, found himself more than knowledgeable about baseball, the sport of your choice, than he ever needed to be.

You two had met when you came to Anaheim, having graduated a year early from college with a degree in Sports Marketing. You had landed a job with the Los Angeles Angels, which had relocated you to the area, and you couldn’t imagine your life going any other way. There were times when you missed your family and missed home, but once you had gotten settled into your job and you had met Trevor, Anaheim started to feel like the home you’d been destined to find.

Anaheim was also an escape from your hometown– a place where, despite your best efforts, you did not feel welcome. You had told Trevor early in your relationship about your lack of experience sexually and tried to explain it away with a long-winded story about being a “weird kid,” but Trevor had brushed it off and told you he didn’t mind your inexperience. He was happy, he said, to teach you everything he could. All you had to do was say the word.

So, you’d worked up to it. You’d slept in the same bed, touched him, and he had touched you. Hockey season had helped the pace of your relationship, with Trevor traveling almost every other week. He was gone for two weeks straight in January, traveling from coast to coast, and it was then that you had shyly admitted to him through the tinny speaker of your phone how badly you wanted to suck him off.

He had fumbled with the phone, groaning at the idea alone of your mouth around his length, and it had resulted in a long FaceTime call in which you watched him fuck into his hand, telling you how much better it would feel if it was your mouth.

It was the Monday night after they had come back. Trevor had had a game on Sunday at Honda Center against the Rangers and spent the night at his place because it was closer to the rink. As much as he was itching to see you, and your heart was beating out of your chest at the idea of seeing him and going through with blowing him, you were scared. Trevor knew that you were nervous, the anticipation was getting to you, just from the way you were texting. The messages were shorter. You weren’t initiating conversation as much. The times between your responses were longer.

It didn’t matter, though. He was coming over tonight.He was going to cook you dinner. He was going to set the mood. He was going to make you comfortable if it was the last thing that he did, and if it meant that you wouldn’t get your mouth on him at all, he was okay with that.

Trevor arrived at your apartment about an hour after you got off work. Spring training was starting in just a month, so things were starting to pick up for you. You were stressed, plenty of tasks on your plate and most of them half-finished. A relaxing dinner with your boyfriend was going to provide a needed distraction.

Trevor had let himself into the apartment and was already pan-searing some cubed potatoes when you got out of the shower. He was in complete boyfriend mode, having stolen your apron and thrown it over his bare chest. You could see his tattoos from where you were standing, the ones littering his arms and the delicate one on his ribs, and you smiled. 

He seemed like a tough guy, your boyfriend. He had the tattoos, the athletic ability, the sculpted form and ridged muscles of an athlete. Anyone who saw him in the supermarket might think he’s an asshole, but the second they get a good look at him, they’ll realize that he’s just a softie. He tied a delicate bow around the curve of his waist in your baby blue and frilly apron. 

“I can feel you looking at me,” Trevor said. You watched his bicep ripple as he moved the potatoes around the pan with a spatula. He threw a glance over his shoulder. “Oh, good, you’re actually there. Could you imagine me saying that to the air?”

“I can, actually,” You replied with a laugh. You walked over and hugged Trevor from behind, arms wrapped solidly around his figure as you squished your cheek against his back. “I bet you did.”

Trevor sputtered out a denial, shaking his head. He relented just seconds later, unable to keep up the bit. “You’re right. I thought you were there like two minutes before you actually were.”

You giggled and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades.

Trevor placed the spatula down on the counter, then turned the burner off and moved the pan to a different spot on the cooktop. He turned in your arms, inching over just a bit so that you were trapping him against the counter, not the oven. He gasped, reaching up and cradling your face in the palms of his hands.

“What?” You asked.

“You’ve gotten even prettier in the two weeks that I haven’t seen you,” He marveled, tilting your head from side to side as you rolled your eyes.

You pushed away from him, walking out of the kitchen. 

Trevor trailed behind you like a puppy.

“You’re a loser,” You said.

“I love my pretty girlfriend,” Trevor replied. 

As you passed the couch in your living room, Trevor tackled you over the arm of the object and you fell onto the cushions. You shrieked at the contact, at the fall, and squirmed in Trevor’s grip as he kissed over your neck and face. His fingers were digging into your sides, causing you to giggle and snort between breaths. Trevor was relentless, until he decided to plant a kiss on your lips.

He captured your lips with intent, slowly slotting your bottom lip between his. Trevor always kissed you with purpose, slow, like he was trying to memorize you. He slid his mouth into your tongue like he was trying to lap up your sweetness, keep it on his tongue until he could place your taste and replicate it in a dish or a drink, something he’d be willing to consume every day for the rest of his life. You liked most when he nibbled on your bottom lip before pulling away, something that was so trademark Trevor that it made you breathless. He would always pull back just to look at you, to push your hair out of your face, before diving back in.

He kissed you so gently, so sweetly, that when you felt his bulge press against you, you were almost caught off guard.

“Been thinking about you,” Trevor purred against your lips. “About what you said the other day.”

You froze and Trevor pulled away, hovering over you. He searched your face carefully.

“We don’t have to,” He reassured you. “You know we don’t have to. I’d never make you.”

“I want to,” You replied, voice small. “I’m just… scared.”

“Scared of what?” Trevor asked. 

“What if I gag and I throw up all over you?” You cringed at the mere thought. “I’ll die if that happens.”

Trevor stifled a laugh. “I’ll shower and I’ll wait two weeks before letting you near my dick with your mouth again,” He answered, an easy smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

You pouted at him. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“I am!” He protested. “Baby, you’re not going to throw up on my dick.”

“What if I do?”

“I just told you what we’d do if you threw up on my dick!”

“Okay, well, you’re not being very supportive of my fears.”

Trevor sighed and placed his hands on your shoulders. He stared deeply into your eyes. “I understand you are afraid of vomiting on my penis. I assure you, that will not happen.”

“How can you be so sure?” You whined.

“It’s never happened before,” Trevor said. He leaned down to kiss the spot under your ear. “Plus, baby, I’m going to go so slow that you’ll be begging for more by the end of it.”

A shiver ran down your spine at that, the way he whispered the words in your ear so his hot breath danced over your skin igniting a flame between your legs. 

“Why don’t,” Trevor began, his hand making his way to your clothed mound, “I show you just how good getting head would make me feel?”

His deft fingers rubbed in circles over your clit, the pressure just intense enough to make you moan.

“Would you like that? I’ll get my tongue on you, make you come once, maybe twice…” Trevor kissed you, his lips sliding over yours, his tongue teasing its way into your mouth then out of it. “And then we can revisit the idea of getting your mouth on me?”

“Yeah,” You agreed lamely, the heat between your legs growing more slick with each circle of his fingers and each wet kiss. 

Trevor stood from where he was lain on top of you. He untied your apron, which you had almost forgotten he was wearing, and tossed it to the side. He grabbed under your knees and dragged you down towards the arm of the couch, throwing one leg over the arm and setting your other foot on the floor. He kept a hand on that knee, rubbing smooth lines up and down your skin with his thumb. With his other hand, he traced the line of your folds through the fabric of your sweat-shorts.

 They were a loose pair, gray and almost threadbare after years of washes and use. The fabric of the shorts was the thinnest barrier Trevor could have faced. You could have put on panties when you got out of the shower, but had opted just for these shorts instead. They were more comfortable. Now, they were just something stopping him from getting his mouth on you.

Except, it didn’t stop him. 

Trevor mouthed over your clit, giving it an open-mouthed kiss. You whimpered at the shock that it sent up your body, causing your fingertips to twitch at your side. He ran his tongue over the length of your pussy and chuckled to himself when your hips jumped beneath him. 

“Relax, honey,” Trevor said, his words muffled because he was still pressed against you. “Relax and enjoy.”

His fingers came up and moved your shorts out of the way, revealing you to him. Chastely, he kissed your folds, then pointedly blew cold air over your entrance. 

“Trev,” You let out, reaching a hand towards his, still rubbing on your knee. He intertwined his fingers with yours, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. 

Trevor licked his way up to your clit again, capturing it between his lips and sucking. He rolled the bud on his tongue, causing your hips to lift again. “Be good,” He told you, voice low. His eyes were closed as he continued to lick over you, practically french kissing your lower lips the same way he would the ones on your face.

It was a gradual build, the coil in your stomach tightening. You squeezed Trevor’s hand and ground down on his tongue. He flattened his tongue against your clit, letting you hump it, before he tensed it at your entrance and prodded his way into you. He flicked the muscle fast, and the sensation was all too much for you. 

You came undone with a loud cry, your thighs closing around Trevor’s head involuntarily. 

He continued to lap at your release, cleaning you up and only stopping when you relaxed beneath him and pushed him away.

“How was that?” Trevor asked, his face level with yours. 

You reached out and looped your arms around his neck, dragging him forward until your lips crashed against his. This kiss, at your direction, was much more passionate. You could taste yourself on his tongue and you moaned into his mouth. You turned, pushing at Trevor until he was the one seated on the couch. You found yourself on his lap, grinding down on his bulge.

“So you liked it?” Trevor asked.

You let out a laugh and sucked a hickey under his jaw. “Teach me how to make you feel good like that.”

Trevor shuddered when you scraped your teeth over his pulse point. “On your knees,” He told you. He guided you, with a hand on your shoulder, between his legs.

The sight of you there, feet tucked prettily under you, hands clasped in front of you, has Trevor’s dick twitching in his pants.

“Take my dick out, baby,” Trevor said, his voice soft but firm.

He lifted his hips as you pulled at his shorts. They pooled around his ankles, leaving him in just his briefs.

“Give me your hand.”

You reached up and he took your wrist, guiding your hand toward his bulge. He let your hand rest just to the side of him.

“Touch me. Over my pants.”

You traced the line of his dick over his pants, biting your lip when it jumped under your finger. You palmed him, fitting your hand over the curve of him and beginning to rub him up and down.

Trevor’s head tilted back and he let out a groan. “Faster.”

You sped up, just as he had asked you to, bringing your other hand up to cradle his balls.

“Fuck,” Trevor moaned, inadvertently tipping his hips up into your hand. “Take it out.”

You rushed to do so, scraping your nails against his sides when you pulled at his waistband. Trevor hissed at that, but didn’t say anything. When his dick was revealed to you, standing proud and dripping from the tip, you took it in your hand and leaned down to hesitantly lick his slit.

Trevor’s hands flew to your hair, the strands falling between his fingers. “Again,” He breathed out, eyes wide.

You licked his tip again, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“Oh my God,” Trevor drawled out, borderline whimpering. “Baby, fuck, please.”

You smiled, proud of yourself for reducing him from someone who was so sure of himself and so loud to someone who is whining just from your touch. You circled your lips around his lip, sucking lightly.

His dick twitched. “So good,” Trevor praised. “Can you take more?”

You nodded out of instinct, but the sensation made him garble out an unintelligible string of words. You sunk down lower on his dick, feeling your lips stretch as you take him down your throat. You bobbed your head up and down slowly, feeling how he slid in and out of you. The taste of him on your tongue was addicting– salty and just so man. You moaned, the vibrations enveloping Trevor’s dick in a way that made him buck up into your throat. You gagged, a tear forming on your waterline.

Trevor grabbed your hair and pulled you up, just barely off the head of his dick. 

“You okay?” He asked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you gag.”

You cleared your throat and nodded. “You taste so good, Trevor.” Trevor’s jaw dropped at the tone of your voice, light and innocent and sexy because it was worn with use. 

“Fuck, suck me again, just take it,” Trevor encouraged, gathering your hair into a ponytail.

You lowered your mouth onto Trevor again, tracing your tongue over the vein on the underside of his dick. You used one hand to pump the part of his dick that you couldn’t fit into your mouth. You bobbed up and down, covering your teeth as best you could, but Trevor relished in the ghost of a scrape over his member when you got caught up in the moment.

He was groaning, babbling above you, his abs flexing as he drowned in pleasure. His face was flushed and you whined when you saw the mark that you left on his sharp jawline.

“Baby, you’re so good,” Trevor groaned. “You’re gonna make me come.”

You reached a hand down into your shorts and fingered furiously over your clit, swooning with the sensation there and of the weight on your tongue.

Trevor leaned forward and spotted your movements, saw your hand moving from inside your shorts. “Oh my God, fuck, yeah, make yourself come, too, baby…”

You gave it your all, twisting your hand around the length of Trevor that wasn’t inside your mouth. Drool slid out of your mouth, offering plenty of lubrication for your hand, making it easier to jerk him.

“God, fucking– baby, let me come on your face. Please, wanna see it on you,” Trevor begged.

He said it right as your fingers teased your entrance in just the right way, and you came for the second time that night, kneeling on the carpet for your boyfriend’s pleasure. 

You pulled off of Trevor, but kept your mouth open, sticking your tongue out. He took his dick in his hand and jacked himself off quickly, hand flying over his length. 

“Close your eyes,” Trevor warned, panting like he couldn’t catch his breath. “Don’t– fuck– don’t want to get my come in your eye.”

You obeyed him, reluctantly losing sight of his figure. There would be plenty of other times where you could watch his face contort with the bliss of his orgasm, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of his hot, sticky come fall on your cheeks before Trevor aims his release at your tongue. 

“God, Y/N,” Trevor groaned out. “I kind of want to take a picture of you like this.”

“Can I open my eyes?” You asked, “Wanna look up at you.”

“Yeah,” Trevor agreed, eyes fluttering as he took in the sight of you with his come on your face. When your eyes opened and met his, he felt himself starting to harden again. “Now I really want to take a picture.”

You wiped some of the come off of your cheek with your thumb before licking it off the digit. “Next time. I believe you promised me a home cooked dinner.”

notes: dear trevor zegras, i <3 you and think we could really get up to no good if you'd just give me a look. also, i wrote this at work. also, also, my coworker was sitting next to me and one of the elderly ladies asked me what i was typing. no comment.

