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sunshine-in-a-bottle · 4 months

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SUDSPOTS RECOMMENDS DREAM-CENTRIC FICS: PART ONE MAYBE

Sorted by shipping because I'm a multishipper.

Its about the PASSION its about the INTRICACIES its about the EMOTIONAL DEVASTATION.

If a fic you like isn't on here I demand you make your own recommendations post so I can reblog it and then we ALL must go insane. You Understand? You understand. Lets fucking go, lets LOVE THE PEOPLE IN THIS COMMUNITY RIGHT NOW AND TELL THEM WHAT GOOD FUCKING WRITERS THEY ARE

DESCEND INTO MADNESS. ITS FOR THE GREATER GOOD.

DRUNZ WORKS BELOW

-non-explicit fics section-

our eternal love by janies_not_here. (Rated T)

Punz and Dream being in love and their last few moments together before the destruction of the server.

Personal thoughts: I love them. I would die for them. I care them so much.

Suffering by Airrec (Raichett). (Rated T)

“I,” Punz repeats, “am doing this one. You did lung removal, I’ll do heart.” They look at Dream squarely, determined, though their eyes are tight around the edges. No one likes dying, but they both know how important it is to know.

Personal thoughts: how to murder me emotionally. Its about the Intricacies its about the Unethical Science Murder Experiments.

science for sweethearts by silversandstone. (Rated T)

“His name is Punz?” “Yeah.” “I know him!” Sapnap exclaims, and he sounds entirely too excited for Dream’s liking. “He’s on the basketball team with me. Tall, blonde hair, blue eyes? Looks a little bit like he got thrown in the laundry by accident?” “He’s pretty,” Dream agrees miserably.

Personal thoughts: I am always a slut for modern AUs. I am bapping them with my little paws. Please kiss.

with arms unfolding by silversandstone. (Rated T) (series)

but here i am with arms unfolding i guess it isn't quite the end old partner in crime i'm going to try to fall in love with you again

Personal thoughts: PUNZ FINDING OUT ABOUT THE TORTURE. YESGOODPERFECT. THEM CARING ABOUT EACH OTHER. AAAAA

c!drunz living happily ever after by theendpoem. (Rated T) (series)

c!drunz headcanon written into short stories that follow them running away from the smp together and living happily ever after in a cabin

Personal thoughts: exactly what it says on the tin. I am a feral cat biting it biting it biting it

deadlines and commitments by sunnyscribe. (Rated G)

Dream doesn't know what he's looking for, but he finds it in Punz.

Personal thoughts: please imagine that gif of kermit spinning in a water fountain. They're taking a little nap together. They are in love.

i hope i don’t murder me, i hope i don’t burden you by nightdaydream. (Rated T)

Dream is dangerous, an enigma of a man. “So, what do you say?” Roses bloom in Punz’s lungs. They take a breath, choke them down, and return the grin that they’re sure Dream wears beneath his mask. “I’m in.” aka. punz suffers through hanahaki. it gets a lot worse before it gets better.

Personal notes: FUCK OFFFFFFFFF<=== is personally very emotional. Don't perceive me.

by his side where he belongs by ammizukii. (Rated T)

c!Dream shyfully proposes to c!Punz.

Personal notes: oh.

Just A Dip by Icechild. (Rated G)

It was meant to be just be a bath. It was supposed to be refreshing, healing, calming. It wasn't supposed to be Punz watching Dream pant and groan in pain. It wasn't supposed to end up with them realizing a blade was poisoned after it was too late. OR Punz and Dream have a bath time after a fight with the SMP and take care of each other and things go a little south.

Personal notes: I am eating concrete. I am throwing things. ITS ABOUT THE TRUST AND LOVE AND FEAR AND

love, like death, hath all destroyed by dumbgirlfriend (thelightwoods). (Rated T)

Punz and Dream have a quiet last meal before the end of the world, and Punz wants him.

Personal notes: dies a death (x40) hahahaha I love them what the fuck...

Steam by Airrec (Raichett). (Rated T)

There’s something almost ritualistic in the way Punz lathers soap onto Dream’s skin, their touch gentle but firm as they thumb at his flesh, their clipped nails dragging a little across his too-thin skin, careful not to worry at scabs or sores, but touching them anyway, keeping them clean. --- Or: post-Pandora, Dream's physical state is a bit too fragile for him to be able to bathe alone. Enter, stage left, Punz.

Personal notes: you think I'm normal right now but I'm actually clawing at the bars of my cage. Let me out I won't bite.

red slush and citrus shampoo by shamefulfroggos. (Rated T)

“Okay.” The two sit in silence for a few more beats before Punz drops his hand down to twist the keys and coax the engine back to life. It rumbles, faintly, and Dream watches from the corner of his eye as Punz puts the car in reverse and brings his arm up, his hand gripping the shoulder of Dream’s seat. His head turns so he can look through the back window as he pulls the car out of the parking space he turned into mere minutes ago. Dream tries not to stare. He doesn’t try very hard. -------------- or Dream has been in love with Punz for too long, Sapnap and George are tired of his shit, and Punz is a cinnamon roll who is trying to convey his feelings but failing

Personal notes: hnnnnnnn I'm gonna be honest with you I reread these fics before I put them on this post and this is making me go insane. They're so fucking in love shut the fuck upp

Not to Me, Not If It’s You by ranababamboo. (Rated T)

“Stop fussing over me.” “I will when your fever breaks,” they replied. They gestured to the stew, untouched aside from the near-spill. “Should eat that before it goes cold.” Dream rolled his eyes at the nagging. “What, gonna sit here and watch me until I do?” Punz merely raised an eyebrow. “...you’re the worst.” ——— Stubborn refusal of injury won’t slide in this household.

Personal notes: I hate them (I love them so much I am actively dying)

even when it’s raining by navyhurricane. (Rated T)

“You want to dance—” “In the rain,” Punz finishes for him, almost in a rush as though the idea has him breathless already. “C’mon, you can’t say that you have never in your life thought of it before.” Dream shakes his head softly. “Can’t say it’s high on my bucket list.”

For ruined plans and an opportunity saved, Dream has never known a love as soft as this; he knows that while he needs Punz, the other wants him in all the same ways.

Personal notes: hey do you ever feel like the chemicals in your brain just fucking change and shit while you read something because its good.

i wish to reclaim the rising by Airrec (Raichett). (Rated T)

Dream is quite happy with his life, despite his lack of memories, the scars and frailties of his body, and the numerous questions both raise. Then Punz, one of the gods of this world, saves his life, and it becomes clear that there is more to this - to them - than what can be seen on the surface. --- Or: it's a whole new world, and everyone deserves a chance to move on and make the most of the future. Punz has been waiting for theirs for... a long time.

Personal notes: I really wish I could just post memes and images instead of typing because I don't know how to communicate to you the level of Feral I am rn.

i miss the way you made me feel by WinterEnchantress. (Rated G)

Technoblade broke them up because duty always comes first, and he knows that the pain will never lessen, but at least he had the certainty that Dream was also...suffering. Because he's a selfish and petty man, deep inside, and he doesn't want to be lonely in his pain. Up until Dream found someone else. Up until Dream starts to heal, and all Techno can do is watch from the sidelines as Punz carefully puts broken pieces back together. All he has left is regret. or sad techno and broken up dnb + punz/dream being sweet as techno pines and suffers (:

Personal notes: !!!!!!! well thats fucked up and sad. fuck yeah lets go !!!!!!!

starshine after the longest night by voidofthestars. (Rated T)

They say almost, because there's so much missing from him, from weight loss from starvation to blatant mutilation, ears slashed and even tagged. And gods knew what else lies beneath his torn and ragged clothes. The moment Dream collapses into their arms and they close around him he keens, low and hurt like a dying animal in a cage. It's all Punz can do to keep them both upright even as Dream shakes in his arms, damaged hands scrabbling across his back and shoulders like he was afraid Punz wasn't actually there. "Holy shit, starshine, I've got you, you can't drop on me yet we're not safe yet." "Punz! Punz you're actually here! Haha, oh my god, I can't believe it!" Dream's voice cracks from emotion and disuse. It's painful to listen to, in more ways than one.

Personal notes: Don't fucking look at me don't perceive me I don't want to talk about it.

last cup of coffee by Luciddreaming_ (LucidDreamLight). (Rated T)

Local barista crushing on the cute college boy.

Personal notes: I don't have braincells anymore. Only them.

or should i walk by again? by Anonymous. (Rated T)

After Sapnap accidentally triple-books himself, he leaves his friends Dream and Punz to entertain each other at a boardwalk. This quickly spirals into a bet: Can you fall in love in one day?

Personal notes: what if... they kissed<=== absolutely deranged

green strings of magic by nightdaydream. (Rated M)

“You just work with him for money,” Quackity states, looking at Punz, and they want to laugh at how wrong the statement is. At first, sure; Dream was their client, and they were a mercenary. But as time passed, and they got closer, they came to trust Dream. And eventually, the golden ring on their finger and the matching one on the chain around Dream’s neck, hidden below his hoodie, came into play. “So, if he’s dead, which everyone else here wants anyways, you have no reason to carry out what he wants.” aka. Dream gets killed. Punz brings him back, because they’re a good partner like that.

Personal notes: they're MARRIED they have RINGS what if I shed my skin and became a skeleton.

Keep it Together by orphan_account (Rated T)

/Don’t react. Don’t react. Stay calm. Stick to the plan./ They spent hours, standing on a grassy hill, staring at the prison. /Keep it together./

Personal notes: His One Attachment his Most Important Attachment Shut The FUck

sunlight through my window by oopsie_daisyy (Rated G)

Dream and Punz are comfortable enough together to just walk into each other’s room and be. But when Dream asks him an unfinished question, Punz can’t get the implications of it off of his mind.

Personal notes: biting my own arm. Themb!!!!!! Them,,,,,

Bunker Pasta by dyinginlava (probablyaceok). (Rated T)

When Punz meets Dream after he escapes from Pandora’s Vault he notices how bad Dream looks and makes a decision.

Personal notes: They love each other did you know that. did you know. they love each other so much

Ground Zero by Oceanbreeze7. (Unrated)

Canon Divergence- what if the entire confrontation went a little faster- and they all had time to leave before the nuke impacted?

Personal notes: its barely there, but Its There and its important To Me.

Even Now by TastesLikeBakingSoda (Rated G)

Punz tries to coax Dream to bed, post-prison.

Personal notes:..........

lets take a rest by TastesLikeBakingSoda (Rated G)

Dream comes home after fighting the slime clone army and Punz gives him tickles and kisses

Personal notes: I'm being persecuted, held at gunpoint even.

-EXPLICIT FICS-

forever and always by applpudding

Dream slips his hands from Punz’s grasp and slides one around the cradle the back of his head. “Punz. Look at me.” The softness of his voice coaxes Punz’s eyes open and oh. He’d forgotten how stunning Dream’s eyes are in the daylight, brilliant viridian irises shining bright and honest, settled between soft golden eyelashes. “I don’t know if I can say it back yet,” Dream says, and for a moment Punz feels his heart sink. “But,” Dream continues, “that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I do, I really do, I promise you that.” Punz leans forwards and knocks their foreheads together. “I’ll wait,” he whispers. “However long you need, I’ll wait."

Personal notes: they need to be happy its so fucking important to me

radio lust by navyhurricane

A messy turn of events leaves Dream without a car in the middle of a rainstorm. He knows Punz is made of nicotine and bad ideas, but Dream's curiosity over Punz’s passenger seat is addicting.

Personal notes: hi they are absolutely infatuated with each other. they told me so themselves.

losing the bet by Anonymous

“Oh, I see. You wanted to lose,” Punz said in a low voice, dropping in volume, and Dream’s breath hitched in his throat. “You made that bet assuming you’d lose, huh? You wanna be my bitch that badly?” “Fuck no,” Dream spat back even as his eyes locked onto Punz’s lips. They looked surprisingly soft, pink. Dream swallowed hard. “I’m just a man of my word. I promised you, you win, you use me as you want.” “Just seems like an odd thing to offer to someone you’re not attracted to at all.” Punz stepped closed again, practically chest to chest, and he grabbed Dream by the jaw. His grip was tight, practically bruising, and he pushed Dream’s head back against the lockers. “Deny it all you want, but I think you wanted to end up here. You liked the thought of mean ol’ Punz shoving you into the lockers, huh? You want me to fuck you right here?” Dream whined, unable to speak with the hand clamping his jaw shut, and Punz huffed a snort of amusement. “You’re cute when you’re pathetic, princess,” Punz purred.

Personal notes: shaking them. they are stupid and full of kink. I cherish them deeply.

Observant by Toasted_Poison

Dream and Punz are roommates and Dream is very observant of Punz's recent behavior.

Personal notes: the comment I left on this fic probably shows how insane I am more than any words I could type here.

if you’re the reason why it’s empty, spin the fucking bottle by oopsie_daisyy

"I was about to leave when you asked me to play spin the bottle, actually,” Dream explains with a knowing smile, one that Punz reciprocates easily. “But yeah, it’s fine. Just a regular boring party, nothing too special.” “I could make it special.” Dream rolls his eyes. “I know you can. Why else do you think I would stay at some shitty party?"

Personal notes: RAAAAA WHY ARE THEY SO DUMB I CANT FUCKING STAND THEM (is holding them so very closely)

Shatter you by Anonymous

The payment is given. The plan should start any minute now. Punz wouldn't say he'd changed his mind. He never truly agreed with this plan anyway. It's good that Dream is in a good spot for listening. Alternatively: Punz is an Ender Dragon hybrid who likes gold but likes his shiny employer better so he decides to keep him. Dream's a brat and needs to be taught his place.

Personal notes: go away leave me be. I have to be really abnormal about Ender Dragon Punz. (you hear the sound of someone eating paper)

A Goat & A Coyote by ConscientiousMonster, Melpomene_Muse_of_Tragedy

A coyote pack leader finds a goat spellcaster that's been tied up in ribbons and left for death by vultures. This is furry-flavoured Drunz porn.

Personal notes: I'm not a furry but five dollars is five dollars<===this is a reference. I'm actually probably a furry.

Without End by JanetBaby99

“We’re equals aren’t we? You and me no matter what,” Punz assures. “You don’t control me and I don’t control you.” Dream lets his words wash over him, taking them in and analyzing each one. … Even after all of this, seeing how weak Dream has become, seeing how he’s fallen, Punz still sees him as an equal on this godforsaken server. ___________________ After Dream escapes Pandora's Vault, he goes to Punz who helps him through the worst of his injuries, and assures Dream that he would love him no matter what.

Personal notes: HNNNNNNNNNNNNNN THEY ARE IN LOVE,,,, THE ANGST CAN'T DEFEAT THEM,,,

all your ivory glory by eleostomercy

“You’re a cockslut.” Dream’s eyes flick up. He’s sure he makes quite the sight, knelt at Punz’s feet, knelt over a baby blue dildo, and dripping between his thighs with a hand on Punz’s cock. “What about it?” or, where dream has an idea and a need to be between punz's legs.

Personal notes: clapping and cheering and blowing the building up because its what they deserve.

twisted on my tongue by eleostomercy

I know what a sex machine is,” Punz mutters, unsteady on his feet as he rights himself by the refrigerator; the revelation is surprising, sure, but his own astonishment at Dream’s hidden possession is nearly gone. “I just didn’t think that—” “What?” Dream’s embarrassment has melted away by now, and it leaves in its place a sharp grin and gleaming eyes. “Didn’t think I would own one?” or, where dream reveals a well-kept secret and punz decides to give it his own gleaming review.

Personal notes: hey did you know that they're in love. Did you know that I'm throwing shit and maiming because they are in love.

their hungry thirsty roots by consumptive_sphinx

Punz, somewhere above him, sighs, and then there’s a flowering vine in his face and he can’t fucking breathe. His knees hit the ground again and this time Punz wraps an arm around his chest and doesn’t let go, combs through his hair with their fingers while he coughs until his eyes water. “Sorry, man,” they say, and “I know,” and “it’s alright.” Something’s fucking happening while he coughs and Dream doesn’t like drugs under the best of circumstances— they make him slow, they make him stupid, they make him off his game and he can’t be off his game— but the alarm is leeching away. It’s like trying to cling to water. By the time he can breathe again his legs feel too weak to move on.

Personal notes: hnnnn Egg fics.... my one (1) weakness....

pleasure in death by bugginmate

“Here’s how this is gonna work, sweetheart,” he murmurs, brushing Dream’s too long hair out of his face. “You’re going to do what I say. I’m gonna get you all worked up and begging for me. Then when- or if- I decide to let you feel good, I am going to kill you. Do you understand?” Dream and Punz are brainstorming ways to die for their limbo research.

Personal notes: two bros, chilling in their lab, fucking around against OSHA regulations.

Scour and Scorch by FraustiButBad (FraustiNoSnowman)

“Is everything about numbers to you?” He retorts. It’s a weak one, at that, not because it doesn’t mean anything to Punz, but because both of them know that it’s almost a hundred percent true, and Punz is proud of that fact. “Yes,” the lighter blonde admits. His thumb rests on the front of Dream’s chin, and he pulls Dream’s head down to eye level; Dream has to grip the table for him to not punch Punz in the face, or throw on his jacket and leave. “It’s all numbers to me. And where does that take me, sweetheart?” Punz does everything for numbers. • Dream and Punz, musicians, classmates, enemies, friends with benefits, are everything that could be set fire to.

Personal notes: the unreliable narrator that is Dream. also kink. peoples two favorite things.

Red Sweater by Typical_Kiwi

Punz really has to go to work and Dream's making it exceedingly difficult. (Punz isn't blameless.)

Personal notes: THEY CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER. SO MUCH. SHUT UPPPPPPP

Home for the Holidays by Toasted_Poison

"So, where am I sleeping?” Dream asked, looking around the large room, the couch did look quite comfortable. Punz shook his head, opening his suitcase to unpack, “Are you playing dumb? In bed with me.” “Oh! Are we going to explore each other's bodies?” Dream teased. The dirty blond kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his jacket, placing it on the couch before his gloves joined it. He didn’t expect an answer from Punz, who was staring down at a blue shirt in his hands before looking up and smiling at Dream with a cock of his eyebrow. “If you’d like."

Personal notes: (you see an image of goofy floating in a fountain)

Play To Win by angeIofsmalldeath

He likes his roommate, he really does. All things aside, they’re relatively close and spend a decent amount of time together. Punz keeps his space neat, they split dish duty, and his rent is always on time. He’s not a bad roommate in the slightest. That does not change the fact that this is not the first time Dream has found himself incredibly annoyed on behalf of Punz and his stupid video game. Dream is sick of his roommate playing video games loudly all night long. So, they make a bet.

Personal notes: Listen. Listen. Listen. Actually Don't listen. Have you considered the benefits of shedding your skin and becoming a skeleton

i'll be unclean, i'll be obscene (you be the rest) by staged

“I wanna choke you.” Punz leans down to say in Dream’s ear, dragging his teeth against the lobe and pressing a wet kiss to his jaw. “Do it.” Dream pleads, rocking back on a harsh thrust. His eyes flutter, meeting Punz’s gaze with a forest of vulnerability, thick with desperate want. “What if I kill you?” Punz mouths down Dream’s neck, licking around the space between his fingers. It’s spoken like a suggestion, a sadistic fantasy that they want to play out. “Then bring me back.”

Personal notes: Theyre so wonderfully fucked up I would Die for them.

I miss ya, and our rendezvous by froghatter

Five times Punz and Dream made bets together and only once does Dream lose.

Personal notes: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Transactional Satisfaction by TastesLikeBakingSoda

Punz takes his payment.

Personal notes: Don't look at me go away.

candy games by Royal_Stars

Dream wants to play a game. Punz obliges. Why wouldn't they, when they get kisses out of it? It leads to a bit more than the two of them bargained for, but hey, neither of them are really complaining.

Personal notes: I am slowly sliding them both together. then they kiss. then they kiss. then they

but the damage has been done by Anonymous

After weeks upon weeks of exhaustive experimentation on the nature of life, death, and revival, Punz and Dream are both tired. One of them was bound to break. But Punz is not going to let it be Dream.

Personal notes: they are full of mental illness and so am I.

Sublime by cosmicskies

Punz will make him food. He knows what Dream needs right now. Soft touches and to be showered in attention even though he scowls and tries to send the other away every time. During the moments where Dream can think without being shouted at by his own mind, he’ll tell Punz about the things he wishes he didn’t think. How sometimes, asking to be held is the scariest thing of them all. But they’re both touchy people.

Personal notes: (you hear explosions in the distance)

#suds soapbox #LISTEN TO MEEEEEEE #LET THEM BE IN LOVE FOREVER #RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #Mild disclaimer just. This is about fics that Make Me Happy #not about whatever has the most notes or whats the most popular. If the fic is popular thats very cool!!!!!! If its not #well I think we should all go insane about the fic and make it more popular.#You Know What You Must Do

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astralnymphh · 3 months

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CALLING ALL FANFICTION AUTHORS!

please reblog this. i've talked about this twice before, but obviously not everyone has seen it. i am calling for anyone who writes fanfiction or posts about a certain game/show/universe in any connective manner to please, please- PLEASE, copy this memo below comprising links to supporting palestine, education on the situation in gaza, and a must-need for those who engage in TLOU tumblr; links regarding the creators (neil druckmann) zionism, and how the plot of tlou2 is based on the israeli occupation of palestine. i don't care if what you write seems "insignificant" or "small" in the grouping of larger fics. no. everything that is not related to palestine in any form NEEDS these links. because, when we stray away from reblogging, or writing up our own posts in support of palestine/sharing journalists stories/etc. even for a SINGLE piece of writing, we could be missing people who are unaware (which, shouldn't be the case atp, but..) and fucking especially because in these fandoms, fics are the most popular thing. not reblogs about palestine, unfortunately; there are so many fanfiction accounts who very clearly don't give a fuck about the whole situation, seeping in silence, posting fics during strikes, not taking accountability for it now, so on and so forth. please, for the love of all that is good- CALL THEM OUT! people gaining hundreds of notes, tens of reblogs, supportive comments on a post that completely disregards what is happening SO BOLDLY right now, should irk you. i swear, if i see one more fuckass "i didn't know!" apology from an author who is CONSTANTLY on tumblr, REGULARLY posting fanfiction, i'm going to fucking lose it. if you are on tumblr to begin with, being this active- you have time to reblog. actually, educating yourself and reblogging is way quicker than writing up fanfiction of any length. are you fucking kidding me? you are laughable. comical, not real, and i have nay an ounce of respect for you. ever. but besdies that; the memo. i want everyone to copy this, or make something similar. put this above your summaries, authors note, whatever comes before the writing. every post you make should link back to supporting palestine, cause you never know how many eyes it will reach. it could change a lot of things. on pc, i believe copying it completely will preserve the links, but i'm not sure if mobile will. again. do whatever you can to add it. don't be lazy. put this in ur masterlists/navigation too.

for all fanfiction authors:

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

for tlou fanfiction authors:

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

you may add what is necessary, i wanted to keep it short for attention span sakes, and to avoid people skipping it entirely, and so on. i may edit these, fix up anything, but again, if you're using them you can edit them however. as long as you are linking anything in general, that is what matters. thank you, love from aestra. from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

#palestine #free palestine 🇵🇸#from the river to the sea palestine will be free #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson x reader #joel miller x reader #fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #ellie williams #abby anderson #joel miller #tlou #tlou 2 #author #writers on tumblr #authors

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avocad1s · 10 months

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this is a weird thought but I definitely know that in sagau theres some mfs making fanfiction about the creator. Like imagine the creator visiting whatever nation they go to and they just see a self insert book about them. I know some acolytes religiously read them before bed every night (cough yae miko cough)

Note: Not weird at all Anon! I enjoyed this a bit more than I should’ve.

Mostly a crackfic just the acolytes being delulu

Without a doubt there are TONS of books about you all throughout Teyvat. No matter what nation you are in, you will always find what you’re looking for if it’s related to the Creator.

People have wrote books about how you created Teyvat, their speculations on how Visions were made, and even your relationship with all of the Archons. Of course there’s no telling which books are true or not, but it’s about you and they’ll consume anything that has your name in it.

That of course includes fanfics.

The fanfics aren’t openly talked about, many people feel embarrassed and don’t want to be judged by their peers for consuming that content. People who write such content always use a pen name, not wanting to attach their work to their true self.

Despite the embarrassment, these books are quite popular in all seven nations.

The Sages in Sumeru tried to ban them for being exported to their city claiming that are extremely disrespectful and sully the image of you. But that doesn’t stop the books from being smuggled in, many people, even scholars within the Akademiya, own at least one fanfic.

Inazuma is of course the main producer of these novels. Under the guidance of Yae Miko, many people have the chance to have their work published. (Yae has no shame whatsoever 💀) The Kitsune proofreads them all personally and critiques them harshly. Only the absolute best will be coming out of her publishing house.

Liyue, the place where all goods come to be traded and sold, are the ones who get the most exports of these products. Of course they’ll say they are simply for profit, which some of them are, but lots of them are for the Liyue citizens themselves. Even the Adepti read these novels but they always comment how odd mortals are to want Their Grace in such a way. (Yeah they projecting cuz they want you too 😩🙏)

Imagine all the arguments people have had debating whether a fanfic characterized you properly or not. Lmao.

Once you’re in Teyvat the fanfics don’t stop, actually they increase.

Now people have the chance to watch you from afar and come up with even more scenarios they’d like to imagine you in.

You mention your favorite food? They’re gonna write fics about taking you on a date to get that food.

You mention your favorite hobby? Yeah, you get the idea…

Of course they never expect you to find out about these books but it’s not like they’re hiding it. Just imagine how awkward that would be to see a self-insert book about yourself.💀

Now no one is reading these books publicly, that’s way too embarrassing for them, but once the sun is down and everyone is going home to rest once again, that’s when the books come out.

You know how some people need the perfect fake scenario before they fall asleep? Yeah that’s them with these books.

They’ll read to their heart’s content and eventually fall asleep having dreams about you hoping that one day they can meet you and make the fanfic a reality. They’re a bit delusional and the fics aren’t helping 💀

#genshin cult au #sagau #genshin cult #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau x reader

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hyewka · 11 months

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˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — masterlist page!

☆ RECENTS! ▶︎ what a loser!

☆ NOTE! ▶︎ pieces of work are ordered by most to least recent for each member.

✰ = personal fave, ⚠️ = old fic, 🌟 = popular

⤷ ꒰ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐍 ꒱

fetish! ft beomgyu ๑ 4.9k

when a late night conversation with soju and beer transforms into the calling out of choi beomgyus historical pattern of hook up bluffs the attention eventually shifts to you and your sex endeavors.

( ⚠️ ) after party ๑ 2.7k (community labeled)

you didn’t know taking the virginity of the cruel rich asshole could feel so empowering. (ft. beomgyu)

— unedited drabbles/thoughts:

fwb yeonjun’s jealous

giving yeonjun head

yeonjun choker thoughts

sitting on yeonjuns face

( ✰ ) (sort of) fucking annoying neighbour yeonjun (community labelled)

perv bestfriend yeonjun thought (community labelled)

⤷ ꒰ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍 ꒱

priorities, you perv ๑ 2.6k

a blind date? oh thats immediately pushed aside just for the addictive high you get off messing with your roommate, who seems to be more pouty than usual tonight for whatever reason.

( 🌟 ) please, noona ๑ 4.9k (community labelled)

messing with your brother’s best friend who just can’t keep his eyes off your tits.

— unedited drabbles/thoughts:

yandere sub soobin

bunny hybrid soobin

sub ceo soobin

church boy soobin thought

( ✰ ) barely giving fwb soobin head (community labelled)

perv!soobin thought

bunny!soobin x fox!reader (community labelled)

⤷ ꒰ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐎𝐌𝐆𝐘𝐔 ꒱

what a loser! ๑ 2.7k

hearing rumours of your sex life travel around your campus for the first time has you standing in front of the very person that you’re convinced is responsible. your secret fuck buddy.

fetish ft. yeonjun ๑ 4.9k

when a late night conversation with soju and beer transforms into the calling out of choi beomgyus historical pattern of hook up bluffs the attention eventually shifts to you and your sex endeavors.

( ✰ ) while i fuck you straight ๑ 5.1k (CL)

in which you let your best friend fuck you into oblivion in the name of forgetting about your ex.

( 🌟 ) love me ๑ 1.8k

in which your best friend so graciously offers to satisfy your very stale sex life.

