#sorry i'm in my “write whatever the fuck you want ^^” era

[kneelingshadowsalome]

omg what’s cabin!konig? new koooonnnyyy unlocked

Yes, König comes in many forms and he always wants to knock you up. But!

Cabin!König is particularly designed to breed, and he’s very vehement about doing just so.

Hauls you deep into the Alps and shoves you inside this cute cabin that looks minimalistic and weather-beaten on the outside but insanely adorable on the inside. There’s a fireplace and a broad, sturdy hardwood bed (for the purpose of you know perfectly well what...), indoor plumbing for your convenience, an electric oven for you to bake him cookies and pastries (traditional Austrian ones if you wish to pamper and spoil him) and a lot of authentic 19th-century art on the walls, next to the ropes and traps and cast iron pans and pots and wicker baskets that hold woollen blankets in case you get cold.

But you really don’t get a chance to get cold, do you? Because König is on and in you every chance he gets. Man's got a plan, and he has always implemented his strategies and completed his projects with a frightening amount of energy, commitment and willpower. You wake up in the morning to his heated cuddles and soft whines, knowing that you’re about to get taken from behind – again. He’s soft and slow at first, cuddlefucking and spooning you like you’re the best thing in his entire world... but you know it’s all just a warm-up. The thrusts get deeper and more intense as the morning session goes on, until both of you are fully awake and König gets into his full breeding mood. It’s the same thing in the evening, but this time, he’s on top and looks you deep in the eyes as he makes love to you while your toes curl and point to the ceiling. Nothing but the fireplace and some candles lighting the cabin with flickering, warm tones: he’s a romantic soul underneath all that callous soldier’s discipline.

During the day, König has many responsibilites outside: he has to fix the roof of some shed and walk the perimeter to check that no one has found their way here, that no one is disturbing his mating season that lasts from May till August. You know nothing about his hikes, but he has even set bear traps all over the place, and not for the purpose of catching bears…

He of course tempted you here by saying you deserve a holiday and that the mountains would be a good, non-stressful environment to finally try and get you pregnant. He has been talking about wanting to have babies ever since you met: actually, he brought the subject up on your first date - to your horror and intrigue - wanting to know if you would ever want kids and if you were in it for the long haul because he was sick of dating just for some shallow, casual fun.

You could never have known that you would get folded into a mating press every day after only a few months of your acquintance, but here you are: getting stuffed full of potent cum every day, multiple times per day, because König has decided that you are the perfect wife material and the perfect mother for his kids.

He can come off as a little too intense, even rough at times, but he is in fact a very gentle lover and offers impeccable aftercare. His hormones are through the roof here in this sweet little cabin with his sweet little future wife-to-be. König is fully in his element when he gets to walk in the brisk mountain air and then come “home��� to the delicious scent of warm buns or apple pie, to the sweet scent and feel of you.

Cuddles you after sex like it’s equally as important as the deed of getting you pregnant. He’s not just trying to apologize for being so needy and urgent with you, he’s actually bonding with you everytime you have sex. It’s like a ritual for him to hold you close and take in your soft panting and warm cheeks after he just made you cum no less than two or three times. You’re still not sure if this is a good idea, and you’re not sure if this man is even completely sane… But he sure as hell is adamant in making you feel good, providing for you and giving you the best sex of your entire life ❤️

[maryasmorevna]

why are you, as an adult in 2024, still hung up on reylo. why are you still mocking the shippers. why do you believe yourself to be superior only because you dislike a stupid ship from a fucking space fairytale. girl (gnc) get a grip

[rotbypup]

physically i'm here mentally i'm in the fucked up house party from the grindhouse music video

[coolwyous]

┈─★ 𝘪 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 ( 𝘀𝗼 𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 — 𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙤. )

  ⊹ ࣪ ˖ after 3 years of dating rising star and hockey team captain megan skiendiel, your senior year of college signals the end of an era. as she approaches her final season, the two of you navigate how much you're willing to push and pull to pursue her dreams— and figure out where yours fit in all of this, too.

         ˎˊ˗  ❄️  ⊹ ࣪ ˖  🔓୭˚.  ⠀ ᵎᵎ ⠀ 🗝️

   ➴ pairing: hockey captain! megan skiendiel x english major! f!reader

         ➴ genre + wc: 18k, fluff, angst, established relationship, poor stress management tbh, also reader keeps a lowkey shitty secret for a lot longer than needed, happy ending.

   ➴ you might want to tune in...: ditto - newjeans

      ┈─★ a/n: chat are we ready to say goodbye to dittoverse.... i'm ngl i'll miss my hockey wigline! so grateful that i got to start my writing journey w ditto pt i and now i get to write this to truly circle all the way around. lmk what you think <3

cw:// brief mentions of recreational drug use, mild violence but once again it's a hockey fic!

“ladies and gentlemen, megan thee skiendiel!”

you announce the introduction into your pen, quickly shoving the makeshift mic over the table into megan’s face. 

“i’d get copyrighted.” she wrinkles her nose. “and my last name is so not tough enough.”

you shake your head, bringing the pretend microphone back to your face. “megan thee captain, then.”

“cheesy,” she grins at you. you match her smile right back. “i need something better for my interview.”

“megan thee girlfriend,” you tease, as she taps her chin as if to genuinely contemplate it.

“that’s a good one.” she grabs her notebook and pretends to jot them down. “megan thee property of y/n.”

“okay, relax,” you laugh. “what’s your day look like?”

the ginger lets out a sigh, and your heart aches as you realize you’ve popped the bubble. the topic you’ve both been avoiding as you try to make the most of your quality time: your girlfriend’s insane schedule. 

“we leave to the airport after class,” she lists off, holding up a finger, “then the hotel, away game tomorrow evening, fly back saturday morning.”

“we prep your presentation, prep your speech,” you add, reminding her what you were working on in the first place.

“oh, and then monday i have to go with the department to do a ribbon cutting at an elementary school,” megan adds. “they started a girl’s hockey team in partnership with the university.”

“you’re terrible with kids,” you laugh.

“i fucking know i’m terrible with kids,“ she groans, burying her face in your shoulder. “how do i not knock them over or accidentally swear in front of them or whatever?”

“things are only going to get busier during midterms.” you frown at the mere thought of how overloaded her schedule is. “so you breathe when?”

“right now,” megan wrinkles her nose, before her mind escapes elsewhere. “we should get a dog.”

“oh, i’m sure my roommate-who-isn’t-you would love that,” you snort. megan still lives in that same house with dani, who now coaches, and lara, who’s finishing up her internship. 

“not now, just later.” she grins and wraps her arm around your waist, scooting your chair in up next to hers far too easily. she brings her nose to your hear, mumbling into your hair. “hey, be my date to alumni night?”

“i’d crash out if you picked anyone else.” you laugh, pressing a kiss into her cheek. “like on the floor, snot all over my face, ugly crying.”

“no, you look so so sad when you cry. thank god you’re the only person i want as my date,” she grins. 

a voice quickly bursts your bubble. again.

“shhhh.” you’ve almost completely forgotten about the couple trying to read across the table from you as you get caught up in your whispers. “library is for studying. less yapping.”

“we’re inside a study room,” you squint at her.

“sorry minji,” megan adds fearfully, her brows furrowing.

“please don’t feel the need to apologize to her,” you wave her off. you’re grateful that your friendship with minji hasn’t just survived the years, but thrived, and now results in you living in a off-campus 2 bedroom apartment with her and her girlfriend. of course, you’d ideally be living with megan, but given her travel schedule, it worked out better for you guys to live apart.

“i’m smarter than both of you,” minji says flatly.

the newest addition to your friend group, megan’s old roommate, danielle marsh, pokes her head out from behind the book she’s diving into, pushing minji gently on the shoulder as a reprimand.

“be nice.”

“thank you, marsh,” megan nods appreciatively, as you stick your tongue out at minji at her girlfriend’s reproach. 

“we should start walking to class anyways,” you wave her off, seeing the time in the corner of your laptop. your girlfriend takes the cue without question and bids your friends farewell with a nod of her head. 

megan, chivalrous, sweet megan, has never let you open a door for yourself, and got it into her head that you shouldn’t carry any of your own things either. you tried to tell her off when she first started doing it, but seeing how sad those puppy dog eyes got when you insisted she stop carrying your bookbag made you give in the next day, and the rest has been history. 

she immediately reaches for your backpack and extends a hand out to you. you take it and relish in how warm her skin is against yours. she makes a face, a wince, as she grabs her own bag and hauls the two of them over her shoulder while you make your way out of the library together.

“is your back okay?” you ask, worried about her reaction.

“it would be if you stopped carrying every single one your textbooks in this damn bag.” she huffs, but the sparkle in her eye tells you she’s still just teasing you. she squeezes your hand reassuringly. “i get that you paid for them but jesus christ baby, get them online next time.”

“we have one last semester, think you can handle my books for a few months longer?” you tease back.

“don’t remind me,” she tells you, but you see something in her face change at the mention of your college experience coming to an end. 

before you can ask anything about it, a few random people come up to the two of you, one girl stopping in your tracks.

“hi, could we get a picture?” she asks, sticking her phone out.  “my dad loves you. says you’ve revamped women’s college hockey.”

you give megan a look but graciously step to the side, letting the strangers squeeze in next to her. megan shoots you an apologetic glance but immediately perks up into a smile for the girl’s photo.

“i think daniela avanzini changed the game, i just followed up on what she started,” she smiles, holding a thumbs up for the photo. they thank her and scurry off, leaving you to reclaim your girlfriend by the hand as you resume your walk to class.

“my mini-celebrity,” you pretend to fan yourself. “want me to sign an nda?”

“oh god, i hate when you say a bunch of letters,” she wrinkles her nose, shaking her head. “my fucking brain is so cooked.”

“chat, do i define nda for her or do i let her guess?”

“nonchalant drippy alpha.” megan grins.

“actually it’s never die, asshole.”

“i think it’s nine dry assholes,” she adds on.

“why did you fixate on the asshole part? and why are there nine of them?” you squint at her, poking her nose with your fingertip. “weirdo.”

“you’re weirder.” she grabs your finger and plants a kiss on it, then another, and another. “and you love me.”

your heart stirs at the sight of her cute brown eyes peeking out at you expectantly from under that stupid beanie. you’ll be stuck with a forever crush on this giant dork.

“maybe,” you shrug.

megan beams, then drops her voice into her stereotypical gamer voice, pretending to speak into an imaginary microphone like how you two had in the library.

“oh fuck yeah. we got a maybe from fineshyt, chat, please clip.”

you roll your eyes, but hold on just a bit tighter to her hand. megan is quick to squeeze right back.

-

your schedule is busy, between finishing your senior capstone project and the full course load you’re taking, on top of the online editing job you work in between it all. you’ve found an effective way to balance your workload, but for every day you want to grumble and complain about your schedule, you look at the google calendar that you share with your girlfriend, and send a silent prayer of gratitude that your days look nothing like hers.

your semester gets off to a slightly bumpy start, as megan tries to fit the beginning of the new season and her captain duties in with the classes she’s taking, but you two have managed to make it work.

and by make it work, you mean do whatever you can to try and spend whatever shred of time she can spare together.

like tonight, for example, when you’re done with classes and calling megan as soon as you’re done with your editing shift before you start homework.

she picks up on the second ring, and you can hear the bustle of people’s voices behind her in the background. she’d likely have just gotten out of practice given it’s this late in the afternoon.

“hi. just checking if i’m gonna see you tonight?” you greet her.

“hi, sorry.” she lets out a sigh, and you can practically picture the way she’s wrinkling her nose from all the stress. “i have tapes to review with the new players, then i have a coach’s meeting with the department, then we’re shooting an ad with gatorade.”

“when do you eat?” you ask, feeling your brows knit together. 

“sometime in between all of that,” she breathes, a quiet laugh leaving her lips. you admire her, the way she doesn’t complain about any of it, but you’re always worried she’s pushing her limits.

“did you finish your homework?” you ask. granted, you’re only a few weeks into the semester, but in your years of dating, you had taken over the role of making sure megan stayed on top of her academics, and you weren’t about to let up now.

“i worked on some things in class,” she reassures you. “i’ll finish when i get home.”

“can i postmate you something?” you offer, but she’s quick to cut you off.

“no don’t worry about it, please,” she says hurriedly, but before you can insist, the phone clatters around on her end and you’re suddenly hearing a familiar voice that isn’t quite megan’s.

“i love you mami, you mean everything to me, my heart bleeds for you,” dani’s voice is loud and teasing over the sound of chatter in the background. you hear a chorus of girls laughing, and it brings a smile to your face to picture megan whining and turning red at daniela’s playful taunts.

“oh my god, fuckin’ dani,” megan groans, regaining control over the phone. “sorry about her. she’s even worse now that she’s a coach.”

“well is she right?” you grin.

“you’re the only thing that keeps me sane some days.” you can hear megan’s voice lighten up, warm and joyful. “i love you so much.”

“i can wait for you at your place,” you offer. megan still lives in the same house with lara and dani which makes the drive from your apartment with minji much easier. 

“i’d love that.” you can hear her smile, picture her little whisker dimples, and it sends a wave of warmth over you. “i gotta go. see you soon.”

you drive over to megan’s place and you barely get a chance to knock before the door swings open, revealing the charming former goalie.

“hiiiii y/n,” lara drawls, her bright smile never fading as she greets you, ushering you in. “how’s senior year treating you?”

“oh you know,” you grimace, kicking off your shoes. 

“you’ll make it through just fine,” she reassures you, “plus you have that—”

you shake your head quickly, to cut her off. “please don’t remind me.”

lara’s perceptive, quick to pick up on your anxieties and dissect them. maybe it’s the fact that you’ve dated her best friend for the past three years, but lara knows you far better than you’d ever have anticipated.

“you haven’t told her yet?” she asks in disbelief, her eyes widening.

“i know i know.” you wince. “the right time hasn’t come up.”

“i trust you, but sooner rather than later, right?” she gives you an empathetic tilt of the head.

“of course,” you nod. “i appreciate you.”

“always,” she smiles, before adding a quick heads up. “make yourself at home. she’s been coming home super late recently, you might be up for a while.”

between homework, studying, and reading, the hours alone in megan’s room melt away. you don’t even realize that you’ve fallen asleep when you hear the door creak open, jolting you awake. you check your phone and see it read just past 1:30am. 

“home invasion?” you smile, worried about how late she’s coming home, but grateful to see her nonetheless.

“hands up, sigma,” megan jokes weakly, setting her bag down in the corner before coming to plant a kiss on your hair. 

“i could smell you from a mile away,” you tease back, taking in the state of her. she looks utterly spent, hair a mess, skin still looking sticky.

“the gatorade commercial people kept trying to talk to me even in the locker room. i didn’t have enough privacy to shower,” she groans.

“my poor girl,” you reach out to stroke her cheek. “you sound exhausted.”

“missed you,” she grumbles, pressing a kiss into your palm.

“glad you’re home,” you tell her. “please come rest.”

megan nods, peeling her hoodie off over her shoulders.

“after my shower i’m passing out,” she calls out to you as she disappears into the bathroom.

“i’ll make sure you wake up on time. c’mon,” you beckon her, taking a look at your phone. if she sleeps in the next 20 minutes, she’ll maybe manage to get 6 hours before she has to be up again to head to campus. you tuck yourself in as you hear the water run, and take to tik tok to keep yourself awake to be ready to hear about her day.

you’re not fully aware of how much time has passed from your scrolling until your eyes flicker up to the time in the corner. nearly 2:15am. 

you hear the water still running. megan deserves the luxury of a hot shower, but almost an hour has never been part of her habits. you jump up and enter the bathroom slowly, as to not disturb her.

“megan?” you call out, only to be met with silence.

you pull back the curtain to see your girlfriend, standing with her forehead against the tile, head slumped forward with her eyes shut. she looks so, so peaceful, but you know you have to wake her. 

“hey,” you shake her gently. she jolts awake with a startle, and she looks so cute with her wet hair slicked back, but you’re extremely worried about what you just saw. “you okay?”

“sorry, sorry. it was so nice and warm,” she yawns, turning the water off.

“were you asleep?” you ask in disbelief, still holding onto the curtain.

she blinks a few times as you hand her a towel. “i think i closed my eyes when i was rinsing my hair and they just never opened.”

“that’s insane,” you laugh. “c’mon, let me braid your hair and we can finally go to bed.”

-

“she fell asleep in the shower last night.” you tell dani on the call, shaking your head in disbelief as you recount the events. “just straight up, literally, i shit you not, standing up.”

“like a horse?” dani questions.

“she’s so exhausted, but she never complains,” you sigh.

your friendships with daniela and lara had deepened in your time dating megan, and dani was someone you found would always be up for a quick call if she was free. though you tended to seek advice from lara about the more emotional things, dani had always given some tidbit of wisdom about the captain duties megan was taking on and how to best support her. this time was no different, though the pause she takes tells you she’s thinking about her words as to not worry you. 

“megan’s always been a workhorse,” she reminds you. “if there’s a gap, she’ll fill it. ‘i can do more,’ she always fuckin’ says. you know her. she’ll find the balance, i know she will.”

you look down at the email in your inbox. you want to tell her, you do, but the last thing you want is to add stress to her day.

“you’re right,” you sigh, and focus on the future.

-

halfway through the semester, and your schedules have only gotten more hectic. you’re grateful to have met megan early enough in her career that she had plenty of time for you guys to get to know each other. at this point, you’re scraping by on whatever in-betweens you’re both able to make work, but you won’t complain. you know she’s doing her best to fit it all in and be the best.

speaking of which, a facetime audio from your favorite contact photo interrupts your train of thought. it’s a picture of megan on her birthday, blowing out a candle, smiling so big it looks like her face might burst. your heart skips a beat to think the girl in the photo is the one you get to claim so proudly.

“hi you,” you greet.

“hi,” she chirps back. “are you still working on your blackstone?”

“that’s the grill,” you correct her quickly, laughing. “capstone is my project.”

“please forgive me, shorty,” she says in a stupid voice. you can practically picture her face.

“forgiven.” you smile, before checking the time. “what’s up? aren’t you supposed to be at practice?”

“they cut it short today cause coach and dani couldn’t stop arguing over about the starting lineup,” she explains, and you both laugh. “you and i haven’t had a real date in so long. can you squeeze me in?”

“i can move some things in my schedule.” your heart flips at the thought of being able to spend actual quality time with her. “i miss you.”

“miss you more. thanks for being flexible. see you soon?” she asks eagerly.

“where am i meeting you?”

“meet me in 20! i’ll text you,” she says, a little too quickly, and you instantly sense something’s up. but before you can question her, she chirps a quick “i love you” and hangs up.

you look down at your phone as you head towards your car and realize she’s sent you the location. you zoom out on the map until you realize where she’s got planned.

the lake….. megan meiyok be SO fr baby if u love me u wld be happy to spend any time w me it’s so cold outside i will bring you hot choco ples pls please pls pleas pls plspslpslpls OKAYYYY fine

the argument is over sooner than it started, and you’re heading over to the frozen lake where megan loves to practice when she doesn’t feel like heading to the arena.

“hi, beautiful,” she greets you, beaming smile. if you were angry earlier, her smile is enough to melt away any of your mild frustrations.

“hi you,” you greet back, pressing a kiss into her cheek

“we haven’t had a date on ice in a while,” she notes, handing you your skates that she keeps with hers.

“you’re determined to teach me how to skate,” you roll your eyes.

“you’re going to know how, our kids are going to know how, our crusty ass dog is going to know how.” she reaches out to you and steps onto the ice with the confidence of someone who’s never fallen. “we are for sure a skating family.”

you laugh and take her arm. you love the idea of the future she has pictured. 

“do you remember the first time you tried to take me on the ice?” you ask, as she pulls the two of you along on the bumpy frozen-over lake.

“you were so bad at it,” she laughs.

“everyone looks bad at it compared to you,” you frown.

“i think i expected you to be more graceful,” she grins.

“you’ve been skating since you could walk.” you roll your eyes and try to push her, but the movement just makes you wobbly on the ice. “cut me some slack.”

“while you studied your books, i studied the motherfucking blade,” she tells you.

“ok, relax naruto,” you laugh, trying to get your bearings as she lets go of your arm and skates ahead of you, turning backwards to face you effortlessly. show off.

“dare me to hit the most vile jutsu known to man?” she grins.

“literally what does that even mean?” you shake your head.