[mmogurl]

Daddy Issues Part 1: Savior

18+ | 1.7k | Homelander X Female Reader | protective homelander, reader's back story is a little dark, reader might be a bit of a nympho, mentions of suicide, rape, assault, alcoholism, emotional child abuse. My Own Writing Prompt: What if Homelander became your Daddy and was really good at it? This is my first attempt at writing for a 'Reader' character! I usually always write it as an OC, so this should be a fun challenge. There will be more, but I'm not sure how many yet - maybe 3 parts. I wanted to keep these side ideas shorter and easier to pick up and put down. Part 1: Savior | Part 2: Baseline | Part 3: Spoiled | Part 4: Comfort

You’ve not had the best childhood. You were raised by an alcoholic, neglectful mother who cared more about getting laid by strange men that she met at the bar than you. This was paired with a father who would literally do anything but spend time with you, even when you flew fifteen hundred miles via airplane and stayed for the whole summer. Love, affection, attention, validation. These are all things that have been acutely missing from your life and so it should come as no surprise that you might be tempted towards the more hedonistic side of things.

After all, there is no better way to pretend that someone loves you, then when they’re fucking you.

Your bedroom has been a revolving door of men, much like your mothers had been when she was still alive. But, she’s left you alone in this world, long since dead from cirrhosis of the liver, and you’d really rather not have anything to do with your piece of shit father. With no siblings or family to call your own and nobody left to really give a shit, your life feels kind of empty. Fucking is the one thing that makes you feel alive, at least until it’s over and all of the feelings of guilt and shame come flooding back in.

That’s alright though. That’s what the beer is for. When too many voices start to nag you about your choice of lifestyle, you just drown it out. And no, you don’t think of yourself as an alcoholic like your mother. You are just self medicating, and find this over the counter prescription much more effective than the ones your psychiatrist had given you. You’d rather feel something than nothing after all. Maybe this makes you a hypocrite, but you really don’t care.

Perhaps it is this very state of inebriation that has led to your current situation though. You really should start taking accountability for the way your life has turned out and stop playing the victim. Sadly, there may not be enough time to make any serious life changes because things are looking pretty grim. A chance encounter with a good looking man named Mark that you’d met, ironically at the bar, has turned into a complete catastrophe, and even you with your insight and feisty spirit, especially when drunk, cannot see a way out of it.

Mark said he was parked just down the road, and there were so many lights and people walking down the main throughway that you really hadn’t considered you might even be in danger. That was until you’d both walked a ways down the alley, past the point of lights and still there was no car. Who the fuck drives a car in New York City you found yourself thinking, but by then it was too late. By then, Mark’s lackeys had jumped out from hiding, dragging you down an intersecting alley and against the wall of some abandoned building.

You are pressed painfully against the cold and dirty brick wall with two men holding you in place, one on either side of you. One heavier set man has a knife against your throat while the other laughs in a way that makes your skin crawl. Mark stands before you still looking like the handsome bait that he was and you can’t help but wonder what they might possibly want with you. You are too old at twenty eight to be thrown into some kind of grooming gang or human trafficking and you have nobody for them to extort funds from for a ransom.

Maybe they are just interested in raping and killing you and this is just more shitty luck that life has thrown your way. It is always so easy to play the victim, even when you are still partially responsible for how the cards fall in the wake of your bad decisions.

You try to jerk your arms free, thinking it better to be cut than to be raped by these scraps of human excrement. You had already intended to fuck Mark or you wouldn’t have gone home with him, but this show of depravity has most definitely changed your mind.

You feel the heat of dripping blood from your neck as the bigger guy with the knife actually nicks your skin. Mark already has his paws on you, a look of disgusting lewdness on his face as though he’s so pleased with himself for cornering you. His hand rounds your breast and the feeling of him touching you like this elicits the most gut wrenching scream from the very depths of your chest cavity.

Then the raw, searing pain erupts across your face. Always the consummate gentleman, Mark has struck you and he didn’t pull any punches. You can’t help but hear the rimshot play in your head and you wonder how it is that even as you’re about to die, your struck with the plaguing of your morose sense of humor. You supposed in the end, it was just a way to make light of how messed up things were. And right now, they were definitely about as bad as they had ever been.

As Mark once more closes in on you, the friend not holding the knife joining in at groping you as well, you attempt to scream again. Another throbbing fist hits you so hard in the cheekbone that it literally takes away all the fight you have. You’ve never been hit so hard before in your entire life and you feel a wave of defeat roll over you like the most hated white flag flapping in the wind.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to zone out the disgusting mitts clawing at you. For a moment you consider shoving your neck into the knife to avoid letting them take this any further. But, graciously, your thoughts of escape through suicide are averted when the ground shakes as though an asteroid had just been ejected from space and landed right beside you.

There is another flash of pain as the stout man with the knife slips and cuts you once more. Free from their grip for a moment in light of the confusion, you feel your neck and are relieved to find that the cut is shallow and not gushing blood. You slowly look up and find that all the men are turned away from you, looking at something incredulously.

Your eyes grow wide when you realize they are staring at the fucking Homelander. Your jaw drops in shock as he hurls forward, grabbing the neck of the man with the knife and popping it like a grape. Blood splatters everywhere as your blond savior’s eyes flare up with bright orange light, straight into Mark’s crotch creating a massive hole that you can actually see through. You almost laugh at the thought of his likely raging hard on getting evaporated to charred bits and nothingness. Serves him right you think as his body hits the pavement with a fleshy thud.

The last man attempts to flee and you follow the outline of his backside as he runs. Homelander’s eyes glow once more and you watch as the plasma hot lasers cut across the distance, starting at the assailant’s groin and carving all the way through his head, leaving him cleaved in two even pieces.

You barely have time to think about it before Homelander’s gaze returns to you, a look of concern in his eyes as he crowds you against the wall. “Fuck!” he shouts and you startle as he starts wiping the gore and blood away from your face, your neck. “Did I hit you?”

“N-no,” you manage to squeak out. “I think it’s the fat guy’s blood.” You say this with a little more humor than you probably should, not being able to resist the idea of insulting your attacker.

Homelander stops his fussing and regards you with eyes that are so much bluer in person than they appeared on television. He raises up one hand, finger pointed at you as though you’d just fooled him, in quite a clever way. The grin on his face almost makes you forget that you’d just had strangers threatening your life and your right to choose who you spread your legs for.

“You’re funny,” he finally said, looking you over, his expression growing more grave, almost irate. “Especially for someone who just narrowly avoided getting raped and thrown in the Hudson fucking Bay.”

You can’t help but wonder why he cares. You always thought he was just a pretend super hero for the cameras, for the mega corporation known as Vought to make big bucks. It all seemed staged and as far as you knew it was. Yet, here he was, America’s patriotic golden boy, making a very unscheduled save.

“What the fuck are you doing anyway!?” he asked cynically, interrupting your thoughts. “Do you have a death wish or something? You like the idea of serving yourself up to any guy who shows you a little bit of attention?”

His line of questioning was strangely personal, as though he knew more about you than he was letting on. Even though he had just come to your rescue, exactly when you had needed him most, you can’t help but feel a little indignant.

“It’s not like I wanted this,” you retort with a furl in your brow.

“You have to know you’re beautiful,” he sputters out, eyes darting around with discomfort at the topic, barely containing his frustration. “You deserve better than this.”

“Well, God has not seen fit to bestow me with anyone better yet. I’m still waiting,” she quipped back, but she could feel her shoulders getting weak and shaky as the shock of her encounter started to weigh on her.

“Fuck God,” Homelander barked back and his countenance relaxed significantly as his anger turned to worry at the sight of your trembling body. “You’re coming with me,” he stated more than asked.

Before you knew it, his arms were scooping you up, holding you securely against his chest as he shot into the night air. Despite the sound of rushing current in your ears and the tendrils of hair whipping at your cheeks, you felt safe and comfortable. You closed your eyes and waited for the ride to be over, but little did you know that it had just begun. Continue to Part 2

[veronicaphoenix]

talk some sense to me | n.s.

Summary: Everybody thinks Noah is a Casanova. The truth is, that's just a façade to keep his romance with his best friend's sister a secret.

"Nicholas' sister was off-limits. It was never stated, but implicitly understood. And maybe because of that reason, Noah couldn’t stay away."

one shot ✨ word count: 2.9k pairing: noah sebastian x reader (nicholas' sister) tags and trigger warnings: 'forbidden' romance', reader is nicholas ruffilo's younger sister, reader is a uni student, long-distance relationship (sort of), fluff, angst, implied and mentioned sexual scenarios (but not described in detail), open ending (sorry).

author's note: i wrote this in a couple of hours and i did some minimal editing after. i had this random story cross my mind yesterday and thought i could turn it into a short fic, but with so many wips, i decided it to keep it a one shot <3 maybe one day it'll turn into a fic, who knows. For now, I hope you like it! 💕

“This is wrong,” Noah whispers as he kisses her, his mouth trailing down her jaw and neck. 

            The way she tilts her head to give him more access makes him feel dizzy and lucky at the same time. 

            “So wrong,” his voice vibrates against her pulse. 

            Her hands tangle in his hair, and he revels in the way she occasionally pulls at it, sending a jolt of ecstasy down his spine. “Your brother’s in the next room.”

            “Then stop,” she murmurs, her voice equally breathless, consumed by a sensation she can’t quite name. 

            But she can; it’s called Noah, her brother’s best friend. 

            “I don’t want to,” he replies, sucking at a spot on her neck he knows drives her crazy. 

            He hasn’t wanted to stop for over two years. 

            They know they’re playing with fire, especially tonight.

            Nick is in the living room, the ongoing party keeping him oblivious to the fact that his childhood best friend, Noah, has taken his little sister to an adjacent room at the back of the house to devour her mouth and touch her in ways no other man ever has. 

            It’s not the first time. 

            Noah has been captivated by her long enough to be her first. If Nick ever found out, he would surely kill him. 

            His sister was off-limits. Always had been. It was never stated, but implicitly understood. And maybe because of that reason, Noah couldn’t stay away. 

            He’d seen her grow up, transform from a shy teenager into an independent, confident woman. He saw her reject boys and girls who weren’t enough for her, saw her move away to pursue her studies at Harvard. She was away for an entire year, only coming home for the holidays. Noah didn’t see her for over 365 days, missing every chance he had to see her. After so long without seeing her, he grasped why he felt so miserable, why he’d felt like something was missing from the moment she said goodbye at a party and he stood there stupidly waving his hand, wishing her a safe flight and a good time at Harvard. Pathetic, he thought.

            Two summers later, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her as she joined the band to watch his brother and friends make music or play at nearby venues. She was no longer a teenager. Her hair was trimmed shorter, she had gained some weight and looked healthier, and the color in her cheeks and the spark in her eyes whenever she stared at something that fascinated her didn’t go unnoticed. 

            Noah thought he was out of his mind when he saw that spark every time she looked at him. 

            When the 4th of July came and the group was at a bonfire party by the beach, watching the fireworks, his hand had brushed hers as they stood looking up at the sky. She turned her head to look at him, and the smile she wore lit up his entire world. 

            She was the missing piece in his life, the muse behind all his writings, dreams, and songs.

            Two hours later, as everyone dispersed, he found her alone, sitting by the shore, her arms wrapped around her bent legs. He was the first to notice something wasn’t right. She confided in him: it had been a hard year at school. She wasn’t sure she was good enough or if she wanted to continue her studies. She questioned whether it was truly her path, what she was meant to do. 

            The insecurity wasn’t unfamiliar to Noah. He reassured her it was just a phase, a cloud of self-doubt that had settled over her. 

            “But it’ll soon pass,” he told her, sitting down next to her. “I know how much you love what you’re doing, even if you don’t feel like it right now. You’ve been interested in that field since you were a kid, right?” 

            How did he know that? 

            “Nick,” he said, “he used to mention it a lot.” 

            That was a lie, of course. Noah had been paying attention to her interests since she was barely a teenager, always captivated by her enthusiasm and eagerness to learn new things. 

            By midnight, he let her cry against his shoulder, her face buried in his chest, wearing his hoodie, holding on to him with eyes full of tears. Unexpectedly, she kissed him, then quickly moved away, expecting him to leave, horrified that she had crossed the line. Instead, he grabbed her and pulled her flush against him, kissing her back. Not much later, he had her pinned against a street wall after offering to walk her home, his mouth pressing down on hers, one hand cradling her face and the other holding her waist. She kissed him with the same intensity, as if she had been waiting for that moment all her life.

            That’s when she said the same words he was uttering two years later: “This is wrong.”

            It was, but neither of them cared, and so they met again the next day, alone, for a walk on the beach. Noah bought them ice cream and held her hand as they walked barefoot on the sand, the waves lapping at their feet with the Californian sun setting on the horizon. They talked about her studies, about the band, about Nick. They decided to keep this (him and her) a secret. After the evening spent together, he kissed her goodbye and chuckled when she said she wanted to see him again, like this; that she wanted to have him all to herself. 

            He wanted the same.

            It wasn’t the thrill of danger that brought them together; they learned that very quickly. It was a pull that had always been there, perhaps even before she turned eighteen. Noah had only ever had eyes for her, no matter how many other girls came and went. She had always been the girl from his dreams, and he made sure he was in hers from that moment onwards.

            Two years later, she finds herself perched on a piece of furniture at someone’s house. She doesn’t even know the host’s name. Noah doesn’t either. But it’s her last day in California before returning to Boston to complete her degree, and damn it if he’s not going to spend every last minute with her, kissing her.

            The problem?

            Nick is also there.

            For the past two years, they had been meeting in places where Nick wasn’t, at times when he wouldn’t wonder why Noah and his little sister were missing at the same time. It had been hard. The opportunities were few, and even though they never labeled themselves a couple, they behaved like one, even in the dark. Noah would call her right when he knew she was about to sleep, and she would text him updates on her studies and daily life, letting him know she wished he were there with her in Boston. She dreamed of going to cafés together and taking walks along the coast.

            Noah had hoped to make that dream come true more than once, and that one time he took a flight to Boston to surprise her was well worth it. Her roommate was gone for the weekend, and Bad Omens had just returned from an overseas tour. He didn’t hesitate before hopping on another plane just to see her.

            The most memorable moment of that weekend was probably Nick’s unexpected and ill-timed phone call. Noah and she had been lazily lounging on her bed, tangled in each other’s limbs, sharing stories, tender kisses, and innocent touches. When her iPhone’s screen lit up and they read Nick’s name, their hearts skipped a beat.

            “Shit, he said he would call me to discuss our parents’ anniversary,” she groaned, putting a hand to her forehead, cursing her brother for such bad timing. She didn’t want to miss a second with Noah.