( 🌟 ) ( ✰ ) boyfriend ๑ 4.3k

choi beomgyu is a name that means different things to different people. to you, he's the pest that you can't quite get rid of. he's always around to bother you, embarrass you, all of the above. unfortunately his hatred for you ends up ruining your chances with his best friend, choi soobin. and now all the years of effort you've spent tolerating him dissipates; you've had enough of his bitchy attitude.

— unedited drabbles/thoughts:

stepbro!beomgyu

ceo!beomgyu

beomgyu fucking you on the floor

sub!gyu and aphrodisiacs

switch bear gyu

sub!gyu sitting on your lap

choking sub!gyu

puppy hybrid beomgyu

trainee!beomgyu x idol!reader

hickeys w/ sub beomgyu (community labelled)

jerking off sub!beomgyu in a skirt

sub!beomgyu fucking you bcs hes jealous

sub!beomgyu eating you out while you game

( 🌟 ) perv bestfriend!gyu thought

( ✰ ) yandere bestfriend!beomgyu thought

( ⚠️ ) sub!puppy hybrid thought

⤷ ꒰ 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍 ꒱

. . . (empty)

— unedited drabbles/thoughts:

(🌟) sub!tyun, noona!reader

dom!tyun thoughts

⤷ ꒰ 𝐇𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐀𝐈 ꒱

. . . (empty)

— unedited drabbles/thoughts:

pocket pussy + best friend kai

sub!kai in a tent

perv!hyuka thought (community labelled)

➪ ꒰ more than one member ꒱

fetish! - cyj, cbg ๑ 4.9k

when a late night conversation with soju and beer transforms into the calling out of choi beomgyus historical pattern of hook up bluffs the attention eventually shifts to you and your sex endeavors.

— unedited drabbles/thoughts:

yandere!txt

riding tyun’s abs + face sitting with hyuka

favorite places txt likes to suck hickeys

unconventional sex (community labelled)

© HYEWKA 2023 . if a post is community labelled you will not be able to see said post if you don’t change your settings, click here to learn how to change them. reblogging helps circulate my work and get it picked up by tumblr's algorithm, the kind gesture is always appreciated

#we have upgraded to a proper masterlist #finally

1K notes · View notes

helloalycia · 1 month

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑

two / three / masterlist / wattpad

summary: after you step in to defend Jackie against one of her boyfriend's sleazy friends, you realise helping the popular girl and starting beef with a jock has its consequences.

warnings: mentions of sexual assault, minor violence and underage drinking.

author's note: i keep getting people asking about posting more jackie stuff so i’m happy to share yet another fic! it’s three parts and it’s the last thing for now that i’ve written for her, so i hope you all like it 🥰

I collapsed on the grass outside, breathing out with relief once the fresh night air cooled me down and the music from inside wasn't so loud anymore. How I'd let Van convince me to attend a house party was beyond me, but as my best friend, she usually got her way.

Tonight though, I may have gotten a little carried away and drank more than usual, feeling somewhat lightheaded and lazy. Drunk me wasn't so fun, so I'd come outside to cool off and catch myself, away from the compact house of some jock I didn't know.

As I relaxed, trying to tune out the few teens that were milling around the front lawn, I heard a commotion by the front door. Some couple were arguing, their voices familiar as they left the house and grew louder.

"–can't just check out other girls right in front of me!"

"I wasn't! God, you're overreacting, Jackie, you always do this!"

I sat upright, pushing my hair from my eyes as I glanced in the direction of Van's soccer teammate and the most popular girl in our grade, Jackie Taylor, arguing with her boyfriend, Jeff Sadecki.

The last thing I cared about was their relationship troubles, but they were so damn loud and I was suddenly entertained by their back and forth. From what I could gather in my drunken state, Jeff had been distracted by some girls, flirting with one of them, but didn't deem it flirting like Jackie did.

"–just forget it, we're over!" Jackie shouted at him, throwing her cup on the grass with frustration.

Jeff scoffed. "Whatever. I don't need this."

He returned to the house as Jackie clenched her jaw, still angry. She fumbled for a cigarette and lighter from her purse with irritation, her clumsy hands betraying how much she'd drank tonight too. Thoughtlessly watching, I saw one of Jeff's friends, Leroy something-or-the-other, trail out the house and approach her.

Not shouting like Jeff and Jackie had been a moment ago, the two of them were talking and I couldn't hear their conversation. Or rather Leroy was chatting up Jackie and she was visibly uncomfortable, attempting to step back. He began to get touchy though, his hands grabbing her arm, and whether it was a sense of female camaraderie or my absolutely stupid alcohol-soaked brain, I felt the need to intervene.

Dragging myself up off the grass, I stumbled over to them and fixed Leroy with a glare.

"She clearly doesn't want you here," I said in what I hoped wasn't a babble of English.

"Back off, bitch," Leroy sneered at me, before stepping closer to Jackie and letting his hand slip to her butt.

Jackie jumped at his unwanted touch, hazel eyes widened with panic, and without thinking, I made a swing at Leroy's face, fist connecting with his nose in a sickening crack.

A groan escaped my lips as I grasped my hand – what the fuck was his face made of?! – and then I realised what I did as he stumbled back, clutching his face. I saw a glimpse of blood, and then Jackie's widened eyes looked between us, and I knew I was fucked.

"You little bitch!" he shouted, before making a sloppy swing at my head, to which I thankfully still had the instinct to duck away from.

Not ready to finish this fight I definitely didn't mean to start, I shoved him back to buy time then grabbed Jackie's hand, telling her quickly, "Time to go!"

Thankfully she got the hint and I yanked her away, the two of us running as fast as we could. Leroy chased after us and I risked glancing over my shoulder, watching him trip over his own feet and buying us enough time to leg it down the street.

"Here," I said breathlessly, pulling Jackie down behind a car.

The two of us practically held our breath as we kneeled down, frozen in place. I didn't doubt that Leroy would kill me, and her by association, and I began to wonder how I'd even ended up in this situation.

Jackie risked glancing around the back of the car before sighing with relief. "He's not following us."

Mirroring her sigh, I turned around and sank to the ground fully, back against the car. She joined my side, both of us reeling from what happened. I glanced down at my hand, aware that it should be hurting but not quite registering the pain. It was distant, the alcohol fogging my mind.

"What the hell was that?" Jackie asked, reminding me she was there.

Dazed, I tilted my head and stared at the road. "That wasn't your boyfriend, was it? I can't remember."

She let out a breath before giggling. "No. That was my ex-boyfriend's idiot friend."

Making sense of it all again, I nodded. "Right. Yeah. What a dick."

"Yeah," she agreed.

Feeling hot and a little dizzy, I tried to focus on the present and looked over at her. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, her curled blonde hair bouncing as she did. "Yeah. Thanks to you." Hazel eyes flickered to mine in gratitude, and I could only shrug in response.

A silence fell upon us for a moment, and I suddenly became aware of how this was probably the most I'd ever spoken to Jackie Taylor in my life. We'd been in the same class since we were kids, and despite her being on the same soccer team as Van, there had never been need for us to converse. Until now, I guess.

"I feel sick," she suddenly said, and I noticed her face was a little pale.

"Then throw up," I said tiredly.

She scrunched her face with disgust, shaking her head. I shrugged, not caring, and then she leaned to the left and threw up a little. I pulled a face as she straightened up lazily, wiping her mouth.

"I've gotta go home," she said.

I checked my watch, but it did nothing to help because the hands were moving in all sorts of directions. "Same. I think."

She began to snicker, glancing sideways at me. "Leroy just might kill you."

A little delusional and finding her amusement contagious, I began to laugh. Leroy probably would, but right now, I couldn't care less.

She lifted a finger in the air with realisation. "Shauna," she exclaimed. "She'll drive."

"I can't leave Van," I remembered, as she stood up and yanked me up with her.

"I'll go get her," she promised, already tugging me back to the house, where Shauna's car was parked out front. "Don't move."

I saluted clumsily, waiting by Shauna's car and almost falling asleep against the door as Jackie seemed to take years to return. Finally, her, Van and Shauna all came back, Van shooting me an amused glance as she helped me off the door.

"What the hell happened to you?" she asked with a stifled laugh. "Jackie said you punched Leroy?"

I waved a dismissive hand. "Barely."

She definitely wanted to know more but thankfully kept quiet as she helped me into the backseat, sliding in beside me.

"You two are gonna regret this in the morning," Shauna was saying from the driver's seat, but it went in one ear and out the other.

I vaguely remembered Shauna dropping me off home and Van helping me into my bedroom later that evening before passing out.

The next morning, my hangover hit me hard, but not harder than the pain from my broken knuckle. After waking up with a purple right hand, terrible memories from the night before reminded me of what I'd done, and after accepting that Leroy was going to kill me at some point, I went to the hospital with my mum who didn't seem to believe I'd punched a wall whilst drunk. Still, leaving with a splint and cast on my hand was worth it if it meant stopping some jerk from getting handsy.

School on the following Monday was definitely something to dread, mainly because I wasn't sure what would happen. Of course, after getting some stares off other students – word had undoubtedly spread about the incident – I stopped by my locker and was mildly surprised to see the word 'BITCH' scribbled in permanent marker pen across it.

"Lovely," I said sarcastically, before ignoring it, not wanting to give bystanders a show.

I opened it as usual and put my skateboard inside, mindful of my hand, when I felt someone bump into me from behind on purpose. I clenched my jaw when I turned and saw it was Leroy walking past, a bandage across his nose.

"Bitch," he muttered with bitterness.

"Yours truly." I returned his glare, before looking back to my locker.

If he was going to hate on me for stepping in as he sexually assaulted a girl, then let him. I'd never liked him anyway, the worst of Jeff's idiot friends. But hey, at least I'd broken his nose.

I'd like to say it ended there, but not even a moment later, his girlfriend whom I'd forgotten existed until she appeared by my side with a threatening glare, decided to defend his stupid arse.

"You better back off," she attempted to warn me. "I know it was you who broke his nose."

I quirked a brow with disbelief. "Do you know why?"

She scoffed. "Because you're a bitch."

I furrowed my brows, wondering if she was choosing to be this dense. "Tiffany, your arsehole boyfriend groped another girl."

She rolled her eyes. "Like I'd believe you."

I snorted with amusement. "Fine. Don't. I really don't care."

She stepped closer to me with narrowed eyes. "Stay the fuck away from us, bitch."

I rolled my eyes as she left, wondering how I'd managed to make so many enemies in the space of one night. Unfazed though, I continued to grab some books from my locker and ignored the looks I was getting from students with nothing better to do. This would all blow over in a few days, I just knew it.

When I closed my locker, I jumped, startled, when I saw Jackie stood behind it.

"Jesus," I said, clutching my chest. "A warning would be nice."

"Sorry," she said awkwardly, before her eyes fell to the cast on my hand and widened slightly. "Fuck."

"Hi to you too," I replied sarcastically.

She shook her head apologetically before meeting my gaze. "Friday night. That was... a lot."

I nodded, just as uncomfortable as she sounded. "Uh huh."

She pursed her lips, glancing at my graffiti'd locker. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. But I'm thankful for your help. You really showed him."

Not wanting her to feel bad, I tried to lighten the mood. "Yeah, his brick head kind of broke my knuckle, but it was totally worth it."

She cracked a small smile, eyes flickering to my hand again. "Sorry."

I shrugged her apology off easily. "Seriously, Jackie, you don't need to say anything. Honestly, we were both drunk and I probably could have handled the situation better, but what's done is done. We're good."

She relaxed a little, nodding in agreement, though I couldn't tell if she was satisfied by my response. When she didn't say anything, I held my books to my chest awkwardly.

"So... see you in class," I said.

"Right," she agreed, and then we both turned to walk to class, only to fall into step with one another. "Same class," she mumbled when she noticed, and I tried not to laugh.

"Same class," I agreed, and a silence fell between us as we reached the classroom.

After exchanging a final glance, we split off to our seats, her joining Shauna's side as I found my usual spot next to Van. When she spotted me, she was already laughing at the sight of my bandaged hand.

"I can't believe you punched him," she said instantly, making me roll my eyes.

"Glad this is funny to you," I said playfully, giving her a disapproving look.

She continued to tease me. "I leave you alone for five minutes, Y/N! God, I wish I could've seen it. Everybody's talking about it. Apparently you broke Leroy's nose."

"Something like that," I mumbled as she laughed with amazement.

She continued to ramble about what people had been saying, enjoying how awkward I was at the attention, and I let my eyes wander around the classroom as I tried to tune her out. They subconsciously drifted to Jackie, who was listening to something Shauna was saying to her, and then she glanced at me and I quickly looked away, embarrassed I'd been caught.

—

I was relieved to see that the graffiti on my locker had been scrubbed off (terribly, but I wasn't complaining) by the cleaners last night, as when I showed up to school the next morning, it was gone. My headphones were on as I replaced my books for the morning, mindlessly getting ready for homeroom.

There was nothing out of the ordinary as I did, my eyes glancing around casually, and then I saw Jackie a little ways down the hall, leaning against the lockers with her apparently-not-so-ex-boyfriend, Jeff. I couldn't care less, but she must have felt my eyes as she awkwardly made eye contact, smile fading slightly, and I looked away. Whether she was back with Jeff or not wasn't my business – she was barely a friend, let alone someone whose relationship I cared for – but it felt strange knowing she would choose to go back to him after everything that had happened.

Once I'd grabbed my books, I pulled my headphones off and stuffed them and my walkman into my backpack. I was forced to walk past a flirtatious Jackie and Jeff, eyes trained ahead, and tried not to think much more on it as I went to homeroom.

I settled at my desk, flicking through my English book when I saw Van wasn't here yet, and began to look over my homework a final time before next period. In my own world, I was startled when someone appeared at my desk, looking up to see Jackie stood there.

"Er... hi?" I greeted with a quirked brow.

She swallowed awkwardly, looking uncomfortable. "What you saw just then, with Jeff and I..."

When she didn't continue, I pressed, "What?"

"It's not like it seems," she finished, cheeks tinged pink.

I wasn't sure why she felt the need to explain herself to me of all people, but I answered, "What, that you're back together?"

She pressed her lips together, nodding slightly.

Tilting my head and playing along, I asked, "Well, are you?"

She cleared her throat. "Well, yeah, but–"

"Cool," I cut her off, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "It's none of my business."

She scoffed slightly. "Yeah, but you're gonna think I'm being stupid after everything that happened–"

Growing tired of this conversation, I said, "Being stupid? You think I think it's stupid that your boyfriend was flirting with other girls and then his friend sexually assaulted you and you're still going back to him?" I tutted sarcastically. "Nah, not stupid at all."

She tensed her jaw slightly, clutching her books to her chest. "It's not like that."

I raised my eyebrows. "Then why are you telling me? You've never cared what I thought before."

She let out a low groan, having no reply, and simply walked away to her seat. Okay, so maybe I was being a little harsh, but it was just odd that she suddenly cared what I thought. And yes, I was judging her terrible life choices, but it wasn't my business.

It didn't matter anyway. I wasn't expecting this to be much of a problem now that she'd (terribly) explained herself to me.

—

Maybe I underestimated how long jocks could hold grudges for, or maybe I was just stupid for not knowing Leroy would never let things go. All I knew was that my one punch was never letting me live it down, nor letting me go back to being just acquaintances with Jackie Taylor.

About a week after Jackie felt the need to explain her getting back together with Jeff, I was skateboarding home from school like I always did. The crossing on the road was clear, so I started to ride across, headphones on my head as I did. I saw a car in my peripheral vision, but it was further down the road and they could obviously see me, so I thought nothing of it.

That was until it suddenly beeped and stopped right next to me, scaring the shit out of me and making my foot catch the ground, my skateboard slipping out from under me. Heart racing in my chest, I pulled my headphones from my head and sat up, just in time to hear a voice I definitely didn't want to.

"Watch out, loser!"

I looked to my left to see Jeff and Leroy laughing in Jeff's car, impressed with themselves and their ability to startle me. But the real frustration kicked in when I saw Jackie sat in the passenger's seat, flushed red with embarrassment and guilt as she glanced at me. Why was I not surprised?

Clenching my jaw, I stood up and ignored their laughter, instead grabbing my skateboard and finishing crossing the road. They beeped again as they drove off, but I didn't bother sparing them a glance.

My opinion on Jackie Taylor up until this point was practically nonexistent. In my eyes, she was just some popular girl in school who was nice enough to everyone, kind to my best friend who happened to be on the same soccer team as her, and that was it. We rarely crossed paths or spoke, and I'd never thought about her other than if she was right in front of me.

Now, however, she seemed to be in my life a lot more because of one stupid night, and I found my opinion of her worsening as I judged her poor choice of boyfriend and those she surrounded herself with.

The next day at school, almost to my amusement if I wasn't so irritated by everything that had happened, Jackie found me in homeroom at my desk again. I had a strong sense of deja vu as she hovered before me, uncharacteristically nervous.

"Hey," she spoke first.

I blinked, expressionless, definitely not in the mood for this. "Hi."

It took her a moment to find her words, in which I was growing a little more annoyed by her apparent innocence.

"Yesterday...," she started, "I didn't mean for–"

"What?" I interrupted. "Your jackass boyfriend and his jackass friend to act like jackasses?"

She sighed. "Yeah."

Was she always this irritating? I couldn't remember anymore.

"It's cool, Jackie," I decided to end the conversation, afraid I'd say something I'd regret. "I didn't expect anything less from tweedle-dumb and tweedle-dumber."

I looked back down to my notebook, hoping she'd leave and we could be done with our lives, but she felt the need to keep going.

"He's not always like that," she said gently. "I swear, he–"

"Did you come here just to defend him?" I asked with surprise. "Because I don't wanna hear it."

She frowned, irritable. "No, I just– I wanted you to know that."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Great apology. Thanks."

Clenching her jaw slightly, she said, "If you gave me a chance to speak, I'd say it."

"Whatever," I mumbled, rolling my eyes and returning my attention to my book.

She huffed with disapproval, making me glance at her with a slight glare. Her playing innocent game was getting old.

"FYI, if you're dating a jackass, that kinda makes you one too," I reminded her when she didn't leave.

She returned my glare before turning on her heel and leaving for her desk. Van soon showed up, taking her seat beside me but noticing the blonde leaving.

"Jackie still on you about your hand?" she asked with amusement. "I keep telling her to get over it, that you're okay. But she feels bad."

I rolled my eyes at the mention of her. "Can't feel that bad if she's still hanging around with douche one and douche two."

Taken aback, Van gave me a look. "Woah, who shit in your cereal this morning?"

I shook my head dismissively, releasing a breath. "Sorry. Nothing. Just tired, I guess."

She clearly didn't believe me, and when I looked up at her, I saw her glancing over to where Jackie was sat, but I refused to look that way. Van smiled in that direction though, greeting her teammate, before giving me a confused look.

"Did you guys fight or something? She looks like you kicked her dog."

"No," I said with mild irritation, before facing forward. "Can we drop this?"

Van chuckled quietly. "Sure, weirdo."

—

Later that day, I was staring out the window in Chemistry class whilst I waited for other students to make their way in and for class to start. When I felt a presence beside me, I assumed it was my lab partner, Dennis, and straightened up to greet him with a smile, but then I saw it was Jackie placing her bag on the desk and pulling out the stool.

"The hell are you doing?" I asked with furrowed brows, watching as she got comfortable. "Dennis sits there."

"Not today he doesn't," she said knowingly, before waving a hand to Dennis who waved some cash in the air with gratitude.

I dropped my jaw with disbelief. "You paid him?"

She turned to face me, her honey-coloured eyes meeting mine guiltily. "I want to say sorry for real. The only reason you're getting all this aggression from Leroy is because you stuck up for me."

I gave her a sarky look. "Kind of, yeah."

She sighed, rolling her shoulders back. "Well, I'm sorry. I didn't even want Leroy there yesterday, but he needed a ride home and Jeff said yeah. It's no excuse though."

I pressed my lips together, eyes studying her straight face curiously. There was a hint of sincerity somewhere there, and maybe finally putting this to bed would bring things back to normal. But then a smile grew on her lips and any chance of forgiving her went out the window.

"This doesn't make me a jackass now, does it?"

I lifted my brows with disbelief, her pride frustrating me. "Wow. Is that what this is about?"

She shook her head. "No. Of course not. But you should know that I'm not like that."

"Is the only reason you're apologising to change the way I view you?"

Again, she shook her head nonchalantly, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Maybe she was nice on the surface, but Jackie Taylor didn't seem genuine in the slightest.

"You know what? Fuck this," I told her, beginning to pack my books away. "I don't need to forgive you and I don't need your fake apologies or games. Just leave me alone. Things were a lot easier before I decided to be nice to you."

She watched me gather my things with bewilderment. "That's not fair."

I stood up and shot her an impatient look. "Whatever. You stick to your delusional princess land with your dick boyfriend and his friends and I'll stick to being a loser. Sound good?"

Her mouth opened with surprise, both offended and taken aback. "Y/N, just– where are you going?"

"To find my actual lab partner," I snapped, before moving past her to find Dennis.

I was beginning to think breaking my knuckle wasn't worth it. Getting involved with Jackie only seemed to bring me misfortune.

—

A few days passed with Jackie finally seeming to leave me alone. Don't get me wrong, I would occasionally catch her eyes in the hallway or in class, or sometimes she'd need to chat to Van about something and I'd awkwardly wait for her to finish before she'd leave, but she seemed to give up on bothering me with her half arsed apologies.

As for Leroy and his girlfriend, they clearly still held some sort of grudge for me, shooting me glares whenever they saw me. It got to a point where they seriously needed to get over themselves, though I guess that was hard when Leroy's broken nose was a constant reminder that he got decked in the face by a girl.

I was walking down the hallway when I resisted the urge to roll my eyes upon seeing Leroy and Tiffany walking in the opposite direction. I purposely avoided their gaze, not wanting to get into a confrontation with them, but Leroy purposely bumped into my shoulder with force, making me drop my books, and that was my last straw.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I exclaimed, before picking up my books.

"What did you just say?" Leroy stopped, turning around to fix me with a glare.

I clenched my jaw as I returned it twice as hostile. "You really need to grow up. Your big rock of a head is still in tact, so what's your problem? You think you'd get over this by now."

He looked like he wanted to punch me, but Tiffany stepped forward instead.

"Watch your mouth, bitch," she hissed, making me groan loudly with disbelief.

"He literally harassed another girl, and probably others too!" I reminded her. "Are you insane?!"

"Don't listen to her," Leroy said to her coolly. "She's just jealous."

"I know, baby, I know."

I laughed bitterly, looking between them like they were the world's strangest exhibit. Bystanders were starting to look at the three of us now, probably expecting a fight, but I seriously didn't care.

"You need to get a life and stay out of ours, loser," Leroy threatened me, fist clenching by his side.

"How fucking ironic," I said, shaking my head. "You're the one who won't get over yourself."

"You keep running that mouth of yours and I'll give you a broken nose," Tiffany attempted to threaten me, stepping forward, but she wasn't intimidating in the slightest. "You deserve it after hurting him."

I snorted with amusement. "I would love to see you try." When she squeezed her fists by her side, I glanced at her stupid boyfriend. "What? Can't fight your own battles, big man?"

Steam was practically leaving their ears as they glowered at me, and then the next events happened too quickly for me to make sense of.

Jackie came out of nowhere and stepped between Tiffany and I, saying, "Okay, how about we just–"

But Tiffany punched forward, aiming for me but Jackie got in the way at the same time and Tiffany's fist landed on her face. My eyes widened as Jackie stumbled back into me, clutching her nose, and both Tiffany and Leroy watched on with wide eyes.

"What the fuck?!" I shouted, before holding Jackie upright as I went to look over her face. When I moved her hand away slightly, there was blood streaming from her nose and I couldn't help but exclaim, "Oh my god!"

"What the hell, Jackie!" Tiffany cried out, holding her hand with pain.

"Are you kidding right now?!" Jackie retorted before wincing and holding her nose again, head tilted up to stop the bleeding.

"Okay, everyone move aside!" a teacher pushed through the crowd of entertained students surrounding us. When she spotted Jackie's bleeding nose, she said, "Miss Taylor, you need to go to the nurse's office–"

"I'll take her," I said quickly, before fixing Tiffany with a glare.

"You," the teacher continued, looking to Tiffany, "with me, now."

I didn't wait any longer to watch the death stares from Leroy and Tiffany, instead guiding Jackie to the nurse's office. I still couldn't believe she'd stepped in like that, and also that Tiffany had it in her to punch me. I didn't think she'd actually do it.

"Oh my god, it's running down my throat," Jackie whined with disgust, looking forward again. "I'm gonna be sick."

"Ssshhh, we're almost there," I cut her complaining off, though a large part of me felt extremely guilty.

When we reached the nurse's office, I immediately guided her to the bed to sit upright, whilst the nurse seemed to catch on and immediately jumped into action. I stood back and watched as the nurse gave her some gauze to hold to her nose.

"Is it broken?" Jackie asked with wet eyes, a little dramatically.

"No, dear, it's just a bloody nose," the nurse assured her, before glancing at me. "There's not much else I can do. Just keep changing the gauze and have her drink some water."

I nodded. "Will do. Thanks."

She offered a smile before heading to the other side of the room to finish helping out another student. I watched her leave before joining Jackie's bedside and looking to her with disbelief.

"What the fuck was that?!" I asked.

She moved the gauze so it wasn't blocking her mouth and motioned to her face. "I was trying to stop this from happening."

"A little fucking late," I said sarcastically.

"I figured," she snapped, before her face scrunched up with pain and she closed her eyes momentarily.

My jaw slowly relaxed as I really took the state of her in. The guilt pressed down on my chest – this wasn't her fight and she was certainly not the type of girl to get into one in the first place. Seeing her bloody nose and stained shirt was like seeing a puppy get kicked, and my irritation definitely wasn't helping.

"You shouldn't have got involved," I said with a sigh, sitting at the edge of her bed.

She opened her eyes, bright hazel ones swimming with guilt. "I just wanted to make things right. Show you that I really am sorry. It's not about how you view me and it's not a game. I'm just sorry."

Unlike the last time, she seemed genuine with her apology, and paired with her puppy dog eyes and bloody nose, it was hard for me not to give in.

"Fuck, fine, I forgive you," I breathed out.

She began to smile with relief before leaning back slightly. I frowned, eyes flickering over her guiltily, before I grabbed the spare gauze at her bedside and gently replaced the one in her hand.

"It looks like it's stopping," I said, disposing of the bloody gauze. "God, you're insane."

"It fucking hurts," she cursed, grimacing.

I tried not to smile as I wet a cloth in the bowl beside her bed. "It was barely a real punch. Tiffany's hand took most of the damage."

She narrowed her eyes at me as I began to wipe the dried-up blood from her nose and mouth with the wet cloth. "Tell that to my face."

A small smile of amusement broke out on my lips. "This was stupid, Jackie."

She sighed, removing the gauze so I could clean around her nostrils. "Probably."

The bridge of her nose was a little swollen and bright red, but at least the bleeding had stopped. God, as if Jackie Taylor got punched in the face for me. I literally never could have predicted that.

Once I cleaned her up, the nurse returned to give her some painkillers and an ice pack before making arrangements for her to be picked up from school.

"I'm sorry, I'd drive you home myself, but I don't have a car," I said with an apologetic smile.

She shook her head. "It's okay. You already stayed with me longer than you needed to. I'm just glad things are good between us again."

I exhaled softly, surprised that she cared this much. We were indifferent to one another, that was our thing. Whether it was because she felt she owed me after I broke my knuckle, or she was just trying to prove that she wasn't a bad person, I was left wondering why she was going through all this effort for a friendship that barely existed.

After she went home, it was easy to say that word of the fiasco spread around school like wildfire. Tiffany had been given a month of detention apparently, and I didn't see Leroy for the rest of the day, thankfully. Van found me after school, the two of us planning to walk home together, and that was where I debriefed her about everything that happened.

"Holy shit, what I would pay to see Jackie get decked in the face!" she exclaimed with a grin.

I quirked a brow. "Aren't you literally teammates?"

"Not in a mean way," she added quickly. "Like, it would still be funny though. Funnier if it was you, of course."

I shoved her in the arm with my good hand as she chuckled.

"I feel bad enough as it is, so no jokes," I warned her.

"Hey, it's not your fault," she assured me with a knowing look, before pausing and adding, "Though if someone says they're gonna punch you in the face, you probably shouldn't tell them you'd love to see them try."