“it means i hit a nasty pose and copy myself a million times,” she beams, and you can’t stop laughing at the various poses she starts to contort herself into. 

“the bitches of the wnhl are gonna loooove you,” you sing song, watching her continue to hit what you can only assume are the most complex of nerdy naruto poses. 

“coach said he’s already getting teams ask about me,” she says excitedly, reaching back out for your hand to guide you along the ice.

“i bet they’ve been asking about you since your freshman year,” you reassure her.

megan’s smile softens as she looks at you, then looks at your intertwined hands. “we have grown a lot since then.”

“so much.”

“i feel really lucky.”

“how come?”

“everything just sort of worked out for me. about to graduate, captain by my junior year, met my college sweetheart. it’s like, so convenient.”

“you have worked extremely hard for everything you have,” you reassure her, reaching up to play with the hairs at the base of her neck. “i can’t think of anyone who works harder. you deserve everything good in your life.”

“some days i feel like i never deserved you,” she admits. 

“what? don’t be silly.” you squint at her. “you’re the superstar. i still get shy knowing i’m the one you call at the end of the night.”

“all these years and you still feel shy?” she looks at you with those wide, beautiful puppy dog eyes.

“you’re very, very good looking,” you admit, though you’ve told her a million times before how attractive you’ve found her. “and very funny, and unfortunately, extremely awkward, which meant i was doomed from the start.”

she makes a fist with her free hand and beams. “i bagged the baddie using my undeniable weird girl swag.”

“weirdest of weird girls,” you laugh. “i wouldn’t want anyone else.”

the weight of the email starts to strain inside your chest. lara’s words ring through your ears. this needs to be the time you say something.

“meg–” you start.

the buzz of her phone vibrates loudly against her pocket, cutting you off. she pulls her phone out and winces, letting go of your hand.

“it’s coach. i have to take this, nike wants to do an interview tomorrow and he’s losing his shit about it. i’m so sorry,” she offers you the most apologetic kiss she can muster.

“go for it.” you nod, but you feel the sinking in your chest. “i know what i signed up for.”

megan has to leave as soon as the call is over, and by the look on her face, she’s carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. you can’t possibly bear to add something else to her plate. 

you head home, grateful for the tender moment you were able to share. maybe it was a blessing in disguise that you didn’t get to spoil it with your announcement.

you’re home and settling into your night when you get a text from minji in the other room. 

this you?

a post from a college sports gossip blog. it’s a picture of you and megan, on the ice, holding hands. 

you grimace. sure, the lake is in a public park, but who’s weird enough to be taking pictures of you at your most private times?

your fingers keep scrolling. 

you know dani had gone through this when her relationship with the coach’s daughter had gone public. megan had told you all about how they tried to keep it just between the team at first, but even with dani stepping down as captain, she was still a hot topic and being locked down by her coach’s own daughter made them campus celebrities for months. 

you’ve tried not to let the same thing bother you, but facts are facts: megan is one of the best college hockey players in the country, and dani made women’s hockey something to talk about. megan, by default, becomes something of a mini-celebrity on campus, and you are unfortunately stuck as her hockey wife. 

you look at the bright side. you knew her as a sweet, bright eyed freshman without a clue in the world, and despite all the recognition that’s come to her, she’s still the same old megan you fell in love with. you pick megan, and that means picking all that comes with her.

-

with midterms quickly coming and going, you and megan survive the grueling test season and make it out on the other side relatively unscathed. you know at this point in the semester, her team is starting to heat up, and with such a dominant performance so far in the season, her team is easily top in their conference, all but guaranteeing their spot in the playoffs. 

you’d think that she’d take it easy to maintain her pace, but lately, megan has been harder to get a hold of, somehow even less available than you had thought was possible. you cheer her on at every home game, and she was thrilled when you crashed with sophia to cheer her on at an away game, but lately, even lara mentions how much megan has been blowing her off to practice or tend to her captain duties.

you take it upon yourself to wait for her outside of the conference room, knowing she’s busy reviewing a recent interview she did with ESPN with the athletics department. when she finally comes out of the room, you feel yourself light up at the sight of your girlfriend.

what hurts your heart is for the first time in years, she doesn’t light up at the sight of you. her eyes are tired, and while she acknowledges you with a hug, the unintentional cold shoulder admittedly stings.

“hi,” she greets weakly, reaching out as you initiate a hug. 

you try to shake off your nerves at the interaction and squeeze her as tightly as you can. she takes heavy steps to lead the two of you out of the building. 

“i saw your interview. tried calling you in between but i know it was a busy day for you,” you chirp. “how’d you think it went?”

“not good,” megan shakes her head immediately. “i lost my shit so fast.”

“why are you being so hard on yourself? you did amazing,” you frown.

“thank you.” a beat, and she nuzzles her head into your shoulder. a flash of your familiar megan comes back, and it soothes your heart. you run your fingers through her hair to comfort her, and it seems to help as she lets out a sigh. “yeah, sorry. i’m stressing about my grades.”

“you have so much on your plate,” you tell her worriedly.

she groans. “and i’m barely holding on to this passing grade in my world literature class.”

“i can help with that,” you nod. “easily.”

the two of you find yourselves on a bench outside the building, sitting side by side. a brief moment of peace with your ever-busy girlfriend.

“i don’t want you always doing my english homework for me,” she tells you, biting her lip.

“i’d never, you know that meg. but i can help you make sense of it all.”

“glad one of us likes english,” she wrinkles her nose, reaching over to press a kiss into your temple. “i like that so much about you.”

english. your mind wanders to the email. it’s been months now since you told yourself you’d say something to her. you steady yourself with an inhale and reach for her hand.

“speaking of english, i wanted to find a good time to tell you,” you start quietly.

“hm?” she arches a brow, those puppy eyes looking at you nervously.

“i got an offer for a master’s program in the UK.” you confess. “lodging would be paid for, i’d be a research assistant which would cover the costs of my program. it’s literally perfect megan, like a dream come true.”

megan’s eyes are wide. you’re waiting for the hug, the congratulatory cheer, but instead, she just stares back at you.

“oh.” she says simply. “you actually applied?”

“yes.” you furrow your brows. “i didn’t just mention it to mention it.”

“i didn’t think you were serious about it,” she admits, and it stings to hear her tone. dismissive. something you would have never expected given all the wins you two make such a big deal of celebrating.

“why do you say that?” you question, trying to regulate yourself.

“it’s so far,” she says quietly, opening her mouth to add more, but nothing comes out. she looks away, pulling her hand from yours.

“hey,” you push, scooting closer to her on the bench. “you okay?”

“i’m anxious,” she admits. 

“i know,” you sigh. “just between practice, and your meetings, and your interviews, there’s never enough time to talk about the heavier stuff. i didn’t want to let more time pass. we haven’t exactly had a ton of time to talk about next steps.”

“y/n, you know it’s either hockey, or nothing for me after college ends. i need to go pro.” her eyes are determined, but there’s something more to them, something that worries you. “if i lose this season, my future is out the window. i can’t lose you too.”

“dani was the best player in the country and she didn’t end up going pro. everything can change so fast. you need to be prepared with a backup plan, meg,” you remind her. it’s not that you don’t foresee her succeeding, but you remember how torn up she was when dani got injured, and how fast it all changed. “you’re so much more than this sport.”

“i am nothing without hockey,” she says quickly, her face tensing. you don’t like what’s coming over her, but more so, you don’t know what’s coming over her. she’s never gotten like this in all your years together. determined, sure, but never this insistent, never this aggressive.

“yes you are,” your brows furrow. 

“it’s everything to me.”

“what about your friends? your hobbies?” you press, before your voice softens. “what about me?”

“i wouldn’t have any friends without hockey. i don’t have hobbies,” she says quickly, shaking her head. “and i wouldn’t have met you without hockey.”

“but you got all those things along the way. hockey didn’t do that for you, they just happened. you made your friendships happen, i like you for you and not what you do.”

“no i get that, i just feel like i really need to focus. i’m really sorry.” she lets out a deep breath, and reaches again for your hand, and you feel slightly reassured by the gesture as her body relaxes. “i’ll make it up to you.”

“i know you will. just take it easy on yourself, please?” you plead, reaching over to brush some hair out of her face.

you see her wipe at the corners of her eyes. you reach for her and lay her head down on your shoulder, playing gently with her hair. 

-

“i’m worried about megan,” you say quietly, later that night on another phone call with daniela as megan is off to do another tape review with the team. 

“she’s been dreaming of this since she was a kid,” dani sighs. “the only thing she loves as much as she loves this sport is you.”

“i’m scared she’s going to burn out,” you confess.

“if there’s a time to push, it’s now,” dani reminds you.

“do you think i’m maybe doing too much?” you ask. you stare at a framed photo of you and the ginger that you keep hanging above your desk in your room, a picture of the two of you on a picnic. “like i’m asking too much of her?”

“that’s not a question for me,” dani tells you. “i’m in no position to be giving relationship advice. barely figured out how to make one work on my own.”

you laugh softly. “you know, it was easier when you were in charge.”

“i made that shit look soooo easy.” you can hear her smile over the phone. “nobody gets how hard it was. megan’s good at it but she’s not ever going to half-ass something.”

you stare at the photo. megan’s adorable dimples, her shining eyes, her wide smile: things you haven’t seen her do in what feels like weeks. 

“i don’t think she has enough of herself left to give,” you say quietly.

-

the alumni night rolls around, and it’s a blast for you to see all the girls who graduated. they open up the arena for a few hours of free ice skating and talking to the team. it’s a welcome few hours to enjoy with her, and as you promised, you show up extra early to be her date.

megan, forever the adorable face of the team, gives a quick welcome speech on the ice and thanks everyone for being there. she poses briefly with a few of the donors for some pictures and then finds you to guide you onto the ice. 

you’re wobbly, as expected, but megan keeps her arm held out to you, anchoring you as she pushes off strong enough for the both of you to lap lazy circles around and around without much effort on your end.

“i’ll get good at this eventually,” you reassure her, trying your best not to wobble and fall. 

“that’s what i’m here for,” she smiles back at you. “also looks sick to have such a pretty girl on my arm.”

“you’re sweet,” you grin. after your talk, things had been tense, but you had tried to ease up and just support her. dani’s words would ring through your head, about how bad you want this, and you remembered how much you love megan’s determination. 

“my babies, always looking more and more grown up,” lara sing songs from behind you both as she catches up on the ice. you spot lara’s girlfriend, plus yunjin, and dani, plus dani’s girlfriend, all joining you. 

lara chats to yunjin about her therapy internship she’s doing at a local mental health center, and yunjin rambles excitedly about how boston is going for her and the super cool job she bagged straight after graduation. dani barely counts as an alumni considering she works at the university now, but she’s still wearing an alumni name tag, enjoying the attention of people asking her what it’s like to be on the other side of it all. 

“zuha just got here!” yunjin announces loudly, looking down at a text on her phone with a beaming grin. 

“kazuha signed to the vegas golden knights right after graduation,” megan says quickly. several of the seniors that year got drafted and you remember megan following all their stats meticulously.

“hoping to join her?” you ask curiously, trying to be a good sport about it all. 

“just want to know what it’s like, she calls but she’s too busy to talk very long.” you can sense the urgency in her voice. “do you mind if i chat with her?”

“don’t be gone too long. i might get brave and try to skate again without you, might lose a tooth,” you tell her, smiling.

she presses a kiss to your forehead and sets your arm carefully on the wall, allowing you to pull yourself along to the exit. 

you sit on one of the benches to unlace the blades from your feet, when eunchae comes to join you.

eunchae greets you with a broad smile and you return it, happy to see the once star-struck rookie who had blossomed into megan’s right-hand on the ice. megan had stayed close with dani and lara since they didn’t move away after graduating, but eunchae, being a year younger, had quickly become megan’s new closest teammate. 

“it’s like ghosts came back,” she says as she sits next to you. “i missed everyone, but things are so different in just a year.”

“so different,” you agree.

“i’ll keep an eye on her for you,” she tells you, as if she can read your worries. “i know she’s been off lately. the new girls don’t know what she was like before she was captain, but i do. i can tell she’s been struggling, this year more than ever.”

you give eunchae an appreciative smile. “you have no idea how much that means to me. dani keeps saying she’s fine, but i feel like this year is different for her.”

“it’s a lot of pressure. we have the playoffs and if we do well, the championships. megan’s been part of the championship team since she was a freshman. it would look terrible if we started losing once she became captain. i think she’s trying to look at it from all angles,” eunchae explains, and it starts to click little by little for you.

“she doesn’t think she has any wiggle room,” you sigh, and the two of you spot her out on the ice, beaming widely at something kazuha is saying to her. your sweet, dorky megan, who shows up in flashes every once in a while.

eunchae offers you a nod of encouragement. “she’s got this, but i’ll let you know if i get worried. i can’t imagine this is very easy on you either.”

megan spots you from across the ice rink, and waves to the two of you. she says something quickly to kazuha before skating over to you, motioning for you to come back and join them. you and eunchae oblige, hopping onto the ice together.

“doing okay?” you check in.

she nods, but turns away for a moment, and you can see her trying to stifle a yawn. “i’m peachy.”

“how long have you been up for?” you question, holding onto her arm as eunchae chats kazuha’s ear off.

“um, i got up at 4 to do conditioning, then solo practice, radio interview at 6,” she starts to rattle off. you sigh and slip a hand into her back pocket, melting into her embrace.

“you need to fix your sleep schedule,” you chastise her.

“totally,” she agrees. “we can leave whenever.”

you’re about to suggest cutting the night early when a few extra voices cut in.

“cap!” 

megan squints at you apologetically before turning to greet the source of the noise. “hi guys.”

megan and eunchae welcome a wave of the newer girls. you recognize them freshmen and sophomores you’ve met in passing. haerin, moka, and maya, who all approach excitedly. 

you smile. years ago, it was you and megan who were the babies of the group, your sweet ginger being at her most bright-eyed and eager.

“this place is packed,” moka, one of the newer defenseman, gapes.

“insane, right?” maya, the starting goalie, agrees.

“hey, are we still good for an early practice tomorrow?” haerin asks megan, her voice quiet. you recognize her as a left wing: a high pressure spot with huge shoes to fill considering that was daniela’s former position, and works directly with megan as center to score the goals. you can’t imagine the pressure of being daniela’s replacement.

“for sure,” megan nods, and you can’t help but glare at her. so much for catching up on sleep. but these girls clearly admire her, and you won’t stand in the way of her being a doting team leader.

before they can keep going, a random guy comes up alongside you all, waving wildly at megan as if he knows her.

“my betting bracket depends on you,” he tells her, and you realize it’s just a fanboy. megan has had plenty in her time. “i’m putting it all on you getting us a dub.”

“thanks,” she says weakly, and eunchae gives her a quick glance as if to check in if she should do anything. you guys are all caught in an awkward silence as he simply skates alongside you all.

the guy opens his mouth to say something, but then notices your hand interlocked with megan’s, and brings a finger up to point at you.

“don’t fucking distract her, okay?” he warns.

you know he means it teasingly, but you can already feel megan’s body lurching at the gesture.

your girlfriend grabs him angrily by the sleeve, a warning look in her eyes as her grip locks tightly on his elbow. you see the younger girls freeze, all of you coming to a standstill as megan grabs him.

“don’t talk to her like that,” she warns harshly, her voice low. you can see the guy’s eyes widen in surprise, but more to your concern, you see the girls’ faces change. moka and maya are staring at each other, and haerin looks like she’s seeing a ghost.

“hey, relax,” you shake her arm, trying to bring her back to reality. you can tell she’s not all there by the way her dark eyes are still locked in on him, her grip still tight on his elbow. “he didn’t mean it like that.”

she blinks once, twice, and breathes slowly. “i’m sorry.”

“you can let go of him now,” eunchae says quietly, as if to not embarrass her. megan complies, and eunchae mentions something to the guy that has him skating off with a smile on his face, hopefully saving their interaction.

“sorry you guys had to see that,” megan tells the girls, shaking her head. “that was really not cool.”

“it’s okay, cap,” maya reassures her, if a bit too quickly, as if she’s kissing up. you smile at how hard they’re trying to cheer her up, but you can tell megan’s worried about how this affects their view of her, by the way she’s chewing her bottom lip.

“hey, it’s fine,” you reassure her, and moka nods in agreement.

“totally cool to protect your people,” she nods.

“i promise i’m not usually that quick to flip,” megan offers quietly, and you feel your heart ache at her embarrassment. usually, her protectiveness of you comes from a good place, but with all the stress, you can see her fuse is much shorter than normal.

“no, they know you’re a good person,” eunchae nods reassuringly.

“you’re thoughtful, and kind, and a good leader,” you reassure her, and the girls nod in agreement. “you work hard, harder than anyone i know, and you’re always willing to learn. you have zero ego.”

“alright, alright, i think i’ve blushed enough to reset my aura back into the negatives,” megan waves you off, wrinkling her nose, and the girls all beam back at you excitedly.

“i dunno cap, i think being a lovergirl actually proves you have rizz,” maya says, and haerin simply nods in eager agreement.

“yeah, coach dani loves telling stories about how you used to be this bitchless loser with zero social skills—” moka rambles, and you burst out laughing loud enough that it cuts her off.

“damn, your loser legacy lives on forever,” you grin, pinching her cheek.

“remind me to break her other knee once the season’s over so she’s got two bad legs,” megan groans, and eunchae laughs her off.

megan holds tightly onto your hand as you all continue to skate. eunchae chats excitedly with you and megan about some random stats, haerin is doing her best to listen and keep up, moka and maya are simply goofing off skating circles around each other on the ice in front of you all. 

your heart warms looking up at your girlfriend, never having been able to picture how far you two would come from just being dorky little freshmen. you know it won’t be for long, but the brief peace it brings you is enough to power you through the rest of the day. you hope it’ll last, but make peace with the idea that this might be the eye of the storm.

-

(the peace only lasts the night, and the storm stirs starting the very next day.)

this week, with a deadline for your senior project approaching, you’ve been the one with limited time to squeeze in megan. you make it work between facetimes and quick coffee dates, the two of you agreeing to spend at least a few nights out of the week together even if it’s just to sleep alongside each other, but you can tell that your schedules are working in opposite directions.

even today, when you’re done with all your obligations and studying in the campus library by yourself, you’re hoping to surprise megan with a quick dinner after practice, but your plans get thrown off when you get an unexpected call.

a call from eunchae, of all people, with the most random favor in the world to ask of you.

“hey, will you come to practice? like, now?”

“what? is everything okay?” your voice jumps an octave in disbelief. 

eunchae knows that you don’t come to practices, unlike some of the other hockey girlfriends, due to just how distracted megan gets by you being there. megan can focus when you’re cheering her on for games, but she’s explicitly banned you from practice after one too many missed shots because she’s too busy being nervous around you.

you��ve always found it sweet, and you know eunchae knows megan’s rule, so that’s why it’s surprising you that she’s explicitly going against the captain’s personal expectations.

“meg’s been, uh, how do i put this…” she pauses.

“eunchae?” you ask, worried with how long she’s taking.

“acting out,” she finally blurts, and you feel yourself grow even more confused. “it’s weird.”

your megan? your laser-focused, super professional megan, acting out?

“i’ll be there,” you tell her quickly, shutting your laptop and hurrying over to the hockey arena where they practice in a few short minutes.

eunchae is waiting for you by the entrance of the rink, out of view of the team, holding a tampon much too obviously in her hand. you laugh realizing this is probably the excuse she used in order to get off the ice and avoid suspicion when she gave you a call and waited for you in the middle of practice.

“acting out how?” you ask her, feeling your brows furrow in confusion.

“watch how she gets with ryujin,” eunchae tells you, before handing you the tampon to hide and putting her helmet back on, heading back out to the ice. you sneak in, trying to make yourself small and unnoticeable amongst some of the other girlfriends who are sitting and studying or watching from the bleachers.

megan is too focused on the ice to notice you. you can see the sweat dripping down off the tip of her nose, a testament to how hard she pushes herself every practice, how eager she is to give her all. she zips past the other girls during the drills, and you’re almost starting to feel guilty for spying on her. 

but then, as the practice comes to an end and they split into two teams to practice a quick scrimmage, you see it happen.

it’s almost lightning fast, and you’re not really good enough at hockey to know the intricacies of what it’s supposed to look like, but you can tell that megan is expecting haerin to pass something to someone else and get it to her to make a shot. 

haerin does as she’s supposed to, taking a pass from eunchae to send it over to ryujin, but ryujin is too busy blocking off the opposite wing to notice the pass. the puck slides past her, between her legs, into the waiting hands of the opposing girl, who skips past the wings and sends it straight past maya’s glove, scoring the other girls a point.