            “Pick up, it’s fine,” Noah said, lying on his side with an arm draped across her stomach.

            “What? No. What if he hears you?”

            “I’ll stay as still as a statue.”

            She eyed him suspiciously. She knew him well enough by now to know when he was just pretending to behave. “You promise?”

            He lifted his pinky finger to her.

            With a resigned sigh, she hooked hers with his and a moment later answered Nick’s call.

            Of course, Noah didn’t stay still.

            The moment she sat upright on the bed and greeted her brother, Noah started tickling her. At first, it was just a little, making her squirm and swat at his hand. She was still able to have a normal conversation, but then Noah’s ministrations increased and her laughter couldn’t be contained.

            “What’s going on?” Nick asked from the other side of the phone.

            “Nothing,” she said, trying to kick Noah, but instead, he grabbed her foot and took her sock off before pretending to want to bite her toes.

            “I thought you were in your room.”

            “I am,” she said firmly, sending a stern look to Noah, who lifted his arms and pretended to retreat.

            Pretended. 

            Just when she thought he was finally going to behave, he undid the button of her jeans, eyeing her wickedly as her eyes widened. She mouthed a “no,” but it fell on deaf ears. Noah took off her jeans and removed her underwear. A moment later, he was settled between her legs, his nose brushing her most sensitive area.

            She sucked in a deep breath, thinking she was going to die for more than one reason.

            It was Nick who disconnected the call. The moment he realized she was with a boy, he shouted, “Ugh! You could’ve told me! This is disgusting!” and without a goodbye, he ended the call.

            She was already lost in pleasure. Her iPhone dropped to the floor, and soon enough, all she could utter was Noah’s name over and over again. 

But things weren’t always this beautiful and fun.

            It got hard sometimes. Some nights she cried, and other times Noah was sure she would find someone else—probably another student her age who could take her out on dates and introduce her to his family.

            It had been a struggle, but they fought to make it work. Every time she returned to California, Noah was the one to pick her up at the airport. Nick thought she always took an Uber, completely unaware that his sister had arrived hours earlier and was already in Noah’s bed, savoring the weight of his body on hers, or maybe his tongue between her legs, or the weight of his length in her mouth and his words of praise flooding her senses.

            Despite their deep feelings for each other, maintaining a relationship that they refused to label grew increasingly difficult.

            That’s why tonight they had abandoned all the rules and locked themselves in a room, mere feet away from the rest of the party—and from Nick.

            “I don’t want to go,” she whispers as Noah’s lips trail across her chest. She’s wearing a thin V-neck tank top, and he can’t help but kiss the valley of her breasts.

            “We have to tell Nick,” he murmurs back. “I’m fucking tired of this—of not being able to kiss you in front of everyone, of not being able to follow you wherever you go, of not being able to take you on dates in town.”

            “He’s not going to like it...” she’s half-gone, half-present. She can’t think straight when Noah’s lips and hands are on her. But she’s faintly aware of what he’s saying, of what he’s proposing.

            “Not my fucking problem,” he says, sucking at her sweet spot and making her moan. “I want to be there when you graduate,” he continues, nibbling at her shoulder, “to take pictures of my girl and use them as my wallpaper. I want to take you back to your dorm afterward and give you graduation sex.”

            She snorts, then grabs his face to pull him away from her chest so she can look into his eyes.

            “Graduation sex? Is that even a thing?”

            “I don’t know,” he admits, smiling with eyes full of adoration, “but I’m willing to make it a thing.”

            After a moment of staring at each other, their eyes soften.

            “I want you to be there more than anything,” she admits.

            “Then we have to tell him,” he concludes. “It’s time.”

            She can do nothing but agree. He’s right. At some point, Nick needs to know, and so do the rest of their friends and family.

            Noah hasn’t said he loves her yet, and neither has she, but isn’t it obvious? At least, that’s what she likes to think. She knows she’s been in love with him for years but hasn’t mustered the courage to tell him. A devil on her shoulder keeps whispering that he’s an artist, a rockstar. What if he eventually gets tired of her? They’re on very different career paths. What if he chooses to let her go?

            If Noah senses her sudden distress, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he leans down again to capture her lips, his hand creeping up her thigh beneath the black skirt she’s wearing. His tongue is about to dance with hers when the door swings open.

            “Noah, have you seen my sister?” 

            It’s Nick. 

            The room is dark, but it’s obvious he’s going to find out in the next two seconds. “She’s been missing since...”

            As they pull away from each other, her face comes into view. Nick’s eyes widen, but he’s frozen in place. She jumps down from where she’s seated, and Noah steps back, putting some distance between them.

            “Nick...” Noah starts, lifting an arm.

            For a moment, no one says anything. The heavy music from the party thumps in the background.     Nick’s hand is still on the doorknob, and he suddenly looks paler.

            It doesn’t take much for him to understand. It’s the aura of comfort surrounding his best friend and his sister, the confidence exuding from them the moment he caught them, the shared look they exchanged a moment ago. This has been going on for a long time, right? They’ve been seeing each other behind his back. Who knows what things Noah has done to her?

            Nick’s throat tightens. When he’s able to react, he storms out, slamming the door behind him.

            “Fuck,” Noah mutters, making a move to go after him, but she stops him.

            “Let me,” she says. “He’s my brother. I’ll handle him.”

            She searches for Nick for five minutes until she finds him outside, sitting on the pavement with a cigarette in his mouth. He doesn’t care about her apologies, her stories, her feelings for his best friend, or the fact that they were planning to tell him soon. He doesn’t want to listen.

            It shouldn’t be like this. It should have never been like this. Not Noah and her. Not ever. They lied to him, deceived him to his face, kept it a secret. How many times had they laughed behind his back?

            He’s never going to forgive them.

            “Please, listen to me,” she begs.

            He continues with his back to her, refusing to face her, to see her expression of guilt—or perhaps the lack thereof. Maybe she doesn’t feel guilty, which just makes it worse. 

            “I hope you’ve enjoyed this game,” he says, a cloud of smoking leaving his lips.

            She’s confused for a second, then she understands: Nick is not going to believe whatever she says about her feelings. He also thinks that Noah is not the kind of guy to have just one girl. Nick has had to deal with the version of Noah that she and he had decided he would show in front of others: one totally uninterested in the little sister and completely into every girl they met at the club. 

            Nick thinks Noah is a bad influence on her, that he’s going to break her heart.

            “It’s not a fucking game,” a voice says from behind them. She turns around and finds Noah approaching. She wants to tell him to stay away, to let her handle it, but she knows Noah is more stubborn than she is and won’t let her deal with this alone. “It’s never been.”

            That elicits a reaction from Nick. He chuckles, a sarcastic sound, and stands up to face them both, letting his unfinished cigarette fall on the ground.

            “You’re a fucking Casanova, Noah. Playing with girls is all you do.”

            “I’m not that kind of man,” he says, sternly, maintaining his cool.

            She was about to let panic take over, but Noah was keeping his composure on check, even though they’d both been scared of this moment for weeks, months, years. 

            “You’re not?” Nick’s voice drips with cynicism. “How the fuck am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to believe that you’re not using her?! That you didn’t get into her head and are playing with her?! That you’re not going to break her heart the moment you get what you fucking want?!”

            His words sting her, as they do Noah. He wants to tell Nick that he’s completely wrong, but it’s not his fault. He and she had made her brother believe that he was that exact type of man to avoid him finding out about them, but now the consequences are showing. 

            Instead of trying to explain or justify himself in any way, Noah just says what he should have said long ago, what he should have told her. He’s honest and raw. He’s admitting what he should’ve admitted even before he had her naked under him for the first time. 

            When she hears him, all the fear she’s ever had about the boy she loves disappears, because finally, she knows he feels the same, that all that connection they’ve had and built for years has been real.

            “I’m in love with her.”

            It just a sentence, but it changes everything. 

Taglist: @crossedxoceans | @somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel <3

[mae-is-crazy]

I was wondering if you could do Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes one shot where Mae and Noa are sitting by a fire in a cave, like you know how some movies do like silhouette scenes where the light shines on them but you can only see their silhouettes and they're talking very softly I'm not really sure you can come up with something maybe it's something serious or like something touching or heartwarming. But I always imagine they would be tired and like exhausted or something or emotionally or physically but they're like getting closer to each other I mean they're Bond or something which eventually mae fall asleep on him and he feels all awkward X3

Okay, I'm being so serious right now what I say that I LOVE THIS REQUEST!! So frickin' wholesome and cute. I'm usually one to go into serious and darker content, but I couldn't miss the opportunity to write some fluff. I had a lot of fun writing this. I hope you have just as much fun reading the finished product :) :)

Signs of Constant (Noa/Mae)

Synopsis: A quiet night by the fire leads to sharing the beauties of two different world.

(This story is unedited. Edits will be conducted at a later date).

In the serene warmth of the fire in front of him, Noa observed Mae.

He studied her face like it was the last time he’d see it. And it very well could be; she’d been gone for two springs, off with who he assumed to be a group of intelligent ech- humans- so who knew how long she’d be gone for next time. When Anaya alerted him of her presence, Noa had felt this warm wave in his gut that pushed him to see her without a second thought.  

Through the limited lighting of the dancing flames, Noa took in her every feature.

Noa could see a faint scar on the bottom right side of her chin, one that hadn’t been there the last time she was around. Her hair looked different too. Darker? No, it was just the night. It did look shorter, but only slightly. It was still in that lose braid he last saw her with.

Something that hadn’t changed, however, was her eyes. Even with hues of orange engulfing the small cave the two were huddled in, its raging colors were no match against the cerulean shade in her eyes. Even before the two were formally introduced he’d first noticed the striking color, a color that shood out against the earthy browns and greens of his clan. They somehow seemed to shine brighter on the night.

As if reading his mind, Mae blinked in his direction. She smirked slyly as Noa quickly looked down at his lap. “Gotcha,” she teased lightly.

Noa silently prayed his dark pelt could hide whatever heat was radiating off his face. He turned to look behind him, instead focusing on the massive silhouettes on the rocky backdrop. It was clear enough the height difference between the two, but the fire only made it more obvious- almost monstrous.

An ape and a human. Two different species, two different worlds. Different ways of life and how they think the world should work. And yet they were at peace with one another.  It shouldn’t be possible, and yet here they were, sharing a fire.

Mae follows Noa’s field of sight. She watches the shadows behind them bounce across the rock wall. Noa side eyed her. A smile began creeping upon her face.

“My mom always did this when we had a fire,” Mae explained as eh shuffled herself to turn around, her back facing the fire. “You can tell stories with the fire.”

The put her hands up and together. She stacked her thumbs on top of each other and made a slight cup with her hands. She displayed it in front of the fire, and…

“It’s a bird,” Mae moved her hands in a fluid motion as if the creature was in flight. Noa couldn’t’ hide the amused chortle, only making the girl’s smirk grow into a toothy smile. Noa could feel a quickening sensation in his heart. Her eyes seemed to shine brighter through her smile- brighter than the flames in the pitch black night- because of her smile.

Mae changed her hands to form a new shape. This beast had a snout similar to that of a boar, but without jagged teeth or short, flappy ears- whereas this thing’s ears stood at attention. “It’s a dog.”

Noa gave her a confused glance. Mae put her hands down immediately after.

“The hands… are like sign.”

“I don’t know sign.”

Noa twisted his whole body to fully face Mae and she silently did the same. He put up one hand and took a deep breath before slowly twisting his fingers into different shapes. He’d tuck a finger into his parm or point to the side. He took a moment before moving onto each letter to let Mae absorb what she was seeing.

“Fire,” he whispered. Mae looked at her own hand. She glanced up at Noa’s hand and back down at hers before trying for herself. Noa watched the girl tale her time forming each character. When she’d make a mistake, he repeated the sign until she’d get it right.

Noa released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He softly smirked. There was so much to learn from one another. So much to teach as well, it seemed.

Mae looked outside past the fire. The only thing visible in the dead of night was the celestial body of stars. It was a constant in this rapidly changing world. Noa found reassurance that, no matter what happened, he could as least look up each night and find that the stars hadn’t left him.

Noa signed without looking away from the girl. “Stars,” he murmured. She followed quickly in suit and mirrored his gestured. “Stars,” she mimicked quietly.

The ape nodded in approval. He raised his hand one more time, this time spelling out each word as he shaped it.

He tucked his thumb between his pinkie and ring finger. “M.”

Made a fist but being sure to keep his thumb exposed. “A.”

Noa’s fingers touched each other tightly and sat atop his thumb.

Mae beat him to finish the word.

“E.”

The two watched one another carefully. The silence that once brought Noa comfort now made him feel awkward, almost uneasy. Whereas Noa would stare at Mae, it seemed that she was doing it to him- thinking to herself, forming possible judgments. What did she see that he couldn’t?

The intensity in her glare suddenly shifted and her she relaxed her shoulders. Mae squeezed her eyes shut and dipped her head. She stretched out her arms and yawned. Before Noa could register what was happening, Mae leaned closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder.

Noa stiffened like a board. He heard his breath and eyed the fragile girl (though she was far from fragile outside of the physical scene). The fire was beginning to die down. Even so, Mae still did not shiver against Noa’s body.

He waited a minute, two, ten before settling on the idea that she’d fallen asleep. He tilted his head to catch a glimpse of her peacefully slumbering form.  The young ape felt truly honored to feel trusted with this precious girl’s life in such a vulnerable state.

Noa was just about to allow himself sleep when he heard a tiny voice against him:

“Tomorrow, I want you to each me your name.”

[okkotsuus]

Hello, I like what you write, could you do a scenario of Isagi, Rin, Reo and Chigiri as your boyfriend reacting when your ex wants you back?Thank you😊

ex encounters (bllk pt.1) !

you got me blushing anon <3

features: yoichi i. rin i. reo m. hyoma c.

content: bad exes. ig hurt comfort. they're adults. 1.8k words

tw for the exes: toxic relationship, cheating, gas lighting, narcissism, wrist grabbing, being physically imposing, acusations

pt.2 — pt.3 — pt.4

isagi gets a little insecure but it all goes away when he sees how you look at him versus how you look at your ex, then he gets a little prideful.

you and isagi were getting coffee at your favorite cafe when someone tapped you on the shoulder. isagi had gone to the bathroom so you were all alone, and your rat-ass ex was standing in front of you. the man had cheated on you and had the audacity to try to gaslight you about it, so you promptly dumped him.

but that was about a year ago, you had been with isagi for around nine months. why was he here?

your expression very visibly fell as you looked at him, gaze cold and unbothered. you sipped your coffee while waiting for him to speak.