I tried not to laugh as I shot her a look. "How was I supposed to know she'd actually do it?"

Van began to laugh again. "God, I wish I was there."

"You've only said a million times," I said with a disapproving stare, though a smile tugged at my lips.

Despite the jokes Van wouldn't stop making on the walk home, I still felt extremely guilty and couldn't stop thinking about poor Jackie. How our lives had become so intertwined in the space of two weeks was beyond me, but I suddenly felt responsible for her.

The next day at school, I saw her by her locker with Shauna before homeroom. Even from a distance, I could make out the slight swelling on her nose and it only deepened the guilt I felt. We'd technically resolved everything between us yesterday, but I felt the need to go over there and check on her to see how she was doing.

After dropping some stuff off at my locker, I went over to her and Shauna with a small smile. They noticed me and their conversation ceased, the two of them returning my smile with their own.

"Hey," Shauna greeted first.

I nodded her way before my eyes settled on Jackie, and Shauna seemed to get the hint as she politely dismissed herself, leaving us alone.

"Hey," Jackie greeted warmly.

"Hi," I said, eyes scanning her face. "How's the–?" I gestured to my own nose as I asked.

"Hurts," she admitted with a small smile, "but I covered the bruising. It's still a little swollen, but it'll be fine."

I frowned guiltily when I noticed the extra makeup she'd used to cover the red-purple bruise that had formed on the bridge of her nose. She'd done a good job, but it was still peeking through a little bit.

"It's okay," she said when she noticed my expression, before lightheartedly nodding to my bandaged hand. "Consider us even."

That didn't make me feel better at all, and I shook my head. "It shouldn't have happened. As Van kindly pointed out to me, I egged Tiffany on and she was supposed to punch me. It's not the same thing as me stepping in to defend you."

Jackie rolled her eyes playfully. "It's okay, Y/N, really. Besides, maybe her and Leroy will finally back off now."

I hummed, partially agreeing, though I knew this was still my fault.

"By the way," she added, "I broke up with Jeff."

At this, I raised my eyebrows with surprise. "What?"

Her lips pressed together into a faint smile as she looked down. "Yeah, you were right about what you said. He and his friends are jackasses. And I can do a lot better."

I wasn't sure what to say at first, not expecting her to have actually listened to what I said. But then I nodded slightly, acknowledging her words.

"You can," I found myself saying. "Do a lot better, I mean."

She breathed out with amusement. "Thanks... anyway, I should get my things, but see you in class."

"Yeah, see you," I said, still a little shocked, but nodding nonetheless.

#jackie taylor x you #jackie taylor imagine #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor #yellowjackets imagine #yellowjackets #ella purnell

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allforhee · 3 months

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*ੈ✩ — 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐒! (TEASER) | LEE HEESEUNG

୨୧ pairing — secgen!lee heeseung x journalist!fem!reader

synopsis: decelis high's academic weapon, future valedictorian, model un prodigy especially in the crisis council, and top-notch secretary-general of the mun club, lee heeseung has it all. from earning constant "best delegate-s" left and right, no one dared to go against his stances in any debate. until a student like you transfers into decelis high. as a soon graduating senior, you were a newbie to press. but with your endless love for writing, you'd managed to steal the hearts of your peers. it was your first mun, and you didn't expect much. but when heeseung finds out about an article you've wrote about his arrogant performance in a recent committee session, he is set to strike you down.

୨୧ genre — high school au, secgen!heeseung x press delegate!reader, academic rivals to lovers, dumbasses in denial, rivals in public but lovers in secret

୨୧ warnings — a lot of model un terms, cursing, hurt no comfort, heeseung makes fun of the reader a LOT, reader is feisty and could care less but she lowkey has parental issues, featuring all the other enhypen members, huh yunjin, and jang wonyoung

୨୧ word count — tbd

୨୧ release date — tba

୨୧ author's note — my baby! i love muns and as a press girlie myself, i had to make an mun-themed fic for my boy. mind you that i don't really understand the ACTUAL muns (unsc, who, etc.) cause i highkey don't want to get involved i just like writing!! this teaser is kind of short and sweet cause i know that the actual fic will be LONGER! so excited for you guys to read my works and what my imagination has to offer!!!!!!! enjoy this lil teaser. press 4 fanfic writers arise!

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 had it all.

the walls of his room were littered with delegate lanyards from conferences across the globe, "best delegate" certificates framed all over his house (and a couple crumpled up inside his desk to fit the space), and a collection of trophies that stood in every nook and cranny.

no one at decelis high dared to go against him. whenever it was, whether it was moderated caucus or unmoderated, he'd always have his country or character's placard raised high, ready to speak, or leading whatever bloc was being formed.

it was no doubt that no one has ever beat him. it was no doubt that he was decelis high's mun club's secretary-general. and those who chose to go against him either get crushed in fear or knew when to step back.

even with his "best delegate" status, he wouldn't have gone far without his best mates, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, and park sunghoon.

park jongseong or jay, most known for his cold stares in the debate room, ready to make a delegate tremble, would always chair crisis. he was decelis high's deputy secretary-general alongside heeseung. and although being heeseung's best mate, he never favored him when it came to awarding. it's just that he was naturally talented.

sim jaeyun, known for his popular slogan around the school; "jake it till you make it!", was the strongest when it came to knowing what a country or character believed in. his research skills were like a pirate on the hunt for lost treasure, he had all the facts, the data, and the proof to back up any stance. whatever heeseung needed to know, jake already had his back.

and park sunghoon. even though he was the quiet one of the bunch, his position papers never ceased to appeal any chair. even if he wasn't as strong in speaking out during committee sessions, his fingers were his weapon. the guys would always ask him why'd he chair press and not join in the heat with them, he'd always answer with a simple, "my words are stronger than my actions." where jay would always respond with "isn't that the other way around bud?"

the four were unstoppable when it came to model un. lee heeseung was unstoppable. he was. until you came along.

back to my masterlist?

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aireia · 5 days

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Oh universe! — What happens when you fall in love with the vice president of the student council?

tw/cw: gn! reader, fluff + crack(?). gojo's an idiot. not proofread + rushed. author is stupidly sick, fic makes zero sense.

note: don't expect too much from this fic D: —masterlist

The universe has a love-hate relationship with Satoru. No, screw that, it’s against Satoru Gojo. It’s against his relationship between him and the person standing beside him in the student council room, because he can no longer count how many times he’s tried to confess to you, and gotten interrupted by another student pulling you or him away.

Now, he knows both of you are busy as leaders in the student council, and he’s fairly popular too, but that doesn’t have any business to meddle with his love life! Especially because he’s also lost track of how much money he’s spent on these failed confessions – excluding the tubs of ice cream he buys after each one to comfort himself. (Suguru and Shoko have to take some away from him to prevent him from eating that much sugar.)

“How many is that?” Suguru asked his brunette friend as they both stared out the window at the scene of you being dragged away by students while Satoru sighed in defeat. “I dunno, sixth? Maybe seventh? We just need to make sure he doesn’t eat enough desserts to get himself sick. Y/n told me something about a meeting they would be having tomorrow about our graduation trip.” “Just bribe him with the fact that they’re going to be there. He’ll be sure to return back to whatever he’s on before all the confessions.”

“Really?!” Satoru’s eyes lit up right before he managed to grab the 2nd tub of strawberry ice cream. “...Are you really the president of the student council? How do you not know about this?” “I was only focusing on y/n when they said the news.”

That caused both his friends’ faces to contort into disgust. Maybe they shouldn’t have told him and let him miss the meeting instead, but you’d probably be kind enough to find him before the meeting and drag him there.

“A trip to the mountains…” you mumbled to yourself as you scanned through the papers that were handed out during the meeting. You had been assigned to take care of accommodations. Satoru, on the other hand, was devastated . He had been assigned to take care of the food. No doubt all of you would be getting kikufuku for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for three days straight.

That would’ve been the case, if he didn’t drag you to multiple cafes to plan the trip. Granted, he did treat you to a lot of your favourite snacks and drinks, so going out with him wasn’t that bad.

The both of you sat in silence most of the time, surprisingly. Sometimes the snowy haired male would sneak in some small talk, but the only time you spoke half the time would be for each other’s opinions. Satoru tried to get you to agree to the worst diets you’ve seen in your entire life. You rejected.

You tried to propose a few spots to stay in. and Satoru agreed to most of them, though you scrapped your own ideas just moments after he agreed.

You breathed out through your mouth, watching as puffs of smoke escaped your lips. You were standing on the balcony of your room. Staring at the city you call home from the mountains.

“There you are.” Someone draped a blanket over your trembling body. It’s Satoru, you noted. You could recognise his voice even in a room full of people. “You made a good choice choosing this place. The view is pretty.” Satoru sang words of praise to you, joining you on the balcony.

“Thank you,” you responded, not bothering to look at him. A long period of silence ensued between the both of you, and Satoru found it to be torture. You’re alone, right? That means he can confess. But how? He looks at your lips. They’re trembling from the cold.

“Your lips look cold. Do you think I could warm them up for you?” his words spilled out before he processed it. You looked at him weirdly before laughing.

“Is that… How you confess to people?” you continued to laugh, and it reminded him of the first breeze of spring. Playful, calm, refreshing from the cold from winter. Once he realised what he had said, he choked on air and stuttered out, “It’s not! I swear it’s just–” Satoru tried to find the words to explain himself, his head now working overtime to search for the vocabulary that left his mind when these types of situations happened.

You grinned and cupped his cheeks before pulling him down to gently kiss him, only pulling away once the both of you had relaxed. You couldn’t help but smile at the dust of pink on his face. You were sure there were some on your cheeks too.

“Yea, it is warmer now.”

Maybe the universe isn’t all that against him after all.

by user @ aireia, do not plagiarize and/or translate.

#signed by aireia!#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #ju #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk imagines #jjk fluff

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oldworldghost · 7 months

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How do you think P would react over finding out Reader likes to sing? Is a duet incoming in the walls of Hotel Krat?

P with a lover who's a singer! ☆

↳ Anon this is adorable! I'm tempted to write a fic about something along these lines at a different time, but for now have some hcs :]

➸ Pinocchio finds out you sing on one of his return trips to the hotel. His attention is first grabbed by the sound of the piano, its' notes greeting him upon his entrance, and being the artistically inclined man that P is, he naturally follows it. His attention is secondly grabbed by the faint sound of a voice, half hidden by the keys and only to be properly made out that's yours when he's standing in the doorway of the library. He makes eye contact with Antonia, who sends him a smile before turning back to you, who either hasn't noticed that he's there or simply doesn't care. He supposes it to be the former, too engrossed in what you're doing to pay attention to the outside world.

➸ He, very quickly, ends up the same. Dead glass eyes watch intently as your hands glide over the keys, something akin to life sparking in them as he listens to your voice dance with the music. Pinocchios' initial reaction is that you sound beautiful, look beautiful. Though it would be more accurate, I suppose, to say that he thinks you both look and sound incredibly human. P has never heard anyone sing outside of Vinyls, at least not for long, so being able to not only listen in person but watch as you engage in the act of something as human as music has his gears speeding up. Something in them has changed, he's sure of it.

➸ It should come as no surprise to say that Pinocchio is immensely curious about [and attracted to, in your case] things he perceives as human. This is partially due to the fact that he sees them as a goal, something to work towards and obtain, a barrier to be broken between himself and humanity as a whole. And of course this extends to music and is one of the reasons his vinyl collection is ever growing, why he always finds himself returning to the piano. It is a little hard to tell whether Ps' appreciation of art is something inherent to him or if it merely exists because he thinks it has to. In all honesty it's probably both.

➸ Now, to grow less introspective about it all, Pinocchio also just really loves listening to you sing because it's, well, you. He is undoubtably your number one fan, though he's subtle about it. Gemini is the hype man, much to the embarrassment of P and the amusement of Everyone Else. Honestly it's not even really embarrassment on Ps' part, more of an annoyed "wow I wish you would shut the fuck up!" because Gemini has the talent of being able to bring you into every conversation and you being a singer just adds more fuel to a fire that really does not need it [Pinocchio would one hundred percent do the same though if he was more, you know, talkative].

➸ One of Pinocchios' main love languages is quality time, and honestly you being a singer is perfect for that. Most of his time at the hotel is spent just sitting and listening and watching. Something about your voice makes him feel safe, as weird as that may sound. Maybe it's the affection in it when you sing for him alone, or just how intimate the atmosphere ends up being. He's not even sure if he's capable of feeling comfort, but he wouldn't change whatever's in his chest for the world.

➸ In regards to duets, I think Pinocchio would actually be rather open to the idea. Now, contrary to popular belief he can in fact speak, though he seldom ever does it without prompting. He doesn't really see the point in it if we're being honest, yes speaking is human but his voice is so flat and honestly he just doesn't have a lot to say about things. So it's fairly safe to say P has never sung before, hell he's not even sure if his voicebox can function like that, but nonetheless when you bring up the idea of a duet he's not only willing but somewhat eager about the whole thing. There's really no rhyme or reason for it either, Pinocchio just likes the idea of doing something human with someone who makes it easy to forget he's a puppet.

➸ Now Pinocchios' singing voice is actually rather nice! Though it is, of course, undeniably mechanical. There's something off about it, at times sounding like a crude mimicry of a human, a constant stiffness and roughness to it. It falls into a sort of uncanny valley, however there is also something undeniably endearing about it, something human about how much you can tell he wants to express anything in it. As for sound outside of puppetry, Ps' voice is fairly deep but retains a certain gentleness to it, a smoothness that contradicts the stiffness in a really lovely way. And yes, Pinocchio has a sense of rhythm.

➸ Pinocchio has a strong preference for keeping your duets private. The best way to do that, in his opinion, is when you're both out in the gardens dancing together. Under the stars while everyone else is inside, chest against chest and voices in sync, the gentle twirls and turns as you both slip into your own little world. If you couldn't tell how much he values your duets before, you certainly can now. Kiss him after the song is done, won't you?

#Anyway this post strayed a little from the prompt because I am a chronic yapper I am so sorry #I am also so normal #this is also not as in-depth about the whole humanity and music thing as I would like it to be #but I haven’t finished the game yet so I’m not sure if it has any further relevance later #I still have so many thoughts about it though #This is also probably a little ooc because a] I have not finished the game #as said before #and b] writing is hard </3 #lies of p #lies of p x reader #pinocchio x reader #my writing

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its-time-to-write · 9 months

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Hi y’all! This is my last unprompted angsty fic for a little! Gonna go back to our usually scheduled hijinks that are sitting in my request pile, I wanted to do this one first. I write all these as a way to deal with things that happen in my own life, whether it’s stressing about school and work, stupid romance, great romance, family, health, whatever, and I wanted to say (yet again) thank you for all the support. Sometimes I still can’t believe that you all like what I write but hey, there ya go

It’s funny, because my most popular fics are the ones that have been written directly out of my actual life. The ones that start out hard-to-deal-with, or with real, palpable heartbreak. The endings are often different because real life isn’t guaranteed a happy ending, but I’m allowed to take the past and see what it would be like if things went differently.

My characterization of Jamie is based on the only person I’ve ever really loved, which is why I can write his voice so clearly. I first watched Ted Lasso and was surprised at how similar they were, stupid hair and all. A lot of these fics are my way of archiving our story and immortalizing parts of it, as well as reminding myself that the love was there. It didn’t last and it wasn’t supposed to, but it was there.

Now, what’s real and what’s fiction? I’ll leave that up to you to decide, but I will say that it’s more than you might think and less than you might hope for.

So if you read this current fic and think, “huh, that was a really specific premise,” well I got news for you! It is. I’m in the first part of my journey on this, the early stages, and this story is not the way I want things to go for me. But I’m hoping that by creating a good ending out of a rough beginning, I can better face whatever lies ahead for me whether I approach it on my own two feet or with the assistance of some really sick wheels.

Anyway, enjoy this or skip it, it won’t hurt my feelings!

how to love being alive

Jamie’s at training when he gets the call. He barely registers the words on the other side when he’s cursing something awful, enough to make Roy Kent blush, and saying something about an emergency before speeding out the door. He pauses for a moment to look up an address in his phone, then he’s tearing out of the parking lot in a manner that puts Colin to shame.

To summarize, he’s not acting like himself.

He pulls up to a chiropractor of all places and the girl at the front desk must be able to tell who he’s here for because she just points to a door down the hall. Jamie’s pretty sure he’s never moved this quick in his life and wonders if this could translate to the pitch. Sure he’s fast, but he could always be faster.

He bursts through the door to see you borderline catatonic, staring at the floor while a doctor pats your arm. She looks at Jamie and says, “Let’s chat for a minute outside,” before he has a chance to say a single thing. Jamie can’t tear his eyes away from you as the doctor leads him out and shuts the door.

“Thought emergency contacts were for like, hospitals and shit,” he says.

The chiropractor shakes her head. Jamie notes that her name tag says “Dr. Hadley,” and has a vague memory of you mentioning her a few months ago.

God, it feels like a lifetime ago.

“We’re not confident she’s in a fit state to get herself home,” Dr. Hadley says. “Her headspace is a little messed up, which is to be expected. Usually people come to these types of appointments with some moral support.”

Jamie asks, “What kinds of appointments?” and Dr. Hadley tilts her head at him.

“You are Mr. Tartt, aren’t you?” she asks and Jamie just scoffs because he can’t decide between responding obviously, or telling her no, he’s not Mr. Tartt, that’s his father. He’s just Jamie.

Dr. Hadley knows who he is because she doesn’t live in a hole in the ground, so she doesn’t ask for identification. She takes his scoff as permission to keep talking, so she says, “She’s here for her MRI results. We’ve been in the process of treating a protrusion on her spine.”

Jamie is positive everyone in this office must think he’s on drugs because Dr. Hadley is talking like he’s supposed to know this, but for the life of him he knows you’d never said a thing.

“Your girlfriend has been in a severe amount of pain over the last few months, and we’ve finally been able to see the extent of the problem. Apparently she thought it would just go away, but it never did. So now she’s here with us.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Jamie says automatically. Because it’s true, innit? You’re not. You’ve been broken up for a month because he couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t take the irritation at attending his matches and the tossing and turning in bed at night and the fact that you were wound so tight that you’d snap at the most minor offenses.

You hadn’t been surprised when Jamie said he couldn’t do it anymore, it’s over, and at the time he had wished that you’d shown just a tiny sliver of emotion. After all, a year and two months is a long time to be with someone for you to coldly slide him his key and then turn away as though he were a stranger.

He could have sworn there was a glimmer of tears in your eyes, but they’d looked that way for a bit now so maybe it was just allergies. There’s no reason for you to have been in the verge of tears for the entire month before the breakup, right?

Right.

But he can’t think about that now because Dr. Hadley is frowning at him in a way that so comically reminds him of Roy’s sister that he has to bite back a laugh.

Everything’s all twisted.

“I certainly hope your split was amicable,” Dr. Hadley says. “You’re the only one listed as her emergency contact. She needs someone to get her home safely.”

“Right,” says Jamie. “Yes. Fuck. Right. Um, what exactly is wrong with her?”

Dr. Hadley shakes her head. “That’s her personal information to share with you at her prerogative. And we should probably go see her, I’m sure she doesn’t want to be alone for long.”

Jamie snorts at that. This doctor doesn’t know you at all. If you’ve received any type of bad news the last thing you want is people hanging around.

Jamie used to pride himself on being the only one you’d let into the bad-new bubble.

You don’t count with those other people, you’d said once while wrapped around Jamie so tight he thought he’d have to call Ted to bring a crowbar. You said, I don’t have to pretend around you. I don’t ever get tired of you.

Jamie bitterly thinks that that statement turned out to be a lie, but he shakes it off because you’ve only been separated a month, and apparently he’s still your emergency contact for a doctor he didn’t know you had been seeing and fuck if you didn’t look like the most pitiful thing he’d ever seen. He’ll pretend it’s ok for as long as it takes to get you home and comfortable, and then he’s calling this office to get his number switched off.

So he follows Dr. Hadley back into the room as she softly says your name in order to break whatever trance has you studying the carpet like your final exam is in ten minutes.

You can barely look at her as she whispers something about going home and being gentle, to which you nod and finally look at Jamie.

He wonders if you recognize him, because the stare you have is so vacant that you might as well be looking at a stranger.

“Is she on drugs?” he asks because it looks like you’re on drugs.

Dr. Hadley shakes her head and holds out her arm to help you up. “No, she’s just in a lot of pain. And emotional distress. It’s a killer combo, and she’ll need extra gentle handling for a while. No sitting for too long, no bending, no lifting. There’s a back support at the front desk for you to take.”

Jamie thinks he hears something pointed in the way Dr. Hadley says, extra gentle. What, like he doesn’t know how bad an injury can take you out? He’s in the Premier League for fuck’s sake. He knows how to deal with a strained muscle.

Dr. Hadley transfers your arm over to Jamie’s so smoothly that he barely understands what’s happening as she ushers you both out the door, thrusting a small foam roll into Jamie’s free hand.

“For lumbar support,” she says. “Won’t help much, but it’s better than nothing.”

Jamie’s pretty sure he’s said thanks as you climb in the car and then he’s in the drivers seat and it’s dead quiet.

“Right,” he says to the silence. “What the fuck.”

You’re picking at your nails something fierce. Jamie has to fight the urge to take your hand in his. A month of separation is not long enough for this shit.

“Can you just drive?” you ask in a broken voice. “I don’t want to be sitting for longer than I have to.”

There’s a new pitch in your voice, one Jamie’s never heard before, so he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t turn on the radio or a playlist or a podcast or anything, just drives in silence. He knows if it’s quiet long enough, you’ll talk.

He’s the opposite. He doesn’t need time to crack wide open, just a kind touch or a soft glance and he’s an open book. He was always shocked how early into your relationship you’d figured that out. A soft, “What’s on your mind, Jaim?” and he was unloading about whatever stress or fear he had.

He’s two minutes away from your flat when you break the silence. “I have gradual onset paralysis,” you say in a voice devoid of emotion. “‘Gradual onset’ means it happens over time. Paralysis means, well…paralysis.”

Jamie can hear what you’re saying and he understands it, but what catches him is the way you’re like nothing more than a hollow body. Not cracking a joke, not picking a fight. Just- empty.

Jamie says a long and drawn out “Fuuuckk,” because what else can you say? It’s not really his business to comfort you or to pry, except he’s the one the doctor called, so he allows himself one question.

“How did it happen?”

Last he knew, you were healthy as a horse.

“Two disks in my spine popped,” you reply, still in that same awful emotionless voice. “They’re not really sure how, could’ve been any number of things. Anyway, it got into my nerves. And my spinal cord. And it’s messing things up and it’s only going to get worse. The scans were to see if they could operate, because sometimes you can remove the shards. Or whatever it is. But I guess they can’t, because if they tried I’d definitely be paralyzed. So all I can do now is be in pain and wait for my legs to shut down.”

Jamie doesn’t know how to respond to any of that but he’s saved from thinking of an adequate response because he’s at your flat.

It was smart of you not to sell it when you’d moved in with Jamie. He wonders if you knew the breakup was inevitable.

He hops out and opens the door like a gentleman, offering his hand like he’s some Mr. Darcy-type shit, except you had both agreed that Roy was Mr. Darcy and he was Bingley. So it doesn’t fit at all except as soon as you’re done clutching his hand so you can get out without unnecessary pain, his hand flexes itself like he’s in that damn movie.

It wasn’t even a conscious choice, just a thing his hand decided to do, and he definitely thinks he’s going to have to talk to Ted about this. Or maybe Sam. Sam knows shit and is good at empathy. Maybe he’ll know what to say when your ex-girlfriend tells you she’s not going to walk ever again.

Jamie follows you to the door as you fiddle with the lock and push it open with a sigh. For a moment he doesn’t know if he should go inside, but it smells like honey and cinnamon because it’s the beginning of fall and he thinks that he should at least make sure you’ll be alright.

He notices you’re moving weird. All stiff, like. You’re trying to get an icepack out of the freezer but you can’t maneuver in a way that’s comfortable so Jamie grabs it and hands it to you.

You mumble, “Thanks,” and Jamie catches a glimpse of the perpetual glimmer in your eye.

“D’you need me to call someone?” he asks. “I can get Keeley down here. Or fucking… Ted. Or Colin.” He doesn’t say Sam, because he needs Sam. He can’t talk to Sam if he’s here with you.

You shake your head. Jamie wonders if it hurts to talk, but he remembers how much you hate the sound of your voice when you’re crying.

You take a slow, shallow breath to collect yourself. “I’m ok,” you finally say. “Not much anyone can do, and you’ve got training. I- I didn’t know they’d call you. I still have to switch your number with someone else. I’m probably going to ask Keeley since my family’s still far away.”

“Right,” Jamie says. Not much else to say. Except-

“You were seeing that bone doctor when we were together, and you didn’t fucking say anything?”

It’s accusatory and he knows it, but he can’t for the life of him say it kinder. Ted’s always on about communication and shit, and that is not communication.

You shuffle over to the couch and use it to help you lay face down in the floor. The icepack is precariously balanced on the small of your back.

“Didn’t know how to tell you,” comes your muffled voice. “Least, I figured out how to tell you too late. What was I gonna say, ‘Sorry I’ve been a complete bitch to you for four weeks, I’ve got shit floating around in my spine that makes me hurt so bad I want to die?’ Sounds fucking stupid.”

Jamie wants to say, Swear jar because it’s a long-standing joke, but he catches the words right before they reach the tip of his tongue.

“You could’ve said something,” he replies instead. “Chronic pain’s shit. It’s really shit and it makes you act like shit to the people you care about. It’s not an excuse, but it’s a reason.” As the words are coming out of his mouth, Jamie is reminded of a time when the roles were reversed, and you were giving him the “excuse versus reason,” speech.

You’d said, You’re dad’s an abusive prick, Jamie. Makes sense that you’d have a lot of negative emotions.

Fuck, if only you’d said something sooner. Maybe this would be something that you’d be cracking jokes about, or Jamie would be holding your hand, or he’d be laying right next to you as he runs his fingers through your hair.

But your muscles spasm so that thought gets banished as you bite on your forearm in an effort not to yell.

“Fucking hell,” Jamie says. “I don’t think you’re sorted on your own. I’m calling Ted.”

He walks to the other room so he can pretend he can’t hear your protests.

—

Ted leaves training to Roy, Beard, and Nate. What’s the point in having four coaches if one of ‘em can’t leave for family emergencies?

Sure, you’re not actually family, but that’s Ted for you. He doesn’t do casual friendships.

Jamie is out the door like a shot as soon as Ted knocks with a “Sorry, coach,” that Ted barely has a chance to wave off.

Ted doesn’t say much once he’s inside, just rambles on about training and Kansas and Henry. He’s clattering around in your kitchen and you can’t find it in yourself to care what he’s doing so you just keep laying on the floor, willing your back to stop hurting.

Finally, he comes over and sets down a smoothie in a short glass with a straw.

“It’s so you can drink it without moving,” he explains.

“I don’t think I can do this,” you say more to the couch legs than to Ted.

He sighs from where he’s crouched down next to you. “You don’t really have a choice, darlin’. You have to do this. The question is, are you gonna go through it alone?”

You shrug as best as you’re able.

“Wrong answer,” says Ted, standing up. “You’ve got a whole crew of people here who are gonna root for you and support you with whatever you need. All you got to do is ask, sweetheart.”

Ah, fuck, you’re crying again and Ted can definitely tell because your shoulders are shaking. He’s pretty sure you’d want to save face so he stands up and says, “Beard’s coming over after training. Says he wants to figure out how to modify your house for a wheelchair or something. Thought I’d make us all dinner so we’re not so hangry when he mentions taking an ax to anything.”

The mental image of Coach Beard chopping down your stairs is enough to make you smile a little through your tears.

—

Waiting is really shitty. Like, really shitty. Every day is the same thing: tingly legs, shooting pains, phantom cramps. The worst was when Dani and Richard were over and you stood up to get something from the fridge, and your legs decided at that moment to lose feeling. You panicked with your arms held out for balance as you swayed back and forth for a moment, willing your feet to fucking move. They did, but not before Dani and Richard were on you in a flash, ready to catch you if you fell.

“Well that was weird,” you joke in an effort to cut the tension. They laugh, but you still catch their worried glance.

“You do not have to put on a brave face for us,” Dani says. “If you want to joke, we will joke. But if you want to cry, we will cry too.”

“You can cry,” Richard says, “I will just pour more wine.”