“left side wins,” dani announces easily. “good game, ladies. see you all tomorrow.”

you can tell the scrimmage is supposed to be light hearted (they only played for one point, for christ’s sakes,) but the moment dani announces that megan’s team didn’t win, you see the ginger rip her helmet off her head and throw it angrily into the plexiglass. you feel yourself jolt at the clang of the helmet against the barrier, the loud thud it makes that rings through the otherwise quiet rink.

and then you hear her voice, loud, booming, aggressive, echo through the arena.

“hey, if you’d get your head out of your ass, you’d have seen that shot, you idiot.”

ryujin instantly stands up straighter, and you see her whole body tense. “sorry meg.”

“i don’t want sorry, it want it fucking right.” megan scoops another puck from behind the box and drops it on the ice, sending it flying towards haerin and motioning to ryujin. “run it again.”

“but practice is over,” ryujin says weakly. 

megan shoots a glare at haerin, who quietly complies and recreates the pass over to ryujin. ryujin ignores the pass and stares at megan, but this just infuriates the ginger even further. she grabs yet another puck, sending it more aggressively at haerin once more.

“shin, do it the fuck again,” megan demands, her gaze hard and serious as the other girls simply watch, dumbfounded and clearly in fear. “you’re not off the ice until you fix it.”

you look to dani to do something about it, but she’s too busy talking to the other coaches to notice what megan’s doing. 

ryujin misses the pass once more, and you can see her face turning more and more red as megan drops puck after puck, insisting she go until she gets it right. the girls all stay frozen, watching the events unfold, until haerin exhaustedly sends a pass to ryujin that she finally catches, sending the pass to megan. 

megan catches the pass, and as if to prove a point, slams a shot so forcefully into the empty goal, it shoots the net backwards several feet. you feel your stomach drop at the display of anger. megan waves them off wordlessly and gets off the ice. 

eunchae’s eyes come up to meet yours from where you’re hiding on the bleachers, the girls all silently trickling off the ice. you can hear ryujin crying as she rushes past the rest of the girls into the locker room.

megan stays, and so do a few of the other girls like maya and moka and haerin, practicing a few more maneuvers with their captain, but nobody says anything among them. it makes your heart ache, remembering how she’d used to spend an extra hour here with kazuha, yunjin, lara and dani, practicing, laughing, catching up. now, the extra practice is heavier, silent and solemn, with none of the joy that used to have megan coming home rambling like an excited puppy about whatever nonsense they had gotten into between the five of them.

you wave her over, and see her brows lift in surprise as she realizes you’re there. she skates over to you, but doesn’t stop for a kiss or even a greeting. she simply gives you a look, as if to ask what you’re doing there, and you can tell by her clenched jaw that she’s still holding onto some frustration from that interaction.

“what’s that all about?” you ask, crossing your arms, motioning to the display from earlier.

“she’s just cocky.” megan shakes her head, making no attempt to apologize or explain otherwise. “but she has zero reason to be that arrogant. makes me irritated.”

“i’ve never seen you get irked like that before,” you say worriedly, your brows furrowing. “much less talk to a teammate like that. megan, you made the poor girl cry.”

“did you just un-ironically use the word irked?” she asks, ignoring the rest of your comment. you feel the irritation build up at how casually she’s treating all of this. your megan would never dream of turning the rink into something so toxic, so full of fear.

“i’m serious.” you warn her. “chill out. if your coaches thought ryujin needed the extra work, they would have made her run it over again.”

“fine, fine, i’ll apologize,” she shakes her head, reaching for her water bottle. “maybe i was too intense. sorry.”

“don’t say sorry to me,” you wave her off. 

you wait for her to finish up with the rest of the girls, but you can’t shake your discomfort at the side of megan you saw.

-

as it turns out, this isn’t the last incident megan has where her temper flares.

you’ve never once thought of her as an angry person, and considering the sport she devotes her life to, that was something you felt like you lucked out on. you somehow managed to bag the only hockey player in the world without a raging temper, your silly little girlfriend, easygoing and mellow. this lack of temper was what made her so good in her role, focused and intense, able to lock into what she needs to do without the distractions of her emotions. sure, anxiety would run rampant through her, but she’d turn that adrenaline into fuel to work smarter, never using it to snap at others.

you know it’s the stress getting to her, but after eunchae has to call you several times throughout the next few weeks, it’s starting to wear you thin, on top of already worrying you.

(what is happening to your sweet megan?)

your presence doesn’t do enough to deter her from some of the comments she makes, some of the harshness she takes out on the girls. dani’s obviously used to the verbal abuse she takes from the head coach and doesn’t do much about megan’s occasional tirade, but even if she did, you wonder what it’d take to get megan out of this headspace. you can see the way the girls look at her, eyes equally full of admiration and fear, and you never would have imagined your sweet captain would lead by fear, not in a million years.

with finals coming up, of course you’d rather focus on studying somewhere quiet, or going through flash cards with minji and marsh, but eunchae has asked you to stay just a few more practices. they’ve made it to the finals, and championship games are always a stressful time for the whole team, but if eunchae is worried, you know you should be too.

this night, she takes it too far, with haerin slipping up on a pass and accidentally sending it in the opposite direction of where the play requires. 

megan, seeing this, gets so angry that she takes her stick and snaps it over her knee, skating over wordlessly to grab another one without so much as a second look in haerin’s direction. you can see the younger girl and how her lip quivers, the way all the girls on the bench flinch as megan approaches, the way megan skates as if she has a chip on her shoulder.

practice ends, and you walk out wordlessly, deciding to wait for megan outside the building instead so you don’t end up calling her out in front of her friends.

she spots you as she steps out, showered and looking so cute with her skin pinking up against the chill of the december weather, but her eyes are dark and unreadable. you can tell she’s still internalizing the anger of the practice, still holding on to everything from the ice.

“that was too much, by the way,” you tell her, your voice stern and even. you’ve had enough of trying to guide her gently to self-correct.

“haerin keeps messing up the flow on the ice,” she defends herself, making no effort to reach for you.

“she’s new, she’s still getting the hang of it,” you remind her. “she’s just a freshman, megan, balancing the same things you did back then.”

“but i didn’t mess up when i was a freshman,” she pushes back, and your heart thuds painfully at how gruff her voice sounds. 

“megan, you’re also like a child prodigy,” you remind her gently, trying to bridge the gap by reaching for her hand. “you can’t expect everyone to be as good as you were.”

megan lets you hold her hand, but makes no effort to squeeze back. “dani expected that of me and look how i came out.”

“but you’re not dani,” you say. “and more importantly, they’re not you.”

megan shakes her head, dropping your hand to bite at her fingernails, an anxious habit of hers. “she can’t go pro making mistakes like that. none of them can.”

“megan, not everyone wants to go pro,” you remind her. “i get that you’re really good, but let people make mistakes and learn from them. i’m not trying to hurt your feelings, but you sound like a jerk.”

you realize the last part slips without your meaning to, but by the time you try to correct yourself, she’s already taken a step back, her brows furrowing.

“a jerk? seriously? for what, for trying to help everyone get to where they need to be?” she asks. “hard work is the only way to get there.”

“okay, relax ego,” you narrow your eyes at her, so, so confused where this stranger has come from. “yes, hard work is important, but so is knowing when to take a step back and just breathe. working hard shouldn’t cost you everything.”

megan dips her head, her serious eyes meeting yours in the dark of the evening, her expression cold and harsh.

“y/n, you’re not understanding. i’m the only person who can get them there. it’s me, or it’s nobody, and i’m not letting this team fail.”

“you’re not thinking straight. you’ve always been a captain that cares about building the girls up, not tearing them down when they don’t act like you.”

“if they gave half as much of a shit as i do, i wouldn’t need to set them straight,” she says frustratedly.

all you can manage to do is to take a step away from her, away from this unrecognizable stranger. you can empathize to the moon and back, but this isn’t your megan, and talking to her as if she is starts to make your stomach hurt.

“figure out what you want, and what it’s worth, because i don’t know what version of you this is,” you tell her, trying to step back, eager to put some space in between you and this stranger.

megan’s eyes are intense, nearly panicked, and for every step you take backwards, she moves forwards to keep looking in your eyes. 

“what if this is the only version of me? what then?” she pushes, her face tense.

“i don’t believe that. you can work hard and still be kind. you’ve never lost one in being the other. i don’t get why you’re letting yourself start now,” you push back, shaking your head.

“i can’t believe you’re picking a fight with me this week of all weeks,” megan groans, taking a step back and pinching the bridge of her nose.

“megan, i’ve been trying to be sensitive because i know you’re going through a lot, but it’s not just this week,” you tell her, frustrated that she’s trying to pin this on you. “it’s been the last few months.”

“i’m under a lot-” she starts, but you hold a hand up to cut her off.

“a lot of pressure, i know.” you grimace at the excuse everyone’s made for her, but you’ve had enough. you try to soften your voice, to plead with whatever part of her could rationally hear you. “i’m not asking you to give anything up, i’m just asking you to consider where your head’s at.”

her voice softens, meeting yours, and she lets out a quiet, pained breath. “i can’t lose focus.”

“i’m not trying to distract you,” you reassure her, reaching for her arm. “i just want to make sure you’re going to be okay.”

“i’ll be okay when we win and i’m drafted,” she says firmly, fixing her eyes on the ground.

“you’re losing yourself in the process,” you plead with her.

“this has always been me,” megan says quickly, finally bringing her gaze up to meet yours.

“no. you were never like this,” you push against her words, holding onto her hand by her index finger to reassure her. “i know that for a fact. you have never once been like this. when i met you, i thought you were the biggest jerk alive, and you proved me so wrong. that’s why i fell in love with you.” 

though you treasure the memory of getting to know her, something about the way you bring it up sets her off, her face hardening again as she pulls away from your grasp, yanking her arm back.

“i’m not that stupid freshman any more, and you’re not some hero who can save me again. i’m fucked if i don’t figure this out on my own. nobody’s coming to my rescue,” she spits angrily, a tone that shocks you.

“i didn’t mean it like i saved you,” you furrow your brows. “tutoring you was the best thing that ever happened to me. you’ve never been stupid—”

“i know you think i’m taking it too far but not everyone can just ace every class,” she blurts, interrupting you, taking another step away from you. “some of us don’t just get everything handed to them that easily.”

her words cut harsher than you could have ever imagined. firstly, the implication that you haven’t worked for what you’ve gotten to is extremely unfair, but even worse, it’s like your body wasn’t prepared to hear such words out of her mouth. in all your years together, megan had never once raised her voice, never once snapped at you, no matter how bad your disagreements got. she’d go quiet, take some space, and come right back ready to see things from a new perspective. never once had she insulted you— your walls have been down far enough you never thought that was a danger you’d need to protect yourself from.

“don’t talk to me like that,” you say simply, blinking back tears. “you’ve never talked to me like that.”

she’s too far gone into whatever headspace has taken over. you can see her eyes glaze over, forgetting where she is, who you are to her.

“i think-” she starts.

“megan,” your voice is sharp, a warning.

she blinks once, twice, her eyes fixing on something beyond you, unable to meet your eyes. “i think i just need a little bit to figure some things out.”

“i trusted you when you said you wouldn’t dream of hurting me,” you snap, hurriedly wiping the tears from your cheeks when you feel them fall, unsure of when they started spilling in the first place. “i don’t know where that girl went.”

you can see it shift in her eyes. the memory to her first championship game. your confession, her confession, how long ago it was and yet how fresh it felt to you.

“i’m hurting you,” she whispers, her face tensing.

“when you figure yourself out, let me know. when my megan comes back, you tell me, because i have no clue who you’ve turned into. i’ll be here.”

you turn on your heel and leave her to figure herself out. you don’t know where this leaves you, but she doesn’t chase after you, and that’s enough for now. 

-

minji and marsh are gone when you get home. you assume they’re on a date, which stings mildly as you remember all the double dates the four of you were able to fit in over the summer. you don’t need to bother minji with your drama right now, but being alone in the apartment means you need to figure something out to get megan out of your head and give her space. you’re hoping a few hours will give her what she needs to cool off, but the evening trickles by and you’re mindlessly on your phone, nothing to be heard from megan.

it’s close to midnight when you’re dozing off, startled awake by a sudden buzzing in your hand.

lara raj. she isn’t one to cold call, usually texting first, so you’re a bit worried about what this means for you.

you pick up, curious as to what she could need so late in the evening. 

“hey y/n,” she drawls, clearly trying to sound casual. “not to be super crazy or anything, but nobody’s seen megan since practice, and her location is off.”

“is she with you?” dani butts in quickly. 

you check your phone and realize megan has turned her location off for you as well, something she hasn’t done in your time dating (except for the time she tried planning a surprise birthday party for you, which she gave herself away several times with her terrible ability to keep anything secret.)

you figure she’s not planning any surprises and let out a sigh. “is she not replying?”

“no,” dani says.

“she hasn’t come home yet,” lara says simply, the concern palpable.

you take a beat before thinking back to her most likely spots. “have you checked the lake?”

“oh, duh, have we checked the lake,” you hear dani say in the background. 

“can you come with?” lara asks.

“i don’t think she wants to see me right now,” you admit. “we had a pretty bad fight.”

“a fight?” you hear dani’s disbelief palpably through the phone. “what the fuck?”

“megan?” lara clarifies, as if you could be possibly talking about anyone else.

“i don’t know who it was,” you shake your head.

“we’ll be there in a few.” dani tells you. “let’s go get her head on straight.”

they pick you up as promised just a small while later, and the three of you drive out to the park to see if your guess was right.

you can hear her before any of you see her. the clack of her stick against the ice, slapping pucks into the snowbank over and over again. you’re shivering even beneath your thick jacket and sweatpants, and you can tell megan’s been out here for a while based on how flushed her skin is, even in the dark.

“go away,” she says shortly as the three of you try to approach as peacefully as you can. lara and dani take the lead and you hang back, hoping to not make it feel like an ambush.

“baby’s grumpy?” lara teases gently, stepping out onto the ice with her, trying to keep her balance in her gripless sneakers. “c’mon meg.”

“fuck off,” megan responds curtly.

“um, who shat in your shoes?” dani arches a brow. “relax.”

“i need to focus,” she waves them off, and you realize she hasn’t spotted you yet.

“meg, don’t be rude,” lara pushes.

“you’re not the boss of me,” she snaps quickly, skating away to turn her back on them.

“i think you should go,” lara tells you quickly, eyes widening as she approaches you again.

“she doesn’t care that i’m here,” you scoff, motioning to how easily she can head off without realizing you’re there. you’ve never been mentally prepared for her cold shoulder, and being on the receiving end hurts more than you’d care to admit.

“she cares,” dani says quickly. “she’s just being stupid. i’ll prove it.”

“y/n?” megan looks up at the sound of your approach, and her eyes linger on you with something more, something like an apology in waiting. 

“apologize,” daniela says firmly.

“what?” megan gapes in surprise.

“fix it,” dani emphasizes, pulling you along towards her. you feel dani’s hand drop to your waist. 

in all your years of being friends, she’s never once tried anything with you, so the gesture feels both platonic and unusual all at once. you know she’s absolutely crazy about her girlfriend, and assume this has something to do with getting under megan’s skin, which you’re not thrilled about.

“don’t do that,” megan says quickly, and you can see it. her eyes darkening. you realize dani’s intention to set her off to prove a point.

“apologize. to lar first, and then to y/n,” dani repeats, her tone hard and bordering on aggressive. you remember this version of her, the night that she got into that fight, the way she so fearlessly stood up to those girls from the other team. you can’t believe megan’s at a point where her own best friend has to step up to her like this.

“i was never fucking scared of you,” megan snaps back, yanking dani’s hand off of you. 

she’s rough with dani, but when megan reaches for you to move you back, her hand is so gentle against your hip gently moving you to the side, and part of you relishes in the touch. you’ve missed her gentle self, the way she reaches for you with such tenderness. 

“well you fucking should be,” dani growls back. “you’re pissing me off, puppy, and off the clock, not as your coach— i’ll beat your ass.”

“dani, don’t ever put a finger on y/n again,” megan warns, and you feel yourself wish you could escape whatever is about to go down.

“you don’t get to be jealous girlfriend when you’re being the world’s biggest dick. y/n loves you, you owe her an apology,” daniela argues, kicking a puck in her direction.

“it’s fine,” you shake your head. “megan, i tried coming here to fix things, but you’re too stuck in your own head to see it. when you’re cooled off, i’ll be here. when you care about literally anything else but yourself, let me know.”

“you guys don’t care,” megan snaps, her brows tensed across her face angrily. “stop ganging up on me.”

“where is this victim complex coming from? we just want to help,” lara sighs.

but megan’s not finished, and she points her hockey stick threateningly in dani’s direction before looking to you apologetically. “and dani, don’t ever use y/n as bait again. i’m sorry they dragged you into this.”

“you’re dragging her into this with your fuckass attitude,” daniela calls her out, taking a challenging step closer. “give her a real apology.”

“megan…” you start, but megan and dani are too lost in their stand off for her to hear you.

“fuck you dani,” megan spits angrily. 

“they might have patience for you, but i don’t. fix it, now,” daniela presses back, reaching out once more for you as if it’s a threat.

in a flash, megan is rushing forward, dropping her shoulders to grip dani in a locked grasp and tackle her flat, slamming her back onto the ice.

“no, enough!” you scream quickly, leaping in to try and pull them off each other, but a soft pair of hands reach for you first.

“let them,” lara stops you, holding you back by the sleeve. “meg needs it out of her system.”

“not like this,” you grimace, trying to reach for her again, but lara simply holds a hand out to stop you.

“it’s a hockey thing,” she shakes her head. 

you watch as daniela wrestles for control over the grapple, what megan has over her in size and strength, dani more than makes up for in technique. megan’s on top for a few frightening moments before dani maneuvers them easily into a flip, quickly wiggling her way out to now straddle the taller girl. you gasp and feel your stomach drop as dani doesn’t hesitate to land one, two, three quick blows to megan’s exposed face, the ginger bringing her arms up to try and shield herself. 

megan ducks out of the way of the fourth punch and lets dani punch the ice beneath them instead, the older girl groaning as her fist makes contact with the solid, frozen wall. megan uses the quick break to land a harsh blow of her own to the side of dani’s face, throwing her quickly off of her as daniela reels from the strike to her eye.

you’ve had enough. yes, you’re mad at megan, but that doesn’t stop you from caring about her, and watching her fight some of the people she loves most pains you beyond imagination. you turn on your heel and escape to the street, quickly seeking the closest uber to come pick you up. you feel sick at what you’ve seen them all come to: megan, her friends, her team. you hope a night apart will give them all a chance to sort themselves out.

-

you’re too distressed to sleep even in your own bed, not wanting to be surrounded by the memories of megan cuddling you or the pictures of her you have scattered throughout your room. you come home and fall asleep on the couch in the living room, hoping you’ll wake up to some sort of clarity. 

no texts from megan, a missed call from daniela, 3 missed messages from lara.

you bite back the knot in your stomach and close your eyes, deciding you’ll ditch class today to focus on studying.

you sleep through the morning and wake to the smell of breakfast from the kitchen, the sound of the tv kicking on with no concern for your sleeping body. leave it to minji to play animal crossing at full volume even when you’re clearly trying to sleep.

“you’re such a dick, dude,” you groan as she sits next to you on the couch, unphased by your attempts to rest.

“good morning,” minji pokes your cheek. “it’s noon, by the way.”

“what do you want?” you roll your eyes, trying to turn the opposite direction.

“haven’t seen you sleep out here since we moved in,” she observes, eyes focused on the tv the whole time as she assesses the status of her island. “you good? where’s puckhead?”

“she’s been busy,” you say simply, not exactly eager to relive the events of last night.

“ah,” minji says simply. “too busy to say hi to her friends?”

“too busy to be nice to her girlfriend,” you say, hoping it’s enough.

“pouting doesn’t suit you, it’s gross,” minji grimaces. 

“be nice,” marsh yells out from the kitchen, always so quick to run to your rescue. 