"baby, please take me back, i'll never do it again. i promise, i miss you so much-" you cut him off by holding your hand up. seeing as his jaw clenched you knew he was still the same person.

"no, not in a million years. besides, i have a boyfriend who actually loves me, and i love him." you watched as he rolled his eyes, looking at the empty seat in front of you, the only evidence of isagi was a plate of cheesecake, which you immediately knew wouldn't be enough.

"don't see him, must not be that great." your lip curled in disgust as you looked behind him to see isagi coming out of the bathroom.

your face lit up as you got up, shoving past the guy to hug him. isagi was confused as he hugged you back. he looked at the guy confused as you looked up at your boyfriend with a pout.

"yoichi, this is the rat." he immediately know who you were talking about, having heard the entire story from you. he nudged you behind him as he glowered at your ex, not amused.

"what're you here for, she's better off without you." the guy flinched, clearly recognizing isagi as japan's number one striker. he mumbled some obscenities before trailing off.

yoichi turned back to you, watching as your hardened gaze follwed your ex until he was out the door. when he was gone your eyes snapped to him, instantly softening and filling with adoration.

all of isagi's insecurities disappeared when he saw such fondness spread across your face. he took your hand and intertwined it with his, bringing them up to press a kiss to your knuckles.

"y'don't need to worry sunshine, i'll keep scarin' him away."

rinnie is unbothered, if anything he's annoyed that you dated such a lukewarm, immature, imbecilic, tepid, moronic... okay, maybe he's a little jealous.

rin had gone to order your food while you sat in the booth of your favorite dinner. sipping your drink as you idly tapped on your phone while waiting for your beloved boyfriend to come back.

"yo, y/n? that you?" you heard his voice from a few feet away, your heart dropping. your ex, your first boyfriend, your only boyfriend before rin. why was he here? you moved away from university and broke up with him after finding out he was talking to other girls while you were gone. then, in your despair, you met rin. honestly, he was the reason you even had rin, so a part of you was faintly grateful.

you turned and saw him, he looked the exact same. maybe his hair was a little shorter and his features had sharpened, but he was the same boy that broke your heart. you felt a familiar sting behind your eyes as he walked to you, smiling as if he didn't make you bawl your eyes out on a bench in the rain.

"you look great, how's uni? you still trying to do sports med?" you just nodded while muttering out that university was good.

the conversation was very one-sided as he tried to catch-up while you gave one or two word responses.

"i know yer probably not happy t'see me. but i just wanted to ask if i could have another chance. i've really worked on myself these last two years, and i just miss you so much..." he trailed off and you felt your heart stop. there was no way, no actual way this was happening. you wanted to cry, scream, and hit him all at he same time.

you opened your mouth to speak but were cut off by a monotone, baritone sound that grounded you. "you're lukewarm, stop talking to them.”

rin. rin itoshi, your wonderful boyfriend, yet again he saves the day. your ex spun around angrily, before visibly flinching as rin towered over him.

"aren't you r-rin itoshi?" his tone was meek as he looked at you, in shock. he didn't believe that you knew a soccer powerhouse like this. right, you had forgotten. your ex played soccer an dreamed of going pro one day, unfortunately he wasn't good enough. you felt a bitter grin cross your face, he wasn't as good as rin; at soccer, or at winning your heart.

"yeah, and i'm their boyfriend. so piss off" rin's jaw was tight as he shoved past, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of your head. rin knew who he was. rin had met you while you were crying over him, so this was incredibly important for him to instate his dominance.

your ex pathetically stalked away, very clearly crushed. rin sat down across from you and rest his chin on his hand. his eyes looked on you and were happy to see that your despondence was gone, replaced with love for him.

"he's pathetic, guess your standards went sky-high when you met me".

reo just pulls out his black card and shows it to the dude with an arm wrapped around your shoulders, he isn't very threatened, not in a way he needs to let you see.

you were waiting for reo in the lobby of the mikage corporation building. you were supposed to go out for lunch but he got held up by something that needed to be done, so you were sitting in the lobby waiting. the last place you planned to see your ex was in the company your boyfriend was the president of.

"y/n, how strange to see you here." the hairs on your neck straightened as you turned to see your ex. he was terrible. a narcissist who constantly berated you on the slightest flaw, who blamed everything on you.

you blinked hoping that it was an illusion, but he was still there. and he was approaching. you stood and were about to leave when he grabbed you by the wrist, keeping you in place.

"this is good, i've been meaning to talk to you, but it seems my texts and calls aren't going through..." you shivered as you tugged your wrist from him, holding it close to your chest as you looked away.

he just continued, gaze drilling you further and further into the spot. "y'know you need me, can't do anything on your own. so let's just get back together."

you furiously shook your head, unable to speak. but when he just lurched further forwards you felt your heart stop, calling the only thing that came to mind.

"REO!!" your ex just laughed at you, but he was yanked back as you saw a familiar head of violet hair. your ex shouted as you huddled behind the suited back of your boyfriend, reo mikage.

"who the hell do you think you are?!" your ex was pissed as reo scoffed, shuffling around in his pocket. he then pulled out a black card and showed the man the name on the front.

"i'm reo mikage, president of mikage corporations. consider yourself fired." you watched as your ex fumed, reo shoving his card back into his wallet and holding you around your shoulder.

"I'LL SUE YOU, FOR EVERYTHING YOU ARE!!"

"do it. i have good lawyers, and we have camera and eyewitness evidence of you harassing them." he snapped and security dragged your ex out, he was kicking and screaming all sorts of obscenities.

reo kissed your cheek before hugging you tight, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck.

"need to buy you a necklace with my last name on it, or maybe i'll just make it your last name too..."

if anything he just laughs at you having to deal with your ex, but the second he gets too pushy, chigiri loses his laughs and instead stands by your side glaring at him.

you were on call with chigiri a he drove over to meet you outside your favorite restaurant. he had just hung up to park as you waited patiently for him.

"is that you baby?" you didn't expect to see your ex here, he lived on the other side of japan, you ensured this when you moved very far away from him. he was mean, yelled a lot, the generic asshole ex.

you spun around to see him, stepping back as you just stared. maybe if you don't say anything he'll go away-

"i'm so sorry, please take me back. i promise that i'll be nicer, i miss you so much." he stood in front of you pleading as you winced, very much not wanting to have this conversation.

"erm- no, i can't. i already have a boyfriend." it was then you saw chigiri standing a little further away as he giggled while sending you a smirk. he probably thought this guy was hitting on you, not an ex. chigiri knows you can handle yourself usually, but this was a special situation.

your ex looked at you with his teeth bared, first clenched by his side as he glowered down at you. "so you've already moved on, must've never loved me. probably cheated too..."

you backed up further as he glared at you, suddenly feeling chigiri's comforting presence and smelling his cologne. he had an arm wrapped around your waist as he glared at your ex.

when your ex saw him he stepped back a bit, chigiri was pretty tall. and your ex was all bark no bite. the man just stalked off while chigiri kissed your temple.

"sorry pretty, didn't know that was your ex, he's ugly anyways."

okkotsuus 23

[diejager]

I love your writings so much, I just can't get enough of it!

In Fantasy, where reader was transported into Simon's world, and left pregnant, what if their child got into the same accident as reader and fell into a broken portal that sent the kid to Simon's world, and discovered the truth, placing piece by piece together and found out how they were made. The kid having a hard time choosing between his mom or dad, your choice on what happens when he chooses one of them, or the both of them.

I just can't get enough! You write stuff that's better than any I've ever read before!

I… I’ve been meaning to post Fantasy pt2, but I’m not super proud of it so I’ve been stalling a lot..

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, past rape, forced pregnancy, kidnapping, locked away, isolation, tell me if I missed any.

They thought it was only a rumour, a little tale spun by people to explain their birth. You - their caring and loving mother - had always sang about them being a miracle, a gift that the universe had given you. It made them feel better, made them feel loved and graced, but there was always a growing curiosity, a nagging feeling that grew by every passing year. You always called them “my little miracle” and they never grew out of it, loving the soft lull of your voice and the affectionate tone you used. 

You named them Gwyneth, Tracer had given you the idea, but they often went with Gwyn, a shorter and easier name to say. Gwyn knew you loved them, adored them to the moon despite your busy schedule and life while fighting against Talon and Null Sector, but they’d seen the melancholic stare you gave them when you thought they weren’t looking at you, a sad and despondent gaze. It served to fuel Gwyn’s curiosity, driving them further and further down a hole of mystery and unanswered questions that they just knew you wouldn’t answer. Your pained grimace and slight tremble told them much, the strong and dependable mother that loved them shrinking into themselves and shuddering. It hurt them to see you like that.

That gear malfunction seemed to have sent them elsewhere, away from home and away from you, thrusted into a strange world and lost in the unknown. They were somewhere in England, some place in Manchester from what the maps they found told them, sharing the same street names and landmarks as the Manchester they visited in their world. Yet somehow, somehow, they found a man so familiar with them - suspiciously so - who had frantically asked hundreds of questions about you. 

There was a certain familiarity in the man, but they were apprehensive about how desperate he was, spewing information about himself and your time with him. He’d convinced them enough to make a trip to a military base to have his DNA taken, tested and matched, and Gwyn was… was shocked, they didn’t know if they were simply surprised or terrified. 

If this man - their father - who presented himself as Simon Riley, a dead man, said the truth about how he loved you and cared for you. The stories he shared about your relationship, from the days where he met you at the cafe you worked, your bright and bubbly smile lighting his days, to the lovesick gleam when he continued on to the nights at the bar, drinking and laughing. It sounded all so embellished, prettily drawn to stifle any suspicion from Gwyn, but if Simon was telling the truth, why were you so afraid of telling them who their father was, the way you met him or the time spent by his side?

Perhaps the truth was better left unsaid, left to collect dust and forget, but they had never been one to give up on something, Gwyn was a being of perseverance and curiosity, much like a cat. Maybe it would have saved them the heartache and trauma to uncover something as dark as the locked basement in Simon’s house. Gwyn couldn’t have known, they couldn’t, they simply followed their intuition and everything that Simon had strung up cracked, shattered and fell apart.

It was an… easy decision to make, to leave a broken man who had nearly broken their mother out of desperation and obsessive love, a deep-seated corruption of his being that scared them. Gwyn wanted to return home and embrace you, wrap their arms around your shoulder and sob out their horrible discovery, to apologise for something they hadn’t done but had been the result of. If only Gwyn could find a way back.

[cacoetheswriting]

celebrity skin. (part seven)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 6.7k summary: due to an unexpected visit, you're forced to tackle a certain situation head on. maybe now you can get some answers from the rockstar that broke your heart — or maybe your family will just annoy you about it.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: suggestive & mature themes, adult language, post-breakup emotional hurt / a little comfort, minor use of pet names, tiny bit of fluff, familial drama — if i missed anything in this chapter, pls let me know!

& psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

There is an infamous estate in East Hampton that’s been key to many conversations between your family members.

Grey Gardens was four acres of oceanfront land. 

The prime location had been prone to controversy right from the very beginning, or more accurately, since 1901. Controversies involving the women that owned the estate. Women not so dissimilar to your own grandmother, such as Margaret Bagg Phillips who was challenged for ownership of the land after the passing of her husband — (his brother suspected that she cremated him so that an autopsy couldn’t be performed). 

More notably though, Grey Gardens had at one point been home to Edith Ewing Bouvier Beale, and her daughter, Little Edie. 

Your Nana would often use Big Edie’s martial fall out as an example to never trust a man’s intentions. She’d also use the Beale’s widely publicised story as a warning. People will judge you, especially if your name is already known to some.

Despite the gossip associated with Grey Gardens, the reason for its frequent mention at your family’s dinner table wasn’t because of the vast size of the property, its architectural style, or design. And it wasn’t the scandalous story, or the association with being a recluse. No. For your family, the name signalled an escape. A white flag, of sorts, to end the standoff between two or more people because the talks were going in circles. The mention of Grey Gardens was to allow for reflection since seeing someone else’s point of view, in the heat of the moment, was not easy.

A white flag you were now waving.

“Eddie came to see you?” Val asks in disbelief while she carefully sets a bowl of mashed potatoes down on its designated spot at the family dinner table.

“Grey Gardens,” you mutter, not interested in getting into this conversation.

Unfortunately, your younger sister ignores you, along with the meaning that your family has given to the East Hampton acres of land. She proceeds to press on the matter, rather indelicately, because she’s always been nosy when it comes to your celebrity skin — not out of jealousy, you knew that much, just morbid curiosity, as she’d always say. Normally you don’t mind it. Hers is the only attention you give into because she’s always been your number one fan. This whole situation with Eddie however, well, that you didn’t want to get into. It’s the reason you stayed hidden in your apartment for all those weeks following the breakup.

So you made a promise with yourself: no one has to know that the Corroded Coffin frontman showed up at your door the other night. And by no one, you meant your own family and close circle, since you already told Steve and Eddie’s undoubtedly gone to visit his sister. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, three days with no hitch. Saturday… Well, the tabloids had to go and ruin that day for you and put a hink in your plan to keep this situation underwraps. EDDIE MUNSON SPOTTED IN NEW YORK: the Rockstar plus the Big Apple, it can only mean one thing.

People aren’t stupid. They picked up on the hidden meaning immediately. Understood the illusion presented to them by second-rate journalists who were dreaming of writing about things that matter, but are instead stuck working on puff pieces about people five-times more famous than they’ll ever be. So the gossip train took off. Eddie Munson was in New York City to see you. This time, of course, that was true, but you hated that other people knew about it. Most importantly, you hated that your family knew.

“Did he say why he came?” Val is relentless.

Tension is building up your back, to your shoulder blades. You crack your neck. You’ve never been one to go against family, but you’re maybe about one question away from telling Val to fuck off. Jesus. The intention behind the thought disappears from your mind just as fast as it initially crept up. It would be redundant. She’d just call for mom, the peacemaker. 