You laugh. There’s been a steady stream of Greyhounds at your flat for the last week and a half. Everyone and their mother (quite literally) has come by to see you. Your own parents were coming in a week to stay indefinitely while you sorted things out.

You wonder if it’s easier to lose control of your legs slowly or all at once? On the one hand, you at least have notice. But on the other hand, the long, drawn-out waiting feels like slow torture. Every day you wake up from restless sleep and experimentally wiggle your toes. Every day, you check off one more box on your mental calendar as you count down to a date that doesn’t even properly exist.

The only person who hasn’t visited is Jamie. You don’t blame him, though. Keeley’s come round almost every single day and has been successfully switched to your emergency contact. She’s the one you’re calling as soon as you discover you can’t move.

You’re pretty sure it’s getting closer. Your legs fall asleep more frequently and things are all numb. It’s like you know you’re in pain, but it’s not quite registering with your nerves.

It fucking sucks.

—

You don’t believe in intuition like spirits and all that, but you believe in it in that your brain can pick up things that you couldn’t if you were actually trying.

That’s why you’re pretty sure this is it.

Walking is pretty much a no-go right now, so you stiff-leg yourself to the couch and sprawl out as comfortably as you can.

You call Keeley, and she’s over in no time.

“Hi babes,” she says as soon as she’s through the door, “Can I call Rebecca for girls’s night?”

“Sure,” you say, “Might as well live it up.”

Keeley replies, “Great! She’ll be here in ten minutes,” and you laugh, really actually laugh, because of course Keeley’s already called her.

Rebecca swoops in all smiles and no sympathy which is great because if one more person pushes their lower lip out at you, you’re going to scream. She’s brought drinks and Keeley’s pulling out snacks and you’re going to talk and giggle until you fall asleep, ready for what the morning has.

“Is Shandy making a move on that one player?” Rebecca asks Keeley from the couch.

“Nah,” Keeley calls back, “He said he wasn’t interested right now. Still hung up, I think.”

“What player?” you ask. You know what Shandy’s like, and you feel for the poor guy.

Rebecca and Keeley are silent before Keeley says, “You wouldn’t know him.”

“Bullshit,” you reply. “I know everyone on that team and I know you haven’t signed anyone new recently. Is it Colin?”

Rebecca shakes her head and gives Keeley a look. Keeley shrugs. “You’re the one who brought it up, babes.”

Rebecca turns to you. “It’s Jamie,” she says. “She’s been trying to bag him ever since Zava showed up.”

You shake your head. “She’s not right for him. He deserves someone better than that.”

Keeley’s back from the kitchen and scrutinizing your expression. “And what exactly do you mean by better?” she asks.

You laugh. “Oh no, not me. I wasn’t talking about me. No, I’m not- he needs someone different. Like, I don’t know, Roy’s sister, maybe? She’s great and a doctor to boot. Very caring too.”

“You’re caring,” Keeley says slowly, “And anyway, Molly doesn’t like him like that. They’re just friends.”

“Hang on, are you putting yourself in the same bracket as Shandy?” Rebecca interjects.

You shrug. “I was a complete bitch the last month we were together. There’s no excuse for it. I’m just surprised he lasted as long as he did.”

“You were in fucking pain!” Keeley exclaims. “You said you weren’t sleeping and everything fucking hurt and you couldn’t even think straight.”

You grab a handful of candy from a bowl. “Keels, I appreciate the sentiment, but I majorly fucked it. Like, there’s no going back. So he can date whoever he wants as long as it’s not fucking Shandy. Can we please, please move on?”

Rebecca’s eyes are narrowed but they both acquiesce. “Keeley, what about your love life? I’m sure it’s boring as usual.”

Keeley shrieks and smacks her with a pillow. “Fuck off,” she replies. “I’ll have you know it’s going very well…”

—

You were right. You wake up still on the couch tangled in Keeley’s arms, and the standard toe-wiggle just… doesn’t happen. It’s quiet, the early morning type, the kind where the sunlight isn’t so harsh and birds are chirping softly and all of Richmond hasn’t quite got up to begin their day.

As you look at your unmoving toes, the first thing you feel is a rush of relief. The waiting’s over, you think.

You look over to the wheelchair that’s been leaning patiently against the wall all this time. Here’s the first day of forever. You’re in no rush for it to start, so you let Keeley’s little snores and Rebecca’s heavy breathing lull you back to sleep.

—

It’s definitely a learning curve. And it’s frustrating. And if one more person catches you crying out of sheer rage, you’re going to start throwing things. But like Ted said, you don’t really have a choice.

Your mom said, “The only way out is through,” then grinned at the murderous glare you shot her way. She opened her phone and pulled up a picture of you, age three. “Same lovely expression as always,” she remarks cheerfully. That cracks your frown. You always were a funny kid.

It takes a while to figure out how to get places. Keeley (the absolute angel) volunteered, but she’s busy with the PR firm and quite frankly, a little too delicate to help you into a car. You made the mistake of saying this exactly one time and because subject to a rant about how she’s “not weak, just PETITE FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!”

Roy had punctuated her argument with a couple “That’s fucking right, babe"s all while rolling his eyes behind her back. It made you giggle.

The general consensus was that at any given reasonable hour (or unreasonable if you’re Richard or Bumbercatch) a Greyhound or coach would be able to get you where you’re needed. And today, that place is Nelson Road.

“How often does Jamie come visit?” Jan Maas asks, straightforward as ever.

“Um, never,” you reply. “We broke up, remember?”

“Right,” agrees Jan Maas. “We all know that, I just assumed you had gotten back together.”

You laugh. How absurd. “And why on earth would you assume that?”

“Because he talks about you all the time,” comes his prompt reply.

Huh. That’s interesting. You haven’t received so much as a single emoji from Jamie, but hadn’t thought a thing of it. But this, this is strange. This does not fit into your idea of how broken up people act.

“Weird,” you say. “Wonder what the fuck that’s about.”

Jan Maas shrugs and moves to lift you from the car.

—

It’s weird to be at Nelson Road, number one because it’s been FOREVER, number two because you’re eye-level with all sorts of things you’d never noticed before (ahem, part of the wall Roy kicked that no one cared to patch up), and number three because the last time you were here, it was as Jamie Tartt’s girlfriend.

Jan holds open the door as you roll in, ready to face whatever lies in wait.

It turns out whatever is a very excited Ted and Beard as well as a neutral Roy who present you a coaching jacket and a whistle.

“You’re coaching with us today because that little rat bastard Nate went to the dark side,” Beard says.

You remark, “Tell us how you really feel,” earning a snort from Roy and a chuckle from Trent Crimm.

“Oh yeah,” Ted says, “this is Trent. He’s writing a book.”

“Cool,” you say, “but you do know I know jack shit about coaching?”

Beard shrugs. “Neither do we. Worked out pretty well so far.” That earns another snort from Roy.

“Right,” you say. “Well, I guess I’m up for anything.”

“You mean ‘down,’” says Ted. “Oh I’m sorry, is it too soon?”

“Never,” you reply. “It’s never too soon to make trauma-related puns and this world, it’s either laugh or cry. So fuck it, I’m going to laugh.”

“Fuck yes,” grunts Roy before turning on his heel to yell at the team to GET THE FUCK ON THE PITCH YOU LITTLE PRICKS!

—

You don’t do much except sit there and watch as the coaches yell and point and run drills. It’s a chore to remind yourself not to check out Jamie’s butt as he runs by so you start thinking not yours, not yours, like a mental mantra.

He’s not looking at you so you won’t look at him and you’re sure it won’t be a problem because there are so many people to look at and talk to, except lunch rolls around (haha) and you sit at the head of a table and Jamie’s on the bench right next to you. So. There goes the no eye-contact plan.

You take exactly two bites of your sandwich before thinking fuck this and pushing yourself back so you can roll away. You can just take the elevator to see Becca.

You’ve made it a good way down the hall when you hear Jamie calling your name while saying, “Wait,” so you move a little faster.

But it’s still new and you’re painfully reminded that arms are not legs so he catches you with ease.

“The fuck are you running away for?” he asks, and you want to point out that technically, you weren’t running. Metaphorically though, he’d be right.

“I’m not running,” you reply. “I was just going to see Rebecca.”

“Bullshit,” he says. “I know you, and that was running. Is it because of me?”

“No,” you say, and you realize how much you’ve been looking up today. Your fucking neck needs a break so you rub it and look straight ahead, past Jamie at a life-size decal of O’Brien on the opposite wall.

“Why would I be running away from you? You’re not- I’m the shitty ex in this situation. I’m the one who fucked things up, Jamie, so… you don’t have to like, pretend that it’s your problem. I actually think it would be better if you were just mad and avoided me instead of whatever the hell is currently happening.”

Jamie rubs his jaw. He should be exasperated, he should, but instead the gears in his mind are turning. A few words stick out to him and then it’s like the final puzzle piece has clicked into place.

“Hang on,” he says slowly. “Hold the fuck up. Did you mess things up on purpose?”

The moment the words are out of his mouth he wants to take them back and apologize, because there’s no way they’re actually true, except you have a look on your face that can only be described as guilty.

“Fuuckkk,” Jamie breathes out and you hurriedly interject, “It wasn’t intentional! At least, not at first. It started because I was irritable because I hurt a lot, and then I convinced myself that I was faking it so I got mad at myself for being a little liar. And then I couldn’t sleep because I hurt so bad and everything was making me uncomfortable so I started snapping at you. I noticed it pretty quick so I figured I’d get the pain checked out and sorted because I didn’t think pulled muscles were supposed to last this long. And it turned out that it wasn’t a pulled muscle but some of my disks were all weird, and then one day in between physical therapy and the chiropractor, I fell on my back and jostled everything wrong and it fucking popped.”

Jamie thinks he knows exactly when that was. He remembers you saying something about falling while walking to your car after work and him asking if you needed ice. It was at the tail end of things, and he’d taken your stiffness figuratively as opposed to literally. Like, you were acting all cold because you hated him, not because you couldn’t move.

“So,” you continue, “I just leaned into it. I mean, Dr. Hadley was only one of my doctors, but she’s the one who told me I- you know, could end up like this. She said if things popped and it got into my spinal cord or fluid or whatever and they couldn’t get it out, it was only a matter of time before it messed everything up. They only way to stop it at that point would be to not move so either way, I end up stuck.”

You half-sob, half-laugh. “I didn’t know how to tell you and I could tell you were already annoyed with me so I just decided to let it happen. You’re better off without me, anyway. I hate asking for help and I hate when people give me empathetic looks or what-fucking-ever, and I was going to have to ask you for a lot of help. You don’t even fucking have time for that, Jamie.”

Jamie is at a loss for words, and you’ve run out of things to say.

You stare at each other in the hallway by the elevator, breathing heavily. You’ve both triggered each other’s fight-or-flight response, and it seems you’re both down for a fight.

“Right,” Jamie says finally, “ok, yeah, ok. You didn’t tell me because you didn’t want me to have to deal with this?”

You nod.

“Right,” he says again. “That’s fucked up.”

You don’t respond and he looks at you closely. “You know that’s fucked up, yeah?”

You shrug.

“Jesus, babe.” Jamie runs his hands through his hair. He’s going to have to fix his headbands. “Alright,” he says yet again, “look. Dr. Sharon and me- we talk. And, you’re supposed to be able to talk to people about shit like this. Like, me playing football isn’t supposed to mean I don’t have time for the people I love. And if you’re feeling that way or if you’re hurting, you have to tell me so I don’t think you’re being all pissed off because you hate me. That’s the whole point of love, babe. You take care of each other’s shit.”

“Jamie, I can’t get places easily anymore. I can’t drive and I can’t go up steps. I will never be able to storm the pitch to kiss you or walk with you in Brazil. I get mad really easily because everything’s so fucking frustrating and I just want to punch something.” You shake your head. “You don’t deserve any of that. You need someone who can be there for you and isn’t a total pill to be around.”

“Are you fucking trying to push me away?” he asks.

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Obviously!”

“Well fucking don’t. You almost had me the first time, but good luck getting rid of me now.”

“Fine!”

“For fuck’s sake, just kiss,” groans Will, walking by with an armful of laundry.

“Fuck off, William!” you both say in unison and then Jamie’s on one knee, eye-level with you and brushing a thumb across your chin.

“Fucking hell, love,” he breathes. “You have to remember that you can talk to me, yeah? Just promise you’ll remember.”

You nod, unable to speak.

“Good,” he says. “We’re giving this another go. And if you can’t kiss me on the pitch, might as well do it here, yeah?”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

258 notes · View notes

hirokari · 8 months

Text

aestival, c.xs

pairing :: cheng xiaoshi x gender neutral!reader

word count :: 18.7k

genre :: high school!au, senior!au, popular boy!xiaoshi, lovesick!xiaoshi, mutual pining from the start (like he's absolutely smitten for you i swear)

warnings :: explicit language, mentions of wounds, mentions of medical supplies (band aid, antibiotic), eating food truck food

author's note :: i got this fic idea in class and just . threw up words HAHA anyways i love cheng xiaoshi our bbg pls enjoy pure mutual pining!!

masterlist. navigation.

i. meet.

Cheng Xiaoshi's backpack is severely under-packed for senior year. It even seems deflated to Lu Guang as they walk into the school campus.

"I'm surprised you weren't held back a year." Says the younger boy, though his tone does not hold any hint of jest. Nevertheless, Xiaoshi laughs at the comment.

There's a small jump in each of his steps. Breathing in, Xiaoshi looks around and takes note of how… different it seems this year.

The grass is greener, the sky is clearer, the students are chattier. As the sun shines its warm rays against the skin of his arms and cheeks, he beams.

"Y'know, I have a hunch."

"Shoot me." Replies Lu Guang, his face already resembling one of amusement. Whatever Xiaoshi has to say always humors him. "I've got a feeling senior year has something in store for me." Hums the boy, shaking a hand through his raven locks. His friend, in return, deadpans.

"What makes you think that?" Of course: the standard logical Lu Guang response.

Xiaoshi smiles, "I've got a funny feeling in my bones."

"A funny feeling?" Lu Guang repeats in a laugh. "You're basing a statement for the year off of your funny bones?"

Xiaoshi's mouth hangs open as he's about to retort back with something that would not help his case at all— but a grunt escapes his lips instead as something comes crashing against his abdomen.

"Shit- sorry!"

In front of him is a scrambling student, apologizing profusely. He freezes.

As you gather yourself and apologize to the boy, he leans down and grasps the spine of your chem textbook, lifting and handling it towards your direction.

"Oh, thank you. Sorry, again," You sigh, taking the thick textbook from him. The tip of your finger grazes his and Xiaoshi's sense of time stops. He takes a good look at you within a split second– the warm sun and cold morning air hitting your cheeks makes you look absolutely ethereal.

Cheng Xiaoshi had gone to this school for the past 6 years of his life– but not once had he met anyone that looked as pretty as you do right in this moment. You send him a small, tight-lipped smile that seems grateful and still a little apologetic. Your chin scrunches and your cheeks puff out when you do, and he likes the sight of it.

The whole ordeal happened quick. Too quick. You stand up and pat off the material of your uniform, adjusting your hold on your textbook. Xiaoshi stares. After noticing you shift and tilt your head at the gawking boy, Lu Guang nudges and pushes against his friend’s elbow, sending you a quick ‘goodbye’ and dragging Xiaoshi away.

Xiaoshi doesn’t want to leave. In fact, he refuses to. But what’s the use, you had already left, the only remnants of you being your warm floral scent in the summer morning breeze. He breathes deeply, feet planted firm on the ground and feeling a little strange when his nose tingles at your smell.

“That was the most beautiful, pretty, breathtaking person I’ve ever spoken to.” He sighs. “You’re acting like you’ve never spoken to a human before in your life, Xiaoshi,” Comments Lu Guang as he starts treading away.

“I haven’t spoken to a human that looks as if the sun and the moon shared a hug and a million stars danced with each other and everything in the milky way was perfect and not one person on earth had lactose intolerance!”

“What the hell are you even saying? Are you okay?” Lu Guang is starting to grow genuinely worried. The last time he’d seen Xiaoshi act like this was when he had a full-on obsession over Angelina Jolie for a solid 3 hours.

Xiaoshi feverishly shakes his head, cheeks flamed.“No! Do you know who that was?”

“No.”

“That makes things worse,” Groans Xiaoshi into the palm of his hands. He can feel how hot his skin had turned just remembering how pretty you looked.

“What if I never see them ever again? Do you know how bad I potentially just fumbled the bag here?”

“You’re saying that as if they’d like you back.” Lu Guang can’t help but let his eyes roll. Xiaoshi cries something along the lines of ‘harsh, much?’ and proceeds to whine about having just let you walk away as he stumbles his way to class, Lu Guang directioning him the whole way for the most part.

Cheng Xiaoshi, though he doesn’t seem it, is a hopeless romantic. As his feet drag against the tiled floor almost automatically, Xiaoshi wonders if whoever you were could have been more to him. He’d let fate decide: An acquaintance, a friend, an enemy, a lover. Maybe all of those in that order. Maybe you could be, somewhere in the future.

But he doesn’t really like the idea of waiting for fate. Not when he’s so eager to run into you again– why hadn’t he met you earlier? In sophomore or junior year? Had the universe intended to keep you cooped up away from him until you swept and escaped from its grasp to get back to him?

He knows he’s getting ahead of himself. Nonetheless, he hopes you bump into him again, maybe holding an extra book or two so he could retrieve them for you. Or maybe, if the universe was kind enough to him for a second time (the first was meeting you.), he’d bump into you.

The soccer field is on a large strangely elevated patch of grass. Xiaoshi doesn’t like the extra flight of stairs he has to travel up on in order to enter it. It was originally a large hill, he heard from Lu Guang, but the school thought it’d be of better use if it were a soccer field.

The summer sun is blaring too hot, the boy thinks, as he wipes his sweat off of his brow.

“I’m open!” Yells Xiaoshi, waving his arms.

Far too much movement out in the open sun.

The senior feels sticky and his feet feel like jelly. He doesn’t know how long he’d been playing at this point. Frankly, Xiaoshi doesn’t know why he’d called out for the ball. Instinctual, he supposes.

The ball comes flying at him, and being the basketball-loving goof he is, reaches out to grab it with his hands. Within the last split second, and Lu Guang shouting at him to take it to the chest instead, he forces his arms down, taking the impact to his face instead.

Xiaoshi is wordless as he grasps at his face, feeling extremely dazed.

“Shoot, sorry! Are you good, man?” Shouts a fellow player, though it sounds warped in his ears.

As he waves the concerned murmurs off, he lets his feet lead him to the bleachers, calling for a quick break. It is too damn hot out today, he thinks, heaving at the thick warm afternoon air. Xiaoshi still holds his palm to his face, shielding his eyes from the bright sun that seemed to burn.

Reaching out, Xiaoshi expects to feel the cold metal of the railings that stand in front of the bleachers, but is met with nothing but the air his fingers cut through as he sweeps his hand around. “Wh-?”

Uncovering his eyes, his feet travel forward before he could process where he’d been walking into.

The yelp Xiaoshi lets out embarrasses him and he blushes a little, though none of that really mattered anymore when he realizes he’s tumbling down the other side of the hill, stray twigs and leaves pricking him as he rolls down the grass. He doesn’t let out one noise, the whole situation happening too quick for him to react properly to.

Before he realized it, he’d stopped rolling. Probably for a good few seconds already, but his head needed time to stop swaying.

“Ugh,” Groans Xiaoshi, gripping his hair as his vision seems to keep spinning.

It takes him a solid moment to fully absorb what had happened and where he is. He first looks at the grass around him. Unlike the field he’d just been playing in, these were shaded by tall canopies of trees– the ones on the opposite side of the field, facing the bleachers from at least 100 meters away.

The second thing he notices are the pair of crossed legs in front of his, tensed and pressed up against a chest. Xiaoshi makes an effort to tilt his head up— as much as it made him nauseous— and face the owner of said pair of legs.

There you sit, your book discarded and arms length to the side, eyes blown wide as you scrutinize the boy. “Are you- are you okay?”

Xiaoshi’s mouth hangs open dangerously wide as he meets eyes with you. His skin burns– and he can’t tell if its from

spending so much time in the sun and overheating, or because you just witnessed what might be the most embarrassing moment of his life.

“I’m… fine.” Is all he’s able to say. A little bit of everywhere stings. His elbows, his knees, his head especially. But it’s alright because Xiaoshi thinks you look absolutely ethereal with bits and patches of sunlight peeking through the leaves of the trees standing above you two, as if shielding you both from the reality of the world. The sunrays frame your face in a kind and soft way, lighting up your nose and cheeks when you lean over to check up on him.

Xiaoshi admires you (almost shamelessly) but you can’t care to notice because you’re busy fussing about him.

“You’re- bleeding! You need help!”

“It’s fine,” Scoffs Xiaoshi. “It’s barely anything.”

But as you carefully fish a handkerchief out of your pocket (of course you’d have one, thinks Xiaoshi, it’s also bear-patterned!) and slowly press it against his shin, the boy winces, flinching his leg away with a whine as his hand instinctively flies up to grip at your wrist.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize. “Could you hold that for me there? I promise it’ll just be a moment.” Your fingers grace over his knuckles as you instruct him, and Xiaoshi doesn’t even think once about protesting, immediately following and holding the cloth in place.

He can feel the pads of your fingers linger for a little longer, and although he’s already overheated from the hot summer sun, your fingers radiate a different kind of warmth– a friendly, homely warmth that reminds him of all his favorite things. A kind of warmth that feels like a ladybug crawling across his arm, but he lets it be for the good luck.

“I’ve got an antibiotic in here somewhere,” Rummaging through your bag, you briefly look up to send the boy an assuring and calm smile. His chest thumps violently. Your sheer persistence to help out someone you’d only talked to once— though Xiaoshi doubts you even remember that encounter— moves him.

As you search, the raven-haired boy lets his free hand travel down the grass he sits on, relishing in the chill contrast of it compared to the blazing hot field. He picks at a weed, then a daisy that grows right by his thigh, and threads them together, creating a braid long enough to circle around his pinky finger. He binds them together with a knot and slips it onto his pinky finger, a small, boyish ingenuous grin spreading across his lips.

“Here,” Tenderly lifting his fingers, Xiaoshi lets you pry his hand off his leg, watching as you dab a small amount of antibiotic cream on the cloth.

“Could you press this in place again? I have to find you a bandaid,”

“Yeah, of course,”

Dazed, Xiaoshi doesn’t react at the first contact the rag makes with his wound. And a moment later, after having enough of his fill of watching you, he returns to wincing, wearing a sour grimace on his face as he refuses to take the cloth off just because you ordered him not to.

“Here.” Taking Xiaoshi’s free hand, you place the bandaid into his palm and take hold of your handkerchief again. With an open palm, the boy looks at it, the corner of his lip twitching upwards at its animal pattern.

“Thank you,” Says Xiaoshi in a small voice. You nod, “It’s alright, I’m just glad you’re fine. Although,” Pausing, you lean forward, face nearing his as you press the back of your hand against his cheek. He inhales sharply, eyes widening at the feeling of your soft fingers against the skin of his face.

“You’re burning up.” You conclude. “You did put on sunscreen before playing, right?”

Xiaoshi’s silence answers your question, but the guilty glance towards the field tells you more than you need to know.

You shake your head, “Wear a hat next time; that’s the least thing you could do. Sunburns are no pretty thing.” You pause, tilting your head to the side with a teasing look in your eyes. “But red’s a good shade on you.”

It’s until now when Xiaoshi realizes how close you’d been, his breath hitting the peach fuzz on your face. “Shut up,” He groans, pushing at your shoulder. Letting out a quick chuckle, you let him push you back into your original position and watch as he applies the band aid across his wound.

“You’re… the guy I bumped into a few weeks ago, aren’t you?”

Oh. He hadn’t expected you to remember that, considering how fast the whole thing had happened.

“Yeah,” Replies Xiaoshi with a nod. “I forgot to ask… for your name,” He says, fidgeting and looking to the side, discovering a shy part of him he hadn’t known existed.

“It’s Y/N L/N.”

“Y/N L/N,” He repeats. It rolls off his tongue nicely, he thinks, and he wants to say it again. “I’m Xiaoshi. Cheng Xiaoshi.”

“Cheng Xiaoshi.” You say, repeating his name like he did yours. You say it again under your breath and at the sound of it, he thinks everything is right and beautiful in the world.

“We’ve got to go,” You mention, checking the time on your phone as you stuff your bag with your belongings you’d taken out. “We’ve got seven minutes ‘till class.”

Xiaoshi watches as you rush to your feet, patting against your legs and uniform. You offer to help him up, but he shakes his head politely, picking up the novel you’d been reading and wiping off the little dirt that had gotten on the cover with his slender fingers.

“Will I see you again?” Asks Xiaoshi, though he hadn’t thought before he let the question slip past his lips. You look back at him, offering a smile, “I’m not sure… but we’ll see, I guess. Bye, Cheng Xiaoshi.”

“Bye, Y/N L/N.”

His cheeks burn, this time not because of a near-sunburn he’d gotten playing soccer in nothing but his uniform.

ii. cheng xiaoshi!

You hadn’t realized you’d lost your book until after arriving home from school a few days ago. Now here you are, sitting next to your upperclassman and lab partner, Qiao Ling, legs leaning against the bleacher in front of you. Even under the shades of the thin metal ceiling the bleachers came with, you felt like you were being boiled alive.

The two of you watch a mix of seniors and juniors play a friendly match of soccer, and you can’t help but wonder where Xiaoshi had been since the last time you’d seen him.

After him stumbling into you— almost literally— you hadn’t seen him all week. Not like he’d been looking for you either.

Fun fact: he actually was.

Xiaoshi sits in the spot he’d last met you in, fingers grazing across the title etched onto the hardcover of your novel that you’d forgotten with him. Wearing a small pout, the boy heaves a childish sigh, letting his back fall onto the fresh grass under him, admiring the canopies towering over him.

It’s definitely a peaceful and sound place, but there was a sense of beauty knowing it was exclusively yours. He can see remnants of you everywhere: a dented patch of grass that he imagines happened because you’d sat there every time, several traces of plucked weeds and flowers, your initials you’d scratched onto a tree because you’d been bored one day.

Xiaoshi’s fingers travel up to the rough, textured bark that spelled out your initials, inhaling its earthy scent of oak. He imagines you, with a pen or a pocket knife, etching the letters onto the dark and dull bark with the same concentrated look you’d worn a few days ago.

His phone suddenly vibrates in the pocket of his uniform. Still staring at the engraved letters, Xiaoshi takes his device out and unlocks it, finally turning to his screen.

Lu Guang

| Where are you?

| Sociology starts in 10 minutes.

Cheng Xiaoshi

| im omw

Standing by himself in the deserted hall in front of the library, Lu Guang scoffs to himself, knowing very well his friend is not in fact on his way.

Lu Guang

| Please hurry

| Those popular douchebags are here and I can’t stand putting up with your nonsense, let alone theirs.

Cheng Xiaoshi

| those “douchebags” are my friends, Guang :l

Lu Guang doesn’t respond, having gone offline, and Xiaoshi takes that as his cue to get to class.

He hadn’t realized it, but when he looks down, he can make out the faint trail you’d made with your frequenting visits here, a beeline of thinning grass and hardening soil leading him towards the campus. It seemed like a little portal between the calm of the forest and the bustle of high school.

Finally, Xiaoshi arrives at the bottom of the hill, staring up at the flight of stairs leading into the bleachers. The air feels extremely more humid from where he stands, letting the sun hit his skin (but he’d worn sunscreen this morning, just because you’d told him too, of course.)

The first step up feels somewhat like a struggle. A feeling like something in between refusing and complaining. But he’s just being dramatic, really. Xiaoshi walks up the rest of the stairs like it was nothing.

Finally on the top of the stairs and shielded from the sun under the ceiling of the bleachers, Cheng Xiaoshi feels like his stomach tightens at the sight of you talking with Qiao Ling and lets his mouth hang open, eyes wide like buttons.

“Y/N L/N!”

Your shoulders shrug up at the sudden yell of your name, and it seems like everyone has stopped talking, just as startled. Turning around, your eyes widen when they meet with Xiaoshi’s, your mouth parting slightly, though you’re not sure what to say.

“Cheng… Xiaoshi?”

Qiao Ling, who hadn’t bothered to look (because things like this had happened too often to her, though she should’ve known it was Xiaoshi), whips her head towards his direction, ridiculed.