“what are you trying to get at?” you wrinkle your nose at minji.

she shrugs, taking a hit from her pen as she keeps her gaze steady on the screen. “megan is a massive loser, yes—”

“minji,” marsh warns once more, as if it’s the only thing she’s capable of doing. “be nice!”

“i am best friends with the most emotionally incompetent person in the world,” you groan, trying to hide your face behind a random throw pillow.

“listen to me, i’m cooking or whatever,” minji says irritatedly. you find it hard to believe that she’s worth listening to: your half-high roommate, in her spiderman underwear and an old oversized t shirt, acting like she’s some oracle. but you’re sort of out of options, and minji’s put the controller down, so at this point you might as well hear her out. “megan is a loser, because she’s scared of a lot. and when she’s not being a loser, she’s acting not-scared, but what are the chances of her still being scared?”

“i know who megan is,” you tell minji, hoping she gets to her point sooner rather than later.

“you’ve never seen her too scared to find a solution. this might be it,” she says simply, staring into your eyes with her own serious ones. “she might be pushing you away while she thrashes around, ‘cause she’s never figured out how to navigate hard shit around others. she’s always had someone to fall back on, now she’s the fallback.”

“i know all this,” you say as if it’s obvious.

“but does she know that you know all this, or are you still just bagging on her for not having it figured out the way you do?” she asks, and the weight of her words hits you. “are you judging her for getting it wrong, when she’s never been taught how to get it right for something this serious?”

“thank you,” you whisper quietly under your breath, realizing this is the wakeup call you needed. you sit up and check the calendar— megan’s schedule is packed to the brim until her game at 6. 

her final championship game of her college career.

“you wouldn’t be with her if it weren’t for me.” minji says, self-satisfied smirk on her lips as she goes back to playing her game. “think of that next time you insult me.”

“you’re not that emotionally constipated after all,” you beam, wrapping her into a quick hug. even though she simply sits there and grunts, you know your roommate has your back.

“told you she could be nice,” marsh laughs from the kitchen, coming out to offer you a smoothie she’s put together. “we can drive you to the game later, if we’re still invited.”

“of course you guys are,” you reassure her. “i wouldn’t be with megan if it weren’t for minji.”

“and i wouldn’t be with minji if it weren’t for megan,” danielle beams. “we all sort of owe each other, in a weird square sort of way.”

“meg loves all things weird,” you smile. 

-

the first championship game you ever came to, you made it late. every game since then, you’ve been sure to show up at least an hour early, seated in front of the player box, where megan’s tickets get you the best seats in the whole arena, and this time will be no different. 

you still remember how excited she got when you custom ordered a university jersey with her last name, especially since college sports don’t allow selling custom merch. wearing your one-of-one “skiendiel” jersey seems fitting.

you think to text her and see if you can steal her away for a second, but before you can do anything, you spot the flash of ginger wandering out of the locker room. you can see the paleness in her face, the way her lip is bright red from how hard she’s been chewing it, the clear tells of how unwell she’s feeling. your heart aches for her, and before you can help it, you’re barrelling towards her, not caring where she might possibly need to be right now.

you collide into her with enough force to push her backwards, but she’s steady enough on her feet to take the hit and keep you both standing. your arms wrap around her and you’re breathing her in, her comforting scent, her familiar warmth, her strength and her softness all at once.

she melts into you as soon as you grip into her, pressing her nose into the top of your head as her arms wrap even tighter around you. the hug feels so, so comforting, leaving so much in the air lingering without causing either of you to suffer for a moment longer.

“you still came?” she asks in disbelief, those big eyes taking you in as she moves to take a step backwards and eye you over. you can see her seriousness melt away as she takes you in, the jersey, your presence, your genuine excitement to see her. 

“i haven’t missed a championship game since i met you,” you remind her, offering a gentle smile as a peace offering. “sure as hell wasn’t going to miss your very last one.”

megan opens her mouth to say something, but she pauses, her face twisting into something pained. you can tell she’s remembering the events of the night before. you take her in, realizing there’s some bruising around her cheekbone from her fight with daniela.

“i hurt you,” she says simply, clamping her eyes shut with a grimace.

“well i love you, and i have for a long time, and i think i know you pretty well. i don’t think you meant to hurt me.” you offer quietly, reaching for her hand. “i think my megan is in there still, just scared.”

“i’m fucking terrified.” you finally hear her admit it, and you look down to realize her hands are shaking. “of everything. this game, my career, our future.”

“you don’t have to be,” you reassure her, trying to reach out to steady her hand.

“i don’t have anything else going for me,” she breathes out, trying to even out her nerves. “you don’t understand.”

“i don’t see it that way,” you push back gently.

“i’m going to go play this game, and then i’m going to beg for forgiveness for being the worst girlfriend ever and a shit communicator.” she quickly takes both your hands in hers, bringing them up to her chest. you can feel her racing pulse against your palms, thudding against her ribs. “and if you’re still mad at me, i totally get it and i’ll go jump off a bridge asap.”

“shut up,” you laugh, and she breaks out into a smile that makes you feel like everything might just end up being okay.

“i’ll keep apologizing as a ghost, i’m serious,” she’s still sticking to the bit, but you can see her eyes start to tear up. “i messed up so bad. i’m really sorry.”

“go do what you do best,” you reach up to kiss her nose, careful to avoid the bruising. “i’ll be here, cheering you on like always.”

“i don’t want this to be the only thing i do best. i want to be a good friend, and a good girlfriend, and a good person,” she says determinedly.

“i love you,” you reassure her.

“nice,” she beams, and you laugh at how only she could make a tender moment so, so stupid.

“at least say like, samesies or some shit,” you beg.

“will you accept ditto?” she asks.

“if i have to,” you wrinkle your nose.

“cool then, ditto,” she grins, reaching down to press a gentle, pleading kiss against your lips. “i love you a lot, y/n. i’m sorry again.”

“you got this,” you reassure her once more, and you can hear the calls of the coaches beckoning her over. 

you wave her goodbye and find your seats again, busying yourself debriefing minji and her girlfriend, shooting a text to lara to let her know the resolution you’ve reached.

the two teams make it onto the ice and you spot the ginger braids peeking out from beneath the helmet, the way megan waves to the entire arena for what will be the last time in her college career. you can see her taking it in, deciding what she’s going to make of tonight, who she’s choosing to be right now. 

you spot dani coming out with the rest of the coaches, sporting a particularly gnarly black eye, no doubt courtesy of your girlfriend. she seems tense, but as soon as she spots you in the stands and glances back at megan, who is simply smiling at you, she nods approvingly and claps to get the team’s attention. they have a team huddle, and you can see the nervous eyes of so many of the newer girls darting around as the cheers from the arena get louder and louder, announcing the impending drop of the puck for the face-off.

eunchae leads them in a chant, and megan sends them off with the team battle shout, each of them slamming their gloves into the helmet of the girl next to them, a tradition dani had started with megan as a sophomore. it’s so cool to see them hyping themselves up, turning their nerves into pure adrenaline, and you see megan lock into her mindset of pure focus as she heads onto the face-off with a look of sheer determination.

the puck drops and she’s off like lightning, the puck nearly invisible with how quick she wields it. you look out to the ice, seeing the new faces, the way things have changed. eunchae stays in the back, holding down the defenseman’s position, but instead of lara, maya guards the goal protectively. instead of yunjin covering defense with eunchae, now it’s moka, looking determinedly out across the ice. instead of kazuha and dani working together to move the offense back and forth in their favor, like clockwork, like mirror images, it’s ryujin and haerin, a bit more scattered, but still quick, still eager, still lightning fast on the ice to pressure their offense.

and the anchor of the team, megan as center, carrying the weight of the team on her shoulders. it’s up to her to score, to call plays, to navigate traps, to see holes in the defense and predict where the offense is going to be. it’s her job to protect maya as the goalie from ever having to see the puck, to trust that moka and eunchae know what they’re doing and can cover the back end of the ice on defense, it’s her job to read ryujin’s movements and see where haerin is trying to take them, to weave between the two of them and catch every pass or assist every shot they try to make. 

hockey is the thing you almost lost your megan to, but watching her on the ice, the way she seems to almost float effortlessly and maneuver the puck with insane expertise, reminds you exactly why she’s poured all she has into this sport— to be the best, nothing less.

you stay on your feet for the entirety of the game, eagerly watching each stolen pass or shot taken. even minji, seated next to you, and often unbothered by most sporting events, seems moved to cheer for megan every time the ginger steals another pass or tries to move into a shooting position.

the game is tense. the first period ends in a drought, a simple 0-0 that sets the tone for an even more aggressive 2nd period, the other team ramping up their efforts to blitz maya in the goal with a more aggressive offense. 

megan, who picks up on this immediately, calls out to eunchae, and eunchae immediately compensates by playing harsher on the incoming offense, clearly indicating that she will not hesitate to protect her goalie at all costs. you can see maya’s confidence grow with each protective shot cut off by eunchae, the way moka eventually finds her stride and manages to cut off several incoming attempts, shooting them straight back up the ice at megan. 

you’ve never been part of a team like that, but you can tell that the girls are finding their groove, megan’s leadership doing more than just keeping them from losing, but building their synergy, the trust between all of them. you see an opposing offense come in, slipping past ryujin, but moka is quick to call out to maya, who in her increasing confidence, is all too quick to catch the puck before it can even try to hit the net.

megan doesn’t take a chance to let her guard down, but she pumps her fist excitedly at the save, yelling out something to the defense line that has moka beaming and maya matching her smile. 

eunchae catches your eye by the end of the second period, sending you a thumbs up. you feel your chest lighten. you see it in the way they move, in the way megan keeps nodding back at all of them, orchestrating them on the ice, hearing the coach’s directions and implementing them as she sees fit. the joy in her eyes is back. she’s truly, sincerely enjoying herself for what looks like the first time all season.

0-0 in the final period is not a good sign for either team. you know megan is going to ramp up her attacks. she’s described her playstyle as more opportunistic before— whereas kazuha was conservative, and daniela had the stamina to be relentless, megan has always described wanting to play smarter, to find holes and exploit them instead of waiting for clarity or rushing to catch the defense off guard. any other players would start to panic, maybe play sloppy, but megan is a threat because she can wait, and she can watch, and be quick enough to strike without hesitation.

you can see it in the eyes of the other team’s girls, trying to goad her into picking a fight with one of them. they’re getting rougher with her, slamming her around more aggressively than her position would ever call for, even when she doesn’t have the puck. 

but megan, more determined than ever, keeps her gaze laser focused on exactly where she needs to be.

the clock trickles down, and even though their defense has done an amazing job of preventing any shots, you know it’s up to megan and the offense to get a score up on the board. they wrestle over the pick over and over, the push of both teams trying to get up on the other. you watch in eager anticipation as the game risks going into overtime, the minutes trickling down into the very end of the game without a single score between the two of them.

the other team gets sloppy in one of their attempted scores and you see megan lock in on the mistake. eunchae blocks the shot and their full team is pushed too far up, the pass she sends to megan leaving the center wide open to take an easy shot. it’s obvious, painfully so, that this is it. you feel the stadium pause with baited breath as the puck makes it into megan’s possession, her feet making quick work of moving her halfway up the rink to close the gap in seconds.

megan looks at the goal, then back at the girls. a split second decision. you know it’s her shot to take, wide open and easy enough for her to send.

you see something flash over her features, the vision of her future in front of her very eyes.

in a move that shocks even you, she sends the puck forward, flying straight to haerin. 

haerin freezes, handling the puck for a brief moment before realizing the opening she has. she’s waited a bit too long, by the time she takes the shot, the other team’s defense is already swarming in on her.

the next 20 seconds are a blur. the opposing team gains possession of the puck and megan does everything in her power to chase the other center out of their box, but they’re too late. the opposing offense makes quick work of overwhelming eunchae and moka, leaving a gap for their center to take a shot. maya, despite her speed, isn’t fast enough to block the shot, and you hear the buzz of the shot making it in. seconds trickle by, and the final buzzer goes off to announce the end of the final period.

you look at the finishing score. 0-1.

you hold your breath, spotting the girls all dumbfoundedly shaking hands with the other team as they celebrate their victory, and making their way off the ice. even the coaches are in silence, and you can see megan’s face, hard and stony, as she takes her helmet off her head.

the team crams into the box, all looking expectantly to their captain. you’re half worried she’ll erupt, but you trust her. you walk up to the box and watch their interaction through the glass.

she breaks out into a gentle, almost goofy smile. she looks like a little kid, good naturedly taking the loss on the chin.

“good game,” megan nods, and the girls all seem to take a breath of relief at her simple words.

“i cost us the shot.” you hear haerin’s voice pierce through the air, quaking angrily. the forward throws her stick onto the ground, her face tensing. “why didn’t you just take it, megan? you would have made it.”

“you had just as much chance of making it as i did,” megan says firmly.

“i lost us the game,” haerin’s eyes water.

“i believed in you, it’s okay.” megan pulls her glove off with her teeth, reaching her bare hand to grab haerin by the back of the neck and pull her closer, forcing her to look up at the captain. haerin is still biting back tears, but megan nods reassuringly. “it’s not your fault they made their own shot. kang, you’ll make your shot next year.”

“next year you won’t be here,” haerin pushes back anxiously.

“i was here this year and we didn’t win. i’m not what matters. i’m just glad i had an amazing time playing with all of you,” she smiles once more. “thanks for the kick ass game, guys.”

maya is the first to break out into tears, tackling megan into a giant hug that the rest of the girls swarm into immediately. 

“we’ll make the shot next year,” ryujin promises, between sobs.

“i’ll kill someone to make sure they don’t ever get a point over on us again,” moka threatens, crying into megan’s shoulder.

“you’re missing the point,” megan glares at the underclassmen, laughing as the girls take it too far. eunchae, still panting from the game, beams back at her.

“thanks for thinking i could do it, cap,” haerin tells her, her voice soft. “i’ll make sure it happens next year.” 

daniela having watched the whole thing, shoos the girls to break up their huddle and eyes megan, before patting her on the back.

“that’s what a captain does,” she says simply, approvingly. “good call, meg.”

megan wrinkles her nose sheepishly at the assistant coach, noting the bruise she’s sporting. “sorry for the black eye, dani.”

“that was you?” eunchae asks in disbelief, but the two friends ignore her.

“i’m just sorry i didn’t break your nose. don’t ever piss me off like that again, ‘cause i’ll do real damage next time, alright meiyok?” dani threatens, but instantly hooks megan by the neck and presses a kiss into her head. “i think someone wants to talk to you.”

dani motions to you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, megan’s eyes light up as she catches sight of you.

years ago, the older girls would tease her and make kissy noises when you’d come up to her after a game. now, megan’s respected, the leader figure, and the girls all scatter to give you guys some space as she takes off what she can of her gear before making it out of the box and coming up to you.

“what was that?” you ask, curious into her mindset about giving the pass to haerin. she could have taken the shot and clinched the win to no-one’s criticism, so you’re truly curious what her mindset was for this call.

“dani always trusted me to make shots. she gave almost all her shots to me by the middle of my first season. that’s what gave me the confidence to try, and to get good, and to feel like i could do it and keep up with her.” she explains. “and you trusted me enough to give me a chance. that’s what helped me branch out, and know i was capable. i love teams, i love improving, i love the trust. not winning. i’m sorry i lost sight of that.”

you smile and wrap your arms around her neck. you see it now— megan gives up her investment in herself to invest in the future for these girls, the thing she truly believes in, the thing that made her the perfect captain. she gives up the win to instill the love of the sport in the next generation.

“i have a lot to make right to you,” she continues, her hands shaky as they wrap around your waist, and you feel so, so at home in her embrace. “i have a lot to make up for.”

“i missed you,” you shake your head, just grateful to have her back. the rest will easily fit into place.

“i missed you too.” she hums, pressing her forehead against yours. “never letting that out of sight again. i’m sorry.”

you decide she’s done enough apologizing. you scoop her chin into your hand and melt into a kiss, the sweat from her nose dripping onto you, but you don’t mind. she wraps her arms even tighter around your waist and kisses you back so eagerly it makes your heart thud.

“i was crazy about you then, i’m still crazy about you now,” she tells you, lifting you and spinning you around. “probably gonna be crazy about you forever.”

you laugh and hug her even tighter. the whole thing feels like a win in your book. 

“you know what?” you beam. 

“what?” she grins back at you curiously.

“ditto.”

-

the next morning, megan is giving her statements about their loss in the conference room, but she isn’t solemn or sullen about it. she’s bright-eyed, eager, like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. 

after the coach announces eunchae as next year’s captain (the department clearly learning their lesson about letting the captains make such an announcement) there’s a quick question from one of the reporters to megan about her future in the wnhl and her plans to pursue hockey.

“hockey gave me everything, and i gave it everything,” she says simply, nothing more, nothing less. she flashes a quick, nervous smile, and it’s perfect for her, the balance of sincere and dorky that made you fall for her in the first place.

“what’s next for you?” another reporter asks, trying to goad her into opening up further about her prospects.

“whatever is next, i’ll give it 100%,” megan says carefully. “and i’ll be grateful, and i’ll remember what matters to me. the love of the game, nothing else.”

she nods awkwardly and excuses herself from the table, letting dani and the head coach take over the rest of the questions about what they plan to do without their star player.

you greet megan with a kiss on the cheek, and she returns the gesture by pressing a kiss into the top of your head.

“what’s really next?” you ask, motioning to the google calendar you share that she hasn’t updated for the day.

“uh, will you help me study for finals?” she asks, almost shyly, and you can almost see it play back. your first class together, how awkward she was asking for your notes. it makes your heart flip inside your chest.

“no more interviews?” you question.

“coach and dani can do them together. i need to focus on right now, and right now is a bitchass english final due in 48 hours that my girlfriend would know exactly how to study for,” megan informs you, and you laugh at her determination.

the two of you escape hand in hand out of the building and start making your way towards the library to get a head start on preparing for finals.

you catch her staring at you as you walk, peering out of the corner of her eye. her cheeks flush as she realizes she’s been spotted, and she tries distracting you instead by taking off her letterman jacket and insisting on placing it over your shoulders.

“what?” you question, accepting the jacket without protest.

“you are really so pretty,” megan breathes out nervously. 

“thank you,” you smile back at her. those big brown eyes, her button nose, her dimples. “you’re so fucking cute.”

“you make me nervous,” she mumbles quietly.

“still?” you ask in disbelief.

“always have,” she nods, and the way she breathes out makes you feel like she’s finally able to start thinking about what she wants, instead of what she’s afraid of. “you have from the start.”

-

finals are grueling, but you both manage to pass all your exams, and spend your winter break making up for lost time now that the season is over. your anniversary quickly approaches, and megan ditches off-season practice where she’s supposed to be training eunchae in order to spend the whole day with you.

(it’s her first time ever ditching practice since starting the sport, and you don’t take it lightly.)

she’s losing pitifully to you in the snowball fight you’re currently halfway through, and it doesn’t escape you that she’d put her phone on do not disturb in order to focus on you. the last time you two were at the lake, it was her fight with dani, and the time before that, your date that had gotten cut short, so this date feels like it’s making up for all the terrible experiences you’d previously shared.

and what’s best, is that megan is perfectly fine with just playing in the snow, no longer insisting on teaching you how to skate.

her phone falls out of her pocket as she tries packing another snowball to toss at you, and you notice that even through dnd, her mom has called her at least four times since your date has started. megan’s mom is close to megan, but not exactly the clingy type, so this raises a flag for you.

“why is your mom blowing you up?” you ask, pointing to your phone as she picks it up out of the snow. “everything okay?”

“i’m not interrupting another date to take a stupid phone call,” she furrows her brow, preparing to tuck it back into her jacket.

“it’s your mom, meg,” you reassure her, laughing at her determination to be better. “it’d be different if it was coach.”

“fine,” she grumbles.

she takes the phone off and brings it to her ear, a quick greeting in cantonese before you hear her mom rambling something at a million miles an hour. you grin and tackle her backwards into a snowbank, the two of you sinking into the powder with a laugh as you simply rest on top of her while she keeps chatting away with her mom. 

it seems like the usual check in until you see megan’s face change, her features widening, her skin going pale. you almost insist that she put it on speaker before she quickly hangs up. you realize her hands are shaking as they slip the phone back into her pocket.

“you know how my mom does all my management stuff?” she starts, voice wobbly.

“loser,” you laugh, realizing that megan has kept all her management as her mom’s job instead of hiring a real agent. “but continue.”

she gives you a blank stare, her mind clearly not fully there following the phone call.