And speaking of mom…

“Valentine, can you please gather your siblings? Dinner will be ready in five minutes and I’m pretty sure Jonah is knee-deep in Play-Doh, while Amelia will take about twenty to put down the phone.” 

She always walks into the room like she’s in a rush for something, despite never having anywhere to go outside of school pickups and grocery runs. Yet there’s an elegance there, thought by your Nana, and an aura of warmth and a certain poise that you’ve envied since you were a little girl. An aura that can’t be mimicked or copied. You’ve tried.

“Your sister is going to help me out here,” your mom adds before Val can argue, “The green beans need to be finished, and I need someone to check on the pie because I have to handle the steaks.”

You’re grateful for the distraction, following your mom into the kitchen. The sizzle coming from the oil is soothing, like white noise. You stand in the doorway for a moment, allowing yourself to close your eyes, listening to the hissing as you take in the surrounding smells. Solace. Although it’s brief because your mom is calling your name and she’s again in a rush, opening the oven quite harshly and telling you to look at the pie.

“Where’s dad?” You wonder while doing what she’s requested you to do. The pie is burned at the top, but you don’t tell her, taking it out instead and setting it aside to cool. The oven is off before she even gets a chance to ask what it looks like.

“He’ll be back soon,” she answers simply, “Went to pick up Caroline and your Nana.”

You nod and move onto finishing the green beans before your mom can implore you to do so. She starts whistling. The same tune she always does when cooking — your first number one song. It makes you smile. She’s always told you how proud she was, both of your parents did. Their beautiful girl, their second daughter, grew up to become bigger than the world. That’s plenty of reason for pride. You start to hum along.

For the next ten minutes, five longer than what your mom said dinner would take, you forget all about Eddie Munson showing up at your apartment door. 

-

The banging continues. Eddie's calling your name through the wood that’s separating your two bodies, desperate for your attention. It’s almost like a plea, but that would mean he’s remorseful of something, and if you know Eddie at all — which you think you do — he’s not the remorseful type, considering how often he fucks up.

With a trembling hand, you slide the chain onto the lock and slowly open the door, peeking at the rockstar from between the created gap. Eddie is quick to readjust his position, leaning forward against the frame, so that he can see you better in the dim light of your apartment.

“How did you get past the doorman?”

“I uh… I told him I was your boyfriend.”

You can’t help but scoff. His answer angers you. Enough to want to shut the door back in his face, which you’re about to do when Eddie places his hand between the crack, preventing you from doing anything.

“Just hear me out.”

“Please leave.”

“Sweetheart—”

“No,” you snap, “You… you don’t get to call me that.”

Eddie sighs while dropping his hand, though he doesn’t move much further and his persistence makes it hard for you to just leave him there, sulking in your hallway. 

Motherfucker. 

Despite the resentment you currently feel, and despite not really wanting to talk to him, you briefly close the door to unlatch the chain, then open it again before stepping to the side, allowing him to enter the confines of your apartment because a) you’re an idiot, and b) you’re a stupid fucking idiot.

The rockstar lingers for a moment, glancing between you and the inside of your home, and you think he must be unsure about your sudden change of heart. Frankly, you’re unsure too since you did your best to get over him — a lot of that effort to no avail. You’re mainly unsure though, ‘cause once he steps through the threshold, it will be a lot harder to kick him out.

“Do you want something to drink?” You ask, breaking the rather heavy silence, but you don’t wait for him to answer. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get us some water.”

Eddie nods at your words, slowly, and you leave him there, lingering by the open door before he finally takes that step forward. You disappear into the kitchen under the pretext of hydration, when you’re alone, however, instead of reaching for two glasses, you lean against your fridge as the tears breach through the corners of your eyes. The stone-like facade you put up just moments prior has disappeared the second you allowed yourself to breathe.

Every inch of you is against indulging the Corroded Coffin frontman in whatever conversation he hopes to have with you, hence why you shut the door in his face in the first place. He broke you, a sentence you repeated to yourself like a mantra while spending hours on end in bed instead of living your luxurious life. You’re dreaming of Grey Gardens. The escape that it provides. The white flag you wish to wave in means of avoidance because avoidance is always easier than working through feelings, especially since you’ve been down this road before with Eddie and he just doesn’t seem to change.

Then there’s that voice of reason, closely resembling your mom, telling you that Eddie did come to New York and of all people, he chose to see you. Despite everything that’s happened, despite knowing he most likely wouldn’t be greeted kindly, he still came to see you. That’s gotta count for something, right?

Wrong, considering the timing of his arrival is shortly after your not-so-fake date with one of his closest friends as so carefully planned by Max; who was counting on this very reaction from her brother. She prepared you for it, so you knew damn well that whatever conversation you’re about to have would be far from productive, since, you suspect, this is the reason he’s in the Big Apple to begin with.

And while you’re in the kitchen trying to regain control of your nerves, Eddie is also going crazy.

He didn’t really come here with a clear mission. Honestly, calling Marianne to charter a jet last minute was a pure knee jerk reaction after reading that spread on you and his so called friend, Steve. A night out on the town, featuring his best girl and someone he thought was a best friend. The photo of the two of you was cosy, too close for comfort and too much for poor ol’ Eddie. He wondered how the two of you met. He wondered what you talked about on this date. Did either of you mention his name? 

Then the questions took a turn for slightly more perverse considering your history. 

Did you do more than just hold hands, as depicted in the photo? He wondered if you, as the tens of girls in Hawkins, also thought Harrington was a good kisser. Was he better than Eddie? Did you enjoy kissing him? Fuck— Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy. The feeling made him sick. 

That’s when Eddie knew, despite all perceived consequences, he needed to see you.

Your apartment was exactly like he imagined it to be. Big and bright. Eclectic, but with classy furniture that unsurprisingly looked more expensive than anything he’s ever owned. It was carefully arranged to maximise the space and make it look more inviting. 

There was a display of various awards on top of the marble fireplace, most notably a Grammy. Eddie smiles at the statue, then continues to glance around your living room. A gallery wall catches his attention, so he stops his small, self-guided tour in front of it. The photos vary from your magazine covers, to childhood memories. In the middle, there’s a picture of your family and although Eddie’s never met anyone aside from your evil grandmother, from your stories, he knows exactly who everyone is — your parents, Alicia and Brad, with their four daughters, Caroline, Valentine, Amelia, and you, plus the youngest boy, Jonah — and he can’t help but wonder if you told them anything about him. 

He suspects the answer is yes, since why else would you disappear for a few months to Los Angeles, only to come back heartbroken. So the brunette rockstar hates himself even more for putting you in that situation in the first place. He wishes more than anything that he could explain, but the grisly threats made by the very person that’s sitting right in the middle of the family picture, ring in his ears.

That’s how you find him. Staring blankly at the photo frames ahead.

-

Everyone settles at the table, taking their assigned seats, like it’s always been. Mom on one end of the wooden piece of furniture, your dad on the other. The sides see your Nana sitting in between you and your older sister Caroline who’s partner, Jackie, usually takes today’s empty spot. Across sits Valentine, Amelia, and little boy Jonah, who’s always closest to your mom, otherwise he throws a fit.

Nana initiates prayer. Your family has never been overly religious, if at all, but you do believe in thanking whatever higher power may exist for the blessings you’ve each encountered in life: your parents meeting each other when they did and starting the beautiful family your Nana is constantly praying for, Caroline for graduating at the top of her class in medical school and most recently starting her surgical residency at John Hopkins Hospital, Val for her spot at NYU and Amelia for her spot at the top of the cheer pyramid (a sure scholarship ride, when the time comes), and lastly you, for everything that made you. Jonah is the only one that has no idea what’s going on. He’s just happy to see food. 

The potatoes are passed clockwise. That’s when the chaos slowly begins to unfold. 

“Guess who came to see our star,” Val teases. She means no harm, but you just have this feeling that there’s no way this could end well.

“Who?” Caroline asks, focused more on plating her dinner than on actually getting an answer. She’s just being polite, as always. Unwilling to leave her sister hanging.

“A certain dark-haired rockstar.”

“Val—”

But your attempt at a protest is quickly interrupted.

“Oh for the love of everything good,” your Nana exhales rather loudly, “What does that boy want with you now? I thought you left that fiasco behind in Los Angeles, where it belongs.”

“It’s not like I invited him over,” you state, “He just… appeared.” Not entirely a lie because they don’t have to know that the last date you were seen on was carefully orchestrated to get under the rockstar's skin, which is why he came.

“I for one like the thought of you and that boy together,” your mom says, knife cutting into her piece of steak, “There’s something very kind about his face, and you know what I always say about kindness.”

“At the end of the day, that’s all that really matters when it comes to love,” you chime in unison with each of your sisters.

“Exactly.”

“This isn’t about love.” The tone of your Nana’s voice is urging close to displeasement. You look at her, but she’s focused on her plate. If you knew any better, you’d say she was avoiding your gaze. Almost as if she was hiding something.

But you quickly brush the thought away before it can grow into something more. Whatever her stance on the rockstar, and she’s made it very clear on numerous occasions that she wasn’t Eddie’s biggest fan, your Nana was often a lot of talk and little follow through. She didn’t like to get her hands dirty, unless there was a clear benefit to her, or someone in the family. And there was no winning for anyone when it came to the whole situation with Eddie.

“Eddie’s cute,” Amelia says sweetly, taking a forkful of green beans into her mouth. “Like a sexy sort of cute. That bad boy look is definitely working for him.”

“I don’t see it.” Caroline shrugs.

“That’s ‘cause you’re into chicks, not dicks.” Val points out.

“Valentine.” Your dad’s first words around the dinner table are always spoken to reprimand someone else. A man of a few expressions, is what you often described him as. Holly thought it was insanely hot which always grossed you out.

Val clears her throat, understanding that she’s crossed a line with that rather cheeky comment, but she doesn’t apologise. Instead she continues with questions to the initial subject she raised — Eddie coming to see you.

“Did you let him in?” She probes, “Did you guys talk?”

-

Eddie does turn his head as soon as you walk back into the room, sensing your presence like he usually does. He tries to smile, though his mouth refuses cooperation with his brain and instead pursues his lips into a lopsided line, somewhat reminiscent of what he was trying to achieve, but not quite. Not really.

Avoiding more eye contact than absolutely necessary, you place the two glasses of water on the coffee table before standing on the other side of it. Ensuring ample space between you and the Corroded Coffin frontman. A necessary precaution considering how fast you tend to give into his mahogany-coloured eyes.

“Talk.”

It’s simple. Right now, that’s all you can muster.

Eddie clears his throat. Right now, that’s all he can muster.

In the few minutes of rather unbearable silence that follow, you’re forced to come to terms with the fact that Grey Gardens is most definitely not an option. Eddie is actually here, in your living room, for one reason or another, which is another reminder of how the two of you ended up like this in the first place: “I think we made a mistake,” he says a little too bluntly. “I-I don’t think we should have labelled this so soon, and ehm… This is nothing on you, sweetheart. I’m just not the relationship type.”

“Eddie, talk.” You say with a little more conviction. “Because you begged me for a chance to hear you out just mere minutes ago, and now you’re as silent as the dead, so I’m a little confused and getting even more peeved off.”

“Okay,” he breathes finally, “Okay, uhm.”

Running a hand through his crazy locks, Eddie glances briefly at the golden award on your chimney, before settling his gaze on you.

“I-I saw the pictures of you and Steve.” A statement that surprisingly isn’t fueled by anger, or the jealousy he was for sure feeling, but rather by a sadness that he only blamed himself for.

“Right…”

“How did you two meet?”

“At Saks,” you answer, intentionally leaving out the young redhead that was also present, “We bumped into each other and kind of hit it off.”

“Did he say he knew me?”

“Shouldn’t you be asking him all those questions, Eddie? I’ve got nothing to explain to you since we’re no longer together, you made that very clear,” you state. “If it bothers you so much that I was seen out with Steve, then ask the guy that’s supposedly your friend.”

There’s a twinge of guilt that oozes through your veins because if it wasn’t for your agreement to Max’s little plan, you wouldn’t have to witness Eddie’s desperation. And even though you try to remind yourself how hurting the brunette man back is exactly why you agreed to the stupid date in the first place, seeing Eddie’s melancholy expression makes you think it wasn’t really worth it.

“Look, I-I—” You’re about to give in, explain the situation in hopes he’d simply let it go and leave you be. Leave you to finally move on since, at the end of the day, that’s what you really wanted, no, needed to do. 

The phone rings. Interrupting your train of thought along with the conversation. When you answer and it’s Steve, calling to check in since you never called him back, like you promised you would, the guilt bubble bursts and bleeds.

“Eddie’s here,” you simply state into the receiver, your back now to the Corroded Coffin frontman as he continues to stare at your frame. 

“Oh,” Steve sighs, “Do you need me to come over? Diffuse the situation?”

Even though Harrington can’t see you, you shake your head. “No, that’s okay. I’m okay,” you affirm and for the first time that night, smile. Albeit slightly. “Thank you anyway, and ehm, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Deal.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight, darlin’.”

When you shift in your spot to once again look at Eddie, his expression is no longer one of dejection. Instead it’s replaced by the look you knew you were bound to be at the receiving end of at some point during this night — resentment.

“So you call each other goodnight after just one date, huh?”

Bitter, the tone of his voice. Like a child at a playground who was forced to share his favourite toy. It causes you to roll your eyes ‘cause you’re once again reminded of the person everyone warned you Eddie is: a self-serving asshole. And to say you weren’t expecting a drop of the broken facade at some point would be a lie. 

“It’s really nothing to you,” you state back, crossing your arms under your bust, no longer wanting to explain how this all came about. “Now, if all you came here for is to question me about my date, I guess you can leave ‘cause I’ve got nothing else to tell you, Eddie. It’s frankly none of your business and I once again remind, that you made sure of that.”

Eddie scoffs, but doesn’t say anything else, not even a stupid goodbye, or see you around. He simply brushes past you and slams the front door shut. Leaving you all alone with your thoughts, yet again.

The sudden silence is overbearing.

You think of Grey Gardens. Inside, a dust-covered grand piano. Untouched and unplayed for many years. You think of the songs that never made it past the first key, wasted because of the hosts decision to lock all doors. Self-preservation. Recluse, like Val recently called you.

And a recluse is the last thing you want to be again.