There’s a moment when you both look at each other and everyone else goes back to minding their own business. Xiaoshi’s cheeks are dusted pink from both the walk in the sun and meeting you here coincidentally. He holds your book up, his fingers wrapped around the spine of it, giving you a grin.

Charming, you think. His smile is charming. And teethy.

“I’ve… got your book.” He says. Brows raising, you let out an exasperated breath. That was, in fact, the book you’d been searching for during the past few days. “Oh,” You can’t resist the small smile growing across your lips as he offers it to you. You take it with nimble fingers, brushing against the cover, then looking up at him. “Thank you.”

What followed was another moment of silence.

Was this going to be a usual thing between you two?

“Hold on, you know him?” Qiao Ling, who had been ogling at your interaction the whole time speechless, plants a hand on your shoulder, completely disregarding the enthusiastic “yeah!” Xiaoshi replies with.

“Yeah, met him on our first day this year. I bumped into him, actually…” Although the whole ordeal has passed, you still wear a shameful smile. Qiao Ling narrows her eyes at Xiaoshi, “Oh you’re the golden boy they talked about?”

“Golden boy? Talked about?”

“Um,” You hiss before he could question any more, giving Qiao Ling an embarrassed and pointed look. A realization settles into her and she apologizes quietly, though she seems more teasing than anything. “Class is like, pretty soon, is it not?” You chuckle nervously, two fingers fiddling and pinching the cover of your book.

“Right, yeah, I was on my way to sociology.” Says Xiaoshi, though it seems like he’d just remember himself. “Oh, I’ve got advanced math— which is like, right down the hall to your class.”

“I can walk you there!”

“That’d be cool, yeah,”

Qiao Ling wants to interject. Remind you two of her presence. But she’s completely dumbfounded at the fact that she knows very well that if she did, neither of you would acknowledge it, too lost in the small talk and shared glances.

“Right, well, while you two do that, I’ll be here, I guess.”

“You’re not going to class?” You ask. “Nope.” Her ‘P’ pops against her lips as she leans back against the bleacher. “I’ve got a free period. Pros of being a future valedictorian, eh?”

“Shouldn’t you be using that time to study?”

“Oh, you’re one to talk, Xiaoshi. Go, shoo, before you’re late. As far as I know, Mr. Lee doesn’t like tardiness.”

“Shit, that’s my class.” Groans Xiaoshi, wiping a hand against his sweaty face. “Let’s go, Y/N L/N.” As you tread after him and wave goodbye to QIao Ling, you can’t help but laugh at the boy. “You could just call me Y/N.”

“But I like saying Y/N L/N. It rolls off nice on the tongue.”

“So does Cheng Xiaoshi.”

Shit. Is this flirting? Is Cheng Xiaoshi really flirting with the prettiest person he’s ever met? Xiaoshi seems to sweat even more, despite already entering the air-conditioned campus building. Your finger brushes against his lightly while you walk next to him, but he doesn’t think you noticed. You’re still complaining about taking advanced math with Mrs. Wang.

“I don’t get it,” Xiaoshi interjects. “Why did you pick it in the first place?” Your cheeks dust red. “Er, well,” You sigh. “I thought I’d look smart if I took the class. Turns out absolutely none of her students understand the material and we’re all left to fend for ourselves with youtube tutors and a really, really thick textbook that amounts to nothing but yet another droning lecturer.”

“Isn’t Lu Guang taking that class?”

“Lu Guang?” You hum, tilting your head. “Your friend?” Xiaoshi nods, “Yeah, the one with the white hair. People absolutely fawn over him.”

“He’s taking the class on Wednesday, then, I’m assuming.” You shrug. The both of you turned the corner and there Xiaoshi’s class was. The big metal door stands heavily in all its glory, declaring itself an entrance and separation from you. You look beyond the hallway, and spot the familiar graffitied door of Mr. Huang’s class (so many students had failed his class that they’d graffiti on his door in a feat of protest. The old man never minded it, though, it just reminded him more of his streak in paining high school kids).

“I’ll see you later,” You pause, looking up at him. “Cheng Xiaoshi.”

“You too,” He smiles. “Y/N L/N.”

The next time Xiaoshi sees you, you’re typing away at your laptop on a lunch table out in the courtyard, shaded by a generously thick tree. You’re completely neglecting your food, absolutely focused on your task at hand.

“Ahoy there, Y/N L/N.”

Cheng Xiaoshi greeting you boldly and loudly out of the blue does not faze you anymore. Not when he’s been doing it for weeks on end. Sipping on your soda with a straw stuck into the can, you swallow with a fresh sigh.

“Hello, Cheng Xiaoshi.”

“What’re you writing there?” Asks the boy as he plops down next to you, comfortably keeping a knee pressed against his chest as he plants his lunch next to yours. “It’s my English report. I planned on pulling an all-nighter last night, but,” You sigh, having been cut off when Xiaoshi offers half of his sandwich to you. You eye it, then lean down to smell it with a heavy whiff.

“You think I’d poison you, Y/N? And here I thought we were friends!” Xiaoshi mimics an arrow shooting straight through his chest, leaning against the table and dramatically hanging his head as if he’d just lost consciousness.

You laugh.

God, your laugh, Xiaoshi could live off of it alone. Your cheeks when you smile, the teeth you bare to him when you chuckle. He wishes to see it everyday.

“You called me Y/N. Like, Y/N only, Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess you came around. Anyways, eat up.” Xiaoshi taps the bread of his sandwich against your mouth and you roll your eyes, taking a bite and wiping the crumbs off the corner of your lips.

“Thanksh.” You murmur through a mouthful. You push your lunch towards him. “I made fried rishe. Pleash try it out fohr me.”

Xiaoshi’s lip quips up at your strange, mouthful accent. “Of courshe.” He says obnoxiously at you, laughing when you push his cheek away with your hand. Picking up the stainless steel spoon you’d packed, Xiaoshi eats a spoonful of your cooking, smacking his lips as he chews obnoxiously.

You’re very aware he’s trying to cheer you up. You can’t imagine how grumpy you looked typing and frowning when he approached you.

“Well?” You say, finally swallowing down the little bit of his sandwich you’d eaten. “Is it any good?”

“Is it any good?” Repeats Xiaoshi. “Do fish live in the sea?”

“No,” You spit playfully, hands hovering back over your laptop keyboard. But before you could start working again, Xiaoshi smacks your hands and you gasp, looking at him wide-eyed as he closes your laptop shut.

“You did not just do that.” You hiss. Xiaoshi sticks a tongue out at you. “I just did. Anyways, give your little laptop a break would you? And yourself, too, of course.”

You suppose he’s right. A part of you appreciates Xiaoshi a little more (if that were possible) now as he munches on food, and another part wants to smack him in the face when you realize it’s your food he’s munching on.

“Cheng Xiaoshi! You just ate, like, half of my lunch, you goof!”

“It’s your fault you cooked it so good, Y/N L/N.”

You take Xiaoshi’s ham sandwich sourly, wanting to get back at him as you take a big bite right in front of his face. And although you think he’s as upset as you are for eating his lunch, Xiaoshi’s chest warms at the sight of you eating the rest of his lunch, and when he offers yours back, you snatch it and devour it quickly. His smile grows each spoonful of food you eat.

“Hey,” He says, leaning his head against his fist as he watches you eat. You hum in response through full cheeks. “I’m gonna buy a milkshake. Want one?”

You mouth something along the lines of Hannah montana and a strangely structured word.

“...what?”

You roll your eyes at him, swallowing and finally telling him: “banana, please.” Xiaoshi’s mouth forms an ‘o’ and he nods at you. “Don’t you mean ‘banana, pleash’?”

“I hate you. Like genuinely. Like I’m going to be friends with Lu Guang now instead.” You huff, and he juts his bottom lip out at you.

The milkshake stand in the small nook of the canteen is run by two freshman girls. You and Xiaoshi are in fact their first and top customers… and their only customers during this season. Xiaoshi offers them both a wide smile and orders one strawberry and one banana. As one scurries off to whip up their orders, Jia, the younger of the two, leans against the counter of their property (they have a cooking and selling permit from the principal herself until lunch hour ends) with a suggestive smile.

“So? How’s Y/N? How’re your kids?”

“Holy shit,” Groans Xiaoshi. This was the only reason he hadn’t asked for you to come along. Both Jia and Yanyu know about the senior’s harboring feelings for you. They also know about your harboring feelings for him.

You both had admitted to your feelings to them individually, unable to decipher their devious, knowing smile.

“Language!” Yells Yanyu over the blender. “Sorry,” Replies Xiaoshi, monotone. “But really, I don’t want to talk about it, Jia.”

“Uh oh. Trouble in paradise?” Says Jia, crossing her arms, her braided hair shifting against her shoulder. The boy scoffs, “Stop acting like we’re married.”

“You two may as well be. Quick, tell me, my therapist hours are open.”

Xiaoshi can’t believe he’s about to spill his heart’s heavy doubts to a 14 year old.

“They’re… not interested.” He sighs. Jia, wide-eyed, leans closer. “They told you that?”

“Well, no.” She deadpans. “You can’t just assume they aren’t. Communication. Is. Key.” She says, clapping her hands to corresponding syllables she speaks. Xiaoshi shrugs, “I’ve been trying to drop hints, but they’ve either been ignoring it or they’re really, really, blind.”

“It’s the latter.” Says Yanyu as she hands him his drinks. They both know too much about how you both can be ridiculously blind to dropped hints. She grimaces at the thought of you both prancing and dancing around a bush, Xiaoshi’s pathetic attempts to earn your heart when he doesn’t know it’s in his hands. “Definitely the latter.”

“Well, I just bought them a banana smoothie. Think that’ll be eye-opening enough?”

“Are you crazy?” Groans Jia, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You do that for each other all the time! Do something nice out of the blue or norm, like…”

“Tell ‘em you think they look pretty today!” Interjects Yanyu. Xiaoshi tilts his head, “But I think they look pretty everyday?”

Aw. Yanyu and Jia share a knowing look. “Well, do you tell them?”

“No, I guess not…” He hums. “Then this is your chance! Flatter them. Everyone loves that. Tell them you love their eyes, their lips, their hair– the way they part their hair.” Jia pauses, smiling cheekily as she watches his cheeks heat up. “In fact, tell them you love all their parts.”

“I can’t say that!”

“Sure, you can!” Sings Yanyu, planting her hands against his shoulders and directing him towards the table you sit in.

In the distance, the three of them can spot you, having finished both yours and Xiaoshi’s lunch. You write down in your notebook, scribbling almost aggressively, but he still thinks you look heavenly.

“Well, see ya, lover boy!” Jia pushes against his back lightly, nudging him as he takes a step forward. “And tell Y/N we said hi! And that we miss them!”

Yanyu tells him a few encouraging words but he can’t process them when he’s trying to figure out how to tell you how damn pretty he thinks you look everyday. The condensation of both your cold smoothies mix with the sweat of his palms– either from the humidity or just the thought of you– and he sits down next to you, eyes trained on you.

“Thanks, Xiaoshi,” You say, accepting the banana smoothie he’d handed to you subconsciously. But quicker than he’d wanted, you notice his intense gaze and gulp thickly.

“Is there… anything on my face?” You ask, wiping the back of your hand against your cheek self-consciously.

“Yeah,” Says Xiaoshi slowly. “Pretty… ness.”

What. Was that. So much for golden boy.

You give him a questioning look, taking a sip of the smoothie he’d just bought you. “Are you okay? Are you having a heat stroke? I told you to put on some sunscreen.”

“You look really pretty today.” Xiaoshi finally says in a blunt tone. “Oh,” You mumble, surprised. “Thanks.”

You hope you sound calm, because you definitely aren’t. Cheng Xiaoshi had just gone to buy you a smoothie and came back to tell you that you’re pretty. Totally not something the universe had personally hand-picked out of your delusional brain filled with fantasies.

“I think you look pretty, too.” You say in a small, breathy and shaky voice. “Thank you,” Replies Xiaoshi with a small smile.

“Wanna try some of my milkshake? You haven’t tried the strawberry one, right?”

“Oh, sure. Thanks.”

“Also, Jia and Yanyu miss you.”

Xiaoshi thinks this is a mission success. Your cheeks red from the sun (and from Xiaoshi complimenting you, but he denies that) as you try his smoothie, and he takes a sip of your banana flavored one. He told you he thought you looked pretty and you think he’s pretty too; definitely mission success.

You don't expect Xiaoshi to coincidentally have the same free period as you– let alone have him sit with you in the library as you highlight keywords and statements in your textbook.

"It's so weird that we've got the same free period," You mumble with half the effort, focused on skimming through your material. Xiaoshi lets out a 'pshh' sound with his breath: "Nah. I skipped class."

"You skipped class?" You repeat, dropping your book and highlighter as you furrow your brows at him. Though a little surprised at your reaction, the boy nods slowly. “No, one does not just ‘skip class’.” You cough. “You’ve gotta go through the paperwork and give the teacher a dismissal note for whatever reason you made up. And then have your classmates make an alibi for you as you’re out.”

“...or you could just walk out the door and never return.”

“No, Cheng Xiaoshi, you can’t just do that.” You laugh, though it's the kind of laugh where you’re in disbelief and somewhat in denial. “Holy shit.” Says Xiaoshi, leaning closer with a teasing smile. “You, Y/N L/N, have never skipped a class.”

“I have!” You say a little too loud for your liking, earning looks from the students at the table next over. Mumbling a small sorry, you clasp your hands together in a makeshift apology before rummaging your head into your open textbook.

“I have never skipped a class.” You admit, sullen.

Xiaoshi can’t help but chuckle lightly at your current state, and he can’t help but laugh even more when you look up at him with a frown. “You’re really laughing at me right now!? I’m never going to live a fun and rebellious high school life and you’re laughing at me!”

“I-I’m not,” Xiaoshi pauses to collect himself. He eases his chuckles as he pats on his chest with his hand, which makes you more upset at him. “Alright, I’m sorry. It’s all the more better that you’ve never skipped a class, really. There’s no hype to it or anything like that.”

“I don’t know,” You huff, watching your breath turn over a page of your textbook. “I don’t really want to graduate high school knowing I’ve never skipped a class. It’s unfulfilling, or something like that.” Your expression turns sour. “Winning perfect absence sounds cool, though,”

“You wanna win that?” Asks Xiaoshi, leaning down and pressing his cheek to the cold hardwood of the table, facing you. You look at him, at his squished cheek and his intent gaze. Something in you whirrs– tingles.

“...no.”

Xiaoshi laughs. “It’s not too late, you know. You’ve still got, like, a semester to go.”

You whine, squeezing your eyes shut as you groan and let your forehead hit the cover of your textbook. “It’s too late, Xiaoshi, I’m already too deep in. I’m going to receive that award with some half-assed smile and so many regrets. Imagine how many bobas I could have had if I did have the strength to skip a class. Or fried rice. Or food truck burritos! God, imagine how many burritos.”

“So many burritos.” Xiaoshi lets out a melancholic sigh, and it somewhat humors you and comforts you as you turn to face him. You meet eyes with him, both your faces pressed against the table and you give him a small laugh when he repeats more and more foods you could have enjoyed if you’d ever skipped a class.

If you ever could.

iii. 3.27 PM

The fact that Cheng Xiaoshi stands at the door frame of your math advanced class doesn’t surprise you. Neither is the fact that he’s looking at your teacher with a bitter look. Though, the fact that those two don’t surprise you is just a bit concerning. Just a bit.

“Hello,” You say, pushing at his chest as you both exit your classroom.

“You’re so right,” Says Xiaosh a little too loud for your comfort, pausing to take another good look at your professor over your shoulder. “She does look divorced.”

“Holy shit.” You cough when her head whips to the both of you. “Great, now my advanced math teacher hates me. How could I ever repay you?” You groan sarcastically, bumping your knee to his. “Actually!” Beams Xiaoshi. “There is. You were called to the office.”

“Me? Called to the office?” You repeat, suspicious. “Should Mrs. Wang kno-”

“Nuh-uh! They told me it was urgent. Involves the both of us, apparently.” Xiaoshi is quick– almost too quick, too eager– to cut you off, grabbing a hold of your wrist. The action alone makes the ends of your fingers tingle and your chest to swell, and you hope Xiaoshi can’t tell your elevating heartbeat from the beating spot of skin in your wrist.

“Did you just say nuh-uh?” You say in a small snicker, letting him drag you down the hall and several flights of stairs. “Shut up.” Laughs Xiaoshi, his stomach caving in at the sound of your enjoyment.

Though Xiaoshi mentioned the office, for some ridiculous reason, you both end up walking up to the front gates, still hand in hand. You look back, the earthy scent of autumn enveloping you as you stare at the old, wet campus building.

“Why are you taking me outside.” You ask, though it sounds more like a demand. Xiaoshi’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out. He pauses for a moment, looks back at you, then looks back at the front gates you’d just walked out of, and then turns back around.

“I’ll tell you in a minute.”

Something in you wonders why you’re letting him drag you away from the school grounds, and to the opposite direction of where you’re supposed to be right now. But the answer is clearly obvious:

You have the biggest fattest crush on this boy.

You’re not sure when it happened, but it happened, alright. You’d realized when you were talking to him as he took a break from playing basketball, and when he’d confessed that he hadn’t put sunscreen on, you immediately whipped yours out and applied it to his skin yourself. As your fingers traveled and graced across the milky, plush skin of his face, you found yourself fawning over how he just sat there, eyes shut closed, and let you.

In the end, he retreated back to his teammates with a childish smile, with his cap on your head.

“In return for the facial!”

“It was sunscreen.”

But as you clutched the hat to your chest where your heart bloomed, you realized how much he’d grown on you.

“Okay.” Says Xiaoshi, letting your hand go to adjust his jean jacket, then the thick sweater layered under it. It’s until now when you realize you’re severely underdressed for this rainy weather, but with clutched and crossed arms, you let him speak.

“Congratulations Y/N L/N! You’ve just skipped your first class!”

What. The fuck. You can’t help but think. Wordless, you stare at him blankly, waiting for a punchline or a big reveal that this had been a silly prank. But as Xiaoshi pats both your shoulders and puffs his chest out as he tells you how proud of you he is, you grimace.

“There’s no fucking way I just fell for that.” Your hand travels up to clutch the side of your face. “You just dragged me out of class! Just like that!”

“I did!” Cheers Xiaoshi. He’s too cute to be mad at, really, but you just can’t believe he did that. “Xiaoshi! This is not something to be happy about!” You declare, though you’re trying to hold back a laugh when your best friend starts wiggling his arms and shaking his hips in what you think is a celebratory dance.

“In legal terms, you just kidnapped me. You’ve kidnapped me, Cheng Xiaoshi.” You say in a dramatic voice, flailing your arms at him. “Do you realize I left my jacket in class? I’m so underdressed for this.”

Xiaoshi takes a good look at you. Scans you up and down. Then frantic, he gingerly throws his jean jacket off and ties it around his waist, rushing to escape the warm binds of his sweater. The bottom hem of his uniform lifts as he tries to get his sweater off and you pull on it, laughing when you hear a muffled thanks through his multiple layers of clothes.

Finally, he’s rid of his green sweater— it's the type of green you like, and he very well knows that— and hands it to you with a toothy grin.

Like a puppy… You think when he seems to shake like a wagging tail.

“Thank you.” Is the only thing you can say as you accept the sweater. As you bow to put it on, you’re completely engulfed in his scent. He smells warm and earthy. Like fresh blades of grass after a light rain. He smells like the sun shines– not too hot, but warm enough for a good rest under the rays of light.

There’s a hint of AXE body spray, too. A very subtle hint of it.

The feeling of personally wearing a sweater that belongs to Cheng Xiaoshi is frankly… surreal to you. The sleeves are too long for you and you bunch the extra bit of it up until it reaches the palm of your hands, breathing into them for extra warmth.

Though he’s not wearing a jacket, Xiaoshi thinks seeing you in his sweater is enough to heat him up. There’s a shiver that descends from the top of his head down his spine and he thinks he likes it– or maybe it's the cold finally getting to him.

As he throws his jean jacket back on, Xiaoshi bumps his hip into yours, “Where do you want to go now, you class-skipping menace?”

You take no time to ponder:

“We’re going to have burritos. All the burritos.”

“So many burritos.”

It’s odd how warm you suddenly feel as soon as you take the first bite into your burrito. Maybe because it’s freshly made because they just opened, maybe it’s because Xiaoshi insisted on paying for it when you realized you left your wallet in class.

You frankly left everything in there, save for yourself and your phone.

Xiaoshi hums when he finally gets a taste of his burrito, wiping at the sauce that spilled on the corner of his lips with the back of his hand. After swallowing your bite, you nod at him with a knowing, smug smirk.

“Good, huh?”

The boy nods eagerly in response, which humors you a little. You pull the thick sleeves of Xiaoshi’s sweater up to your elbows so as to not get it dirty or spilled on, but it’s evident that you’re growing cold without the extra layer (and the pits of your elbows start to sweat a little too much). Xiaoshi, noticing the thoughtful gesture, assures you to keep your forearms covered with a full mouth.

“But I’m gonna get ‘em dirty!”

“It’sh foine!” He says through the several ingredients of his burrito (which consists of: a flour tortilla, beef, baked beans and several veggies).

“Are you shore?” You mimic him, pulling your sleeves down. Despite his eyes rolling at your antics, Xiaoshi sets his food down to help you with it, the warmth of his fingers alone radiating off of your skin that he begins to help cover.

Your stomach churns as you look down at the action. His gentle fingers help unbunch the material of his sweater and they wrap around your wrist for the second time today, his thumb rubbing across the bottom of your palm.

Chest wavering, your eyes cast up and they unexpectedly meet Xiaoshi’s (though he was staring at you the whole time). There’s a moment– he gives you a moment to make up something to say to him in return– but he’s really expecting a quiet, shy thank you and a full-blown confession. “Thanksh.” You say, cracking into a smile when he groans.

“You won’t let that live down?”

“You didn’t in the summer.”

Xiaoshi ignores your response with a pout, his hands fishing for his burrito and grabbing hold of it to take another dangerously obnoxious bite into it. Boy likes his beef and baked beans.

You watch him, watch as more and more crumbs build up onto his chin until he wipes it off with a napkin and shoots it at an absurdly small trash can that sits a few feet away from you two, laughing at him when it hits the rim and misses.

“I’m bored.” You mention out of the blue when you’re finished with your burrito, crumpling the thin paper you’d used to hold your burrito with and used tissues into a big ball, handing it to Xiaoshi when he asks to have another shot into the bin. He misses.

“How the hell am I on the basketball team,” he laughs. You freeze, fingers playing with the plastic fork you were given as you ask: “you’re in the basketball team?”

“Hell yeah, I am.” Answers Xiaoshi with pride. And then a realization hits you. You’ve known Cheng Xiaoshi for nearly half a year and you barely know anything about him aside from the fact that he’s a big (maybe the biggest) goofball and he’s purely a golden retriever.

“Let’s play 21 questions.”

“All of a sudden?” He hums, swiping his hair up away from his forehead. Your head spins a little at how charming the action alone had made him. “Mhm. I barely know anything about you, and I doubt you know me more than I know you. So,”

“What I’m getting here,” Xiaoshi pauses, his face leaning closer to yours as he plants his elbow against the table. He wears a boyish smile and it makes your head buzz. “You wanna get to know me better, huh?”

“Exactly.” You say in a whisper, the ends of your fingers tingling when his smile grows at your response alone.

“Alright, I’ll go first: what’s your shoe size?”

You can’t help but let out a loud chuckle, “You’re so weird!”

“21 questions are 21 questions! Answer me.” Defends Xiaoshi, though he’s laughing with you.

“Alright, I’m like a decent size 40.”

“Only? I’m like, 43. I win.”

You’re about to comment on the fact that Xiaoshi just considered comparing shoe sizes for competition, but you don’t think you want to when he tells you not to be sour in a coo, patting your arm. He teases you in a sweet way, and you know he means no ill intent.

“Opinion on pineapple on pizza?”

“I’m neutral.” You shrug. Nodding, Xiaoshi wears a contemplating look, “I, for one, am all for it. You can never go bad with sweet and savory. In my opinion,” He pauses to press a hand against his chest. “I think they make a great pair. Soulmates, even.”

“Oh, yeah?” You hum. “That’s an interesting way to think of it. Between the two of us, who would you think is the sweet and who’s the savory?”

Oh. Xiaoshi looks at you, a light in his eyes as he wonders. You think he’s pondering for the answer, but he’s already got that figured out. You were the sweet to his savory. What he really was wondering was: were you regarding him as your soulmate when you asked that? He can’t tell. You’d said it in such a naive, innocent, genuine tone that makes him fold.

“You,” He starts, tapping his heel against the pavement of the street floor. “are a sweet cutie patootie sugar booger honey bun-”

“Oh my god, shut up.” You laugh loudly, leaning over to lightly press your hand against the direct front of his face that he teases nearer you. “Your turn, savory.”

“It’s your turn, sweets. Don’t you know how taking turns works?” Jests Xiaoshi, his cheek still pressed against your outstretched hand. You shake your head, "I took it already– I just asked you which of us were sweet and savory– don't you know how questions work?"

“Very well,” He replies, removing his face from your taunting grasp. “Favorite Pringles flavor?”

“Sour cream and onion.”

“I thought you were sweet,”

You roll your eyes, ignoring his quip, “Go-to takeout?”

“Pizza. And boba. Favorite movie?”

“It has to be any of Wes Anderson’s movies. Oh wait! Ghibli, too,” You nod your head momentarily. “You?”

“Say Something for sure. A classic.” Answers Xiaoshi with his whole chest, nodding with a proud smile. You stay quiet, lips thinned and fingers retreating to play with the sleeve of his sweater. It takes the boy a moment to fully digest the look you wear: one of a little embarrassment and guilt.

“No.” He gasps. “You’ve never watched Say Something?” There’s a shock and what sounds to you a small bit of hurt (feigned, of course). Wordless, you answer with a shake of your head. He presses the back of his palm against his forehead, faking a faint as he falls back against his chair.

“You’ve wounded me, Y/N. Look at me, a dead man!” You scoff, nudging his knee with yours under the table, and it sends a little electricity through him. “Stop being so dramatic! You’ll get over it.”

“Anyways, what’s the daily agenda of the oh-so-popular golden boy, hm?” You ask. Xiaoshi, still slouched back into his chair, gives you a questioning look, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you have a lot of friends. A lot of friends mean a lot of plans. A lot of basketball games, a lot of karaoke runs, a lot of parties. Am I right?”

The look the boy gives you says you’re absolutely wrong. He stays silent for a moment, spending his time to think as he watches your expression fall from a smile to one of a lost thought. “I don’t have a lot of friends, Y/N,” He admits. “I just know a lot of people. I don’t take anyone out to a food truck burrito run.”

Your stomach caves in at the way he regards you. Or rather, the fact that he emphasized the fact that he treated you differently.

“And I don’t party. Well- okay, I’ve been to a few, but it’s not my type of genre, you feel me?” Xiaoshi’s hands press together and he looks at you a certain way as if waiting for your verdict.

“Oh.” Is all you can say. You’re surprised. But something in you tells you that you shouldn’t be, because he’s literally eating burritos with you right now. Why on earth would he hang out with you if he had other friends to spend time with?

“You seem disappointed.” He deadpans. Immediately, you shake your hands and head at him, denying fervently. “No, no, no, not like that! It just seemed like you were a big party person.” You confess with a certain tone in your voice, one of slight remorse. “It’s… surprising you’d hang out with me, actually. But it’s nice of you to. I like spending time with you.”

You bloom a certain warmth in Xiaoshi’s chest. It swirls and spirals, accumulating enough to just burst out of his abdomen. He feels as if he’s about to float. All the fall cold that had been itching its way past his layers and onto his skin had just melted away merely by the heat he radiated after hearing you say that you’d enjoyed spending time with him. He feels like he could fly and fall at the same time, but he thinks he prefers falling if you’re there to catch him in the end.

Oh. This is bad. This is really, really bad. Here, in the cold hour of 3.27 PM, on a table that you’d just shared burritos with, the realization that Cheng Xiaoshi had fallen in love with you just hit him.

Though, it doesn’t really seem bad anymore. Falling in love in front of a food truck could be romantic, right? It doesn’t really matter to him. Not when his mouth parts, voice lumped and stuck in his throat as he attempts to tell you how sudden and how hard you’d just made him fall in love with you. He wants to tell you in the form of words; in the form of touch; in the form of mingling breaths and intertwined fingers; in the form of his palm pressed against the skin of your jaw, drawing you closer as his whispers fan the lobe of your ear.