“they want me for the olympic women’s hockey team,” she says simply, and you feel your jaw drop.

“holy shit, megan,” you gasp.

“the winter olympics are in london next year,” she tells you, and the two of you connect the dots at the exact same time. “you’ll be halfway through your program.”

“that’s convenient,” you beam.

“olympic players always go back in the draft,” megan tells you, her words picking up in pace, her voice growing more and more excited. “i’ll take a month or two off to sight see, and then i’ll go to the combine for drafting. if i’m lucky, a team will pick me up as soon as i’m done.”

“megan, that’s amazing,” you bury your face into her neck to wrap her in a tight hug. “your dream is coming true.”

“my dream isn’t hockey,” she corrects you quickly, running a hand through your hair. “it’s just a future where i’m happy. think you’ll be part of it?”

“wherever you get drafted i’ll go with you,” you nod reassuringly. the smile she gives you back is worth everything to you.

she scoops up a pile of snow and shoves it in your face. you scream with laugher and scoop up one to smash right back into her nose, watching as she tries to wiggle herself out from under you and shove you further into the snowbank.

-

the semester is grueling, but you make it through in one piece, and so does megan. graduation rolls around before you even realize it, and your time as college students is quickly coming to an end. 

at the graduation, you and megan have to split up as you separate into your different majors and departments, but she presses a kiss to your forehead before you depart. 

“i’ll be the loudest cheer in the room,” she promises, smiling at you. you can’t help but admire how cute she looks in her cap and gown. the way the cap just slightly brushes her eyebrows reminds you of how low she used to wear her beanies, and how she still sometimes will.

you shuffle into line and take inventory of all your friends from the year, all the things this university has given you. sophia in the crowd next to your family, minji and danielle in their own caps and gowns waving from their section in the graduation lineup. you know daniela and lara are cheering you on from their spot with megan’s family.

the department heads read off the names, and you feel your ears perk up as they approach the name of the ginger that had come out of nowhere your freshman year and changed everything for you.

“megan skiendiel.”

you hear an air horn go off, followed by another, and the whole arena erupts into an echo of cheers. you can see from the crowd where several people have printed up blow up heads and are waving them around. you can make out some of the newer girls and realize nearly 2 full rows of seats are taken up by the entire women’s hockey team, the babies who’d follow megan anywhere even with all they’ve been through. they wave the blow up heads wildly around, cheering at the top of their lungs as if they’re at a game and not at some respectable academic demonstration.

you see megan’s cheeks flush as soon as she spots the stupid display, no doubt daniela and lara’s idea. she takes her degree and makes her way off stage.

your department comes next, and you beam as you take to the stage.

“y/n y/ln, graduating magna cum laude.”

you can hear the uproar from your loved ones, but one voice is cheering longer and louder than all the rest. you look down at the graduates and see megan with her hands cupped around her mouth, cheering as loudly as possible. you see her eyes shining brightly. she’s usually not a huge fan of bringing attention to herself, but your stupid, goofy megan doesn’t stop cheering the whole time you’re on stage.

your families join after the ceremony into one giant group, made even more chaotic by the fact that the entire women’s hockey team is eagerly trying to fit into the picture as well.

megan smiles at you, and takes your hand in hers. in that exact moment, you can’t picture anything you’d ever want more than this.

-

your phone background is a countdown of how many days are left until megan lands. it’s been a grueling 4 months without her, but she’ll be in your city prepping for the olympics in no time at all. plus, she’s sent weekly care packages, and her twice daily facetimes make it a little more bearable. 

you admire your desk, the way your life has all fallen into place. 

on your bulletin board, pictures of your life: you, minji, and marsh, all posing at one of megan’s games your junior year. you and megan celebrating her second championship game win. you and megan on the beach when she had brought you to hawaii to meet her family the summer after sophomore year. a photo of the two of you at the surprise party the underclassmen had planned just before summer ended. one of you and sophia at the renaissance fair. megan cheering you on at your senior capstone presentation. the photo of everyone from graduation. one of the first photos you had ever taken of her, a picture from freshman year during one of your many study sessions.

your hands unpack the envelope that megan had saved for you specifically. the magazine drops into your hands, and the familiar eyes look back up at you from the photo on the cover. 

you hold the magazine up and look up proudly at the cover. the sullivan award, amateur athlete of the year: megan skiendiel. 

megan. your megan, as she’s always been.

[potatoplace]

the 1

Elriel, Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Alternate Endings: Gone | betty | The Prophecy

mini-series masterlist | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: All you had ever wanted to be was plain. And now, as a plain-faced High Fae, you want more. You want your mate.

Warnings: mentions of self-harm, self-loathing, suicide

Words: ~2.6k

Author's Note: I'm sorry. (I told you guys I've been having a rough week...) Apparently my brain is saying 'fuck Kinktober!' Even tho like. I WANT to write those... smut just doesn't feel in the cards for me today 😩 so have some tasty tasty angst instead. (I'm also watching an Eras Tour live so I'm hella cheered up now lol)

18+ only pls

🤍💙🩷💙🤍

Self loathing grew in your gut as you watched your family around you.

All of them were happy, reveling in the togetherness that they shared.

And your mate- your mate- was ignoring you. He was speaking to one of your sisters, absolutely enamored with her. And you couldn’t blame him.

Elain had always been the pretty one of the four of you, a shining diamond even in the filth of poverty.

Nesta was the one with regal beauty, her sharp eyes and the way she carried herself not letting anyone think otherwise.

Your twin, Feyre, was stunning, even if she herself had never seen it, the cleverness in her eyes and quiet grace drawing people’s gaze to her.

And then there was you.

You were… the ugly one. Your mother had said so, even though you were only a child when she passed. Your father had quietly agreed with her. Nesta had mocked your looks when she had had a bad day, which was nearly every day while you had been living in the run down hut after your family lost their fortune. Elain said nothing, but shot pitying looks at you when no suitor asked for a dance while you had still been human, even when it had been a ball thrown in your honor for your birthday. Feyre has been the kindest to you, reminding you that it’s what on the inside that counts…

But that didn’t appear to be so.

Even with a mating bond that you knew should draw Azriel’s attention, his eyes were still glued to Elain. He seemed to be able to breathe only when in her presence, taking in the same air as her.

And in your presence? He couldn’t seem to get away fast enough.

Being dumped into the Cauldron had made both of your sisters even prettier, and Feyre was no exception either after being turned High Fae.

For you, it had made you plain. No longer ugly, unless you counted the still crooked teeth and too small nose and thin mouth.

Just plain.

As a human, you had begged to whatever higher power there was that you could just be plain.

But now that you were, you knew it would never be enough.

Because while Feyre was right, your personality mattered more in a long term relationship than your looks, being pretty drew people in.

Being plain only made you fade into the background.

Azriel laughed at something Elain had said, the sound sending warmth through your body.

It should be you making him laugh, not Elain.

Elain, with her beauty and poise and perfect personality and her ridiculously handsome mate who wanted nothing but her time.

Elain, who seemed to want no one and no thing but your mate.

Your Azriel.

You tore your gaze away from the couple, who you already knew were in a relationship. Elain had confessed it to you a month ago, gushing about how their fifth date had gone and how she thought he was the one. She had told you first, knowing that you wouldn’t tell anyone.

After all, who would you tell?

It’s not like you had any friends in Velaris- or in the human lands, for that matter- and your other two sisters were so preoccupied with their mates and growing personal circles that they hardly had the time to look at you, let alone talk to you.

No. You were alone. You were a lockbox for all of her secrets.

Including that she was planning to officially reject the mating bond once Azriel offered a proposal of marriage.

That had made you sick to your stomach, but you had hidden it deep, deep down in your heart as you congratulated her and faked happiness, asking her when she thought he would propose.

“Any day now, I suspect. Azriel told me that he was planning for the future, and wanted to know if I would like to be a part of it,” she had sighed dreamily. “We just need to tell the family, I know that… Rhys was worried about what us being together would mean for court relations. But he’s just being dramatic, don’t you think?” Her chocolate eyes landed on you, so filled with hope that you couldn’t tell her that he was your mate.

“Yes, he’s just worried, ‘Lain. I’m sure everything will be fine,” you managed to say, and relatively normal at that.

That was last night, and while your eyes had drifted to the carpeting, they shot back upwards at the sound of clinking metal on glass.

Your mate, standing with a flute of sparkling wine in his hand and a knife in his other, had his arm locked with Elain’s.

He cleared his throat once he had everyone’s attention, his eyes passing over everyone-

But you. His eyes skipped over you, even now, with the bond flaring in your chest.

“Elain and I have something to announce, though Rhys already knows what it is.” You heard a hand slap against an arm, Rhys’s faked moan of pain, and Nesta scolding her mate. Azriel smiled at their antics, such a rarity on his face that your heart skipped several beats, leaving you lightheaded.

It most certainly wasn’t because of what they were announcing.

“Elain and I have been dating for the past two months, and we would like to make it official with you all now. In fact, the two of us will be moving into a cottage in town later in the month, and we would like to invite you all to join us for a housewarming party in two weeks.”

The inner circle broke into cheers around you, Cassian immediately encasing his brother in his arms and clapping him on the back.

“Congratulations, brother! I know you’ve waited a long time to find love.”

You remained seated where you were, offering a smile to the happy couple but staying put.

If you stood, you were sure to faint. Or be sick. Or both.

Nesta was the only other person who remained where they were, a skeptical look on her face.

“I hate to be the person to bring the party down…” She started, her voice weary. “But what of your mates? Haven’t you wanted one for your whole life, Azriel? What will happen when you find her?”

“If I find her, I will reject the bond, Nesta. My love for Elain eclipses that of what I thought possible, even with a mating bond. Nothing and no one will ever compare to your sister,” Azriel answered, which seemed to be enough to have Nesta’s approval, as she stood and made her way to the couple.

“Then I’m happy for the both of you. But if you ever hurt my sister, you will deal with me,” Nesta warned, ice in her tone.

You didn’t stick around to hear what came next.

Nothing and no one will ever compare to your sister.

And of course, he was right. How could you compare to Elain?

She was beautiful, yes, but she was also a perfect match for Azriel. Kind and caring, always ready to help people, not to mention she would be a wonderful mother.

And then there was you. Plain. Boring. Nothing special.

Even the Cauldron hadn’t thought anything of you, leaving you with a High Fae body but no magic to speak of.

You couldn’t even fathom why you had been made Azriel’s mate when Elain was such a wonderful pairing to him, and had the magical abilities to match.

You stumbled your way to the town house, where you had taken up residence once Feyre and Rhys had finished the river house. Once inside you quickly made it to your room and shucked off your clothes after locking the door.

Bare, you stood before the mirror and assessed yourself. It was a habit you had picked up once your family had regained their fortune after Feyre had been stolen away.

One that brought you no comfort, but you needed to do.

Your physique was fine, you had filled out in the past year of being fae.

But there was nothing… special about you. You were medium height. Your chest was a bit smaller than average. Your legs were on the shorter side, making your torso look too long.

And your legs… they were covered in small white scars.

Another habit that you had picked up, this time after turning fae.

And tonight would be no different.

You suppose the one saving grace of being turned fae was your quick healing, letting you destroy your body without anyone knowing.

And no one ever would, seeing as your mate was on his way to being married to your sister.

A sigh left your lips as you turned to your bed, fishing the small blade you kept underneath out from below the mattress.

Tonight would be no different.

Except now you knew that even if you confessed your bond to Azriel, your heart would be torn to shreds no matter what.

🤍💙🩷💙🤍

It was two months later, during Starfall, that your world crumbled further.

You had donned a plain dress in a midnight blue, with long flowing sleeves and reaching your feet. You had opted for flats, seeing as no one would pay you enough attention to notice if you were in heels or not.

No, no one would notice you at all.

Because Azriel had a ring in his pocket.

One that you had given him advice on, to choose something Elain would love.

A glutton for punishment, that’s what you were as you gazed at the beautiful couple, clad in matching blue outfits and beaming at one another.

You had attempted to stay home that night, only for Azriel himself to personally fly you up to the House of Wind, insisting that you needed to be there for Starfall.

You knew he meant their engagement, though.

He hadn’t even glanced your way once last Starfall, so you knew it wasn’t that you would be missed by him.

Still, you stood on one of the balconies, watching them. Waiting for the moment that your life would be forever altered, never to have a great love.

Because truly, your one chance at a great love was a mating bond. You knew that no one would choose you to spend their life with, not when you were so plain and boring with nothing to draw people in, to get to know you.

They were dancing together, so wrapped up in each other that it was painful to watch.

And then your feet were moving, leading you straight to them. You met them right as the song finished, the two of them just inches apart.

It stung.

“Azriel, may I speak to you for a moment?” You asked without realizing the words had left your mouth. “Alone, please? It will just be a moment, I promise.”

You cringed at yourself.

What were you doing?

Azriel glanced down at Elain, who nodded with a smile. “Of course. I’ll be right back, sweetheart,” he said softly, placing a gentle kiss to Elain’s lips before following you back into the House, away from the commotion.

“What’s this about, Y/N?” Azriel asked in a clipped tone once you were alone, anxiously glancing back to where you had left Elain.

“I…” You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. Are you really going to tell him?

“Well?” He asked impatiently, his shadows swirling around him.

“I… I’m your mate,” you said, the words rushing out all at once, and your tore your eyes away from his face and to the floor.

“You’re… You’re joking, right?” Azriel asked incredulously.

A dagger of ice to the heart, crafted of your own yearning and longing for him, for your mate.

“No, I… It’s true, Azriel. I am your mate.” Your eyes flicked back up to his face after you said it again, but you wished you hadn’t.

Anything would be better than seeing the horror in his eyes, the disgust twisting his features.

The dagger, forced in further by a hand smacking the hilt.

“You?” Azriel laughed. “Why would the Cauldron make you my mate?”

Twisting, bleeding, shredding your soul apart even as you felt the bond flare to life on his end, the very slightest stumble as he regarded you.

“I… I don’t know…” You whispered, barely audible.

“You’re not my mate,” Azriel said, stepping away from you. “You were never going to be my mate. You’re a fine enough person, sure, but how could you compare to Elain?” He shook his head, snickering to himself. “I suppose these five hundred years of waiting were for nothing. I’ll tell Cassian or Rhys take you back to the town house. Just…” He sighed. “Don’t take it personally. It’s not you, it’s me, hmm?”

And with that, the bond between the two of you was shredded, a wounded cry leaving your lips as you sank to the ground, clutching your chest where it used to reside, glowing brightly and giving you a reason to go on.

“I think it’s best for you to stay away from Elain and I. I wouldn’t want you getting territorial and ripping my love’s throat out of anything. Goodbye, Y/N.”

You barely heard him walk away, so overwhelmed with pain.

Why me?

Why was I his mate?

Why didn’t I just drown in the Cauldron?

With a great deal of trying, you managed to hoist yourself back onto your feet, stumbling your way to one of the unoccupied balconies, still clutching your chest.

Your gaping, empty chest.

Because Azriel still had your heart. He had shredded it, mangled it beyond believe but it still resided with him, leaving you with nothing but a hole where it used to be.

Your legs crashed into the edge of the balcony, your hands flying to the stone to steady you.

But it didn’t help, everything was still spinning, blood rushing in your ears as your heart kept beating somehow, somehow still physically intact even as you felt it was being ripped from your chest over and over and over.

You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t live.

The very fact that Elain was so casual, so blasé about shredding a bond to bits had you questioning everything you thought you knew about your sister.

How could she condemn someone to this existence?

Because already, you weren’t living.

This couldn’t be living.

It couldn’t be.

You risked a peak over the edge, spying the sharp, jagged rocks below.

If you weren’t living now…

Before you could second guess your choice, you lifted yourself onto the balcony, letting your legs dangle for a moment.

Then you swung them over the stone, to the side that had nothing to catch you.

Well, nothing but the cold embrace of death.

Which at this point would be a welcome reprieve from the fiery hot grief flooding through you, grief at the bond that was never given a chance, a moment to be considered.

But perhaps that was all the consideration you needed. To know that you would only have been a burden of mate to the male you had fallen for.

You took one last, jagged breath into your lungs before you slid off the smooth stone, air rushing past you and-

This must be what it feels like to fly.

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria

[dual1pa]

at the same time

A/N: hi i'm back in my fanfiction writing era

johnny storms x reader

Warnings: language, reader is pregnant, fluff, PDA, sexy talk - but it's tame, follows the overall F4 story, but it also doesn't? also, this isn't proofread. enjoyyyy

"We should definitely tell them tonight," Johnny said, holding you close and rubbing your back in the comfort of your own quarters inside the Fantastic Four HQ.

You've just found out you're pregnant, and it wasn't planned, but you're not upset about it. Mostly thrilled. You and Johnny talked about starting a family for a while, but wanted to wait until the chaos of him being a superhero calmed down. You were excited to watch your child grow up with great influences surrounding them, watching them succeed in school, go to prom with their crush, graduate from college, and get married. You were getting ahead of yourself, but it just excited you too much. And you could tell Johnny was thrilled, probably internally shitting his pants, but just as excited.

"You're right. Do you want to tell them or should I?"

"Hey, you're growing a person inside you right now. I think you should do the honors," he chuckled, bringing your face to look at his and pecking a quick kiss to your lips.

"Yeah, but it's our person," you said.

"You're announcing it to the crew," he kissed you once again before speaking, "Whether you like it or not." He gave you one last kiss before walking towards the couch and plopping down to watch some TV.

You followed suit and lay directly on top of him, straddling his lips to not put too much pressure on your growing tummy, and rested your head on his chest, just enough to snuggle your face into his neck.

Johnny's hands instantly found your sides and slightly pushed your shirt up to feel your warm skin.

"You know what they say about pregnant women?" you ask, whispering into his ear.

"What's that?" his hands inched down to rest on your bum.

"They're horny all the time," you say, lightly biting down on his ear, then dragging your hands down his chest where your ass is on top of his groin.

"Aw honey, you're killing me," he leaned up to attach his lips to yours. However, you were rudely interrupted by a large smash and a "Fuck!"

"We should go check on him," you said, referencing Thing.

"Such a dumbass and a cock block," he shook his head, helping you to your feet, taking your hand and leading you to the main portion of HQ.

"What the hell happened in here?" Johnny shouted before entering the room.

"Oh, sorry," Thing said, "I just dropped a glass bowl. Everything is fine now."

Johnny raced over to see the damage, which was already cleaned up, "Well, since I'm here. I'm starving," he said, grabbing a bowl and some Lucky Charms.

You weren't so hungry as the nausea had taken over. You simply just asked Johnny to grab you some iced water, which is what he grabbed first before serving himself. What a gentleman.

He placed the large bowl of cereal down in the empty chair next to yours and scooted you closer to him, where you tucked your feet into the middle of his legs.

You watched as he and Thing talked about... whatever they talk about... while you were too deep in your own thoughts. Moments later, Sue and Reed walked into the room, looking pretty serious about something.

"Oh, great, you're both here! We have something to tell you all," Johnny spoke up before Reed could get a word out.

"Wait, Johnny. We have something important to tell you as well, honey, would you like to do the honors?" Reed nudged Sue, who looked pretty nervous and, to be frank, a little pale.

She looked at the three of you and said, "Things are about to get a little crazy around here, well, in a few months, actually, so be prepared for a shift. I'm pregnant."

"What?" Johnny exclaimed, then looked over at you. He got up so fast and went over to hug his sister and brother-in-law

"We're about to be one big family, huh?" Thing said.

"Yeah, because it's about to get a bit bigger," Johnny said, bringing you over to join the crew.

"Because our hearts are just so overjoyed for you guys!" you exclaim, which was something Johnny was not expecting to hear.

Before he could speak, you hugged Sue super tight and talked to her about how she found out, how far along she was, etc.

Later on, Johnny pulled you aside privately, "Why didn't you say anything? I thought we were gonna tell them tonight?"

"I was, until Sue said that she was pregnant, and I didn't want to take away from her special moment. It wouldn't have been right. I felt like it would have been if you had proposed to me that Reed and Sue's wedding, it would've been totally inappropriate. I'm going to talk to Sue later on and tell her privately to make sure she's okay with me also telling my news," you explained.

"Always so considerate of others," Johnny said, placing a strand of hair behind your ear before quickly kissing your lips.

You walked over to Sue, "Hey, could I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure, hon!" she said, "What's Up?"