-

Jonah is making a mess. He’s playing with his dinner, potatoes everywhere but the places they’re supposed to be. Your mom is trying to calm him down. Unfortunately the further she bargains for peace, the more excited he gets. He’s laughing now. Clearly enjoying himself, along with the attention he’s getting.

Mom’s voice is calm while she repeats his name. Amelia can be heard from the kitchen, screeching that your brother got his dinner all over her new jeans and the stain won’t come out. Caroline is shouting back from her seat, giving your youngest sister cleaning tips she’s picked up at the hospital. Your Nana and Val have gotten into an argument over the parenting style you were all raised with (Valentine protecting your mom, while your Nana remains ever the scrutinizer).

You’re grateful that for a few minutes, everyone is focused on your brother.

Then Jonah starts crying. It’s gotten too loud for his tiny ears. He’s no longer enjoying the minor disruption he’s caused, he just doesn’t know how to apologise for it, so he opts to let the floodgates open. Watching him, you think how lucky it must be to just cry when things get tough. How freeing it must be to not keep shit in until it gets too much.

When his screams get louder, your mom glances at your dad, who understands without a single spoken word that he can no longer just observe. So your dad stands. He walks around the table until he’s by Jonah’s chair, lifting him up in one swift movement.

“It’s alright, my man.”

With that, they’re gone. The cries soon fade. When Amelia sits back down, a wet patch on her jeans, it’s quiet around the table again. Your mom asks for the empty plates, a smile on her face as if the last ten minutes didn’t just flutter her completely. One by one they’re passed to her without a word. When she stands, Caroline follows by picking up the bowls with leftover mash and beans.

“So are you gonna see him again?” Amelia asks. Continuing the previous topic because if she’s engaged in conversation, then mom won’t ask for her help.

“Who?”

“Eddie, you dingus.”

You grimace. “I don’t know.”

That apparently was not the right answer because your Nana jumps back in with nothing but judgement in her tone of voice.

“Honey, do you really want to put yourself through more heartbreak?” She queries, “Because I’ve told you before that boys like that don’t change their ways.”

“Well, I wouldn’t really know if they change or not, since I wasn’t exactly privy to the circumstances surrounding the demise of my and Eddie’s relationship in the first place.” You don’t mean to snap, but that’s exactly what happens. “Now, does the concept of Grey Gardens not apply anymore, because if so, I must’ve missed that family meeting.”

You walk away from the table next. Sick of answering questions. Sick of this conversation. Sure, this was your family, but there were things you wanted to keep private. Especially things relating to Eddie since you were still only trying to figure everything out yourself. 

The conversation with Eddie didn’t amount to much. Without allowing yourself to second guess the feeling in your gut, you rushed after the rockstar the night he walked out of your apartment. There was a lot going through your mind, but one thing was a little more clear, he wasn’t going to win. Eddie Munson was not going to be the one to play victim in this situation since he’s the person that’s caused this crazy domino effect. He won’t turn you into a fucking recluse again.

Unfortunately he’s gone by the time you make it to the lobby. You don’t get a chance to confront him then and you haven’t heard from him since. You’re not even sure if he’s still in New York — a feeling creeping through you screams that he is, but you can’t be sure.

The line rings once, twice. Then a jovial voice picks up.

“Mayfield residence.”

You clear your throat. “Hey, Max, it’s uh… it’s me.”

“My favourite popstar,” Red cheers, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Is Eddie there? Or do you maybe know what hotel he’s staying at?”

When Max doesn’t immediately answer, you think you fucked up by calling. Dumb idea, dumb idea, dumb, dumb, dumb. Sucking your bottom lip in between your teeth, you proceed to chew on it nervously, about to tell her to forget you asked, forget you called. But then a voice flows through the receiver and it doesn’t belong to Max.

“Heard you’re looking for me, sweetheart.”

Eddie.

“Have you ever been to Coney Island?”

-

The Wonder Wheel was an attraction to hundreds, if not thousands, locals and tourists. A glistening staple of the peninsular neighbourhood. You could never hope to see it during the day anymore. Not since your fame skyrocketed, now on par with the amusement park. At night however, when the sun went down and the workers finished their shifts, well, that was a different story.

The watch strapped to your wrist displayed two in the morning as you walked towards the metal gate with a rather hesitant Eddie by your side. He’s unsure why you called, unsure of why you invited him out here after making it pretty clear the other night that you didn’t want to talk to him. What changed?

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Tony was the security guard, about four years shy of retirement. Working the Wheel grounds since he was a kid, following his dad who’d done the job before. A true New York family affair. You befriended him a long time ago now. 

“I thought I’d seen the last of you, kid.”

“Back to my roots now. It’s nice to hear I’ve been missed,” you say as Tony opens the gate for you without question. 

“One hour,” the older man states, like he’s done many times before, only briefly glancing back at the rockstar that’s accompanying you. Thankfully, he chooses not to comment.

“One hour,” you repeat with a nod and a smile.

Underneath the Wonder Wheel is where you hope to find some peace in this whole situation. Eddie’s still hesitant, and a little confused, especially when you lay flat on your back on the dirty ground to stare upon the metalworks of the world famous attraction. He doesn’t question you though, just accepts that to continue any sort of conversation, he’s going to have to join you.

There’s a half-a-beat of silence. Just the wind, the water, and some crickets. You exhale slowly, eyes closed momentarily because this was one of your safe spaces and now you might’ve ruined it by bringing your ex.

A sigh escapes your lips.

“Eddie, why did you really come to New York?” You ask without looking at him.

When the rockstar doesn’t immediately answer, a glimmer of hope for what you two lost, oozes through you. It’s foolish, yes, you know that. Your Nana would even call you stupid for holding onto something — someone — that has hurt you repeatedly. Matter of fact, she damn nearly has earlier this evening. But it’s Eddie, you tell yourself. He’s charming, but not in a try-hard way. The charm comes naturally to him. He’s funny. He’s wicked smart. And underneath that cold-ish exterior, he’s unbelievably kind (as your mom suspected). You learned this about him. Which is why it hurt so much when he ended things so casually. It seemed uncharacteristic to the Eddie Munson you’ve gotten to know, and possibly even love.

He seemingly came to ask about your date with Steve, as his little sister predicted he would. Just like she planned for. At first, you thought that too ‘cause what other reason would there be to bring him all the way out here after months of no contact. What other reason, except for just seeing you.

“I think I told you once that wherever I go, solo or with the band, I never really set foot outside of whatever hotel they have me staying in, or whatever studio I have scheduled interviews and press in, venture from whatever show I have.”

“Your exact words were: they keep me prisoner,” you say through a smile.

Eddie laughs briefly at the memory. “Well, sweetheart, it’s true. Fame overall in a way is like a prison. Do you ever feel that way?”

“That’s one way to not answer my question,” you tease, nudging his side slightly. “But I guess, yeah. Can’t go anywhere without Hank out of fear some randomer will come up to me with ill intentions, or I’ll end up in the papers again and my ex-whatever will fly across the country to confront me about it.”

You look at him then, a smile circling your lips. Eddie does the same. His brown eyes scan your own for a moment, contemplating the comment you just made.

“We kinda get what we signed up for though, no?” You add. “Seems ungrateful to complain.”

Eddie nods. He licks his lips before looking back up at the sky above, spotty between the metal of the wheel, but beautiful nonetheless. Different from Los Angeles. Different from Hawkins. Reminiscent of the people he’s met here. Reminiscent of you which makes it perhaps the most perfect night sky he’s ever seen.

“I came ‘cause I wanted to see you.”

He exhales.

“When everything went down… I thought I was doing the right thing, sweetheart. I thought I was protecting you from the hell I know dating me can become,” Eddie explains, “I know that’s not an excuse and if it was, it’d be a fucking lame one, but people that are close to me get hurt. That’s just the honest truth.”

“People like Chrissy Cunningham.”

Eddie’s head snaps back in your direction. He’s shocked, that’s for sure. How do you know that name? Did Steve tell you? Surely not without giving Eddie a heads up first. That’s the least Harrington could do after going on a very public date with his ex-girlfriend.

Quick to notice his surprise at the mention of Chrissy’s name, you realise the only way to get the truth, is to be honest yourself.

“Eddie, there’s something you should know about my first run-in with Steve.”

“Did he tell you about Chrissy?” The question is quiet, almost as if the rockstar is afraid to ask it. He’s clearly nervous and it goes well beyond you just knowing about Chrissy.

“Max told me.”

“What?”

You sigh, glancing back up at the metal and sky above.

“She was with Steve that day at Saks. We, uh, we didn’t really talk then. We didn’t even introduce ourselves ‘cause I was with Val who was trying on dresses for this event,” you tell him, then quickly look at him again.

“Max left a note with Hank. It was her address, she wanted to meet me.”

“You met with my sister? I was just with her. Why didn’t she tell me that?”

“I guess maybe she wanted me to be the one to tell you, I don’t know.” You shrug before continuing, “Eddie, she told me how you were seemingly crazy about me, so to her, it didn’t make sense that you suddenly weren’t. All she really wanted was to get your attention, get you to talk to her at least.” 

You pause. “Don’t be mad at her please.”

“Why would I be mad at her?”

“Because she’s the one who organised that date with Steve,” you answer. “It was fake, Eds. All for show, to get under your skin.”

He stares at you. Blinking as the information settles. Betrayal isn’t exactly the word he’d use to describe what he was now feeling. Lord knows he deserved it ‘cause there’s no denying he’d been acting like a complete prick towards everyone around him, including little Red who he’s supposed to always be honest with.

So the date was fake. That gave Eddie some solace. You weren’t really going to start dating one of his closest friends, even if the friend in question is calling you goodnight after said fake date. Then again, that’s just Steve the King Harrington, always the gentleman.

One thing remained unanswered, however. How much do you know of Chrissy?

“I’m not mad,” Eddie says eventually. “It actually makes a lot more sense now. Steve’s a good guy.”

“Not the type of guy to go out with his friends' ex,” you tease lightly.

The brunette smirks. “Still a dickhead.”

That makes you laugh. And as the sound settles, a sound Eddie would only describe as angelic, it makes the brunette rockstar smile a little wider. He didn’t think he’d ever be so lucky to hear your laughter again. He especially didn’t think he'd be the one to make you spur the emotion, not after what he’s done and how he’s treated you. But here the two of you are. Your laughter has faded, but the smile on your face remains.

“Well, I’m glad you’re not mad I went on a date with that dickhead,” you say honestly.

“Tsk. I’m not mad at Red,” he clarifies with a smug smile, “Never said anything about you, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes. “May I remind you that you have lost all right to be mad at me for seeing other people when you’re the one that ended things?”

It’s meant to come off lighthearted, but you can’t hide the hurt behind your words. There’s a pain there. One that you’ve forgotten about for the last twenty-or-so minutes because things are easy with Eddie. They align. The imperfect dots that represent your life are pulled together by an invisible string when the rockstar’s around. He somehow manages to make you feel normal and you live to experience a level of normalcy. Even if he hurt you. Twice.

“Tell me about Chrissy,” you change the subject. Steer your thoughts in a different direction.

Eddie avoids eye contact. He lifts one of his arms, flicking the piece of metal and listening to it echo in the night. A lame effort to buy some time before answering you because now that his initial fear of someone else telling you about Chrissy has been squashed by your not-so-simple request, he needs to figure out a way to avoid answering. The threat your grandmother has made at that godforsaken party remains fresh in the rockstars mind: “And Eddie,” she continues, “I wouldn’t tell her about this conversation, and I also wouldn’t be so brave to tell her about Chrissy yourself, because with a snap of my finger, the whole world will know. Then you gotta ask yourself, what’s more important? Your happiness, her happiness, or the careers you both worked extremely hard for.”

He swallows his breath before glancing back at you once again.

“There’s nothing to say.”

It’s simple. Can be perceived as vague ‘cause someone is avoiding the answer, but Eddie hopes you’ll just take it as him not wanting to talk about an ex-girlfriend. Not that Chrissy was his ex, but you didn’t really know that.

“Nothing at all?”

“Nothing at all,” he lies.

-

There are clear moments that define a person's life and they’re not as basic as one would believe: first words, steps, tantrums, day of school, first friends, first fallouts, fight, crush, kiss, first anything — the list goes on, and on, and on. No. These definitive moments are a lot more hazy. Often remain unclear until you find yourself in therapy, spewing your feelings to someone who’s paid to listen, or when you’re black-out drunk and what’s bothering you deep inside is now between you and some stranger you just met in a nightclub bathroom.

Your list of moments is short and yet, somehow, it features Eddie’s name multiple times. In any other reality, that would be almost poetic. As if some higher power considered the two of you to be bound together. In this reality however, it was almost cruel. You had built a life bigger than you ever dreamed possible, and yet your existence is defined by the rockstar. 

Almost cruel.

“There’s a place in the Hamptons. Grey Gardens it’s called. I like to walk by it whenever I’m in the area, which in recent years obviously isn’t often, but still… There’s a certain solace about the property and despite its rather barmy history, my family uses Grey Gardens as a way to move past certain topics without a larger fight.”

The sand beneath you is coarse yet soft at the same time. You run your fingers through it, feeling every individual granule, while your gaze is fixated on the dark waters ahead. Eddie watches you. His arm is pressed against yours. He’s got no idea what you’re talking about, but he’s hooked on every word. As always.

“When you showed up at my door the other night, Grey Gardens is what I thought of,” you admit, “Truth be told, as angry as I was at you for breaking up with me like that, when I saw you, the last thing I wanted was any sort of confrontation.”

“I didn’t come here to argue,” Eddie clarifies.

“I know, Eds.”

There’s a brief moment of silence during which you wrap your arms around your knees and tilt your head to look at him, offering the rockstar a small smile.

“I believe you came ‘cause you regret your decision.”

Eddie looks away, bottom lip now between his teeth. He does so because you’re right, but unfortunately he can’t admit that out loud. He can’t say anything that’s on his mind because he’s aware of the wider implications to both of your careers.