But, no. All that comes out is a quiet, shaky:

“I like spending time with you. Too.”

You wear a smile. Then you give him a small, but bashful and shy laugh. He thinks he might die at the sight. Cheng Xiaoshi wants nothing in the world right now but to hold you in his arms– or be held in your arms. Either way, as long as his skin is pressed against yours, he’s all for it. He wants you to run your fingers through his hair, for his head to rest on the soft flesh of your thighs or arms or frankly any limb you’d be willing to offer to him because god your touch looks just too good to waste.

But he knows he can’t. Not now. Not when you’re telling him to ask you a question and when he does, it’s a dumb, shallow, vague one that you answer with heart and mind anyway because you care about this game. You care about getting to know him. That’s what makes you worth every bit of love this universe has to offer, he thinks.

“That’s enough,” You groan, staring into a street light– which you really shouldn’t, because it’s illuminating light shines and blinds directly into your eyes, and you groan everytime that happens.

“One more,” Pants Xiaoshi, picking up the round and faded basketball, dribbling it past the 3-point indicator line. He repositions himself, his knees bending just slightly as he adjusts his aim. With a jump, he stretches his arms out, the ball flying out of his hand and traveling right through the center of the ring.

Xiaoshi sings a little ‘whoop!’ as he jogs over to you.

You’re laid out on the court floor, bored out of your mind as you start staring straight at the streetlight just to feel a little entertained. You fiddle with the boy’s bottle in both your hands, and he lends down to pick it out of your hands, sounding a thank you, though you don’t respond.

Xiaoshi sits by your feet, tilting his head at your lack of response. “Sweets? You good?”

That damned nickname. Ever since he’d forced you to bail and went to get burritos with you, it was all he ever called you. Not like you’re complaining, but how could he frankly expect you to return a verbal, sane response after what’s practically a couple’s pet name?

But you do respond, of course, throwing a thumbs up his way as you nudge him with your shoe.

“You know,” Xiaoshi starts, setting his bottle down to lay down next to you. This doesn’t help your case at all, your body tingling when his hand brushes against yours during the action. “You can just go home. You don’t have to stay with me while I practice.”

“Nuh-uh,” You reply, shaking a finger at him. “I’m like, officially your number one fan. Who else would be your fanclub president if not me?”

“I’m just saying, a fan doesn’t spend hours with their idols. They always say: ‘never meet your idols.’” Xiaoshi shrugs, and you can feel his arm brushing up against your uniform. It makes you nervous. Nevertheless, you face him, stomach churning when he mimics you, your noses nearly touching at the close proximity.

“You’re not so bad to meet.”

Xiaoshi doesn’t think you know just how crazy you make him feel. His heart beats faster and more rapidly than when he was shooting hoops and doing drills. He lets a moment pass by, the air settling as he counts how many times he can feel your breath brush his chin.

“Neither are you.”

You smile. He can see your teeth a little. Your cheeks puff out and your lips stretch in a nice way that makes him want to kiss you until you can’t breathe.

But he can’t do that.

Not when you’re sitting up and patting his thigh and urging him to walk you home. Not when you hand him his bottle and brush the dirt off his sweater that you still haven’t returned (but he doesn’t mind because it just means in the ultimate time you do, it’ll smell like you). Not when he carries both your backpacks and pats a beat against yours that he has pressed to his chest.

But he really wants to, though.

There’s a little bounce in your step as you walk a few feet ahead of him, cooing at how much faster at walking you are than a basketball player, but he’s really just staying behind because he likes watching you walk.

Suddenly, there’s a lump in his throat. He attempts to swallow it down. It doesn’t work. He wonders what it is, but he doesn’t think he cares because you rub your hands together with the sleeves of his hoodie and he likes the sight of it. But whatever it is, it’s bubbling and rising and it tastes weird in the back of his mouth.

Suddenly it spills out. The words spill out.

You’d stopped in your tracks, turning around slowly at him with a shocked expression.

Shit! What had he said?

“What?” It seems you don’t know either, because you tilt your head at him (and he thinks it's adorable) and ask him to repeat what he’d said. Xiaoshi shakes his head, “Wait, I blanked out. What did I say?”

“You screamed something along the lines of ‘date and say something.’”

Oh shit. Cheng Xiaoshi had asked you out on a date unconsciously.

“Oh, there’s, uh, a showing of Say Something in the local theater. They like to rerun old films. No one really goes there, anymore, so we don’t have to if you don’t want to-”

“No!” You suddenly yell, and for some reason, you both jump. “I’d really, really like to see Say Something with you. Y’know, since you were so hurt by the fact that I haven’t watched it.”

There it is again. The blooming in his chest. It’s crazy he hasn’t fallen into a cardiac arrest yet. You smile at him, and he finds it contagious, smiling back even harder. You tell him something about you having to hurry home and telling him to hurry, and he does. He runs with you, the two backpacks that had just weighed him down now feeling weightless as they bounce against his back and chest because he’s jogging down a hill towards your house.

iv. unsaid.

Cheng Xiaoshi is dressed in his best pair of jeans and his favorite bomber jacket layered with a sweater underneath– he hopes you aren’t wearing anything thick enough so he could lend this one to you too, as stupid as the idea is.

He spends a solid five minutes in front of the mirror, telling himself many things:

“You got this.”

“Don’t screw up.”

“Act cool.”

“Do not screw it up.”

He takes one last good look at himself, huffing as he smooths the collar of his sweater, unable to rest at the thought of spending a night alone with you in what will most likely be a deserted theater. Nothing to screw up there.

Grabbing the house keys– because both Qiao Ling and Lu Guang had better plans to do rather than stay at home and help Xiaoshi get ready after he begged the both of them to– and stuffing them into the pocket of his bomber jacket, he repeats the three crucial words to himself over and over: “Don’t screw up.”

There’s not one thought running through his mind that’s not about you as he twists at the doorknob, mindlessly stepping out and turning around to lock the front door. Completely disregarding the fact that his teammates are pulled up in a red camaro in front of his house, Xiaoshi doesn’t think twice about immediately turning to the direction of the theater.

“Hey, Cheng Xiaoshi!”

Shocked, the said boy’s shoulders shrug up as he turns around, feet almost stumbling against the small bit of ice that had frozen on the pavement overnight. “Oh- hey! What are you doing here?”

“Giving you a ride to Hu’s, what else?”

Oh shit. Cheng Xiaoshi had completely forgotten about the pregame party he’d been invited to. Of course, he had no intention to go. But his teammates are stubborn, too stubborn.

“Sorry, guys, I can’t make it tonight.” Replies Xiaoshi, trying his best to sound guilty. One of them tilts his head, looks him up and down and asks: “Where else are you going, dressed like that?”

“I’ve… got a date.”

“Ah, come on!” His teammate scoffs, waving his hand in the air. “You can’t win yourself plenty of dates at the party. What’s one?”

One is with you. He can’t really afford to miss it, not for the world. Xiaoshi shrugs, turning around as he tells them: “Sorry, I can’t just stand someone up like that.”

“How do you know they’re not at the party? Can’t you just invite them there, whoever you’re going out with?”

Jesus. It’s not that easy, is it? Xiaoshi isn’t the golden boy they make him out to be. Their Xiaoshi was hand crafted and molded by their standards of a tall, charming basketball player that had many admirers. A porcelain that’s hollow inside. Hollow and filled with echoes of what they claim him to be. A player, a charmer, and MVP.

Almost all his life, Xiaoshi had been living to fit what everyone wants and expects him to be. And though he really, really wants to break through that porcelain and completely deny what they demand, he doesn’t think he has the strength to do that. Not even now, as his mind races with thoughts about you: how you look waiting for him in front of the theater, how you smell of cinnamon and gingerbread because you’d been making cookies with your mother at home, how warm you feel as you sit next to him, your arm pressed up against his.

Xiaoshi can hear his teammates begging him to come, and he absolutely despises it. Despises how his chest aches with guilt because his friends just want him to have fun with them.

He turns around, gives them a serious, pointed look, “Ten minutes, and then you drive me to the theater. Got it?”

“Got it! You’re the best, Cheng Xiaoshi!”

The tip of your nose is numb and you rub it in hopes that its sense will return. The theater is open and its warmth lures you in to welcome you, but you don’t want to enter before meeting with Xiaoshi.

You bring the collar of the hoodie you wear up to your chin, closing your eyes shut as if it’d help. It doesn’t. Taking out your phone from your pocket, on its screen projects the fact that Xiaoshi is ten minutes late. Your stomach drops, but you scold yourself for it, refusing to think lowly of Xiaoshi.

He’s going to show up any second now, sweating although it’s extremely cold out, nearly slipping on ice as he spits a spew of feverish apologies, cheeks dusted pink because of the cold. And you’re going to lean up, swipe a few snowflakes out of his hair and reassure him that you hadn’t been waiting too long. He’s going to lead you inside, take you by the arm and sit you right next to him in the warm seats of the theater, and whisper a few words in your ear; something along the lines of “you’ll love this movie, I promise you” or “you’re going to see what I was dying about, sweets.”

And he’s going to call you that name. That god-forbidden name that shouldn’t make you absolutely melt into an icky, thick puddle because it’s generic and commonly used in western movies. But it does. He does. Cheng Xiaoshi makes you melt as if you’re stuck in the summer, when you first met him, the electricity he sent when he’d handed you your book and your fingers brushed still humming through your fingers until now.

But he doesn’t.

You wait another ten minutes, then twenty, then thirty. A solid hour had passed and you’re still left outside in the cold, shaking and jittering as you constantly check your phone for any sign of him.

The old janitor had spotted you and called you to enter many times, but every time you informed him: “I’m waiting for someone.”

And he responds: “I hope this someone is worth waiting in the cold for.”

And typically, you’d completely agree with the statement. But now, as nearly all your limbs are frozen from either the cold or from standing for a solid hour, you don’t think you can agree with it. Not when your hopes had been so incredibly high. Not when you’d spent the whole day getting ready both mentally and physically. Not when your mother kissed the crown of your head and reassured you of the fact that this night was going to be as warm and as welcoming and as safe as it was in every other season.

No. The cold bites at your skin and you grow bitter and tired and cold.

“You promised me you would drive me to the theater.”

“Do I look like I’m in the condition to drive?”

Xiaoshi wants to punch this guy. Square in the jaw, or nose, or frankly anywhere. With the way he’s slurring his words and swinging his drink around in his hand makes himself practically a target with a big red circle in his face. But he knows better. Especially when he knows something as worth it as you awaits for him later.

“Okay,” Replies Xiaoshi, holding back the urge to roll his eyes as he sets his friend down on the couch. “You take it easy, alright cap? I gotta head out.”

“What? No! If this is about your stupid date, I swear to god we can find you one here that’s probably better than wherever you originally planned to be tonight.”

Okay, this guy was really testing his limits. Xiaoshi’s hands fist at his sides and he gives him a look, a dangerous one that no one had ever seen him wear. After a moment of contemplation, his teammate finally groans, waving with his hand, “Fine, bye. Go have fun on that super fun date.”

Xiaoshi doesn’t spare anyone one second to greet them goodbye, he grabs his bomber jacket that had been hung up on a coat hanger and immediately sprints out of the house, nearly tripping over the ice and the snow because Hu hadn’t shoveled his damn driveway and he can barely see because the sun had already disappeared.

“Shit, shit, shit.” The one thing Xiaoshi had to do was to not screw it up. What had happened? He screwed it up, because he’s such a damn people pleaser he can’t make one decision for himself.

The theater is a solid half an hour away on foot from Hu’s, but Xiaoshi made it in 10. His stomach drops and his head spins when he suddenly stops to a halt, his heels skidding against the ice against the pavement. You’re not here. You don’t stand in front of the theater like he’d imagined, and he thinks he wants to scream.

He rushes inside, breathless, searching frantically everywhere and calling out your name.

“If yer the fella that lovely one’s been waitin’ for,” An elderly suddenly speaks, his voice seemingly echoing and ricocheting against the walls of the theater, though it was built to be soundproof. “They’ve just gone. Probably still a block or two away.”

Xiaoshi mutters a quick thank you and wastes absolutely no time in sprinting, nearly falling to his knees when he takes a sharp turn to the left. And there you were, walking with a sullen face underneath a streetlamp.

This part of town was one of the first sections to be built, so many of the antique streetlights are either too dim to see, or have completely died. But the one you stand under illuminates brightly, showing your breath dissipating in the air as you heave a sigh.

His feet act before he thinks. He runs through the snow, the crunch against ice alerting you when he’s nearly a few feet away from you. You don’t want to look. Not when there are tears brimming your eyes.

“Y/N, I’m-” Xiaoshi is completely winded– not because he’d just sprinted nearly across town, but because he can see he had clearly hurt you. He can’t tell how long you’d been waiting for him, but considering the sour look you give him, he assumes you’d been waiting a long time, and he aches inside.

“I’m sorry.”

That’s all he can say. All that he’s willing to say. He’s afraid that if he let out any more, it’d escalate and he’d be going on and on about how deep in love he is with you and how much remorse in him there is right now and how much self poison is boiling in his stomach, bubbling and popping nearly out of his throat.

You look at him dead in the eye. Though he’d made you wait all that time, you don’t think you can look at him as if he had done you wrong. You look at him as if you try to understand him and what he’s going through– because you want to. You want to look at him like you hate him, and you want to say it too, but you can’t help but do the opposite.

“I love you, Cheng Xiaoshi.” You let out, and the boy twitches, as if you’d snapped something in him. But he’s still wordless, and you think you hate that.

“I love you, like a lot. And I’m not going to let one mishap get in the way of our friendship over these months. But waiting for you, out there, in the cold and in the snow, I felt embarrassed. Like I was throwing away my time– and maybe I was.” Tears flow down from the rims of your eyes and trail down your cheeks. Though it’s nearly a negative temperature out, your tears are hot against your skin. They’re hot and boiling and filled with both love and hatred.

Suddenly, you step forward and hit him in the chest. He lets you. You do it again, a sound escaping you. “Where were you? You better tell me the damn truth.” You spit.

“I was at a party.” Answers Xiaoshi with no hesitation. It just came out. He wants to explain about how his asshole teammates that he can’t believe he’d called his friends forced him into coming and refused to let him go anywhere else, but his body doesn’t let him.

You let out a laugh, one of disbelief. “You are the school’s golden boy, aren’t you? You are every little stereotype they call you. You’re charming, you’re handsome. You’re friendly.” You pause, letting out a shaky breath. “You’re a liar.”

“No,” Whispers Xiaoshi, though strained. You shake your head at him. “You’re a liar and a thief.” He’d stolen your heart, afterall, “You’re the golden boy. And I hate that I’ve learned to love every part of you, even the ones that hurt me.”

You want to turn around a walk away, but a part of you forces you to stay. Forces you to look him in the eye, forces a little bit of hope into your chest as he looks back at you. His mouth parts, and something in you jumps.

"I'm... sorry."

You don't know what he's sorry for: leaving you to wait for him in the snow for an hour, or you loving him. You don't want to find out, nodding as you bite the flesh on the inside of your cheek, resisting the tears that urge to fall from your eyes.

You’re walking away now. He hadn’t fully processed it, but as you're walking away, he can make out the crunch of the snow under your feet, and the sounds of your sniffles traveling away, further and further. His fingers twitch.

He screwed up. He always screws up.

But he can’t believe he’d screwed up in telling you how much he loved you. How much he’d wanted to reach out and caress you, whisper apologies in his ear in every form he has to offer. How much he was willing to bet he loved you more than anyone could love him.

Cheng Xiaoshi is always one to leave things unsaid, because in most cases it’s better if he does. But he’s become so conditioned to it that in times like this, his body is not his own anymore, and what he wants to say doesn’t come out, and what he wants to do doesn’t happen.

He can still see your silhouette under another streetlight shining, or maybe it’s just a light that follows you. And as much as he hated it, Xiaoshi had noticed that even when you beat at his chest, crying and overflowing with tears, you still felt warm. He doesn’t think he deserves to feel that warmth anymore.

v. winner, winner, chicken dinner!

You don’t know what you’re doing. Legs pressed up against your chest, you bite at your nails as your free hand hovers over the spacebar key of your laptop. The opening scene of the wretched movie ‘Say Something’ is projected across your screen and you fully intend on watching it, as much as it hurts you. A film or a memory to hold on to because Cheng Xiaoshi will not be wanting to see you anymore.

And as the film introduces its main character, Lloyd Dobler, you hate the fact that he reminds you so much of him. Just a big and strong guy that doesn’t stop chasing this girl that he likes– though you don’t think you could play the role of Diane. Not in this story.

Cheng Xiaoshi is like Lloyd Dobler in many ways. He’s not the brightest, but he’s loyal. He loves his family. He can’t keep still. In some cases, you even think he can box, too. He’s supportive of those he keeps close to him. He’d rather live in the moment, and can barely think about the future without letting his mouth run about what he thinks of his future.

And you hate that you know all this, because you still love him. You know you shouldn’t, because he practically rejected you with that last apology, but god, was it hard to hate someone like him.

He’s the golden boy. Shiny and untouchable.

You’re honestly surprised you let your feelings brew this much before realizing that he is untouchable. And it’ll always remain that way.

You’ve reached the part of the movie where Diane and Lloyd kiss after she’d led him to nearly break his nose, whispering apologies and reasons why she loves him and needs him. You ache inside. Bitter, you huff and close your laptop shut (a little too harshly) and bury your face into the covers of your bed, wanting nothing but to scream. And you do, and it creates this wet spot on your pillow but you’re too miserable to feel disgusted and wipe it away.

As much as Xiaoshi reminded you of Lloyd, he was Diane in this situation. He’d hurt you and left you to fend for yourself.

It is officially spring and a solid week before Xiaoshi plays against what might be the nation’s best high school basketball team, and he’s worried completely about something else. His arms stretch up and he shoots the firm basketball out of his palms, grimacing when it all but just bounces off the rim of the ring.

Shit.

This is not good. Why the hell was he here, anyway? He should be jogging to your house, knocking on every crevice because you’d refuse to open the front door for him. He should be climbing up to your window, looking at you with desperate eyes and tell you how much he loves you and how much he doesn’t deserve to be loved by you.

As it happens, he doesn’t believe you in fact love him. Not as much as he adores you, at least, because he finds himself utterly unlovable yet that’s the one thing he asks of you. To be loved, to be held, to be comforted and appreciated.

Xiaoshi can’t make his mind up and he’s extremely furious at himself for it. This is no love or hate situation, but he can’t help the latter. The hate. Not towards you, but towards himself. There’s no way in this world anyone could convince him he could be loved as much as he loved– and yet, you did. You convinced him one winter night, where the first snowfall had happened.

Something so sweet and innocent, ruined by tragedy and his stupidity.

“Hey.” Xiaoshi is startled out of his inattentive state with a firm hand smacked to his shoulder. “You alright, man? You aren’t looking good these days.” Though his teammate voices clear concern, it’s obvious he only cares because of an upcoming game that Xiaoshi really needs his head in the game for.

“I’m good,” Answers Xiaoshi, brushing his hand off with a hollow smile. “Just bad sleep.”

Bad sleep, his ass. Bad sleep, anyone's ass! He couldn’t get a wink of sleep because he’s always up thinking about you, about what he should have said to you on that winter night.

Cheng Xiaoshi’s chest beats erratically in his chest, and he can’t tell if it's pre-game shivers or the fact that you’re sitting on a bleacher next to Lu Guang and Qiao Ling, clad in the sweater you still haven’t returned since autumn. He hadn’t seen or talked to you since the day he tried to apologize. He was convinced you’d hate his guts– but here you were. He knows you’re not the type of person to hold an argument like that to heart, but you’d still avoided him the whole half month he tried to reach out to you in the halls or through your number.

Frankly, you don’t even know why you’re here, either. Xiaoshi had rejected you (though he really doesn’t realize you think so): shouldn’t that be enough of a hint for you to back off?

“There he is,” Qiao Ling mentions as the basketball team makes their way onto the court. As you turn to watch said team, Xiaoshi’s eyes meet yours for a brief second, and you can clearly read the surprise in them, but ignore it with thinned lips as you tear your gaze from him, electing that striking up a conversation with Lu Guang would ease the harsh thumping against your chest.

“I don’t get it; why didn’t you join the team?” You ask Lu Guang, his lowly-lidded eyes examining the opposing team. “Sure, I’m good,” He says, blunt. “But I play purely for fun. Plus, I don’t like getting too sweaty.”

“Please, don’t you know how many more people would fawn over you if they knew you were smart and skilled in sports?”

“I am not skilled in sports. Plus, that’s just more of a reason for me not to join. I don’t like people.”

Wow. A very Lu Guang thing to say coming from the boy himself.

“Aren’t they the team that made it to nationals last year?” Gasps Qiao Ling as she swings an arm around your shoulder, urging you to look with her. With your shoulder pressed against hers, you do in fact recognize the logo and jerseys from the sports channel you’d distinctly watched last year– your classmate had made you watch it with him.

Qiao Ling mutters a small, quiet curse under her breath, “You think he can beat them?”

Without a beat or a second of hesitation, you answer firmly: “Yeah.”

The older girl turns and gives you a look, and you roll your eyes at her, “I’ve seen the boy play. Surely you have, too,”

“Yeah, but, you answered in like, a heartbeat.”

“He’s like, a basketball god, Qiao Ling. He’s not the golden boy for no reason.”

You hate the fact that you admit it, even though you’ve said it nearly a million times before. Qiao Ling is about to say something, but the two, very bold, student commentators cut her sentence short with a brief introduction to the match and each team player.

Your mind blanks. You can hear cheering from both the students of your school and the opposing school. The commentators introduce their MVP first: Xiaoshi. He wears a shy smile as he jogs to the center of the court, bowing politely. You can’t help but smile a little at his bashful behavior. And for a moment, you think he looks at you. You can’t tell by the students’ waving arms in front of you nearly blocking your vision. But even if he did or not, your heart nearly pauses for a second, and your hearing becomes faded and warped– as if you were underwater.

All you can hear now is your slow breathing, your heartbeat; all you can feel is the warmth you relish in as you wear his sweater, even though it’s spring and unnecessary.

And then he takes a look at the other side of the bleachers, smiling brightly when his friends from sociology cheer his name like fanboys.

Qiao Ling comments something about the biggest player on the opposing team and you nod, though you didn’t really fully comprehend what she’d said.

Xiaoshi is completely short of breath and he hadn’t even started playing. He tries to convince himself it’s because nearly the whole crowd had cheered him on, but he knows better. The one fleeting second he had stolen just to look at you left him dazed and he doesn’t think he can play if you’re going to be looking at him like that the whole time.

Standing in the center, the match begins with a loudd whistle from the referee, andd suddenly everything around him is moving rapidly. The muscles of his legs force him to move and suddenly he’s jogging past an opponent, his arm stretching out and waving for the ball.

Every part of his body that functions right now is running off of pure adrenaline and muscle memory, his mind still in a fuzzy haze that clears slowly. He suddenly feels the rough edge of the ball in his hand. His fingers trace and grip along the leather material of the basketball, and in pure instinct, his knees bend low and his hands dribble the ball like it was as easy as breathing.

Swift and nearly too quick to miss, Xiaoshi races across the court with the ball bouncing in his hand, and he runs up to the ring, jumping and scoring a point for his team with a right hand layup.

The crowd screams. The haze that had clouded Xiaoshi’s mind fades and clears, and with a bright, toothy grin, he turns immediately to your side of the bleachers, meeting eyes with you.

You, who’s stunned and hands cover your mouth because the whole thing had happened so fast and so early within the game. You, who doesn’t look away this time, but instead cups your hands around your mouth as you shout: “Go, Cheng Xiaoshi!” You, who can’t help but let out a joyous laugh when he throws two thumbs up in the air, winking. The crowd goes wild over the sight, chanting his name over and over.

For the remainder of the match, Xiaoshi scores and scores and scores, and everytime he spins to look at you. And when you cheer for him, he feels like the energy he had just exerted throughout the game was recharged and even doubled. You look at him with a toothy grin, throwing a thumb-up at him, and he literally thinks the whole world revolves around him and the fact that you just gave him one.

There’s one last minute left of the game. The entire gymnasium is quiet, save for the players’ quick pants and sneakers squeaking under the polished wood. Your breath is bated, and you don’t know whether to watch the ball, the opponents, or Xiaoshi. The ball flies from one teammate’s grasp to another and every time it does

your fingers stretch and flinch a little and even muscle and bone in your body pauses. It’s frankly killing you.

The ball travels between at least every player on the team, until it eventually falls into the hands of Cheng Xiaoshi.

With 10 seconds to his name, the boy aims, his breath cutting short in his throat, his knees bending naturally as he prepares himself to shoot. And then his fingers flex, and the ball flies out of his hands, traveling gracefully yet painstakingly in the air. It bounces against the rim once. Then twice.

You think it’s going to bounce again one more time, but you’re wrong because Lu Guang exhales just a split second the orange leathery ball rolls through the ring. He’d known. He could tell already.

You’re shocked.

But you don’t have time to be, because after at least 5 seconds worth of silence, the entire gymnasium erupts in cheers and everyone around you is standing up, save for Lu Guang who wears a rare smile.

Qiao Ling grabs onto your arm and shakes it, jumping with her eyes shut as she yells: “Holy shit- we won!”

Holy shit. They won. We won. He won.

Grabbing onto her two hands with your own, you jump up and down with her, at some point grabbing onto Lu Guang’s hand and nearly forcing him to bounce with the both of you.

Xiaoshi, from below, watches as the three of you celebrate, his face warming when he sees you mouth the words: “Oh my god” over and over again. Although the entire team and nearly the entire student body that had come to watch rushed down to him, he had zero intentions with anyone else. All he wanted to do right now was be with you, letting you hold his hand as you tell him how crazy his last shot had been.

But he can’t, because his legs turn jelly and the adrenaline that had been piloting him the whole time is suddenly shut off. The team captain swings his arm around Xiaoshi’s shoulders, yelling, “To our MVP!” But everything feels and sounds warped to the said boy.

“Don’t miss out on the post-game party!”

Great, thinks Xiaoshi. Another party to get mad at my friends at. Though, he’s convinced even you might be there, so he might just go.

“Post-game party?” You repeat, turning to both your friends. “Are you guys going?”

“Obviously not.”

“Yeah, I am.”

Lu Guang and Qiao Ling both give each other looks due to the difference in answers, and it almost cracks you up. The girl turns to you, her expression hopeful, but you almost immediately shake your head at her, “Sorry, you know I’m not a party person.”

“But come for me!”

“I already attended this game for you!”

“Okay, fair,” Hums Qiao Ling, her finger tapping against her cheek before she sighs with a click of her tongue. “Fine, have fun, you cozy homebodies!”

“We will.” Answers Lu Guang as you both watch her walk away with a friend that had called her over. The boy turns to you, “You,” he plants his hand to your shoulder, and you almost shiver. You’d never seen this look on his face. It almost seems… conflicted. “You’d better make things right with Xiaoshi. Please. He keeps whining about trying to think of ways to make it up to you.”

“To make it up to me? I’m in the wrong here, am I not?”

“You think so?” Lu Guang’s voice is graced with slight sarcasm, and you think you like it that way. You nod, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

“...this is a conversation you should be having with Xiaoshi.”

After sending you an encouraging squeeze to the shoulder and a gentle , tight-lipped smile, Lu Guang descends from the bleachers, swiping through the crowd almost too easily. You watch him, chest growing heavier yet lighter at the same time at the mere thought of talking to Xiaoshi again after months of avoiding each other and exams and basketball.

You don’t think you can bear it, frankly, but you feel like it’s a tide. It’s slow but inevitable. As you step down from the bleachers, you look back at the center of the court, where the basketball team has a brief talk with the coach, and through the many figures of his teammates, Xiaoshi still somehow meets eyes with you, his shining in something you can’t figure out yet.

You let yourself linger, counting as your heart skips a beat or two, before tearing away, heaving a sigh you hadn’t meant to hold in.

Xiaoshi’s knee jumps up and down as he can barely watch you exit the court hall, holding back a whine because his coach is taking too long in debriefing and congratulating. He wipes at his browline, looking to the ceiling lights and squinting, attempting to ease the eagerness in him to just run after you.

And then he realizes: he’d been resisting to this whole half semester, why should he now? He’s earned it.