"First of all, so excited for you and I didn't want to take away your shine and special moment, but we also found out that I'm pregnant as well." you whisper.

"SHUT UP!" she screamed, grabbing the attention of the others, "It's nothing!!" she said.

"Wait, we're gonna be pregnant together?? You should have announced it too!"

"I know, but I didn't want to take your shine away!" you exclaimed.

"Oh honey, I wouldn't have thought that at all! Come on, let's go tell the others."

"Guys! It seems as if these two have an announcement of their own as well," Sue said, giving Johnny a look to stand next to you.

He quickly obliged, bringing you in for a hug, "So, I didn't want to take away the attention from Sue from her huge announcement, but," you looked up at Johnny, "We are also expecting a baby as well."

The team erupts in cheers, and you couldn't be happier.

[heartavenue]

Things I Wished Someone Told Me Before I Shifted

The first time I shifted was back in 2021, at the height of the misinformation era, and quite frankly, I'm surprised that I even did it. I was sitting in the starfish position not moving, not swallowing my spit or anything! But nonetheless I did it, and I wanna help other people do it too!

1. Don't Compare Journeys

I know this has been said time and time again but there is a reason for that. I don't know about y'all but when I first found out about shifting I was ecstatic! As soon as I heard about I laid down in my bed and did the raven method the same night, so needless to say there is nothing more that I wanted than to live this reality.

I remember frantically scrolling on TikTok searching for methods that caused other people to shift. The disappointment washed over me when I used the same method as @/shiftingwithkatz (this is not a real person I am using this for storytelling purposes) and didn't yield the same results.

I woke up night after night, with my head in my hands and tears running down my face. "Why can't I do it?" "What am I doing wrong?" I would repeatedly ask myself.

I said all of that to say this: Everyone's journey is unique. I like to think of shifters as snowflakes; no two are the same. We often put a time frame on our shifting journey, but you don't have to be in a rush.

Don't try and be like someone else, do what works for YOU! For instance, I hate hate hate HATE guided mediations so why on Earth would I shift that way? All because I saw someone else say that they did? Fuck that. Make this shifting journey YOURS!

2. Shifting Is NOT Physical

God, I wish someone would have told me this. Shifting is not physical! Turn that into an affirmation, write it down, make a subliminal, do whatever you have to do to drill that into your brain! Stop waiting for your surroundings to change, to smell your scripted scent, or to feel a tap from your favorite person.

It all starts up here *for reference I am pointing to my head.* Imagination is the TRUE reality, it is all you need. Disregard the physical, who cares about your senses. If you assumed that you shifted, then you have shifted. End of story.

3. Time Isn't Real So You're Not Running Out Of It

This right here. I remember when I first started my journey, I felt like I was in a basketball game and my team was down by one point and there were only fifteen seconds on the clock. I couldn't wait for the clock to strike at 9:00pm so I could lay down and do my method, just to wake up to be disappointed again.

But I'm hear to say this, relax. Time is not real so there is no clock, you don't have to shift within a couple of hours days, or weeks. None of that matters; besides shifting is INSTANT anyway! Decide that you have and boom! Time quickly becomes a nonfactor.

4. Shifting = Manifesting

As you all know by now I practice the Law of Assumption, and boy did life get easier when I bridged the gap between the two. Shifting is manifesting, period. I was always a spiritual person, so I was not a stranger to the concept of manifestation.

Let me tell you guys something, you can not NOT manifest therefore you can not NOT shift. Boom you've shifted! Know that, own that. These things are within us, not something to be learned. No, it's innate. So for all of my Law of Assumption shifters out there, think about all of the things you manifested. Guess what? You've shifted. And to all of my non-Law of Assumption shifters? You've shifted too!

5. Do What YOU Want To Do!

This sort of ties back into don't compare your journey but I shall go on! Don't do something that you want to do, if you hate awake methods don't do them. If you hate the Julia method, then don't do it. Stop doing methods because OTHER people do them. I'm sorry but I thought this was your journey? Don't plagiarize, be original! If you don't like doing anything (like me) then DON'T! Simple as that!

6. Blockages Aren't Real, Fuck Intrusive Thoughts, and FUCK Doubts!

I'm going to speed run this one because I want to make this simple. Blockages aren't real unless you assume that they are, intrusive thoughts have no power whatsoever unless you give them power, and it's the same thing with doubts.

What's the common denominator in this? You. They don't mean shit unless YOU say they do!

Okay my love bugs, that is all I can think of as of right now. I am sure that I hit the points I wanted to make, if I think of any more things I'll be sure to add! Like always my dms/asks are always open if you all need anything!

Tag: @papatacomia hope you enjoyed this my love!

[2therazor]

smut prompt 8 x tbp era mikey way??!?!??! i feel lile tbp mikey is just so dirty nasty tbh like hes so dom idgaf

ignorance is your new best friend

"Open your legs for me, baby. I wanna see you."

(prompts originally from @delusionisaplace)

anon i could not agree with you more… so here we are!

w/c: 2,210k

content warnings: afab reader, rough sex, dom!mikey, brat reader, reader is a sound techie for the band lol, also mikey is kinda a jerk sorry, angry sex, kinda angst but a happy ending

a/n: (finally writing this like three months later.... oops.. sorry...) not proofread, so there may be some grammatical and mechanical errors. also don't rlly know if I like this one... oh well!

you are responsible for your own media consumption.

mikey had always liked to act oblivious. oblivious to your antics, more so. all day you'd been following him around backstage like a sad dog wanting attention, but still, he paid no mind.

was he ignoring you on purpose? trying to push your buttons? trying to see just how far he could get before you would fall right back into his arms (and bunk) for the night.

you tried not to dwell on it, after all if something was wrong mikey would say something, right? you dragged your feet around backstage to the catering table, picking at the stale sandwiches left behind.

"jesus, what's wrong with you dude?" a voice came from behind you, and from none other than frank, possibly the most nosy friend you've had in your life.

you quickly turned around, trying to hide the empty feeling that mikey was ignoring you. you had been sleeping together for some time but had never really had the "what are we?" conversation. you had kind of hoped it stayed that way though, you were just a sound tech for the band, but had known mikey for years.

shaking your head you murmured, "i'm fine frankie, besides it's not really your business anyways" slowly walking away from the catering table, head down. you loved frank, but you didn't really have the energy to gossip about your tragic sex life at the moment.

before you could walk even three steps away, a foot was placed in front of yours, causing you to look up, face to face with frank.

"you're annoying, you know that right?" his smile wide and as stupid as ever. you really weren't getting out of this one, were you?

surrendering your pride, you take a deep breath in, then sigh. "it's mikey, he's kinda just been ignoring me all day. it's pissing me off, and he won't really tell me why either. i dunno, I just wish he'd talk to me about it instead of acting like I'm some plague-ridden peasant or something."

frank looks at you a moment, studying your expression. for a moment, it looks like he's about to say something. then he just reaches out, puts his hand on your shoulder and calmly says: "it's not you, I promise. mikey just has a lot of things he needs to tell you, but instead of telling you, he likes to pretend his feelings will just magically disappear. but he's kinda a fucking idiot so…" he trails off then slowly pulls you into a hug.

you could probably cry, but whatever deep dark secret frank just shared was way too cryptic. what did he mean it wasn't you? what did he mean mikey had things he needs to tell you? it was all too confusing. god you wish mikey would just grow up and tell you instead of ignoring your advances all day. nonetheless, you let go of frank and wipe a small tear forming in your eye. "thanks frank."

"yeah," he rubs your back a bit. "just don't tell mikey I told you, or you might find my guts by your door tomorrow morning." he grinned, dragging his feet on the concrete behind him.

"five minutes everyone!" a loud voice rings from behind you. sound check was done, now it was time to sit through an hour and a half long show and pine over mikey for most, if not all of it.

you sigh, heading to your side of the stage. this was going to be the longest hour and a half of your extremely short lived life.

the show had come to an end, and you weren't really upset anymore, just very very bitter. you needed to talk to mikey or you would drive yourself insane the rest of the tour. so as soon as he stepped off stage, damp and sweaty hair, you grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him aside.

he glanced down at you, a smug look on his face. "hi.." he started.

"why have you been such a dick today mikey? you've been ignoring me since we got off the tour bus, and you won't even tell me why?"

again, he just looked down at you and smiled cockily. "you like it when I play games though don't you? you love having to beg for my attention," he leaned down so his mouth was in the shell of your ear "you love having to beg for my cock, don't you?"

fuck. he was such a fucking asshole. this is the whole reason he was doing this? to piss you off so you'd fuck him?

"grow the fuck up mikey. if you have something to say to me just say it. we're not 16 anymore, ignoring so i'd fuck you is beyond low."

"that's funny you say that," his hand reaches for your chin pulling it up so it faces him. "because you fall for it every single fucking time" before you can retort, he pulls you in for a kiss. not a tender one either, quickly opening your mouth with his tongue and grabbing you by the waist. your knees are weak, your heart is beating fast. he's right. you fall for it every goddamn time.

he pulls away for a second, setting his bass on a stand. "come with me to the dressing room, we have like 20 minutes max"

annoyed and horny, you oblige, quickly pushing your way past the rest of the sound crew and a few other unrecognizable faces.

as soon as the door swung open, you didn’t even have time to think before mikey pressed his lips against yours. the whole situation was so juvenile. sneaking off to make out, him ignoring you so you’d fuck him. you tried to ignore the pain in your chest as he slid his knee to your core.

you stifled a moan at this, grabbing his hair, pulling him in harder. if he wanted to get you worked up, he was gonna have hell to pay.

“god, you’re so pretty like this.” he breathed heavily into your neck after feverishly breaking the kiss holding you two together.

“are you gonna keep teasing or are you actually gonna get me off mikey?” you pushed your pussy further onto his leg, grinding on him as he casually left marks that everyone would defininintely give you shit for later.

“fuck,” he stuttered, moving his hands to remove your jeans finally.

you smiled lightly, knowing you had him right where you wanted him. you moved your hand to grasp his black locks once again, just to bask in the small noises he made, just for you. a ping of jealously hit your chest, just the thought of him making these sounds for anyone else made you want to fuck him harder.

he swiftly took off your underwear after making a show of taking off your jeans, pressing two fingers inside of you before you even had time to think.

“only i get to see you like this, you’re mine” he whispered in your ear as he worked another finger inside of you, slowly moving his thumb around your clit.

that sentence alone almost had you falling apart on his skilled fingers. you shuddered a breath at his possessiveness, knowing that deep down, no matter whoever the fuck else he was sleeping around with, you were his regardless.

“mikey please” you pleaded with him, not even really sure what you were begging for at this point.

“what baby? what do you want from me?” he spoke softly, genuinely sounding sincere. it broke your heart a little more than it should’ve, honestly.

you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but bit your lip as hard as you could trying not to cry.

“shh… it’s okay baby. i’m sorry for being a dick all day, i’ll give you what you want. does that sound okay?” he brought a hand to your cheek, stroking it slowly.

you gulped quietly, nodding your head back at him.

“just- let me eat you out first. please?” he went to kiss your neck again, sucking down another bruise on your skin.

you nodded, trying really hard not to cry this time. he was so caring and sweet, even when you knew he wanted nothing more than to fuck you over the dressing room table.

he picked you up again, your legs wrapping around his hips as he carried you over to the dresser to prop you up.

once he set you down, you looked down at him as he started working you open once again, with his tongue this time. and god did he know how to use his mouth. you briefly locked eyes with him as he worked he licked a stripe up your pussy, occasionally adding a finger. your hand flew to his hair as he added two fingers and worked you open with his tongue. he was absolutely perfect in the dim glow of the dressing room.

“fuck mikey, i-i’m close.” you breathed heavily as he showed no signs of stopping.

“then come. come into my mouth baby, please. please i want you so bad.” he whined.

and just hearing his pleading, your hand gripped his hair tighter as you shook above him. he wasted no time undoing his belt and you couldn’t even register he had too, taken his jeans off as he pressed gentle kisses and lovebites up your thighs.

he grabbed a condom from his discarded jeans, quickly rolling it on and stroking himself a few times. he captured your lips in a kiss, brushing a stray strand of hair from your eyes.

“hey. you’re so beautiful.” he laughed

“yeah yeah,” you rolled your eyes playfully. “are you gonna fuck me now or what?”

“maybe if you’d stop being such a brat.” he was closer to your face now, slowly taking your features in.

“what, are you gonna make me beg again?” you scoffed, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“nope. just gonna fuck you until you cry baby.” and with that, he pushed into you, hard.

your breath stuttered as he continued to pound into you at an unforgiving pace, he was really serious about holding that promise, wasn’t he?

“fuck baby, you’re so tight, open your legs… wanna see you,” he grunted as he bit your shoulder lightly.

you moaned again, pushing him in further with your legs.

he didn’t slow down at all, fucking into you at a brutal pace. “tell me you’re mine. tell me you belong to me.”

“fuck, i’m yours mikey. all yours, please,” you whined, feeling yourself tighten around him.

“and who’s the only one that gets to see you like this?” he added, not faltering his pace as he continued to pound into you.

“you, you and no one else mikey-” you felt the tears that you held back earlier, threaten to fall again. you wanted to tell him so badly that you loved him, and you had secretly hoped he had felt the same way about you. sure, you were his during sex but the thought of being his all the time was making you cry.

“god, you’re so fucking pretty when you cry for me baby,” he wiped your tears gently with the back of his palm. “-m, really fucking close baby.” he added as he connected his lips to yours again.

“mikey please come-” you broke the kiss to say, letting more tears fall from your eyes.

“fuck!” he threw his head back as you felt him twitch inside of you. you came shortly after seeing the dark bruises you left on his neck.

after a few minutes of you both recollecting yourselves, mikey pulled out throwing the condom in the trash a few feet away. he slowly inched towards you again, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“i’m sorry for being an asshole earlier, i just- sometimes i don’t know how to deal with my feelings and-” he blurted out.

“mikey,” you cut him off and said sternly.

“is this you scolding me or?” he started

“god,” you laughed at the absurdity of the situation, running your hand through his hair. “mikey, i like you. and i’m really tired of pretending that i don’t because it genuinely hurts me every time we hook up. i want you, i want to be with you..”

“fuck. i thought you would never say that to me. i thought that maybe if i was just a dick to you my feelings would go away but obviously that was terrible of me.” he caressed your cheek again, looking into your eyes.

“i love you mikey.” you said without thinking, your heart stinging after, scared he wouldn’t say it back.

“i love you too. i’m tired of sneaking around with you, i want to take you out and show you off, you know? i think i’ve been in love with you a little longer than i’d like to admit…” he smiled as he ran a hand through your hair. “i’m still gonna be mad at you for this, just so you know.” you smiled as you pulled him in for another kiss. he returned the kiss, sliding his hand down to your waist. and just like that, your doubts and worries washed away.

[midnite-c6]

LOVE YOUR RECENT PAT POST ‼️‼️ O saw u ask for requests so I HOPE THIS IS OKAY. Okay so i have a suggestion and it's okay if not but Patrick being his usual asshole self x Slightly younger/more innocent reader, maybe a family friend or something, and he's always been mildly (extremely) infatuated with her, and maybe the lead up to them having sex for the first time? Lord knows he's addicted to her at this point and after pretending not to be for so long... I LOVE UR WRITING‼️‼️

childhood bsf!patrick zweig x reader || 18+ warnings: sex, p in v, no protection, fingering, handjob, sexual tension, pwp, softdom!patrick, virgin!reader, 2006 era, dirty talk

a/n: OMG i'm so glad u requested!! i luv writing first times and virgin reader and i also luv patrick soo hehehe this is alsooo just like an unofficial twin of my other patrick fic

*⁠.⁠✧ you're so oblivious and he hates it.

you just can't seem to grasp the fact that friends don't act this close to each other, especially for a guy and a girl, especially when you two are nineteen with very primal and animalistic-like hormonal urges.

you can't just let him visit your dorm in standford, let him strip down to only his boxers whilst sitting on your small bed, with you being comfortable.

there was not a single inch of distance, both your skins were touching. he could feel your breath fanning his skin every time you talk, or he could feel the vibrations every time you would burst into giggles whenever he makes a witty joke.

he just stares at you, with half-lidded eyes, and that signature toothy grin, and you smile back, leaning in even closer as you continue to talk about whatever happened during your classes.

in these times he always would reminisce, though still half-listening to you so you won't fight him about not being attentive like a damn couple, that even when you two were in elementary, you've harboured a new routine where you don't seem to forget to kiss his cheek at every playdate or hang-out, not until you've been taught boys have "cooties" or are "disgusting", in which you still don't stray that far away from him.

in which-- he doesn't get it, was it insane to fall in love romantically and sexually with you? was it insane for you to be the first girl he would constantly jerk off to every night? was it insane when he imagines you're the one he's having sex with rather than a random hook-up from campus to cum?

"so she's all up in my face, trying to get me to confess and i just stood there-" he puts a hand on your lips, you could smell the cigarette he smoked from his calloused hands, "stop talking... you're so boring, ugh. tell me a good story now!" you bite his hand, he winces, "well sorry, i'm not an athlete or a womanizer, i don't have alot of interesting stories to tell." you cross your arms, pouting. he chuckles as he looks down at you, "i have a really good story to tell, that isn't as boring as fuck." you could only sigh, "whatever,"

he rambles on about his recent victory against art donaldson, "so yeah, i beat him real good, you really should've been there, i won by like a hundred points." it was match-point. "and i got her number 'cuz of it. i told you, girls run to me!" you continue to snicker, giving him a hesitant hum, "more like run away, plus, she didn't run to you anyway! you just happened to win so you could get her number."

"no, but i can tell she wanted me to win" "and why would that be?" he pauses, his hands gesturing to his body, toned from workouts and training, and with hair trickling down his chest accompanied by a small yet noticeable happy trail, "see? you're staring." "because you're naked and you pointed to it. you're always naked." yet you still can't get enough of staring at him...

"anyways, um, so... are you gonna hook up with her like you usually do or what?"

shit. you can't just ask that. you can't just ask if he'd use his dick and put it inside a girl or not, especially when you've made him think about the blood rushing onto his dick right now, "you care?" he raises a brow, with a voice that's not afraid to test you.

"i care about making conversation," you look away because his gaze suddenly burned through your skin, although it felt like that every time he stares at you, "is sex a good conversation for you?" he asks.

"you tell me, you're the one who's always spewing story times of one-night stands!" he laughs, tilting his head back, still looking at you. his eyes don't pry away. "then you tell me about your one-night stands."

he'd earn a light hit in the face from you. "that's not funny! i swear i would tell you if i did." "then tell me about um... masturbating stories," the bluntness silenced you --although he was always like that, you stare, just looking at him wide-eyed. "right, i taught you that." he says as he smirks, the way his eyes wrinkle when he does so is forever engraved inside your brain, an image you see every time you close your eyes. "that's not funny either, pat'..."

"...i don't even masturbate that much, it's not on my list, you're the only one who convinced me to do it." he couldn't erase the smile off his lips, but now yours would trail down to his boxers, unusually standing up, something begging to be let out. "you're a. bad influence sometimes, i don't think i should be listening to you anymo-" he'd close his eyes for a second, his hand sneaking a touch towards his tip against his boxers, "...you're hard." he groans-- now out of breath, "sorry." "finish it in the bathroom." "no, it's okay, talk more." you pause, staring at his boner, then his lips, then his eyes, "but..." "if it bothers you so much, would you help?"

he slowly guides your hands to touch him through his underwear, guiding your soft hands to rub his tip. you could feel the wetness from his pre-cum. how was he getting all of this for free? how were you doing this so willingly for him? the thought makes him grunt out loud and you'd blankly stare- you couldn't breath, not during this.

he pulls his boxers to his knees, his dick immediately bouncing against his lower stomach, he could sense your hesitation but he continues to take your hand, rubbing it slightly as a form of comfort, and placing it on his hard, aching for your touch, cock. "i'm sure you know how to do it," you lost all form of proper thinking, "uh-huh...." "don't worry." he continues to hold your hand on his cock, moving it up and down slowly, he whines. he'd only imagine a million scenarios how this would go and now it's finally happening... he'd start moving your hand faster. now he's jerking off with your hand, using it as some kind of fleshlight.

him moaning outright was so mental to you. it felt too intimate. it felt weird, a good weird, and you moan right back, your face staring at his cock as he fucks your hand was a sight he'd definitely take a picture of for later. he then moves his free hand to the in-between of your legs, his fingers rubbing against your clothed shorts, "ah- patrick." "it'll feel good... promise." he continues exploring with his hand, finally going past the waistband of your underwear. he knows exactly where to touch you, he knows exactly how you touch yourself anyway. and he's happy you're already wet.

rubbing circles against your clit as he continues to guide your hand, bucking his hips, sliding his dick through your soft fingers... it felt amazing. without a warning, a finger would enter your cunny, a moan would ilicit your mouth, though would be muffled by his mouth, a kiss he'd been waiting to do for ages.

both of you would jerk each other off and moan into each other's lips, "feels good?" "yeah..." "told you." he says confidently, before slamming his lips against yours again, you tasted like the usual lipgloss, sweet, and a certain distinct taste of just. you. he tasted of a cigarette and coca-cola. his dick would start to twitch more, and his whines more husk, he stops the finger inside you.