“So, what happens now?” The rockstar asks, only slightly afraid of the answer.

thank you for reading! really appreciate the endless & continuous support!

celebrity skin. masterlist

& tagging some cool ppl that expressed interest: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @astheni-a , @bebe07011 , @aysheashea , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie, @spideyanakin-interacts , @rogers-sweatbands , @mimsie95 , @mmunson86

[tealfling]

Same anon, uh the ideas aren't anything too crazy or spectacular but they are

Rolan with a tiefling who wasn't raised around other tieflings and has no idea about tiefling biology having Rolan knot in them maybe even during their heat/rut. Potentially with Rolan explaining things to them while talking dirty.

The second is just wild magic resulting in someone getting tied up probs Rolan and misuse of magic continues.

Final one would be him masturbating because he saw Tav get entangled by Jaheria found it hot and he's not handling his pinning well. Maybe even steals a piece of clothing from their laundry basket or their scented body oil to aid him.

Anon, if you were looking at me the screen when I read this you probably would have seen my eyes dilate like a cat about to Zoomies.

So my HCs:

Alright, I'm actually very confident in this first one bc-- that's kinda how my tiefling Sorc Tav Coren is playing out. She's not a virgin, but she's an orphan that didn't grow up around a high population of tieflings. (Her first lover was some smooth d-k half-elf) So the knowledge she has to go on is her own tiefling AFAB body and a gist knowledge of male tiefling bodies-- in the same way you might get a sex education from hearing your friends talk at school. Basically hearing your friends talk about dinosaurs and going to a museum and seeing a dinosaur are two vastly different perspectives.

-> Rolan's insecure and probably shy - especially at the beginning of a physical relationship. But he is a wizard and thusly nothing but a wealth of knowledge. He will make sure his partner is well informed on his equipment and how it works, but I think it would take some time for him to intentionally knot a partner-- especially one that has not experienced it before. He'll take it slow and work them up to it. He's surprisingly sweet like that. And he will ask. He likes clear communication. But when he's comfortable (read: more confident) this can evolve into dirty talk

-> with that said: an established relationship during a rut/heat cycle (these will eventually trigger each other so they're simultaneous) the knot is implied. It's kinda the name of the game. We're talking: mating press, probably marked/bitten, and absolutely stuffed...with his knot of course. Even if they don't want children, they're playing the breeding game. To quote my buddy @faerunsbest LET THEM GET STUCK (btw, I am writing this is my Coren fic)

Now about Rolan being tied up.

-> I see Rolan as kinda up tight with a lot of his issues stemming from feeling a lack of control in his life so I personally don't see him being super comfortable with any sort of bondage. But he might be willing to try it in a trusted established relationship. Idk, I think Rolan on his own is a little too vanilla to explore that on his own

-> I do think he'd be willing to misuse magic. I mean what's the point of spells if you don't use them?? Amiright, Lia?

~Mage Hand, Alter Self, Invoke Duplicity, Darkness, illusion spells- the list goes on. I think the key with these is that they still allow a lot of control on his part. Mage Hand- who couldn't use another hand or two now and then? Alter Self: shorter nails, deeper ridges, no ridges, extra tail, no tail, feathers, various alterations to genitals- endlessly possibilities. Duplicates- self explanatory. Why have 1 Rolan when there could be two? I think he'd be really into watching his partner take him. Then there are the sensory spells...this could go on forever.

Ah, panty thief Rolan. @faerunsbest & crew were posting about that not too long ago.

Highlights: he would, but it would probably be later in his story.

However in Last Light Inn there would have been a wash room where a sweaty post battle Tav could have bathed and lots of opportunity for a particular undergarment to go missing. Along with a Rolan that's hiding off in one of the rooms, desperately fisting himself while holding the garment in question to his face. He didn't realize he was this bad off. This desperate. This is truly a low point for him in his eyes and he's going to probably go into some self degradation bc he's ashamed of himself. He's not going to give it back though.

@faerunsbest @kimberbohwrites @ladyofcrowsandcoffee @barbwillbrb Thoughts?

[pandorasprongs]

JAMIE TARTT | if it weren't for second chances, we'd all be alone.

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.5k

SUMMARY: in order to advance her career, reader has to write a profile about her usual subject of interest: jamie tartt. if he'll let her.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: hello! this is one of my shorter one shots and not much to say about this one, but i hope you all enjoy and the title is from 'second chances' by gregory alan isakov!

"There is no fucking way I'm working with her!" You hear Jamie Tartt say from a distance, as Keeley looks past his shoulder with an apologetic look. You give her a small smile, but let out a long sigh.

You knew doing this wouldn't be easy, but you didn't exactly have a choice. You left your job at the Sun after finally coming to your senses when Trent Crimm left the Independent. If the execs were willing to let go of arguably one of their best sports journalists, what would that say about your own career?

It's been half a year since then and so far, you weren't having much luck. You were doing freelance work in the meantime — to be able to afford your rent at this point, — but you couldn't just let yourself wallow in pity. 

You decided to contact a popular sports journal, asking if they had any openings for writers. Your work experience helped boost your appeal, but they said they needed a solid portfolio to consider you. Since the Sun never really let you write actual sports-related articles and few of your tabloid articles were of substance, you asked if there were any articles you could join as a freelance journalist to prove your skills.

The only one they had was one titled, "Rocky Road: Careers of the Premier League's Up and Coming" and they had a particular player you wanted to write your section on.

Contacting Keeley Jones was the easy part. You've had enough interactions with her that your name was recognizable, so you were able to organize a meeting. Your first move was apologizing for every article you've ever mentioned her in, and then quickly explaining your predicament. The KJPR owner — having been in your place of being looked down for things out of your control, — was very willing to help you get your article done.

The missing piece was just the subject of your article: Jamie Tartt. Your relationship with him was similar to the one you had with Keeley, but you doubt he'd be as forgiving.

Your suspicions were confirmed by his reaction to Keeley organizing all of this for you. You had hoped that maybe he'd forgotten all the stories you'd written about his one-night stands, scandalous statements, and failed football plays, but obviously not.

You continued to sit quietly in Keeley's office, pretending not to hear her trying to calm the football player down. After a few minutes, the pair returns and Jamie begrudgingly agrees.

For a moment there, you're ecstatic and you start organizing your schedule of events. You’ve already written a short introduction, but the rest of the article is meant to come from the player and close sources. You're also supposed to shadow him for a week to get a feel of his current state as a player in the league.

You try and explain this to Jamie, but look up to find him taking selfies on his phone. Keeley grabs his attention, but a few moments later, he's back at it, hiding his phone under the table this time.

You finally have enough. "Look Jamie, if you don't want to do this,—"

"You're right, I don't." He finally looks straight at you and you hold yourself back from smacking his smug face. You don't care how many articles say he's gotten better; you still think he's the same prick you wrote all those tabloids about.

"Jamie, we talked about this," Keeley interjects. "It'll be good for your career and Richmond's standing for next season, if you do this profile."

"Yeah, but you couldn't get any other writer?" Jamie turns to face her instead.

"Look, she really needs this article," The KJPR owner pleads with the footballer, but that only gets him more riled up.

His gaze lands on you once again, with a smug look on his face. "So her career is in my hands?" He lets out a laugh, before standing up from his seat. "Message me if you find a journalist who’s more than a mediocre tabloid writer." Jamie leaves the room without another word and you slump into your chair.

Keeley tries to get up and chase after him, but you grab her arm before she does. "It's alright, Keeley. I didn't expect him to say yes," you admit.

"Well, I can try and ask the other players if they're willing to do it. I don't suppose you've written anything for the tabloids about them, right?" She asks jokingly, but you shake your head. The journal was very specific about which player they wanted. It's Tartt or nothing.

You get up to leave, but not without thanking Keeley for trying. She says she'll send Jamie the introduction you wrote, and you appreciate the act but aren't hopeful. As you leave the office, you decide not to go back to your flat just yet and let your feet decide where you're going.

Of course, you end up at Crown & Anchor. It's nearing 6 pm by then and you decide to just have dinner there. You send a message to your roommate about it, before ordering two beers and fish & chips from Mae. You really shouldn't be eating out given how you're already scrounging for jobs, but after the second beer, it didn't seem like such a bad idea.

It's 9 pm the next time you check the clock and finally decide it's time to go home. You see Mae walking over to your booth, so you pull your wallet out of your bag. "I don't have it in me to look at the bill, just grab whatever from here and let's call it a day, yeah?"

"Someone's already paid for your meal." She responds, dropping the receipt in your palm instead. You scrunch your eyebrows before she points at someone walking towards the table. You look up and focus your eyes to find Jamie Tartt standing there. He slides into the other side and takes the receipt from you.

Before you can say anything, Jamie pulls out his phone and reads off his screen. "After aiding in AFC Richmond's promotion back to the Premier League, it's clear as day that Tartt — like his hair with the blonde highlights — is changing for the better."

You perk up when you realize what he's reciting. The football player continues, "Keeley sent the first few paragraphs you wrote. I'm not much of a reader, but this is alright."

You give him a small smile, still trying to sober yourself up for this conversation. "Thank you," is all you manage to say. “How’d you find me?”

“I didn’t. Just ended up at this pub and saw you.” You shrug at that explanation before Jamie continues, "I'll consider doing the profile," Your eyes widen, but he adds, "Only if you explain why the fuck you were so obsessed with me at the Sun?"

That's enough to shake you awake. "I was not obsessed with you!" You protest, a little louder than you intended, with Mae sending a glare in your direction.

You take a drink of water and take a deep breath before finally putting it out in the open. 

"I have a degree in Journalism from Leeds," you start, prompting a confused look on the football player's face.

"The fuck does that have to do with all this?" He asks and you hold your hand up to stop him. He rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything, so you take the chance to continue.

"I have a proper degree from a good school. I have watched and played football all my life. My dad helped me join a league as a kid because of how much we loved the sport." You lean into the table, emphasizing the last part of your statement. If Jamie had arrived five beers earlier, you doubt you'd be admitting this to him.

"I played the game up until secondary school when I started getting serious about my writing. I decided to focus on that more, but I only knew how to write about football." You look up to make sure Jamie is still paying attention and find him looking at you intently.

You take a breath and continue, "I started writing for my school's paper about our team's games and when I went to university, I did the same thing. I've practically been a sports journalist for a decade, so I can proudly say that I'm a fucking qualified writer. I initially applied to be a journalist for the Independent,"

"What, like the Trent Crimm types?" Jamie interjects and you nod.

"But they decided to refer me to the Sun instead. The only things they'd let me write about were tabloids. As in, if I wrote anything about football or sports, it'll get rejected like that," You smack the table, startling Jamie a little, and sigh.

"The closest I could get was writing about rumors about the players, but even then, I'd only really get a small part at the back of the paper. The first time I got a section on the front page though, was when I wrote that article about you. The one about you getting caught with two girls in a karaoke room?" You remind him and he flinches at the reminder but doesn't say anything.

"Well yeah, that one. Anyway, I realized that if I wanted a chance to become an actual sports journalist, I had to get my stupid articles on the front page first and my most popular ones were always about you." You try and gauge Jamie's reaction to that, but he's doing a good job at keeping a straight face now. Or maybe you're just too drunk to properly determine his features.

"So I kept writing about you, whatever bullshit rumor or story I could get my hands on. I'd usually add some things at the end about your football performance thinking that an editor would see it and say 'Oh, she knows what she's talking about,'" You drop your voice an octave to try and mimic one of the executives you knew back then.

"But after a while, you started cleaning up your image and I started to realize that no matter what I did, no one fucking cared. I'd never get a chance to write what I actually wanted there, so I left." You lean back into your seat and let out a huff. "And now you're all caught up."

It takes a minute before Jamie finally speaks up. "I'll do it." A part of you still doubted that he'd agree, but with verbal confirmation, you allow yourself to internally celebrate. "But you better make me look good, yeah?"

"Yes, I promise," you reply, nodding your head furiously. "Oh, and thanks for paying for my dinner."

"Sure. I'll ask Keeley about our schedule next week." Jamie moves to get up but pauses for a second before jerking his head towards you. "Also, my hair is walnut mist, not blonde. You better change that in the article." 

You wonder why this is what Jamie chooses to raise his voice about, but you agree nonetheless. He leaves you be and you sit there for a moment, still in shock. But once one of the servers comes to clean up your table, you finally get the sense to call your roommate to pick you up and share the news.

—

After a rough hangover the morning after, you check your phone to find a message from Keeley telling you Jamie changed his mind about it. You guess he decided not to tell her about what you said last night, much to your relief. You find another message from an unknown number.

I'm usually at the clubhouse by 10, so best to be there by then.

You were still too groggy to properly comprehend the message when another one pops up.

It's Jamie.

You save the contact on your phone before getting up and starting your outline. You already had a few questions lined up when you were planning the article, mainly topics that only he could comment on. One of those things is his career in the recent year.

After losing Lust Conquers All and being kicked out of Man City — arguably your biggest article, — there were fewer and fewer stories for you to write about the footballer, so your last few months at the Sun were pretty lackluster. You didn't have any reason to keep following Jamie's career, so you still had to fill that gap through your interview. But you decided to keep that till after you shadowed Jamie for the week since you also wanted to get the input of his teammates and coaches.

Over the week, you'd received mostly the same stories about the player. Massive prick, got sent back to Man City, came back and redeemed himself, and is now both a better player and teammate. It's nothing you hadn't heard before from second-hand sources, but at least you had direct quotes from his teammates for the article. 

Watching training was the more exciting part of being at the clubhouse, especially getting to watch the improvements of the Richmond team as a whole. They seemed to be more united than before, probably because of the promotion high. 

Your main focus was Jamie and you could tell that his teammates were right. Gone were the days of hogging the ball and only allowing himself to score a goal. He still had slight vibes of his old prick self, but you learned from the coaches that it was more of a tactic than anything. You even learned about their "signal," which they once did in a match a few months ago, you remember. 

For the most part, you had avoided Jamie, still sensing a sort of resentment towards you. You couldn't blame him; he was already doing you a massive favor and it would be rude to get mad at him for justifiably being pissed off at you. It was only ever slight nods and greetings in the halls, and occasionally glances during practice.

Only at the end of the week did you finally have a conversation with him again to plan your one-on-one interview. Well, more of you enumerating your ideas and him only responding in nods.

"Is Sunday okay? Keeley said we can use one of the meeting rooms in KJPR for it." You're double-checking the message from the CEO as Jamie fixes himself up in front of his locker.

"Nah, too stuffy," is the first thing the football player says during the whole conversation. "How long's it gonna take?"