“And don’t forget your defense transitio-”

“Hey, coach?”

Xiaoshi interjects with a finger stuck up in the air, pulling his hair back with his other palm. His teacher, a little stunned, replies with a quiet ‘yes?’ and it takes nearly everything in the boy not to jump up from his spot on the polished floors.

“I need to go to the bathroom. Like, really, really bad.”

“...right now?”

“Yes, right now. I can’t hold it in, teach,”

Well, that’s half true. The coach looks at him, slightly humored as he waves a sign of permission with the back of his palm.

Immediately, he springs up to his feet, wasting no time in sprinting straight through the door and narrowly passing students taking their time in the hall.

Xiaoshi never realized how fast you walked, because within that minute of holding back in the court, you’d made it to the gates by the time he spotted you. The place is strangely deserted, but that’s probably because everyone is taking the way behind the school to get to the post-game party in the woods. Your hands are jammed into the pouch of his hoodie and you watch your feet as you move, and anyone could tell there was something troubling you just by looking at you.

Your name is stuck in his throat. He wants to yell for you, call out to you and just grab and engulf you in his arms, but he doesn’t want to scare you. It’s 8PM and he knows how jumpy you get when you’re out at night.

Instead, he lightly jogs behind you, nimble fingers stretching out to just barely graze his hoodie you wear. Though he’d barely touched anything, you stop almost promptly, feet planted right next to each other as you listen to the sound of the soles of Xiaoshi’s shoes scraping to a stop against the pavement ground.

“...Y/N.”

The sound of your name escaping his lips makes you inhale sharply, and you’re hesitant to turn around. But you do anyway, because there’s a pulling force gravitating you towards him, like the moon and the earth. The first part of him you see are his pair of jordans, slightly worn out with a loose yarn by the tongue of the shoe. Then you spot his knees, taking notice of how they’re a little darker than the rest of his legs, littered by a scab or two. His fingers clench and unclench in fists, and his elbows nearly lift towards you, and you’d let full heartedly let him hug you– you think you want him to right now.

“Xiaoshi.” You finally breathe back, nearly everything in you shivering once you meet his gaze. He looks at you as if full of remorse and want, and it shakes something in you.

“I missed you, sweets.” He says, voice hoarse and quiet. You nearly erupt in butterflies or honey bees or whatever bug invades your stomach that he never fails to elicit in you. His fingers stretch and pause in the air for a brief moment, before they settle, your sleeve pinched between his grip. He tugs a little, just a little, and yet it feels as if that alone had brought everything pieced together– his words to you, your feelings for him, his breath fanning your forehead as he breathes out a sigh.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.” You say, but this time you look at him and you mean it and it hurts him. “I’m sorry I told you how I felt about you with no regard to how you would feel. And for calling you a liar. And a thief.” The last parts come out in a guilty whisper, like a child confessing to their wrongdoing. “You have every right to tell me to get out of your face– and your life– and to not want to speak to me ever again.”

The air is thick when you finish, but Xiaoshi doesn’t let go of your sleeve. In fact, you think he grips it tighter, now in all five fingers instead of just the two.

“Actually,” You cough. “Frankly, I’m a liar. I-I said I wasted my time waiting for you. But I was wrong. Actually, I can’t believe I ever said that. You are worth… everything. Everything this universe— and I have to offer. You give so much to this world, you’re changing lives! And nothing, and I mean nothing can ever amount to waste when it comes to you.” You look up at him, your fingers tracing around and holding his wrist.

“I’m sorry.” And though you’d already said it earlier, the sound of your voice and the look in your eyes portray the exact same kind of apology Xiaoshi had given you that night. “You are a thief, though,” You laugh through bitterness, the confused tilt of his head far too adorable for you to hate it. “You’re a dirty thief for stealing the stupid, little thing in my chest that beats only when you’re around.”

Xiaoshi’s head might just explode at the load you’d just chucked at him with your own bare fist. The feeling of your fingers loosely hanging around his wrist that grips at your hoodie prickles and gives him a small shockwave– the nice one you always give him when your skin touches his.

“...you really don’t expect me to take without giving back, do you?”

“Huh?”

Suddenly you’re wrapped in Xiaoshi’s firm grip, his arms gripping around your waist and his chin tucked right on top of the crown of your head. “You’re so stupid sometimes, Y/N.” He sighs, the vibrations of his chest as he speaks ricocheting through you like echoes.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You can’t help but argue into his clothed shoulder, drooping your arms around his chest. “That’s rich coming from Mr. 50 points on his last math quiz.”

Xiaoshi pinches your sides lightly at your quick retort and you jump with a gasp, smacking his shoulder when he laughs. His scent, his warmth, his touch. you’re so relieved to feel all again. He sways you slowly from side to side, breath steadying but his heart still beating as fast as a racer’s– and you can feel it faintly when your cheek presses up against him.

There’s nothing to stop the both of you as you hold each other close. The rays of the sun become cooler as it sets, painting the skies several hues of pink and orange. Your shoes are pressed against his, his two feet planted on either side of yours, nearly completely engulfing you in him.

“I’m so madly in love with you, Y/N,” Xiaoshi finally says, though it really just… escaped him. You freeze against him and it forces him to slow the swaying to a halt, and it scares him. Your fingers bunch into the material of his jersey and you pull away, something unreadable swimming and wavering in your eyes as you ask him, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“You’re not telling me this because you feel like you need to like me back?”

“No, not at all.”

You want to say something, be firm with him, but your throat betrays you as you let out a broken whisper:

“You better not be playing with me right now, Cheng Xiaoshi.”

The boy’s hands, leaving your sides, trail up your neck and rest at both sides of your face, fingers pressed against the base of your jaw. His thumb swipes at your cheekbones, then the outer lines of your eyes, and then they follow the lengths of your eyebrows. His right thumb traces down your nose bridge, then presses firmly against the button of your nose, wiggling and eliciting a small breathy laugh out of you.

Then, slowly– almost too slowly–, he lets the pad of his thumb feel down the underside of your nose, then the crease above your lips. He looks at your mouth, a burning feeling of want brewing in him as he presses his lips together.

Your lips part just a little, to let out an expecting breath, then they close as you gaze up at him, your eyes watching how his scrutinizes your face.

“I love you.”

“What?”

“I love you.” Xiaoshi says again, firm this time. You give him a smile, shaking your head. “No, what?” And then it clicks. He grins, chest puffing out a little at the reference you make.

The fact that you’d still watched Say Something meant a lot to him. It proved how much of an impact your little gestures make in his life.

“I love you. How many times do I have to say it?”

“One more time would be nice.” You hum, and he laughs, pressing his forehead against yours. “I love you.” He whispers, his voice little as he relishes the feeling of your skin pressed on his.

“You’re so incredibly pretty, Y/ L/N, I could just kiss you right now.”

“You’re so incredibly pretty, Cheng Xioashi, that I might just let you.”

Oh. Xiaoshi can’t seem to believe you’d just said that. “Wh- are you- are you sure? I mean, after all I’ve done– I stood you up! I ghosted you for half a semester. I don’t think it’s right. For me. To have the pleasure of planting my lips to yours. Frankly, I wouldn’t even want to kiss a guy who- oh!”

Seemingly growing tired of his rambling, your hand presses against his cheek and you stand on the tips of your toes to give him a gentle kiss, his lips molding to yours almost immediately. He smiles and when you pull away, he’s quick to pull you close by the neck, kissing you again, then again, then again.

His lips, though you’d imagined they’d be scorched and hot, are warm. Not temperature wise, but warm in an inviting way, like toasted marshmallows in hot chocolate. Or like fresh burritos in autumn. Or like the summer sun where you share a milkshake in the outdoor canteen. Like home.

Xiaoshi hums when he manages to steal you with a kiss again, and you can’t help but grin against him, murmuring against his lips, “You’re so stupid.”

“I’m your stupid.” He shoots back, lips chasing yours when you finally part from him. You bring a hand up to his mouth and it’s moist and warm, “Give me a break! We need to breathe, Xiaoshi,”

In response, he breathes out a heavy sigh, the weight on his back he’d carried for two months vanishing as he melts into your shoulder. “You don’t understand how lucky I am to be with you right now.”

“I’m not all that special-”

“You are! It may not seem like it to you, but to me, you’re everything. My energy, my breath, my best friend. Or, maybe, a little more than that, if you wanted to…?” He trails off nervously, facing down and planting his lips on your shoulder, which you find endearing. “I’m sorry I didn’t show up that night. I was forced to go to this party and I ended up pissing some of my friends and to add to all of that I pissed you off. And- and all I had to say to your confession was ‘I’m sorry’. ‘I’m sorry’!?” He pulls away, hands grabbing yours tightly.

“Who even says that!? Frankly, I’m surprised you didn’t punch me right then and there. I’m- I’m such an ass when it comes to stuff like this, ‘m sorry.”

“Hey!” You gasp, interlacing your fingers with his. “That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about!” You cough, “That is, uh, if you want to be my boyfriend.”

Xiaoshi, now beaming, flushes a bright pink, but he can’t bring himself to care when his arms wrap around you and you laugh into his chest as he squeezes you almost inhumanly tight. “‘M sorry, sweets, I’m so difficult.” He mumbles in your hair. “I’ve never really done anything like this.”

“Neither have I, big guy.” You let out a shaky sigh. “But I have faith in us. We’ll figure it out, right?”

Xiaoshi leans back and presses his forehead to yours, your nose brushing up against his affectionately. “Right.”

Summertime is a time of new opportunities. New year, new experiences, new companions. And though the warmth of summer doesn’t seem to stay all year long, it’ll always come back, just as fresh and welcoming. The fleeting moments of your first encounter with Xiaoshi will forever hold a place in your heart, as will the season of summer.

And as debatable as it is, the best moments in your life are aestival. Born and belonging in the summer.

to all the link click readers out there, and to boba bub.

#♪ mari writes!#link click #link click x reader #cheng xiaoshi x reader #xiaoshi x reader #link click imagines #cheng xiaoshi imagines #xiaoshi imagines #shiguang daili ren #shiguang daili ren x reader #shiguang daili ren imagines #lu guang x reader #lu guang imagines #qiao ling x reader #qiao ling imagines #aaa i did it!!!

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sugarrazz · 1 year

Note

Can your write reader being jealous of someone getting to close to Wednesday so threw out the day reader has an attitude towards Wednesday until eventually Wednesday has enough of it and puts the reader in her place? You can decide if you want to make it sfw or nsfw

Hi anon! I wrote this one just for you. I really got into this while writing it and I hope you enjoy it. ;)

I Wasn’t Ignoring You / Wednesday x gn!reader

Notes: female anatomy, dom!wednesday, wednesday x reader, wednesday pleasuring reader, nsfw, smut, cum eating, new student grabs wednesday’s attention, reader with attitude, kinda bratty, talk of corpses, jealous feelings, fingering, oral sex, pussy licking, cumming, pls let me cum, fic, oneshot, i was listening to madison beer while writing this

Today has been shitty. You missed your alarm and the only thing that woke you up was Enid bouncing up and down on your mattress, chanting that you’re gonna be late to class. You didn’t even get to brush your teeth and your hair looked like a bird’s nest.

Fast forward to now, your arm was hooked around Wednesday’s and you were enjoying what little warmth she had. “Your lack of hygiene doesn’t phase me.” She kept telling you every time you apologized for looking like a mess. She even helped you fix up your uniform. You felt so lucky to have her in your life. Your head rested on her shoulder as she proudly escorted you down the halls of Nevermore. As you passed a couple of students, one of them bumped into your shoulder, making you detach from your beloved and a small gasp escaped your lips.

“Oh, sorry about that! I don’t think we’ve met before. What’s your name?”

You remembered that there was a new batch of students and you just managed to bump into one of them. Wednesday peeked around you, concerned by your gasp, and met the new kid’s gaze through her bangs.

“My nam-” “It’s Wednesday.”

You couldn’t believe this. He bumped into YOU but completely ignores you and ogles your girlfriend. You didn’t want to stay and chat so you attempted to pull Wednesday along with you, but she blew you off.

“That pin on your uniform. It’s to my liking. Give it to me.”

“Oh, my corpse pin? No way, it’s my favorite one. I can give you another one though.”

Flabbergasted, you spun on your heels and ran off to class. The image of the love of your life and some random guy getting along is imprinted on your brain. Wednesday doesn’t just get along with anyone. So why?

When you make it to class you throw your books on the desk, garnering a couple of students’ attention toward you and your disheveled appearance. You couldn’t focus at all on what the teacher was saying the whole class, your rage getting the best of you. The way he looked at her was anything but friendly. You couldn’t be overthinking this. Fine, she can do whatever she wants. You’ll just treat her the way she treated you. Brushing you off like a leaf on a windy day. The bell rang and you packed away your books, getting ready to go meet Wednesday and head to the cafeteria.

“-so they found his dead body by the lake, and there were dog bites all over him. They blamed the werewolf kids for it.” You stared into his eyes, silently wishing death upon him. You hated it but he had the most gorgeous blue eyes you had ever seen. It was no wonder he was so popular right now. All the girls at the table behind you were staring at him hungrily.

“A most grotesque scene, one that I would have loved the honor to have seen.” Wednesday seemed to be enjoying their strange conversation over dead bodies, both of them seeming to share a love of corpses. The thought of them having common interests was pissing you off even more. Wednesday reached out to rub your hand under the table but you jerked it away, your brow twitching. She glanced at you curiously since you never reject her advances. But you gave her an annoyed look, brushing off the chills you suddenly received. “How much longer are we going to talk about dead people? I’m trying to eat.” You swallow your food messily and some of it gets on the new boy, whose name you didn’t bother to learn. Nor did you care. You were glad his uniform got dirty. Maybe he’ll go away. But no, he takes a napkin and wipes it off, not even giving it another glance as he jumps back into the conversation. You felt like a third wheel for the rest of lunch.

“Let’s go to Jericho”, Wednesday told you and you happily agreed to a chance to get away from this womanizer. “Jericho? Cool, I’m headed there too! We’ll have the best day out. C’mon!” If your headache could get any worse then it would as you feel like a vein is going to pop out of your head. You couldn’t get a single moment alone with Wednesday. What’s the point of going if her attention isn’t gonna be on you? “Yay”, you sarcastically cheered as the bus pulled up. Your attitude did not go unnoticed by a certain goth girl. She let it go, for now.

You brush away your feelings long enough until you arrive at Jericho. Wednesday stops you after you’ve exited the bus and you’re on the sidewalk. “Y/N”, Wednesday said sternly, an underlying tone masking her voice. Dread fell upon you as you looked up at her, black eyes boring into your own.

“This outing would be more than adequate if you were to behave yourself.”

“Behave yourself”, you mocked her, flipping your hair in her face and continuing to walk. Boy, would you regret that later.

“You seem to be having a lot of fun with this guy, so I should just leave you to it.” You both stood there having a staring contest until she decides to break the deafening silence.

“Y/N, he is a charlatan trying to show off to a master. He is nothing to me.” Her stern gaze leaves a silent warning to stop acting up. You did not heed.

“I’m sick of your attitude. Let’s go fix that right now.”

“Huh!?”

Wednesday drags you back to Nevermore and up the stairs to your dorm. Her grip on your skin is tight and sure to leave a mark. She looks around for your roommate, making sure the coast is clear before she pushes a chair up against the doorknob. That’ll give her enough time to hide if anyone stops by.

“You’ve been quite defiant today. I should educate you on some proper manners.”

In one swift movement, she throws you on the bed, and undoes her tie, her predatory eyes making your pussy throb. You look away, which doesn’t please Wednesday a single bit. She hovers above you and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“While I adore your submissiveness, I require your utmost attention for what I’m about to do to you.”

She then tilts your chin up, her plump lips floating right above the skin on your neck, hot breaths that further teased you. She left hickeys up and down your neck, marking you as hers for everyone else to know. Your breath hitches as you try to stifle a moan. Wednesday notices and briskly grabs a hold of your neck.

“Don’t hold back.”

And just like that, you melted at her orders. Little mewls started to come out of you as Wednesday started rubbing your folds through your panties, and your juices started to ooze out of you. Her fingers were rhythmic as they made a moaning mess out of you. You squealed as she entered her fingers inside you, working with feverish haste and giving no time for you to accommodate her.

While her fingers on one hand were busy, her other hand rubbed circles around your lips, before she dove in for a kiss. She was surprisingly gentle, and her tongue brushed against your lips, begging for entry. You decided to test your luck and denied it. She let out a muffled groan and her thumb purposely brushed over your clit. You jolted, but Wednesday caged you under her, sealing your fate. At that moment, unbeknownst to you, you opened your mouth just enough for her to finally get inside and your tongues danced around in each other’s mouths. An oral ballad that she always won. Your french kiss didn’t last for long as she pulled away and took a mental screenshot of you, tousled under her.

“You’re most alluring in this view.”

She said in a monotone voice, but her eyes glinted with a deep passion for you. It made your heart skip a beat. You couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks but Wednesday snapped you out of it as her head went under your skirt, closer to the heat between your legs. She raised back out with your panties hanging in between her teeth, a morbid grin on her face as she dropped them on the floor. She dove back in and you mentally prepared yourself for what was to come next. Her warm tongue started lapping up the excess juices that were coming out of your pussy and you instinctively opened up your legs for her, your breathing picking up. You grabbed the sheets as your hands shook. She sucked your clit at a devastatingly slow pace, making you quiver at her mercy. You felt so hot and bothered and as the knot in your stomach built up, you unconsciously bucked your hips, which encouraged Wednesday to keep going. Her fingers kept busy inside you as her wet tongue devoured you.

“W-wednesday, I’m-”

“Just a little longer.”

You plead with her to let you cum. You wouldn’t be able to obey her for long but she wasn’t having it. Your juices started trailing down Wednesday’s fingers as she pumped her fingers in and out of you at an unrelentless pace, her breath picking up. You were twitching, trying to get away from her, but failing, as you were reaching your climax. You let out a loud moan as you came, as Wednesday pulled her fingers out of you and consumed every last drop of cum you had to give.

You felt satisfied but dizzy as you dropped your head down. Wednesday ran off to clean her hands and face in the bathroom, leaving you to recollect your thoughts. When she came out, she just laid next to you on the bed. Didn’t say anything, it was a tranquil peace as she held your hand and you both stared at the ceiling.

“You still came without my permission. I’ll get you back later.”

#alls #razznsfw #razzasks #wednesday cast #wednesday addams #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x reader #wednesday #wednesday oneshot #wednesday imagine #wednesday x you #wednesday smut #wednesday drabble #wednesday netflix #wednesday fanfic #dom!wednesday

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widowsistersandfriends · 7 months

Text

Sweater Weather

Request: Natasha and Yelena x little sister reader? 😍 Maybe the reader doesn't feel good in her body, so she wears sweatshirts a lot and everything, her sisters notice, convince her that she really looks good and comfort her?

Notes: Thank you so much for this cute request! I apologize for taking so long to get to this one, but I really enjoyed writing this fic! I hope you like it!!!

Word Count: 2538

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You were the little sister of the infamous Black Widows, Natasha and Yelena. The three of you lived in a separate house from the Avengers, but were close enough to visit often. Since it was October, the sisters were planning a fall party at the house. The weather was getting cooler, and leaves were starting to fall. A fall party was a great way to get into the autumn mood.

You were going shopping with your sisters later today to buy food and decorations for the party. Even though it was getting cooler, it was nowhere near hoodie weather. However, you didn’t feel comfortable unless you wore looser clothing, so you threw on your large hoodie and got into the car with them.

When you guys arrived, you guys made sure to go over the list of party essentials.

“Alright, so we need to get fall colored balloons, pumpkin pie, pumpkin scented candles, and apple cider,” Natasha said, reading off of her notepad.

“Are you sure this isn’t just a Halloween party?” Yelena asked, eyeing the table selling cookies.

“Just because it has pumpkin involved in it, doesn’t make it a Halloween party,” you said back to the blonde with a bit of snark.

“Well, since you’re such a cheeky pumpkin I guess you’ll be part of the party as well huh?” Yelena said, wrapping one arm around you, and slipping her other hand under your sweatshirt to dig into your side.

“YELEHEHENAHAHA” you squealed out, falling to the ground after the blonde eventually stopped tickling you.

“That’ll teach you,” the blonde said, ruffling your hair. You rolled your eyes playfully, as you both turned to realize that Natasha was nowhere to be found. The two of you quickly took off, looking in the aisles to find your older sister. You two eventually found her in the juice aisle, looking for apple cider.

“Poser, you’re not supposed to run off without us,” Yelena huffed.

“Just thought I’d use my time wisely,” Natasha said, not looking up from the bottle she was inspecting.

Yelena walked over to the bottles and picked one up of the same exact kind and began to inspect it the same way as Natasha.

“What are you doing?” Natasha asked, now looking away from the bottle.

Yelena looked away from the bottle too and turned to face her sister.

“What are you doing?” The blonde asked, imitating her look to perfection.

Natasha smirked without breaking eye contact so that Yelena couldn’t see her next move. The redhead reached out faster than light and poked the blonde in the ribs, causing her to yelp and drop the bottle. Luckily it was made of plastic.

“I win,” Natasha said with a victorious grin, as Yelena wrapped her arms around her ribs.

“Whatever, it wasn’t a competition anyway,” Yelena grumbled as you giggled at her disgruntled state.

You guys had eventually found most of the items on your list, and even a few extras that would go well with the theme of the party. However, while you guys were shopping, you saw a group of girls around your age shopping together. Right away, you noticed their outfits and began to immediately compare yourself to them. They were able to wear cute sweaters, some in crop top fashion, paired with skinny blue jeans. This look was popular for girls your age, especially in the fall and paired with any sort of pumpkin flavored drink. This was an outfit and vibe you wanted so badly in your life, but you were too self-conscious about your body that you wouldn’t dare try to pull this look off. Your body insecurity was something you kept private, as you were too embarrassed to talk about it. You heard the cliche phrase that everyone’s body was perfect the way it was, but for some reason you couldn’t get yourself to believe it.

The rest of the shopping trip and on the way home, you remained mostly silent, which was different from your usual snarkiness and sarcastic remarks. However, having two sisters who were professionally trained spies meant that this would never go unnoticed.

When you guys got home, you helped unload the stuff from the car, but afterwards you quickly disappeared to your room. You kept the hoodie on for comfort.

You crawled into bed, opening social media on your phone. Your feed was constantly flooded with images of girls and their friends in cute outfits you wished you could wear too. You felt a sense of defeat and sighed, rolling over to face the wall.

About half an hour later, you heard a soft knock at your door.

“Come in,” you said flatly, dreading the conversation you were gonna have to face.

“Hi Y/N, we just wanted to check up on you,” Natasha said sweetly, as Yelena nodded beside her.

“You already know so I may as well just tell you,” you sighed in frustration.

“You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t feel like sharing, Y/N. We just want to be here if you need us,” Yelena reassured you.

You rolled over to face them, as they knew this was your invitation for them to sit with you and talk.

“I don’t really know where to start,” you sighed.

“Take your time, it’s okay,” Natasha said, patting your head softly.

“I guess…you know how prevalent social media is in my life, right?” You asked them, as they both nodded.

“I guess I just always see girls post pictures of themselves looking so good and having a great body and being able to wear two pieces and cute outfits,” you explained. The two girls nodded again, knowing where this was going.

“And then today I saw girls wearing cute outfits today when we were shopping, and it just reminded me of how I’ll never look like them and I’ll never be able to pull off any of the looks they do,” you said with your voice quivering slightly, as you were on the verge of tears.

“Oh Y/N, I know how you feel,” Yelena said, wrapping you in her arms.

“Social media can definitely have edited pictures though. You never really know if someone looks like that or lives like that all the time,” Yelena reassured you.

“And don’t forget, people don’t post the lows in their lives on social media. They only post the stuff they want you to see. Those same girls could look a lot different after having a pizza and coke,” Natasha said.

“I know all that, but it still doesn’t change the fact that they can sometimes wear cute swimsuits and outfits and I can’t,” you griped.

“Who says you can’t?” Yelena asked.

“Me. My body doesn’t look like theirs. I don’t have a flat stomach or curves, and I also don’t have a perfect even tan like them,” you said with a sigh.

“But what if I told you that you could?” Yelena asked.

“And what if I seconded it and also added on that you don’t need those features to wear cute outfits?” Natasha added.

“That’s two versus one, which means that the majority says that you can wear those outfits,” Yelena siad.

“But it won’t look good like them. Sure I could put it on, but my body is just not good enough,” you said, looking down at the line across your stomach.

“Y/N, you don’t have to be sticks and bones to wear a two piece,” Natasha explained.

“In fact, I feel like it’s healthier to have some volume to your body. Back in the old days, that meant that you were wealthy and could afford food,” Yelena explained.

“And if guys can be attractive with dad bods, then girls can have attractive bodies that aren’t perfect in size or shape too,” Natasha added.

Hearing this analogy sparked something in you. A realization you never had before. Why was it that dad bods were liked more than the ripped dude on steroids? Maybe there were people out there who liked girls’ bodies that were more than just a flat stomach and large curves.

“You’re right, I guess just seeing them be perfect all the time on social media has fooled me into thinking that they’re perfect all the time,” you explained.

“They only want you to see them when they’re perfect, but even the best person in the world is never perfect,” Natasha said.

“Yeah look at Poser for example. She’s considered the world’s best assassin and look how many mistakes she makes,” Yelena said with a giggle, attempting to lighten the mood.

The redhead rolled her eyes, running a nail up the blonde’s sole, making her squeal and kick one of your stuffed animals off the bed.

Yelena quickly went to pick it up and apologized, before glaring at Natasha.

“It’s okay,” you said, slightly giggling at the funny situation.

“Oh? Was that a giggle?” Yelena asked with a goofy grin.

“No…” you said, quickly trying to scoot away from them.

“Uh uh Y/N, we’re gonna see that smile,” Natasha said, quickly pinning you to the bed by sitting on your waist.

“Yelena, hold her wrists,” Natasha said, as you frantically shook your head, holding in your giggles from anticipation.

The blonde was quickly able to capture your wrists, and held them above your head.

“No! Guys! Don’t!” You quickly shouted, knowing you had no chance of escaping.

“Not until we see that smile, little one,” Natasha said, before slightly lifting up your hoodie to reveal your sides and tummy.

“Oh what do we have here? Do we have a ticklish tummy?” Natasha teased, as you quickly shook your head.

“I think we have a liarrrr,” Yelena teased, as Natasha lightly scratched her nails on the center of your stomach.

You flinched, unable to suppress your reaction. You clamped your lips shut, refusing to laugh.

“Already having trouble? She’s barely touching you,” Yelena said while giggling. You shut your eyes, trying to get rid of the tickly sensation. However, you knew you weren’t going to last much longer. Natasha knew this, so she sped up her tickling speed with a smirk.

You let out an involuntary snort, sucking your stomach in as an attempt to avoid her fingers. However, she knew all of your tricks and was able to follow your tummy wherever it went.

“BAHAHAHAHA NATASHAAHAHAHA STAHAHAHAAP,” you burst out laughing, as you could no longer keep the bubbling laughter down.

“Awwww there’s little Y/N’s smile,” the two sisters teased.

“Your tummy is perfect because it’s ticklish,” Natasha said, blowing a raspberry on your stomach, causing you to squeal and shout.

The redhead moved to spider up and down your sides, as Yelena used her free hand to tickle into your armpits.

“GUHUHUYS THIHIHIS IHIHIS UNFAHAHAHAIR,” you laughed, weakened by the tickles.

“Awwww poor little baby. Sucks to be the youngest huh?” Yelena teased with a smirk.

Natasha began to shake her hands into your ribs, causing you to belly laugh.

“PLEHEHEHEASE IHIHITS SOHOHO BAHAHAHAD,” you shouted, as Natasha knew this was a weak spot for you.

“Oh? Does that tickle? Is that why you’re laughing? Because you’re ticklish? And the tickles tickle?” Natasha teased, knowing you couldn’t stand the forbidden word.

“STAHAHAHAP SAHAHAYIHING IHIHIT,” you said, turning a dark shade of red.

“Awwww baby is blushing,” Yelena cooed with a fond smile. You sisters gave you a break, knowing that you were close to being short on air. However, they weren’t letting you off the hook.

“Are you feeling better?” Yelena asked, smiling down at you.

“Yes, I feel like I could just lift the entire earth up on one finger,” you said sarcastically. This comment confirmed their suspicions that their sassy little sister was back.