"stop, we can't cum. 'wanna cum the right way."

"the right way?"

both his hands would easily carry you onto his lap, his dick aligned right to your entrance. "gonna slide it," he doesn't give you a time to answer before he slowly enters your tiny hole, "ugh, you're a dream." he moves an inch... then another inch... then another... "s-slow down!" "m'already going slow, silly..."

he fully enters you, and he just stops for a moment to enjoy the view, to enjoy the moment. "shit, you're doing so good," a kiss sent right to the corner of your lips. "so obedient f'me," a kiss sent to your neck, "gonna move now.. need to..." "gentle, please." "oh, i don't know..." how could he hold back?

with his hands on both side of your waist, he'd lift you up, before ramming you back down, the same actions gradually getting faster, sometimes he'd ram you back down whilst bucking his hips up, just for a more deeper connection. your "ohs!" and "ahs!" made him even more riled up to not go gentle on you,

his most favourite was the way you'd scream his name. the unlimited whimpers of "patrick!" coming from your lips made him drunk. drunk for more of you. "cum for me, ugh, pretty girl, c'mon.." you were panting, bouncing on his cock, taking in the feel of his tip kissing your cervix every. time.

"i know you're close, fuck, know you feel that tight little knot, huh?" he thinks all his training for tennis was actually training for him to not cum first. the way you'd clench around him made him cry, he'd almost cry by fucking a girl, you're just so pretty and perfect, he thinks. he speeds up the pace, your dorm would be drowned by skin slapping and raw moaning.

"you're... mine now okay?... mine... tell me, baby..."

"i'm ... patrick's! yours... yours..."

finally you climax, prettily crying out his name. "patrick-" you kiss his lips as now an instinct, and soon he cums aswell, right inside you, still continuing to move to ride all the pleasure out. eventually stopping to catch both your breaths. "you did so well, baby."

～⁠ˆつ⁠｡⁠☆🎾

i've been thinking about posting a mean!art or mean!patrick heheh but idkkkkk mean!art and i mean DEGRADING art is so underrated...

[ultimate-marysue]

My personal body headcanons for the Batfam

Bruce: He is a tank made of pure muscle. Like many other users have put forward (recommend especially @frownyalfred posts on the matter), that's not an easy feat to pull off. It is a testament to Bruce's willpower and dedication to Batman that he's even able to maintain it. Also, I think he took really good care of his scars in the beginning so they would be as inconspicuous as possible when sleeping around as Brucie. Once he gets older and leans more into the father persona he stops caring as much for anything that's going to be covered by his suits and shirts.

Barbara: I hated the fact that her disability got completely erased, so that's the first difference. If you want to have her be Batgirl again, you should do what Gotham Knights did and make it so there are lasting effects and limitations. I'm sorry, but it feels so cheap to me that they just erased disability rep cause they didn't know how to write a strong disabled woman. Skill issue. Also Barbara is built like a brick in my heart of hearts, she's a rectangle with the density of a neutron star. I also think she has one of the healthiest and normal diets of the Bats, mainly cause the physical requirements of Oracle aren't nearly as demanding.

Dick Grayson: I'm not going to reinvent the wheel here by saying Dick Grayson has the perfect acrobat's body. My headcanon is that he gets it naturally. Not that he can just do whatever you want, sadly with their line of work you need to meet a series of requirements. I mean it in the sense of 1) proportions 2) really high metabolism from constant exercise since he was a child, probably the fastest tied with Cass 3) he doesn't need to work out as much outside patrol as the rest to keep his body mass. Every single robin after him low-key hates him for creating a fighting style that only he can do effortlessly.

Cassandra Cain: like mother like daughter, my girl is thick. None of that waifish, delicate ballerina shit. She's short and she has muscles most humans haven't heard of. Average goon tries to knock this 5 feet nothing girl only to be met by an unmovable object. Also, probably contender for top most scarred bat of all. She just looks like she could fuck your shit up without breaking a sweat and that's probably because she could. Also I think she has short legs, giving her an even lower center of gravity. She's just a brick wall.

Jason Todd: my man is one of the few bitches in this family with a normal, healthy, percentage of body fat. He's built like a strong man instead of a body builder, and the fact that he can be sneaky with all that mass is terrifying. I think for a minute there he wondered what he was doing wrong and why he didn't look as lean as Bruce. Then he figured what Bruce had to do to keep Batman's body in line and Jason said "fuck that, I'm not doing all that". In his villain self destructive era that waist was snatched, but the second he started taking actual care of his body it did what body's do. Considering how he mixes so many fighting techniques I can see him building his fighting style around his needs instead of the other way around.

Steph: she's the curviest of the Batgirls, which is why she favors so much the "indistinct blob" silhouette. As any woman with a boobs size above an B cup will tell you: people get disgusting really quick. I think part of her struggles with Robin was trying to wrangle her developing body into a fighting style designed for a very naturally lean boy. Balancing is harder when you have a large set of bazonkers, they don't tell you this in the comics but it is the truth. She also lacks the super fast metabolism other Bats have, and I can see her trying really hard to fit in the mold only to realize as she grows older that she can do her own thing.

Tim: I think Tim, growing up as society kid and then forcing himself into the Robin role, never learned what eating healthy is. I headcanon him having some sort of ED (I think he would evolve through a few of them as he grew up), not because I like throwing angst at characters (though I do) but because it makes sense to me giving his background and personality. EDs are not only about "looking thin", but also about feeling in control. Also, Tim hanging onto the Robin title reminds me of child actors trying to force their developing body's to stop at a kid size so they can keep playing their character. I could write a whole post about it, but for what's relevant, the ED headcanon doesn't mean Tim is just super thin. I think his body is fluctuates the most out of any of the Bats, depending on where he's at mentally and age wise.

Duke Thomas: my boy is built for parkour. He's got the longest limbs in the family, he's got the reach. He keeps waiting for puberty to hit him like a train and give him Jason/Bruce levels of muscle mass, but he's just too tall. Like, yes, he can bench press Jason, but proportionally he's so much taller than all of them by then he just looks noodly. When he puts on the body armor though he makes Batman look like a Barbie doll. Anytime he's looming about, Jason accuses him of overcompensating. Duke just pretends to not be able to hear him from up above. Also pls DC give him long hair that floats around him in the same way Batman's cape does?? Pls, just give him magic girl hair that defies gravity.

Damian: I've said this before but this poor child grew up being told he'd one day be as huge as his dad but grows up to be Talia 2.0. I think he does inherit Bruce's height, but is distraught to never be hulking mountain of muscle like OG Batman. Little does he know Bruce isn't naturally that big either, and it's only through frankly unhealthy means he maintained that body. Everyone else agrees to never tell Damian about it so he won't even think to try it, and instead focus on reassuring him he's more than strong enough to inherit the title if that's what's bothering him. It ends up playing in his favor, Cass is proof that you don't need to be huge to instill the fear of God into people. And the way he moves, like a panther stalking his prey, is more than enough to make the rogues quake.

[unpopularwriter25]

Heyoo~ I'm not sure if you're going to accept making Yoriichi Tsugikuni x reincarnated! Reader or nah, but I'mma gunna send u my idea anyways!!

Same concept as my first Tanjiro x reincarnated! Reader. Except this time, Reader is Gen-Z, take no bullshit, vines, memes, and running on energy drink 24/7 (or night owl in this case). Imagine her knowing about the Tsugikuni Twins problems and tries to make those two bond together. Also please note: Yoriichi & Reader is childhood friends/fiance (arranged marriage stuff)

Gen-Z! Reincarnated! Reader is the best support girl and 10/10 WILL throw down anyone who insults Yoriichi. And honestly I just wanna know what's Yoriichi's expression will be like with a girl like Reader 😂. That, and I wanna a lot of whole some of Yoriichi and Reader.

Also if you can't make Yoriichi, that's fine, you can change the character to Giyuu if you find it hard to write Yoriichi. Thank youuuu <33

Also I'm now 100000% ur fan. 💌

Sorry for the delay!! You're feeding me the best demon slayer request and I'm completely here for it!! lol. I hope this is what you wanted and I hope you enjoy!! Thanks again for the requests!!

Memes, Energy Drinks, and Samurai: The Tale of a Gen-Z Girl Reincarnated

Summary: When a modern-day Gen-Z girl, Y/N, is suddenly reincarnated into the era of the Tsugikuni twins, she brings her take-no-bullshit attitude, love for memes, and boundless energy along with her. As she navigates this ancient world with the memories of her past life intact, she becomes childhood friends and fiancée to the stoic Yoriichi Tsugikuni. Determined to mend the fractured bond between Yoriichi and his estranged brother Michikatsu, Y/N uses her modern wit and fierce loyalty to bridge the gap between them.

Warnings: Language??

Word Count: 1,504

Y/N was an ordinary Gen-Z girl from the modern world. She was known for her vibrant personality, her love for memes, vines, and a perpetually optimistic outlook on life. She was a night owl, often staying up late, fueled by energy drinks, and scrolling through social media or binging on the latest trends.

Y/N was fiercely protective of her friends and family, always ready to stand up for what she believed in. Her "take-no-bullshit" attitude made her a reliable and formidable friend. Despite her seemingly carefree demeanor, she had a deep sense of responsibility and loyalty.

She's not exactly sure how she died, it's all a blur to her. She didn't even realize she had been reincarnated into a world vastly different from her own until she hit 20 years old. Before that point, she was completely at a lost.

From a young age in this new world, Y/N exhibited the same fierce personality and boundless energy she had in her past life. She quickly became known for her eccentric behavior and her strange, yet endearing, mannerisms. It wasn't long before she caught the eye of the Tsugikuni family, especially young Yoriichi.

It wasn't long before the two became very close. Y/N was constantly standing up for Yoriichi, she didn't stand for people being mean to him. Both of their families aknowldege their closeness and decided that once they were both of age they were to be married.

A few years have passed since this time, Y/N was now 20 years old and she was engaged to Yoriichi. She continued to feel out of place but that didn't stop her, she was still known around the village for her strange behavior, but the majority of them adored her. She constantly referenced things that made no sense to those around her, she didn't even realize where they came from.

Y/N would call him dude or bro. Yoriichi would look at her and be like "I'm your fiancée. Please do not call me bro?? Whatever that means." Y/N would nod "Sorry bro, shit, sorry dude, FUCK."

One day while she was training with Yoriichi, she developed a throbbing headache followed by her eyes getting all blurry, she felt like everything was spinning. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to get it to stop. She collapsed, overwhelmed by everything. Yoriichi rushed to her side, and when she came to, she remembered everything, everything about her past life. The realization was both shocking and comforting. She understood now why she felt so out of place, yet so familiar with certain things and people.

From that point on Y/N's behavior became more like her past life's behavior. She also just started dabbing at the most random times. Yoriichi would witness this and be like "What was that? " Y/N would shrug "It's called a dab and it felt needed in this situation." She even figured out how to make a DIY energy drink. Did it taste good? No. It was effective though. Yoriichi got a whiff of it one time and said it smelled like death. "Yeah it tastes like it too, but it makes me feel fuckin fantastic." she'd respond while chugging another one, slamming it down. "Woooh! Let's go kill some demons!" Yoriichi has to suppress his smile, he has to be the mature one in this relationship.

Since Y/N didn't have her phone anymore, she would just draw the most random memes on paper by memory. Yoriichi would find these random drawings throughout the house. "Why is this cat playing a piano? That's not possible." Y/N would facepalm "It's a meme." "Y/N cats don't have fingers, they can't play the piano."

Since Y/N was a no-bullshit kind of person she wasn't afraid to call someone out for being a dick, especially if it was directed to Yoriichi. For real, she'll throat punch someone for him...and she 100% has. Yoriichi asked her how she did that and to teach him that maneuver. Most people know not to fuck with her, but sometimes she'll come across someone that wants to test her...Yoriichi will stand back and watch her break them down with her words...or with her first, you know... in case the words don't work. He absolutely adores his crazy fiancée.

Y/N can also be a very caring person, specifically to the people she cares about the most. One night while Yoriichi and Y/N were outside their house. Sitting down, watching the stars, and enjoying the cool breeze. Y/N decided to speak up about something that has been on her mind. She glanced over at her husband. "Can I talk to you about something?" He looks at her, with a small smile. "Of course my love. What's on your mind?"

"I mean this in the best way possible and I say it out of love, but you need to stop being a bitch and talk to Michikatsu." Yoriichi pauses.."Did you...did you just call me a bitch?" he asked in disbelief. Y/N covers her face "Bruh, you're missing my point. Michikatsu is your brother and you two need to talk about your little feelings or some shit with each other."

Yoriichi is trying to process her language, and he shakes his head. "How do you suppose I do that? I'm assuming you have something in mind?" Y/N glances up at him smiling. "Uh-huh. C'mon, I know where he's training." She stands up, pulling him with her.

Y/N dragged Yoriichi to a secluded spot where she knew Michikatsu often trained. Sure enough, there he was, practicing his swordsmanship under the moonlight.

"Oi, Michikatsu!" Y/N called out, hands cupped around her mouth. "Get your broody ass over here!"

Michikatsu stopped mid-swing, turning to glare at Y/N. "What do you want, Y/N?"

"I want you two to talk. Like, actually talk, about your feelings and shit" she said, pushing Yoriichi forward. "You both are driving me fuckin nuts with this silent treatment crap. Y'all need to bond, and I'm here to make sure it happens.

Michikatsu gives Y/N a look and then looks at Yoriichi. "Your fiancée is as charming as ever."

Yoriichi glares at him, "Do not disrespect her brother."

Michikatsu sighed, sheathing his sword. "There's nothing to talk about."

Y/N marched up to him, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Bullshit. There's always something to talk about. Now sit your ass down and start talking."

To Yoriichi's surprise, Michikatsu actually complied, albeit grudgingly. The three of them sat in a circle, and for a moment, there was silence.

Y/N broke it with a vine reference. "So, I hear you’re the ‘Sad Boi’ of the family, Michikatsu. Care to elaborate?"

Both brothers looked at her, confusion evident on their faces. She sighed dramatically. "Okay, fine. In simpler terms, why the long face?"

Michikatsu looked at Yoriichi, then back at Y/N. "It's complicated."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Everything's complicated. But you don't see me sulking about it. Just... talk to each other. You guys are twins for crying out loud. You're supposed to have that twin telepathy thing."

Yoriichi finally spoke up, his voice soft. "Michikatsu... I miss the bond we used to have."

Y/N nodded "That's real good" She turned to Michikatsu "Now how does that make you feel?"

Michikatsu rolled his eyes "Is she going to be doing this the entire time?" Before Yoriichi could answer. Y/N started "Yeah I am. So stop your bitching and answered the fucking question."

Michikatsu's expression softened, and he looked down. "I... I miss it too. But things have changed."

Y/N smirked, cracking open another one of her homemade energy drinks. "Then change them back. It's not rocket science." She chugs the energy drink. "Wooh! Brotherly love! I'm gonna go get another one. You two keep sharing your feelings and all that good shit." She gets up and heads back to their house.

Michikatsu stared after her "You're marrying an absolute maniac." Yoriichi eyes lingered on her as she walked away. "Yeah, I'm well aware of that."

Throughout this entire ordeal, Yoriichi's expression was one of quiet amusement and deep appreciation. He was used to Y/N's antics and her fierce loyalty. Her presence was a constant reminder that he wasn’t alone, even in the most challenging times. Her determination to see him happy and her readiness to throw down anyone who insulted him made his heart swell with gratitude.

Seeing Y/N standing up to Michikatsu, unafraid and full of vigor, brought a rare, genuine smile to Yoriichi’s face. Her modern quirks and relentless energy were a stark contrast to his calm demeanor, but it was exactly what he needed.

After hours of talking, laughter, and even some tears, the twins began to mend their broken bond. Y/N watched them with a satisfied grin, knowing she had done her job. As they stood to leave, Yoriichi gently took her hand, his eyes reflecting the moonlight.

"Thank you, Y/N. For everything."

She squeezed his hand, her smile bright. "Anytime, Yoriichi. After all, what am I here for if not to kick some sense into stubborn brothers?"

[rs-hawk]

ok. Here’s a screwball idea. I don’t care if you don’t do it or even ask, but it’s here.

This thing is a Venus figurine. Many people tie them to being symbols of fertility due to their exaggerated, chubby proportions, and a lack of a face (kinda looks like they’re wearing vases). Because these things were made like in the Upper Palaeolithic era, and since society was a lot different back then (clearly), many people speculate that they could represent healthy or fertile women, goddesses, or simply self-portraits by their own makers.

from the way I see it, a Venus figurine represents a healthy woman very much capable of loving and having kids regardless of her appearance (lack of facial features), so the idea is simplified to this:

Fucking a life-sized Venus figurine who only wants to love, and be loved.

and now it’s done. This was most likely a fat waste of my time.

Friendly reminder that I'm an Anthropology major. When I tell you I fucking love Venus- Lord. I'm basically vibrating rn. I can't wait to drop nerd shit in this post. More asks like this I'm BEGGING. Prehistoric is my second area of interest! Pre-Colombian Americas is my main. I will go feral every time I get an ask like this. I’m not a fan of the almost self deprecating way you asked it, but I like it so-

Come to Life Venus of Willendorf x College Student Cis Male! Reader

"You know, some say that instead of a fertility Goddess, this is just a self portrait of some random woman. Like, look at her hips. That's how they'd look if she was looking down at herself while carving, you know?" you gushed, marveling at the small statue as you and your friend crowded around it. The velvet ropes stopped you from getting too close, but the statue was almost magnetic.

“Imagine being this chick and knowing dudes for centuries have used you to jerk off,” your friend snickered, side eyeing you.

"Come on dude. Do you really have to talk about her like that?" you scoffed, hating the idea of anyone else using her to get off. There was an aching in your cock that you couldn’t explain. Admittedly, you felt a little embarrassed about it. It was just a statue, but there was something about it.

“ ‘Her’?” he repeated, grinning teasingly at you. “So sorry I insulted her. Is she going to be upset with me?”

Rolling your eyes, you drew them away from the statue. “Whatever. Let’s go check the rest of the museum. I’m sure there’s plenty of other things from the Paleo that we missed.”

“You’re not going to write your essay about your wife?” your friend gasped, putting his hand to his chest with mock shock. “She’s going to be so hurt!”

Rolling your eyes again, you waved him on, though you did spare another glance at the statue. After the museum trip, you found yourself coming back to the museum again. And again. And again. And again. You were there nearly every day. When no one was around, you started praying to the small statue, whispering wants to her. How you wished you could have held her. How often you thought of her. Sure, it still made you feel a bit silly with how often your cock ached when you thought of her, but who would a statue tell?

The next morning, you woke up early. Much earlier than usual. Despite that, you couldn’t fall back asleep, so you began your morning routine. When you made your way to the living room to head to the kitchen, you stopped in your tracks. Sitting on your couch was… Venus?

“What?” you frowned, thinking maybe you were still asleep. This had to be a dream.

Her head turned, Her braids moving just enough for you to see a glimpse of facial features, but they seemed scattered. Not quite right. Then they were gone completely. You stood frozen. Rooted to where you stood.

“I came to pay a visit to my most dedicated worshipper,” She said in a voice that sounded the way a first kiss felt.

The way She spoke, you were certain she was smiling, if She could. She gestured for you to come sit beside her, which you did. Your head was spinning. Was this even real? You couldn’t help it when your gaze roamed Her bare body. Everything about Her was so perfect that you felt like touching Her would be like defiling a holy place.