You had already lessened the number of questions for him based on the information you gathered from the team so that only left a select few. You didn't want to underestimate it though, so you tell him around 1-2 hours, depending on his answers.

"Then can't you find a restaurant or something for it? So I'm not starving the whole time." He asks, and you bite back from commenting on his tone. This is for the greater good. This is for the greater good.

"Sure, I'll find a quiet cafe for it, so no one will disturb us." You already had a few in mind that you used to go to when you needed a space to write.

"Okay, sounds good," Jamie responds and there are a few quiet moments before the footballer says his goodbyes. "Have a nice night."

"You too," You move to the side and the football player leaves without another word.

You exhale deeply and wait for a beat before heading into the hallway yourself. You start walking out of the building when you hear someone call out to you.

"Hi! I didn't know you'd be here today," You greet Keeley, who's rushing down the stairs.

"Oh, I'm just visiting Rebecca." She explains, pointing upstairs. "How's the article going?"

"It's going fine." You answer.

"Just fine? If Jamie's being an arse, you can tell me." You laugh but shake your head. Keeley seems to believe you and instead tells you, "Also, I've already contacted a photographer for Jamie's shoot. I'll send you his email, so you can plan it out with him. And, if you need any additional information, I'm sure I can help fill the gaps."

"Yes, thank you," You smile at her when a question pops into your head. "Do you know if Jamie's dating anyone right now?" Your first thought is to ask his possible partner for an interview, but you instantly realize your fault. "Wait, never mind, I shouldn't ask. That's way too invasive. Old habits die hard, sorry."

"It's alright," Keeley's quick reply relaxes you. "But no, I don't think he's seen anyone in a while."

That was more or less the end of the conversation with Keeley as Rebecca finally appeared and the two ladies went back to the latter's office. 

—

The afternoon you're supposed to meet Jamie started rough. First, you realize you didn't charge your laptop the night before and now, it was completely dead. Next, your roommate had used up all the hot water, so you had to power through the freezing temperatures. Now, you're running late to the interview and sprinting through the street.

You finally get to the cafe and as you expected, there was only one other person there aside from the barista. You wave at the person at the counter, already familiar with them before approaching Jamie.

"12 minutes late," is all he has to say, as Jamie glances at his watch.

"Sorry, I just," you stop yourself from going on a whole monologue about how shit your day has been. "I got delayed, okay?"

Maybe he could sense you weren't in the mood to deal with his attitude, — when were you ever? — so Jamie instead informs you, "I ordered some food and the guy said he knew you, so he made whatever you usually get."

You try not to show your surprise at him paying for your lunch, but it wouldn't be the first time. "Thanks," The football player only nods, before crossing his arms. 

You open your notebook and the voice recorder on your phone, "Okay, let's start."

You didn't expect this interview with Jamie to be so... fun? 

You decided to start with the more surface-level questions like his expectations for the season, so it could break the ice a little. But after a sip of your tea ended up in the wrong pipe and launched you into a coughing fit, the tension was immediately broken.

Jamie started giving you more substantial answers and was more open about talking about his return to Richmond. How it really changed him, specifically Ted Lasso's effect on him and the club as a whole. You notice how soft his features had become talking about his coach and the team and you react with a smile.

After that and finishing your sandwiches, you shift the topic to his childhood and how it shaped him as a player now. You notice the sudden change in Jamie as if he's hesitant to start, so you reassure him, "If it's too much, we can change gears a bit. Talk about something else."

He shakes his head, "No, it's fine. There are just some things that I don't really want to share."

"That's fine. You don't have to. Just stick to the general stuff if you want." You pause the recording for a moment, trying to make Jamie more comfortable.

He pauses for a moment, before letting out a chuckle. "Do you think old you would be happy with letting me keep my secrets?" He changes his tone towards the end and you roll your eyes.

"Obviously not," you answer. "But I've been trying to bury that version of me."

"Why? You probably could've taken down the parliament with your skills." Jamie jokes and you finally break into a smile.

"Well, I never really used my skills for bigger and better things, did I? Just finding dirt on football players to make some money and build a mediocre reputation as a journalist." You answer honestly and the football player's expression changes.

"I didn't mean to be such a prick during the meeting." Jamie starts, but you shake your head.

"Nah, you had every right to. I wrote some pretty shitty things about you back then."

"Well yeah, but your life's kind of gone to shit since then, so now I feel bad." Your jaw drops and your eyes widen at his explanation and lightly punch him in the shoulder. Maybe the two of you weren't close enough for that kind of thing, but Jamie just laughed at your reaction.

"Fucking prick," you say in a joking manner. "Let's get back to the interview." You start the recording again, as Jamie recounts the first time his mum bought him a pair of boots.

He starts telling you about all the significant milestones over the years, and while you can tell he's holding back some things, — specifically about his dad, — you say nothing. It's the least you can do.

Maybe it's the fact that this has been the best part of your shitty day, but you started to see Jamie in a different light. Yes, everyone talked about how much he had changed, but this was the first time you saw it directly. You didn't even notice how late it's gotten till a brand new barista approached you about cleaning out the table.

"Shit, this is way past two hours now." You exclaim and check your notes to see that you've covered all the needed areas at this point. "But, I think we can end it now."

"Actually," you look back up at Jamie, who pauses to think. "Do you wanna get dinner? You pay this time," 

You don't have time to wonder about his reasoning for this and let your hunger take over. "Sure, but if I'm paying, I pick the place."

The two of you stand up and Jamie directs you to the door, "Lead the way," you playfully roll your eyes and start walking, with the footballer trailing behind you.

You head to a nearby Japanese restaurant, — one of the many perks of your flat's location — and settle down in a booth near the back. There were more people in this place and you weren't sure how comfortable Jamie would be being seen with you. You knew better than anyone how easily a scandal could be made from a simple picture.

The two of you pick out your meals and thank God it was an older lady taking your order who didn't recognize the footballer across you.

"Okay, why'd you want to eat dinner together?" You finally bring up.

The player just shrugs and leans on the table, "Thought I'd give you a chance to pay me back." You can't help but agree with that statement, so you let it go. Jamie continues, "Also, I'm interviewing you now."

"Oh God, don't tell me you're doing a profile on me." You joke and the player rolls his eyes.

He doesn't respond and goes back to his questions, "What got you into football?"

It was the first question you had asked him earlier. While he had given you a general answer initially, he added to it afterward, saying it was one of the few things he was sure he was good at as a kid. You decide to give him an honest answer.

"My brother and I don't have a lot in common. Didn't even feel like I had a sibling for the first part of my life. Till he realized I wasn't half bad at football. It was the only way to get a decent conversation out of the guy, and after a while, I ended up actually liking it." The moment you finish your answer, you realize you've never actually said it aloud to anyone. 

For a brief moment, you think Jamie would say something serious, much to your dismay. You hated having to be emotional in front of other people. It was your job to pry at people's thoughts and feelings, not the other way around. But after building your writing career around the guy, you should've known he doesn't fare too well with feelings either.

"Think he's a fan of me?" He asks instead.

"Fuck no, not anymore," you're quick to reply and Jamie looks offended. You elaborate, "He's a Man City supporter. Fucking hates your guts now, honestly."

Jamie lets out a small laugh. "Runs in the family." The lady comes back with your food and that puts a hold on your conversation.

After a few minutes of eating, you finally break the silence. "You know I never actually hated you, right?"

Mid-slurp, Jamie looks up with a look of disbelief. "Really? You wrote all those articles and still don't hate me?"

"Yes!" You defend yourself. "I told you before. I did it for the job, nothing more. And objectively, you were a great player. You honestly have more of a reason to hate me than I do."

Jamie scoffs. "I don't hate you either. Annoyed? Yeah. Pissed off? Most of the time, but I never hated you."

You had already gotten pretty good at hiding your surprise about these revelations. "Well, I guess that settles it. We don't hate each other." You stick out your hand and Jamie looks at you in confusion for a section, before shaking it. The two of you laugh and continue your meal.

After paying, you end the night there and wave goodbye to Jamie outside the restaurant. If you from a year ago saw you hanging out with the footballer, she would've thought you'd lost your mind.

As you head back home, you have this weird feeling in your chest. Your whole job was finding ways to express things through words, but even then, you couldn't figure this one out. It's only when you get home and re-listen to your recording filled with jokes and exchanges that you realize.

You may or may not be developing a crush on the football player.

—

You hadn't physically seen Jamie since the photoshoot a few days after your interview and dinner with him. 

You didn’t have a reason to anymore, since you had pretty much finished the whole article and already handed it to the editor for proofreading. They sent it back with minor notes, — just some grammar slip-ups and possible rephrasing, — which gave you hope that you might end up with a job when this is all over.

Getting the profile approved also gave you a chance to message Jamie after weeks of no contact, just to ask for his opinion on things. You didn't know if it was nerves or excitement making that pit in your stomach waiting for him to reply. All he had to say about the article was that he was glad you changed the "blonde" line in the introduction. Luckily though, it didn't end there. After that, he asked you what you thought of his new locker set-up.

That was the first of many times he would shift the conversation to random topics. You started spending your mornings and nights just messaging the football player. Sometimes he'd send pictures from training, saying it's extra material for the article and sometimes you'd send pictures from the cafe where you're writing, joking that you had new ideas for Jamie-related articles to send to the su!z

And when the rankings about the upcoming season came out and put AFC Richmond last, your first thought was to message him.

Fuck the pundits, honestly. You knew he didn't need any context, but you didn't expect Jamie to answer so quickly considering he was supposed to be at training.

I'm not worried. It's just poopy. You're not entirely sure what that meant, but at least it didn't seem to affect him so much.

I'm glad, then. You wait for a beat before sending another message. I know you'll do great this season. Why were you so nervous sending that? God, it felt like you were 15 again.

Thanks. Pretty sure 'tabloid writer you' is rolling in her grave.

You laugh to yourself as you reply. God, her head would be spinning knowing how I'm contributing to your already massive ego.

Jamie just sends a picture of him looking mad and you send one back sticking your tongue out.

A few days after, you send the published article to both Jamie and Keeley, along with a thank you for all the help. The latter answered sincerely, partnered with an invitation to the first game of the season, but of course, the footballer decided to answer jokingly. 

Over time, you'd gotten over being so worried about interacting with Jamie. He was just another guy, even if he was an incredibly fit footballer for his day job. And now, you'd get to watch him play in the first match with Chelsea.

Despite your presence being welcomed by Keeley, Rebecca, the owner of Richmond, and Higgins, the Director of Football Operations, it didn't take a genius to realize how tense the three of them were at the match. Their club was the underdog of the season, so it was understandable to be nervous about the match, but you soon pick up on a different vibe involving an ex-husband and internationally famous football player.

"What do you think, then?" Keeley asks you when Rebecca leaves to try and convince Zava to join her team instead. "Do you think Zava's worth it?"

"Yes," you answer honestly, from the perspective of a sports journalist and a football fan in general. "Zava's objectively one of the best football players in the world, and his track record of wins outweigh his track record of diva moments."

"Well said," Higgins responds and you smile at him, before turning back your attention to the game. 

When Rebecca comes back to your seats and explains the disastrous interaction, your reaction is the same as the rest of them: pure disappointment. 

But as the game ends with a draw, you can't help but celebrate along with the rest of the Richmond fans. It may not be a win, but it was more than most people expected of the club, so that was something.

You join the other three briskly leaving your seats and avoiding the press conference of Zava until you hear him utter the name 'Richmond' in his speech. 

"Holy fuck," you celebrate with Keeley and congratulate Rebecca since whatever she said to Zava seemed to work out in the end.

It was then that you felt a ping from your cell phone. You open it to find an email from the sports journal offering you a slot as a feature writer. You end up repeating, "Holy fuck," drawing the attention of the others.

Keeley glances at your screen and exclaims in happiness, "Oh my God. Congrats to you, too!" She goes in for a hug and despite still being in shock, you're quick to reciprocate it.

"Thank you, Keeley. Truly." Your face is just an expression of pure joy as you let go of her. As you continue to walk out of the stadium, you end up excusing yourself. Of course, you had to thank the main person for all this.

You find your way to the guest locker rooms and even from the hallway, you hear the cheering of the Richmond tram. They must've heard the news. You don't bother knocking and walk in to find what you expected: celebrating and rather sweaty football players. Well, there was one person who stood out.

"Jamie!" You call out to him from the door and the moment his somewhat solemn eyes landed on you, he made his way through the crowd to you.

"What're you doing here?"

"I just wanted to tell you that I got the job! I'm going to be a proper sports journalist." You inform him and his expression immediately changes to match yours. Catching you by surprise, Jamie envelopes you in a hug and you decidedly ignore his dirty kit as you reciprocate it. 

"That's great," Jamie says, as he lets go of you.

You smile, before remembering the news earlier. "Oh and congrats, too! On the draw and getting Zava." The footballer's expression noticeably drops at the mention of the other player, and you finally get it. "You're not happy about getting him, are you?"

Jamie inhales sharply. "Rather not talk about that right now."

"Okay, sure," You back off. "But if it helps in any way, you'll still be my favorite player on the team."

Your heart skips a beat when Jamie gives you a cocky smirk, one that you used to despise. "Yeah? And you'll keep writing about me too at the new job, too?"

"It is my specialty. Plus, you're infinitely more interesting than Zava and his avocado farm." The two of you let out matching chuckles.

The cheering from the locker room seems to have died down and there were fewer and fewer people in the hallway. That's when Jamie takes a step forward closer to you.

When you don't pull away, he finally staets. "I was wondering, if you weren't busy,—"

"Yes," You interrupted him and hope you didn't do so prematurely. "If what you're about to ask is what's I'm thinking, then yes."

"Oh, you're fine giving me dirt on the other teams when you start your new job?"

You stop your expression from dropping and force a smile, "Yeah, sure."

But your disappointment doesn't last because Jamie starts chuckling, "I'm joking! I wanted to ask if you wanted to go out sometime."

You're not sure if you should be annoyed or ecstatic, so your reaction is a mix of both. "Oh fuck you, Jamie!"

The footballer's prick side is practically second nature. "If the night goes well."

You lightly shove his shoulders before answering, "Sure. As long as it's a private place. Those tabloid writers can be so annoying sometimes." You flash a playful smile at Jamie, which he's quick to mirror.