The two of them flipped you over, exposing a whole new batch of vulnerable spots.

“Are you gonna tell us that you’re beautiful just the way you are and that you have a good, healthy body?” Yelena said, as you could hear the warning tone in her voice. If you said no, you knew you were gonna get tickled. Guess what route you chose?

“No, I can’t lie,” you said, tensing up after you said that, knowing that they were about to destroy you.

“Get her,” Natasha said, using her nails to lightly, yet quickly scratch all over your back. She got your shoulder blades first, causing you to squeal and scrunch up as much as you could. She got the back of your ribs, which sent you into hysterics. But her favorite spot to get was your lower back. It was an overly sensitive spot and had good access to your side if you were being cheeky.

“GEHEHET OFF OF MEHEHEHE YOU OHOHOLD FAHAHART,” you said, as Natasha dipped her hands down into your sides, causing you to squeal and beg for her to stop.

“Take it back then,” the redhead said, continuing to torment your sides.

“NEHEHEHEVER,” you shouted, as they were used to you being a cheeky brat.

“Oh really?” Natasha said, reaching back to tickle the back of your thighs. Yelena had also just sat on your calves, ready to tickle your little feet.

“GAH AHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEASE IHIHI TAHAHAKE IHIHIT BAHAHACK,” you squealed.

“Good, now all we have to do is get you to say that you’re beautiful,” Yelena said, now scribbling over your feet. You yelped and arched your back, feeling the sensation electrocute your body. However, you were holding out for a good while, causing Yelena to change tactics.

“You want to play tough? I’ll give you tough,” Yelena said, as you were unsure of what her next move would be. She still remained by your feet, but this time, instead of being aggressive in her tickles, she began to use her fingertips to lightly scratch and trace up your sole. The light tickles were so much more tortuous, causing you to fall into silent laughter.

“Ohhhh not so tough now are we?” Yelena said, using the same method on the area right below your toes.

You were laughing too hard to get any words out, so you just slapped the bed three times, signaling a tap out. Yelena stopped tickling your feet, waiting for you to say the words.

“Fine…I’m beautiful and my body is great,” you said, after catching your breath.

“There we go,” Natasha said, as your two sisters wrapped you into a hug.

“Thanks for helping me through this,” you said quietly.

“You’re welcome, Y/N. That’s what we’re here for. To tickle you and to comfort you,” Yelena said, giving you a small poke to the ribs.

“We’ll be here for you no matter what,” Natasha said, as you smiled gratefully and felt happier than you had ever felt. You were protected by your big sisters who would do anything for you.

“Can I say something?” You asked, as Natasha encouraged you to speak.

“You guys smell bad and need a shower,” you said cheekily, unable to escape before they had you pinned and laughing once again. However, they both knew you enjoyed this and spending time with them. They also enjoyed spending time with you and torturing you with tickles, so it was a win-win situation.

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fanficsforheartandsoul · 11 months

Text

Maniac | König x M!Reader | Part II

Note: Just to clarify, my boii isn’t wearing his helmet in this story, just his good ol’ rag of a shirt on his mighty head. One of my most popular incorrect call of duty quotes makes an appearance here lmao.

Fandom: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II (2022)

Warnings: Swearing, Fighting, Knives, Mentions of Homophobia, Unrealistic depiction of KorTac, the Military in general and uhh hand to hand combat?, Injuries, Angst, Slight NSFW, Slight OOC, Reader got a blood kink oopsie, König as well?? Unrealistic portrayal of lots of things

Summary: König’s relationship with KorTac’s local psychopath is something he himself doesn’t really understand. But when an incident happens and a picture of the two is circling around the army base they’re currently staying at, they finally address what is going on between them...

Word Count: 5,18k

Taglist: -

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name! Or comment on the fic :)

Masterlist

Part I

He doesn’t see Atom for a few days.

Which is strange, considering that he saw him from afar almost every day in the past but now he’s nowhere to be seen. He can’t feel his presence at all and the attacks aren’t coming. It’s a different kind of unsettling.

Instead, he can sense that something is off with the base in general. After walking out of PT with Horangi and Klaus, they pass a few marines who look at him and then start to whisper.

The other two operators don’t notice it but König does immediately, the anxiety of years of harassment in his youth stirring awake.

At first, it’s subtle. But then after two days, it becomes obvious that the marines are really talking about him, and even his friends realize.

“What the hell’s going on?” Zeus asks eventually when they’re all sitting in the mess hall, eating some sad excuse of what they call fried chicken. He points at König with his fork while chewing.

“They’re talking about you, right? Why?”

The Austrian shrugs his shoulders. “No clue.”

He really doesn’t know. He hasn’t done anything embarrassing and the others haven’t pranked him in a while so there shouldn’t be anything to talk about. Unless...

The image of Y/N licking his own blood with a smirk on his lips comes to mind and he closes his eyes to get that memory out of his head.

Not that he succeeds this time either. In the last few days his brain has run itself stupid with replaying it.

It’s absurd and he kind of questions his sanity but there’s this part in his head that finds the blood-licking extremely hot.

Maybe he got hit a bit too much or Y/N threw him on the ground too often. Or his madness rubbed off. He laughs to himself, forgetting that the lower half of his face is currently uncovered so that he can eat.

“What?” Stiletto asks.

“What what?” He tilts his head in confusion.

“Why’re you laughing?”

He shrugs his shoulder.

“You hang out too often with Atom”, Calisto says, leaning back as she stirs her tea. “He’s rubbing off on you.”

He halts and stares at her. Can she hear his thoughts??

He’s about to open his mouth when Horangi interrupts: “I haven’t seen him around for a while. You two finally buried the hatchet?”

König shakes his head, shoving a bite into his mouth to avoid talking about it. But the others all look at him with expectation, there’s something in their expressions that makes him feel slightly anxious.

“Yeah, what’s your boyfriend up to?” Conor asks, slightly smiling, clearly trying to vex him.

“Oh fuck off”, he mutters with a full mouth, ignoring the eruption of snickers from his friends. His glad that most of his face is still covered, he can feel how his cheeks begin to heat up and he’s sure that his complexion would show it off.

He wonders though. Where’s Y/N?

The question gets answered when they’re on the way to their barracks.

Horangi suddenly pulls König aside after staring at his phone for a bit.

“Dude”, he begins, sounding unsure of how to breach the topic of whatever he wants to talk about, “I think I get why they’re talking about you.”

The tone of the Korean opens a pit in König’s stomach and instead of explaining more, Horangi just gives him his phone, standing awkwardly to the side, while he looks at the screen.

It’s a picture.

The angle tells him it was taken from outside the barracks, the photographer must’ve stood really close to the doorway. Y/N blocks off König’s head but even then it’s obvious that they’re kissing, based on the posture of their bodies.

He stares at the picture, trying to coordinate his racing thoughts.

Who took it? He asks himself barely putting the first few moments after parting lips with Atom together. But then he remembers, there was a marine.

He looks at Horangi, who watches him closely, his sunglasses on his head for once.

König doesn’t know what he should say, if he should explain, how his friend was even thinking about gay people- or in his case bisexual people- but he doesn’t even get the opportunity to open his mouth, because a sudden shout can be heard coming from the left corridor that leads to the gym.

“What the hell, Jackson- grab him!”

The group of KorTac operators all turn their heads, the shout clearly setting off some alarm bells. With various levels of interest, they make their way toward the gym, trying to find out what is going on.

König follows in a slight daze, still holding onto Horangi’s phone.

When they arrive, they can’t see shit at first because the room entrance is blocked by several marines standing in the doorway. Shouts and grunts can be heard from inside.

Someone yelps: "Fuck man, it was just a joke- stop it-!"

König’s eyes go wide when he hears Atom's voice- his tone is furious: "Let me show you what I understand as a joke, you motherfucker!"

There’s shuffling and several people shout: "Get him off!" "Fuck, how strong is this bastard!" “Calm down, sergeant!"

Due to König’s size he can look over most of the marines who are blocking the doorway and he spots the cause of the spectators; Y/N is on top of a marine, holding him in some type of gi choke, while four others try to pull him off the guy.

König recognizes the marine’s face immediately, even when he’s all bloody. It’s the man from the hallway and he understands what’s going on.

He tries to push through the crowd, calling out the sergeant’s name.

“Atom, calm down!”

He manages to make it through and rushes to them.

“Atom, let him go. You’re going to kill him”, he says and to everyone’s surprise, Y/N stops struggling as soon as he hears the Austrian’s voice. They pull him off of the guy.

“König”, he mutters and it sounds almost... relieved?

E/c meets blue. His eyes wander to the white band-aid on Atom’s neck. He gulps.

“Whatever he said, it’s not worth it. Just calm down, he’s an idiot.”

The marine with the bloody nose and face grunts, obviously not liking the insult but he knows better than retorting especially because Atom’s still in close proximity, turning to look down at him with a death stare.

The sergeant seems to contemplate König’s words for a bit. The tension and fury in his body haven’t left yet, he can tell based on the way he clenches his fists.

“That bastard-” Atom begins in a low voice, when suddenly their team leader’s voice comes from the hallway: “What the fuck is going on here?!”

König looks back, his eyes meet Stiletto’s who gives him a thumbs up and he nods.

The murmurs of the people around them stop immediately.

Majka parts the spectating crowd like Moses and he looks at the men in front of him, scrutinizing Atom and then the marine on the ground who’s holding his bleeding nose. He glances at König.

“Atom.” His voice is stern. “Go to my office and wait for me there, right now.”

The sergeant looks at him, his expression grim. “Sir-”

“RIGHT NOW!” Majka isn’t taking any of his bullshit today, he’s dead serious.

Atom looks at König for a moment and then turns and walks out of the room, his head high as he passes the onlookers.

The RS team leader turns around to face the gawking marines.

“Do you have nothing to do?” he growls. They mutter something and he just looks at the door. “Fuck off!”

The KorTac operators watch as they begin to filter out of the gym, the four marines who tried to pull Atom off of their guy also begin to move, one of them helps the bloodied man up but Majka points at him.

“Major Briggs wants to see your ass.”

The marine’s eyes go wide. He stammers a “Yes, sir!” and then hurries out of the room.

When the only people in the room are from KorTac, Majka sighs deeply and wipes his forehead. He looks at König.

“I don’t give a shit about your or anyone else’s sexual preferences. You like what you like, I don’t care but I’m telling you if anyone gives you shit-” the team leader looks at all of them, “tell me or Ridgeback. We’ll handle it. And if any of you have some dumbass opinions about someone’s sexuality, I’ll make sure to beat your ass straight, understood?”

König feels relief wash over him even after being put in the spotlight.

“Yessir!” they all shout and Hutch whistles loudly. “Awe, you care about us!”

Majka clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Yes, I do.”

They laugh and Conor shouts from the back: “Even about the lunatic?”

Their team leader rolls his eyes. “Even him. And now buzz off.”

He makes a shoo-shoo gesture and they file out into the hallway, König following behind the Serbian and Stiletto.

Zeus and Aksel joke around with Majka but he just flips them off and then leaves in the direction of his office. The others slowly make their way to the barracks, talking about what had just occurred.

The Austrian lingers behind the group, feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the whole development of the last 15 minutes. Horangi seems to have realized that as he slows down to walk beside him.

“You okay?” he asks him. König shrugs his shoulders helplessly. “The marine- he took the photo.”

His friend nods. “Yeah, I guessed that...” He remains quiet for a while.

“So... Are you guys together then? Did you tame Atom without telling us?” The Korean shows a teasing smile towards the end.

König sighs deeply, the anxious knot in his stomach grows. “No. He just kissed me out of nowhere. He completely surprised me.”

Horangi tilts his head, eyeing him closely, trying to figure out how far he can prod. “So you’re not...?” he trails off.

Ah, fuck it.

“No, I am bi”, he states roughly, louder than he intended. The two KorTac operators in front of them turn around. “What does that mean?” Zero asks.

“He goes for both ladies and gents”, Klaus explains.

Zero nods thoughtfully. “I see. No mercy for anyone, makes sense.”

König looks at Horangi and they exchange eye contact.

His friend bursts out laughing, making more heads turn in their group.

“What?” Zero asks and Klaus just shakes his head, patting his shoulder. König can’t stop himself from smiling either, Zero’s answer was just perfect.

The anxiety in his chest slowly starts to disappear. Yeah, fuck it.

It isn’t his first coming out and he has good friends in KorTac. Worst case scenario, he’ll use the knife skills he has perfected over the last few months with Atom’s training to silence someone. His smile drops.

Atom.

Will he get a disciplinary meeting for beating up the marine?

König knows the sergeant has been warned several times about his behaviour. But Majka’s words from before... He knows that Y/N didn’t just beat the guy for no reason. Will they take that into account?

He doesn’t know and now the anxiety is back.

They reach the barracks and the women split with a “See you later, losers!” from them. König contemplates whether he should follow the others or go to Majka’s office to intercept Atom.

To be honest, he doesn’t really want to do the latter. He hasn’t talked to the sergeant in days and although he had a lot of time, he still hasn’t found the words he could say to him.

He knows they should address whatever that kiss meant but...

He just doesn’t know. Whether Y/N is serious or just toying with him. If he is, König doesn’t know if he would be able to deal with that truth. He feels someone’s eyes on him and he turns to his side, where Horangi is watching him.

“Are you going to talk with Atom about what just happened?” he asks, keeping his voice low this time. But he doesn’t have to worry because the others are walking off, disappearing around the corner.

König bites his lips. “I don’t know... Should I?”

Horangi looks at him baffled. “Why not?” he asks almost incredulously.

“We don’t usually talk”, he mutters fidgeting with the seam of his mask. His friend’s eyebrows almost disappear in his hairline. “So you do what...? Just fight all the time without a peep?”

He clicks his tongue. “No, I mean we just don’t... talk about anything serious. We don’t even do small talk. I have no clue what he’s doing in his off time, where he goes, what he likes to do. He just doesn’t seem like the guy for it.”

Horangi hums, understanding what he’s getting at. “You think it’ll be awkward?”

He nods. Yeah, that’s exactly it. He just can’t picture the conversation in his head.

‘Hey, so why did you kiss me out of the blue? Were you attracted to me all this time or was that just a stupid joke to throw me off my game? Because if so I’m probably going to go dig a hole outside at the obstacle course and kill myself in it. And why did you beat that guy up? Is it because he caught your joke and you’re a raging homophobe or because you wanted to protect your or my reputation?’ Ja, eher nicht.

He doesn’t know how Atom would react. Yes, he did get to know the sergeant better in the last few months, he got to know some of his personality and his quirks. But they’re mostly related to fighting.

König can discern when Y/N is in a good or a bad mood in their training fights.

If he’s in high spirits, the significant grin on his face is almost up to his ears and there’s a glint in his e/c eyes, his eyebrows raised. He trash talks more than usual and almost playfully strikes at him, a skip in his movements and sometimes it’s almost like he’s dancing.

The killing intent in his attacks is there but it’s more like he’s a cat playing with a mouse before biting it dead.

Unlike when he’s in a bad mood. Then there’s no amusement in his eyes, even though he keeps grinning. But the smirk combined with the furrowed line of his eyebrows is unsettling.

Y/N’s posture is usually an indication that he’s pissed. If he is, there’s a certain way he holds himself, the center of his balance low, shoulders tight.

His attacks are ruthless and precise and it always leaves König wondering if this is the time when he finally gets stabbed or cut. Those fights prove to him that there’s some truth behind Atom’s nut job reputation.

More than a few times he has witnessed the other’s temper when Y/N abruptly decides to end their fighting with a quick feint.

“It’s getting fucking boring.” And the next thing he knows a fist is smashing into the mat or wall right next to his head.

But usually, Atom feels better after sparring for a while, as seen by his walking away while whistling, even if he was pissed at the beginning of the fight. As he said, the sergeant seems to release his pent-up stress when they exchange blows.

So yeah... König can read Atom’s mood to a certain extent but there’s not much he knows about his personality besides that. In general, he doesn’t really know the man.

He’s aware of Atom’s exceptional combat skills, whether with a knife or a rifle and on ops he can count on him to carry on even through hell but more than that...

Not in a billion years did he think that he could potentially be attracted to him or other men in general. Okay, he was even questioning women, based on the lack of a reaction when they visited a strip club once on Hutch’s birthday.

But that’s beside the point. He just... König got to know Y/N’s fists throughout the last few months but other than that the man, his thoughts and feelings, they’re all an enigma.

Horangi stares at the pondering Austrian who looks hesitant and he could practically feel the anxiety radiate off of him.

But the Korean knows. He knows something König hasn’t realized yet and basically every one of the others knows as well, after all, they met Atom way earlier than he did.

“I think you should go have a heart-to-heart talk with Atom.”

The tall giant stares down at him.

“Yeah?”

He rolls his eyes and slaps his shoulders.

“I’m telling you there’s this raging sexual tension since you two met and I and the others are so fucking tired of dealing with it so yeah, please go talk about it, for fuck’s sake.”

König pulls a face not believing a word he just said but Horangi can’t see it.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go. Wish me luck.”

He begins to walk and he looks back at his friend. The other operator just shows him the middle finger. “Go get your boy!”

“Fick dich!” he replies over his shoulder waving him off.

“Mi-chin saeggi!”

The curses of his friend in his ears, König breathes in deeply and makes his way slowly to Majka’s office. He waits in front of the door for a while unsure whether Atom is still in there with his team leader.

Two minutes pass. Then five. Then ten.

He’s about to finally get a grip and knock when the door swings open and he stands tall, hoping to see Ato- and it’s Ridgeback.

“Jesus! König what the hell are you doing standing so close in front of the door?!” she yells surprised and he apologizes immediately, backing up from the doorframe. “Sorry! I wanted to uh- is Atom still in there?”

She looks him up and down, and an understanding expression grows on her face.

“No, Majka dismissed him already. He should be in the infirmary, he’s supposed to apologize to Mr. fuckface.”

König tilts his head, not quite sure if she’s meaning what he thinks she means. “The marine he beat up”, she clarifies.

“Ah, yeah. That makes sense...” he says a bit flustered. She’s about to leave when she halts and looks up at him, her eyes soft now.

“König, what that guy did? Taking pictures and spreading them around, making hateful comments? I’m not saying that Atom’s reaction was right but I can understand him. If someone did this to my wife... Majka and I are in agreement. And the higher-ups are too. We have a zero-tolerance policy for shit like that and if it happens again, come to us. We’ll handle it. Gladly.”

She smiles dangerously at the end and he nods slowly, a bit taken aback that she just casually dropped her marriage status.

“I’ll see you later, König.”

“Thank you, Ridgeback”, he says after her and she waves as she walks off.

5 minutes later he finally comes across Atom. Not in the infirmary though.

He wanted to take a quick trip to the toilet before the slightly nerve-wracking conversation when he walks into the bathroom and spots the sergeant with his back to him.

He freezes when he sees him and for a few seconds they’re quiet, the only sound is the closing door behind him.

He takes a deep breath and finally speaks:

“Atom...? Can we talk? About the uh- the photo and... that fight just now?”

Y/N is standing at the sink, cleaning up the blood on his knuckles with a towel. He turns to glance at the Austrian. "König", he acknowledges his presence before continuing to swipe at the back of his hands.

His demeanor is unlike his usual self. His posture is slightly hunched over, not standing tall as usual. The usual confidence - Conor calls it arrogance - was nowhere to be seen.

König looks at him, suddenly unsure if it really was a good idea to follow Horangi’s words.

At this moment, he’s not sure whether Atom’s agitated because he can’t see his face. But the tension in his body is telling him yes.

“That fight wasn’t just about the photo, right?”, he asks slowly, watching the sergeant with eagle eyes.

Y/N halts, stopping his mindless wiping of the blood. "Oh? Do I sense some brain cells from you König?", he jokes half-heartedly still standing with his back towards him.

König bites his lip, not liking the tone of the other’s words.

He’s already anxious as is and he feels like the Atom he’s facing right now is unknown territory. He almost feels like they’re back to zero like after their first fight when König believed he was a fucking psychopath. The operator standing at the sink feels like a stranger.

He hides his hands in his pockets, clenching and unclenching them into fists in an attempt to relax.

He waits for the h/c haired man to talk but Y/N doesn’t.

He takes a deep breath and asks quietly: “Why did you kiss me?”

The Austrian looks at the other man, he sees his back muscles tense and Atom puts down both hands on the edge of the sink, looking down. König waits with bated breath for an answer. Instead, he gets a question back.

“Did it disgust you?”

Y/N almost spats the words, they’re dripping with hostility and subconsciously, König clutches the hilt of his switch knife.

“No”, he says carefully but it seems like the sergeant misunderstands his tone and he growls: “Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m not lying!” he responds earnestly. Atom looks him in the eyes, then he stares at his hips, realizing something.

“You brought your knife?”, he asks in a low tone, his voice on edge.

König can feel the atmosphere in the room shift immediately and based on the furrow of Y/N’s eyebrows it’s not good.

“I always have it with me”, he explains, “just in case.” You taught me that he thinks. “Just in case, huh... Take it out.”

He looks at him baffled.

“No, why-” Y/N takes a step in his direction, his hand on the sheathe of his Atom Splitter at his leg. “Take it out, König.”

Fuck, he thinks. This isn’t how he expected the conversation to go. Fuck Horangi, man, fuck him.

He does as he’s told, activating the blade and Atom unsheathes his knife, twirling it in that familiar fashion while his significant grin forms on his lips. A shiver runs down König’s spine.

“Can we not do this right now?”, he pleads, holding the knife at his side, clearly not wanting to fight the sergeant. But Atom doesn’t care. He never seemed to care before either. He just attacks. Relentlessly.

By the first blow, König realizes that the other man is deadly serious about it this time. His mask gets cut, and the blade barely misses his cheek. The knot in his stomach coils.

If he’s not careful, he’s going to die. He can see the bloodlust in the e/c eyes.

König pushes Y/N’s blade away with his own. He put a lot of force behind it but the sergeant is unfazed, he attacks from a new angle, stabbing at König’s torso.

He blocks the knife but Atom gets a hit in, punching his jaw.

The bathroom is filled with pained grunts and the sound of punches but all König can hear is his messy heartbeat as adrenaline is pumped through his veins.

What ticked him off? I didn’t want this. That thought spirals in his head. I don’t want this.

Atom kicks his knee, making him falter.

Next thing he knows, he’s kneeling and Y/N’s knife is pressed against his throat. Even through the fabric of his mask, he can feel the coldness on his skin. They both pant. König looks up at the sergeant, his face is blank, the smirk gone.

Atom grabs his hair through the fabric at the back of his head, pulling it back harshly. He gasps alarmed, dropping his knife, and he searches the e/c eyes. They stare down at him, pupils blown wide.

“Y/N”, he whispers. The man begins to smile ominously. “You make my blood boil, König.”

His face changes when he hears those words.

The nervousness of having that knife to his throat when Atom’s eyes look dead like this is still fluttering in his chest. But there’s also something else. A knot forms in his lower stomach and his eyes land on the white band-aid on the sergeant’s throat.

Y/N continues: “Only you get me this excited... Makes me wanna fight all day long. What am I supposed to do?” He tilts his head.

König gulps and watches with eagle eyes how the h/c haired man uses his blade to lift the seam of his mask and flip it over his head, exposing his scarred face. A burst of anxiety and self-consciousness rushes through his veins as those e/c eyes study his appearance. A glint appears in them.

“Do you like our fights?” Atom asks, his voice slightly hoarse as he presses the blade to König’s cheek, tracing one of the pale scars with it.

The tone of his voice is light but he can feel the significance of that question, he sees the expectant look in Y/N’s eyes.

He nods. “Yeah”, he mutters slowly, staring up at him, “I do.”

Atom’s brows lift and his smile widens, showing the white of his teeth and his gums. “Really?”, he prods. He nods again.

He can see Y/N debate something, emotions flit across his face that he hasn’t ever seen before on him and the knot of anxiety in his chest unfurls, making space for something else. Hope, anticipation.

“Atom...” he begins and Y/N takes this as his cue to kiss König without hesitation. It takes him by surprise again but this time he’s prepared to breathe through his nose and he actually responds to the kiss.

Atom’s grip on his hair is tight and he holds his head in place as he practically devours König. The intensity makes him gasp and Y/N uses it to push his tongue into his mouth, exploring every inch mercilessly without allowing any pushback.

The sergeant kisses like he fights. Aggressively and intensely. He loves it. If he were touched carefully at this very moment, he would probably dislike it. After all, the ferocity is what he always enjoys about their fights.

König allows his eyes to close, leaning into the sensation, slowly getting lost, when he feels a sharp pain and tastes iron in his mouth. Atom fucking bit his tongue!

He grunts in protest but the other man doesn’t care at all. They part, their breaths mingling and Y/N groans: “You taste so fucking good, König.”

He looks up at him, seeing the intense desire burning in the e/c eyes and certainty washes over him.

He pushes himself off the ground, forcing the sergeant to let go of his hair. He towers over him and for a second they just stare at each other before König moves, his hands pushing Y/N back until he collides with the bathroom wall.

He dips his head and their lips connect again, the taste of iron intermingling. He can hear the clatter of Atom’s knife on the ground before two hands touch him, igniting a fire wherever they roam his skin.

Y/N tugs and prods at his clothes, pulling his shirt out of his pants to stick his hands underneath, and in the next second König can feel fingernails dig into his back. He growls and the sergeant smiles into their kiss. “’re always so aggressive-” König complains breathlessly.

Atom snorts. “Don’t act like you don’t like it.” His lips trail down his neck, biting and sucking and König presses his thigh between Y/N’s legs in response, getting a low groan out of the other man.

It sends a spark through his body and his mouth twitches as Atom grinds against his thigh. “Y/N-” he warns but he gets interrupted when the flush of a toilet can be heard.

Atom stops moving, his hand halting mid-air, only inches away from König’s belt buckle. “It’s the women’s bathroom”, he says, trying to calm the Austrian down before touching his belt. But it sobers König up a bit and he leans back, stopping his hands.

“We should probably stop here. It would be a bit awkward if someone walks in.”

Y/N clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Let them watch.”

He smirks and they look at each other. König’s hair is absolutely dishevelled, his face red from their make-out session. Atom doesn’t look any better, his eyes still hold the glimmering desire.

He breathes out slowly and begins to smile.

“We should continue elsewhere.” He licks his lips, the bloody taste still in his mouth but unlike before this day he likes it.

Atom follows his tongue’s movement with eagle eyes. “Yeah, we definitely should.” He pauses for a second, disappointment evident on his face.

“I can’t right now though.” He sounds grumpy.

König tilts his head, confused, staring down at him. “Why?”

“I have to clean the bathrooms as punishment.”

He blinks and follows Y/N’s eyes toward the mop in the corner.

“Will you help me?” The sergeant bats his eyelashes like the women who try to flirt with König at the local bars. He laughs, walking backward, putting his hands up.

“I just remembered I have something to do.”

E/c eyes darken. “Come on! Be good and help your boyfriend!”

His heart leaps. “Oh, so we’re boyfriends now? I don’t remember saying yes to this agreement.”

Y/N glowers at him, picking up his knife from the ground.

“It was a joke!” he protests but the man strides up to him, pointing the blade at his throat. At this point, it’s getting old.

“Say it.”

He snorts. Atom stares up at him, his dead expression suddenly looking less intimidating and more so somewhat adorable. He tilts his head, provocatively.

“What?”

“You know what.”

König grins and grabs Y/N’s hand holding the knife.

“I’ll let you be my boyfriend.”

Atom only raises an eyebrow and he guides the sergeant’s hand and knife away from his throat before dipping down again and stealing a kiss from his lips. A soft one this time. One that makes König’s heart swell and flutter from happiness.

Y/N closes his eyes, enjoying the moment and they stay closed even after they part. König coughs, smirking.

“Anyways, I can’t help you with the cleaning sorry.”

Atom opens his eyes wide and a breathy indignant laugh escapes him as he watches the Austrian turn around and leave the bathroom whistling, mirroring the many times Y/N did it to him. Payback’s a bitch, he thinks.

“You forgot your knife! König! Come back!” Atom shouts his tone almost pleading but König is already out the door and he laughs and yells over his shoulder:

“You can bring it to me tonight, mein Schatz!”

___

Translations (freely mostly)

Ja, eher nicht - German: “Yes, better not”

Fick dich - German: “Fuck you”

mi-chin saeggi 미친새끼 - Korean: “Crazy son of a bitch”

mein Schatz - German: “my dear, my love” lit. “my treasure”

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