As a thousand thoughts ran through your mind, She cut them all off by placing one hand on your thigh, the other tilting your chin so you had to look down at Her chest. You swallowed hard, your cock already aching. How would She feel wrapped around you?

The two of you didn’t speak for several moments. You wanted so badly to touch Her, but you still struggled with the idea. She, however, seemed to have no such reservations. She pulled down your pajama pants, running Her firm palm over the bulge in your boxers. A low groan escaped your lips. That was the end of your hesitation.

You stood up, kicking the pants off from around your ankles, quickly taking off your boxers as well. She chuckled slightly, though She seemed intrigued when you got on your knees in front of Her, lightly pushing Her plush thighs apart. You worshipped Her cunt just as well as She knew you would.

Your tongue lapped at Her, Her thick thighs and the overlap of her tummy nearly suffocating you. The coolness of Her core made you almost desperate to make Her cum and taste it on your tongue. She tasted like saltwater and copper, and all but Her majestic cunt and thighs seemed to still be primarily stone. All you wanted was to make Her happy. All you wanted was to continue to worship Her.

She moaned as you slid a finger into Her dripping pussy, moving your mouth to dutifully suck on Her clit. The metal decorations on Her braids clinked together when She threw Her head back, letting you see the curve of Her throat. A Goddess’ blessing. Or maybe the sounds were of the metal decorations hitting against the stone like braids themselves. Your other hand snaked between your legs, pumping your aching cock in time with how you were fingering Her. It only took a few minutes for Her to cum on your tongue, much to your satisfaction.

“What a skillful worshipper I have,” She nearly purred, pulling you up by placing Her hand under your chin.

She laid on Her back, spreading Her legs for you. In seconds, you sank into Her. Your thrusts were not rhythmic, but She didn’t seem to care, moaning and arching Her hips up to meet you. Your mouth found one of Her large nipples, taking it into your mouth as you softly groped Her other breast, your stomach and chest pressed against Hers. The softness and squish of Her stomach making it easier for you to adjust as you slammed into Her. It surprised you as Her limbs and head seemed to be solid stone. Maybe She could control it at will, but you didn’t have much time to ponder it. Not with how She was pulsing around you.

When you finally came, you didn’t even try to pull out. Why would a Goddess of fertility want you to? The two of you were panting together as your seed spilt deep inside of Her.

“I think I’m going to stay with you,” She whispered in your ear, the coolness of the metal loops sending a shiver down your spine.

“Please do,” was all you could get out, your mind back to reeling.

Like this story? Support me on Kofi ☕️ ❤️

[mamawasatesttube]

Sorry, I know you don’t really like people bringing up Jason but I’m very curious. I read Straight on Till Morning several times before really joining Tumblr and I was surprised by how much you seem to dislike him compared to how nicely he was written in said fic. Is it cuz it’s a future fic so he can be more chilled out than in current comics or something?

Feel free to ignore me if you want. Curiosity does not owe me answers.

no worries, i don't mind polite questions! :P

so there's two things. a) sotm was written when the only real comics i'd read were sb94, yj98, tt03, batgirl (2000), and nightwing '96 (iirc - i might be forgetting one or two but the point is, when i was pretty new to comics). at this point wfa had tricked me into thinking jason actually had a consistent character arc that i simply hadn't read yet, and i assumed it would be weird to write a fic where dick, tim, and cass were all around as kon's friends + damian was there being jon's friend in the background, but jason didn't get mentioned, so i worked him in bc i thought that was like. gonna be weird if i didn't, even tho i didn't know what he was doing in postcrisis yet. i mostly just wanted to write about kon and did not yet have the strong "actually i do not care for 99% of post-rebirth comics" feelings i have today. if i were to do the sotm rewrite in my mind, jason would actually still be in his villain to antivillain era because that's my actual favorite era of him. i think it's fun when he's hanging around being like... a vengeful ghost who's just determined to make his problems Everyone's Problem. i'm not really interested in soft angsty daddy's boy jtodd or whatever sdkjfh and that seems to be the most popular version of him i see. it's either soft angsty daddy's boy jason or it's power fantasy cop-adjacent jason who has never done anything wrong in his life and is completely valid in every decision he's ever made. neither of these interests me.

which brings me to b) it's not so much that i dislike jason todd as a character so much as that his fans are so fucking annoying to me. that chapter of sotm? multiple people in the comments were there ONLY to talk about jason, even though the fic is literally about kon and not about jason and he just happens to appear for PART of one scene that chapter. it made me get sick of hearing about him. like theres soooo many jason todd fics out there can you go read those. i want to talk about kon! and i've had people bring him up on my completely unrelated fics too like he doesn't even get MENTIONED like one fic is about clark kon and tim, and someone was in the comments like "omg i bet clark was thinking about jason here" and i was so ... dude. read the room. or the fic even. it is not about him.

but even more than the way a lot of jason fans have this apparently compulsive need to make him the main character of the entire universe, i really can't stand how many of them i've seen spout literal straight up copaganda and/or defense of the death penalty. like they will bend over backwards so hard to defend why he was right to put 8 heads in a duffel bag or why it's morally correct to kill rapists that they start spewing right-wing talking points. and the constant need to make him the perfect imperfect victim ("he's angry and loud unlike GOOD victims--") and all of that just... it really turns me off of 99% of fan content about him that i've seen. it makes me genuinely kind of uncomfortable. like if you think there's a category of criminal that it's okay to execute (without a trial, even) i want nothing to do with you. can you guys just say it's sexy when a man is covered in blood after murdering a room full of people without having to be like "and he was right to do it too!!" because i promise he was not. and if you SAY any of this people will come up with a whole thing about how you must hate victims and/or poor people or some shit. its... really something.

all of that being said - i think there are interesting things you COULD do with his character. i think he can be a fascinating character! with stories worth telling! the family tragedy, the horror story, the vengeful ghost! but at this point with how rancid i find his fanbase i just really only want to see jason takes from people i know will not start spewing copaganda at me + people who i know appreciate tim kicking him in the balls (bc he kicked dick in the balls and tim is a bitch).

anyways. bring back tentatodd 2k25 who's with me

[otherone12]

Backstage & Makeup

(the most uncreative title EVER, sorry.)

Gerard way x Drummer!Reader

->Masterlist

A/N: Hey!! I’ve been thinking about how to make a whole fic with a small scene I wrote a long ago. I imagine this in the Revenge era, but feel free to change it, btw, I hope you like it. Any ideas, just send them to me and I will write :D (i got another 5 fics plots that i'm working on, if school gets me some break i'll post this fics soon).

Summary: You’re MCR’s drummer, you and Gerard are dating and he's cute. (there's nothing more to say to describe this, just that he does your makeup).

- Word Count: 1.015

- Warnings: none ;)

- Ps: I'll not use y/n…

- Ps2: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language ... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

___________________________________________

1st Person POV

Backstage is such a beautiful place, not because of the decoration, architecture or something like that, but the feeling of the need to get back on stage and make all those people experience a moment they won't forget. Being with my friends and laughing by nothing while we get dressed, this just makes backstage a special place. 

This time wasn’t different, except for the fact that now Gerard and I weren't just friends anymore. He never loses a chance to show how much he cares about me, giving unexpecting hugs, giving a lot of compliments and being the cutest person in this whole world.

This time was my turn to get out to buy some coffee for us. When I got back with the cups and distributed them among the five of us, Gerard was holding a little box. He looked at me with his shiny hazel eyes and an adorable smile.

- I got something for you. - He appeared to be extremely excited when he reached out to hand me the small box he was holding. - It’s not a special day, but I saw this and it instantly reminds me of you. 

I couldn’t help but smile ear to ear. Not because he buys me a gift, but because whatever it was, he thought of me. Without saying a thing, I opened the box and saw a silver necklace, with a pendant in my favorite color in the shape of a drop. It was a minimalist necklace and when I laid eyes on it, I decided that once I put it around my neck, I would never take it off.

I took a few seconds looking at that before saying something.

- Thanks, Gee! I love it!  - Excited, I threw myself into his arms and hugged him tight, careful not to spill the coffee all over us both. - Can you help me to…

I didn’t finish the sentence, and he fastened the necklace clasp around my neck.

- I’m glad you like it, sugar! 

Without turning around to face him, he laid his chin on my shoulder and kissed my neck, smoothly. 

After we all finished our coffees, it was time to get ready to get on stage. I grabbed my clothes and in less than ten minutes I was dressed with my black shirt and red tie. My hair was fixed, but not too much ‘cause I know it will get ruined after the first song we played. Now, the only thing missing was my make up. I looked to Gerard, and he was ready, somehow he does his make in like five fucking seconds.

Sitting in the chair in front of this god damn mirror, it was already the third time I tried to do my makeup, and just didn’t feel good enough to get on the stage. Gerard, by the other hand, was jumping around with the pre-show adrenaline, with his perfect eyeline and awesome eyeshadow.

- Can you help me with this, babe? - I sighed and said looking at him, with my eyeliner in hand.  

- With what? - He asked, moving to my way. - Are you okay?

- I'm fine, just my makeup… I don’t understand how you do it so easily.  

- Practice, I guess - He smiled, taking the eyeliner from my hand and getting closer to my body - Don't you already know how to do this?

- Yeah… but I want you to help me…. - I did my best puppy eyes and held his hips to get him even closer - Pretty please!

- Okay, babe, you don’t need to beg… - He chuckled; his smile turned a malicious grin on his face while he spoke the next sentence - at least, not now.

- shut up! 

laughing, I pushed him away, but not strong enough to make him back off, ‘cause it wasn’t the intention at all. Gerard sat on my lap and asked to open my eyes wide, so he could do my makeup. I tried not to blink, but I couldn't help, after some “sorrys” he finished this part of the makeup.

- Okay, now, close your eyes 

His soft voice reached my ears slowly and I obeyed. Waiting for the sensation of the brush on my eyelid, I get surprised when the only thing I felt was his warm lips pressed on mine, kindly. His cold hands touched my cheek and my neck, making me shiver while his lips remained glued to mine. 

Gerard pulled up, and I opened my eyes with a tiny smile on my face. 

- I thought I told you to close your eyes. - He tried to stay serious, but he wasn’t good at that - Didn’t i?

- Sorry - I immediately closed my eyes again, feeling now the brush. - I was hoping for another kiss… 

- If you play everything right in the show tonight, i’ll give you another kiss - His tone was soft as the brush on my eyelid, which was getting red with the makeup - And i know you will, you always do, sugar… aaand done!

Finally, he placed a kiss on my forehead and looked at my face, admiring the incredibly good job he did. Now, I was ready to get on stage with the guys, but I wanted to stay there with Gee a bit more.

- I don’t know if I can wait ‘till the show ends to kiss you again…

I tried to act the best way I could, pretending that I was about to cry or something like that. In answer to this,  he shook his head in some fake disappointment.

- You probably can’t. 

He sighed, looked deep in my eyes, then approached his face to mine. The tension in the room was getting strong, somehow, time got slow. The smell of coffee and cigarettes emanated from him, getting me tipsy and lost when my hands reached his hair, waiting to mess it all up. 

With our lips almost together again to this desired second kiss, he whispered:

- Maybe we could-

Before Gerard could finish, Frank hit the door and shouted as it opened, without waiting for permission to enter, he just said:

- Guys, it's time! You two can fuck after the show.

___________________________________________

~ This one was short, because i just had the makeup part in my mind, and didn't know how to start it. Lemme know if you like it!

[smaller-comfort]

For the blorbo ask: Let's go with Resh'an and ohhh, give me your thoughts on Sephiroth. As for which questions: 1, 6, 7, 13, 14, and 24.

1. who’s the Blorbo that you’ve never posted about on your blog?

I'm trying to think if there's any secret deep lore blorbo to unlock here, but I do periodically froth at the mouth about the Imperial Radch and Locked Tomb characters that I love. There's the Active Blorbo Roster and then there's all the characters sittin' on the bench in reserve, right?

And there are a lot of those- all the part 5 JJBA kids, Shanks from One Piece, Hakkai from Saiyuki, Mustadio FFTactics.

6. if you could talk to your Blorbo, what would you say to them?

I used to do a lot of 'interview the character' writing exercises when I was younger, but it's not really something that jives with my brain these days. So the boring answer is, I wouldn't say anything. I'm a bad conversationalist.

The *funny* answer- okay, so you remember the era of geocities websites with goofy "under construction" gifs and entire pages dedicated to script-style interactions between the site owner and their favorite characters, right. I had one of those. It was where I posted my multichaptered mary sue self insert oc/Sephiroth fanfic. I cannot for the life of me remember what it was called- no, wait, fuck, the title was "To Shed a Tear" holy shit I wish I hadn't remembered that-the oc was Rufus' sister and a member of the Turks, and look, it was 1998, I had to teach myself html somehow-

Uh. Anyway. So, ultimately, I would probably be apologizing to Sephiroth for all of that, and then maybe just asking for a swift death or something, idk.

I'd have nothing to say to Resh'an because in the ARG he's explicitly stated that he doesn't want to talk about his personal life with the rest of us, and I would attempt tobrespect that boundary. (Really, most of what I might say would probably get me banned from the Sabotage discord.) (I'd probably have to apologize to him for all the fanfic, too. *cough*)

7. what’s the one thing the fandom gets wrong about your Blorbo?

Sephiroth was not involved in some kind of well adjusted five person SOLDIER polycule pileup before the Nibelheim incident. That man has never looked at another human being and experienced a sexual thought in his *life*.

(This does not prevent him from walking Zack on a leash when the occasion calls for it, but like. That's just being a responsible friend. Sometimes Angeal is busy.)

I'm open to a lot of different interpretations of Resh'an right now- the fandom is so small, I'll take whatever I can get and be happy about it, honestly. I'm sure there are people who think *I'm* the one getting him wrong, though, and on some level this idea pleases me in the blackened, contrarian corners of my soul. Sorry, I've taken your mysterious mentor character with a tragic past and turned him into a sopping wet rag with erectile dysfunction. (I'm not that sorry.) (technically it's not ED it's anorgasmia *is shot*)

13. is there any crime, any wrongdoing your Blorbo could commit that would make you stop loving them and remove them from your hyperfixation entirely?

me, sitting on the front porch, sipping a shitty cocktail while watching Meteor about to obliterate the solar system: ...nah.

This kind of gets into like...Doylist/Watsonian characterization, right? The character is just going to do what they're written to do. So is there anything Square Enix could do to make Sephiroth stop being my blorbo? I guess they already did Crisis Core so like...It really doesn't get much worse than that. (I say this, but I haven't finished Rebirth! I am only vaguely aware of the major plot divergence stuff.)

All that said...Squeenix can't take the OG away from me. I'm stuck with the general background radiation of the Compilation, but the things that made me love the game, and the experience of playing it as a child, are always going to be mine. My particular take on Sephiroth exists largely independent of canon and the current fandom at this point.

For Resh'an- let him war criminal even harder! XD

Really, though, I'm steeling myself for inevitable disappointment around his canon backstory and the ultimate resolution of the story. This is not meant to be any shade on Thierry Boulanger's storytelling skills- but being part of the fandom for an ongoing story is always a unique experience, and it tends to leave you with complicated feelings towards the actual conclusion of the story, no matter how good it ends up being.

But if he and Aephorul turn out to be stereotypical anime rivals pre-immortality, I will be *extremely* annoyed (I say, as I write them constantly bickering and antagonizing each other). But I don't think that would even be a deal breaker for me at this point.

14. have you ever distanced yourself from your Blorbo / have you ever left a fandom because people in the fandom were being too toxic?

Maybe back when I was more active in fandom in general? My memory is too fucky to answer this properly, I think; I know there absolutely were people in AC fandom who made me want to eat paint, but I don't think they were why I left. Most of the time when I leave a fandom, it's because I get bored or lose interest or fall into a depression hole for half a decade. (The depression hole is what makes this hard to answer. From 2018-2023 I wasn't on tumblr or fannish twitter and I wasn't really reading fanfic or "doing fandom" at all.)

I've left/avoided certain fandoms because of non-fandom interpersonal blow ups with specific people- I've had several friend groups explode messily over the years, and avoiding some of those people meant avoiding fandoms we used to share. (FFVII was briefly, tangentially one of those for me back in 2009.)

Now, I'm more likely to distance myself from a fandom if I find it annoying, honestly. I spent like ten minutes in the In Stars and Time tag and very quickly determined that it was Not For Me, and that's totally fine! It's a perfectly lively fandom, it's just not my thing. Same with Baldur's Gate and Arcane (and to a lesser extent TLT); I just get the curated content from my lovely mutuals, and if there's anything else going on, I pretend I do not see it.

24 if you could change one canonical thing about your Blorbo, what would it be?

Lemme just- *slam dunks Genesis Rhapsodos into the trash* And look! Nothing of value was lost. Nothing changes in the story that needed to be changed. The tragedy still unfolds, and it's 50% less idiotic! Angeal can stay. He's fine.

Maybe they've fixed the idiocy in Rebirth. I doubt it, though. Sephiroth's appeal initially comes partly from him being a bit of a blank slate- the players get a very limited window into who he is and what his whole deal is, and that vast *potential* is where some of the best (most unhinged) fanworks develop. The OG is very deliberate about how it treats Sephiroth as a villain- he's literally the shark from Jaws, hovering under the narrative. Twenty five years later he's one of the most recognizable video game villains in the world, so I understand *why* Remake went a different direction. But it's still a little disappointing. Sometimes leaving things vague and mysterious is good, actually!

Anyway, other than setting Genesis on fire- I don't know. Put him in one of those slutty turtlenecks with the boob window. It's what we deserve. (The serious answer- sort of- make him 2000% more body horror about the Jenova cells. Give him tentacles to go with the fucking angel wings.)

As for Resh'an- we've got three more games to go. He's sitting firmly in that sweet spot of unhinged potential; we don't know enough about his backstory yet for me to want it changed. So, really, the only change I'd make at this juncture would probably be to give the Great Eagle more tail feathers. It just *bothers* me, okay. Why are there only three.

[youmakethelight]

I'm back in my pissed-off-about-the-title era, as if I ever left. The more promo I see, the more I have to see 'hashtag DARYL DIXON'. It's a fucking slap in the face every time.

It enables microaggressions and overt misogyny across the fandom and more broadly, as well as in how Melissa McBride is treated (e.g. second billing, being listed as '2. Carol' while her co-star gets '1. Daryl Dixon' by default).

Getting the 'DARYL DIXON' title greenlit early on was the biggest middle finger Norman Reedus and the male EPs could give to us and to melissa. I literally hear Negan saying "I just slid my dick down your throat and you THANKED me for it."

It validates people who want to push women, especially grey-haired women, to the sidelines. It elevates daryl as a typical 'leading man', who does 'leading man things' (excuse me while I throw up), which is so far from the outsider underdog autism-coded sensitive character who meant so much to so many people. It enables and rewards powerful middle-aged white men for publishing their problematic fantasies that centre middle-aged white men.

Sorry to make a 'mountain out of a molehill' bc yes there are much bigger and more pressing things happening in the world, but it still matters, and we can care about both. Tolerating problematic storytelling and marketing in our 'escapism' media, especially during a time of terrifying political development in the real world we live in, matters.

I've had people tell me to shut up bc it's "just a TV show" and it's "escapism" so it's not that deep. It's only escapism if it allows you to escape from the realities of real life. If women or anyone else hurt by the narrative have to tolerate microaggressions with their escapism, we're heading backwards. It's only really escapism for people who are uplifted by the narrative. And holy fuck, what a problematic narrative. And that's the baseline for our escapist media? The media that is supposed to be where we can go to escape the problems in real life? Where we can ignore real-life problems and create whatever world we want instead? Sorry, that's depressing for a LOT of us, not enjoyable escapism.

There's so much more to this issue. I could write a fucking thesis. But I'm actually fucking sick and tired of being hit back with fan-splaining from people I've never even spoken to before whenever I talk about this.

The truth is, no matter how much you might not believe it, the network absolutely can change the title if they want to. There are numerous ways they could do this by launching a rebrand. It's not fucking illegal lol. If they really want to uplift Carol and a more inclusive marketing message, they absolutely have the power to do whatever the fuck they want, and yes, that includes changing the title. Again, there are several creative options available to them.

The ONLY questions mystifying the decision are:

1. What is happening behind the scenes that they need to account for?

2. How much money would they have to spend?

3. How much money do they stand to make?

We are not, by any means, "stuck with" the Daryl Dixon title that more than half the target audience hate.