#the game started off great then got really weird

[hairmetal666]

It's 3am. It's pouring down rain. Steve's soaked to the skin, been wandering the city for most of the night, hasn't slept in almost 24 hours, thinks maybe he's on the brink of delirium, and then a truck hits a pool of ponded water, sending a muddy wave cascading over him.

He just wants to go home but Dustin lost his dog and he can't leave a puppy out in this weather.

Steve steps off the curb, and what looks like a shallow puddle turns out to be a water-filled hole. He crashes towards the pavement, nothing he can do to stop it. As fast he's falling, he's miraculously not, arms wrapped around his waist. It takes a second for his brain to catch up, to understand that he's being held upright in an old-fashioned, romantic dip.

"Careful, sweetheart," a deep and smoke raspy voice says from above him.

it sends chills down his spine, the good kind, and warmth slips through him. His rescuer is a solid 10 knockout. Long, curly hair; eyeliner; decked out in leather and studs and chains. He smells like booze and cigarettes and weed, and it's intoxicating. Steve has to fight the instinct to nuzzle the guy's leather jacket. He's beautiful, holds Steve with the swagger only a guy with rings on every finger could pull off.

And Steve is a mud soaked mess in sweatpants and a threadbare Hawkins High tee. But the guy holding him isn't letting go. He stares down at Steve, brown eyes wide.

"Steve!" A voice calls over the patter of the rain.

"Dustin?" He says at the same time that the man holding him says, "Henderson?"

"Eddie?" Dustin asks.

"Wait, dnd Eddie?" Steve gets his feet under him, but Eddie's arms don't drop.

"You're the famous babysitter Steve I've been hearing all about?"

They gape at each other until Dustin reaches them.

"What are you still doing out here?" Dustin shouts. "We found Dart hours ago."

"Dustin!" He thinks he might cry. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You weren't answering your walkie!"

"Fuck." Steve drops his face to his hand. The walkie. Which is on the table by the front door where he and Robin leave their keys.

Steve swallows his frustration, the misery of waterlogged shoes, having to be up to open the store in a few hours, meeting the hottest guy he's ever seen when he looks like a drowned rat.

"I promised I'd find Dart, didn't I? Now what the hell are you doing out so late?"

"Mom and I were looking for you!"

"Let's get you back to the car, man, okay?" Steve says to Dustin. He wants to end this weird, terrible, embarrassing night before it gets even more humiliating.

"I can give you a ride home," Eddie says. He's got this weird, intense look on his face, staring at Steve.

"I'm only a few blocks away. I'll be fine. C'mon, Henderson."

"Oh, I can walk him. You head home."

He nods, starts towards his apartment, but turns back just in time to see Eddie and Dustin share a look he can't parse.

---

A few days later, Dustin's following him around at work, chattering about dnd as Steve shelves books, and without taking a breath during a soliloquy about owl bears, says, "Eddie's running a one-shot for us next week. You should come! It's a great way to get into the game."

"I'm not playing dnd," Steve answers. He slides a book onto the shelf. "I've told you this."

"Yeah, but you liked Eddie, right? He'd help you out!"

Steve squints at the kid. "I didn't really meet Eddie to know. Anyway, I'm sure he doesn't want a newbie crashing."

Steve is pretty sure Eddie doesn't like him, based on their short introduction, so he's not interested in forcing himself into the guy's dnd club. The night they met was humiliating enough, Steve in all his dorky glory.

"No, he totally wouldn't care. C'mon, Steve!"

"No can do." He ruffles Dustin's hair as he walks away.

He thinks that'll be the end of it, but every few days, for weeks Dustin and all the rest of the kids stop at the store to beg him to join their dnd club.

---

Steve is working the register and he hears the shuffling clank of a customer, looks up and finds Eddie. He's staring at Steve with that same look from the night they met, intense and piercing, cutting straight through the heart of him. He feels himself start to blush.

The first thing out of Eddie's mouth is, "Wait, this is your store?"

"Yeah?" Steve asks. "Is that--is that weird?"

"No! Not at all. It's a good store. Cute." His nose wrinkles when he says it and Steve's blush grows hotter. He knew Eddie thought he was a dork.

"Cute. Yeah. Right. Can I help you with something?"

Eddie rocks back on his heels, hands going to the pockets of his leather jacket, sending his chains jingling. "Oh, so, actually I wanted to see if you were busy?"

"Yeah, man. I'm busy." He laughs, doesn't intend to be mean about it, but he and Robin only opened the store six months ago and both take night classes at the local community college. Plus, everything he does with the kids.

Eddie's face flushes bright. "Oh, sure, of course. Yeah, I--I'll see you around."

The door thunks to a close behind him, and a voice immediately pops up to ask, "What the hell was that?"

He turns to find Max Mayfield hands on hips, glaring up at him, Robin close behind.

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

Max rolls her eyes and strides up to the counter. "Why were you an asshole to Eddie?"

"He started it!"

"I highly doubt that."

"Okay, Ms. Know-it-all, why don't you tell me what happened?"

"I know for a fact that Eddie came in today to ask you out. So, tell me, Steve Harrington, why he rushed out of here looking like a kicked puppy?"

"What?" He yelps. "Eddie doesn't even like me!"

She glares. "Doesn't like you? He's been pathetic about you since you met."

He gapes at Robin. "Don't look at me," she shrugs. "But that guy was definitely here to ask you out."

"Fix it." Max commands as she stomps out the door. "He bar tends at that metal place on 68th."

---

It's just after 9pm and he's at the metal bar on 68th, decidedly out of place in the yellow t-shirt and jeans he wore to his business accounting class.

It's fairly busy for a weeknight, but Eddie's not hard to find. He's obviously in his element, bobbing his head to a song Steve's never heard as he mixes a drink.

With a hard swallow and a healthy dose of humility, he walks up to the bar.

"Be right--" Eddie starts, balking when he notices Steve.

"Can we talk?" he shouts over the music.

Eddie's eyes widen a little, but he nods, slips out from behind the bar to guide him to an employee exit.

"What's up, Steve?" Eddie asks. His hands are in his pockets, shoulders bowed in.

"I wanted to apologize."

"What for?"

"Earlier, I--when you said the store was cute I thought you were making fun of me."

"But--why?"

"I thought you didn't like me." Steve cringes at the admission.

"What?" He laughs.

"I don't know. We met in the middle of the night and I was covered in mud looking for a dog that wasn't lost anymore."

"Steve. Holy shit." Eddie shakes his head. "You looked gorgeous that night. The way your clothes were sticking--you know what? Never mind. Did you think I wanted you to come to dnd because I hated you?"

"You wanted me to come?"

"Dustin didn't..."

"No! And he's been asking me to play dnd weekly for the past five years."

"Jesus Christ," Eddie slumps agains the brick wall at his back. "No wonder you turned me down today."

"To be fair," Steve slumps next to him. "If I had realized you were asking me out, I wouldn't have turned you down."

"No?" Eddie asks. His brown eyes gleam.

"Definitely not. I've had a crush on you since that night. Sort of devastating since I thought you didn't like me." Steve runs his hand through his hair, watches Eddie track the movement.

"The store is cute, Steve. I--uh--I've been a few times. Back before I knew you were the owner! I just kept seeing a hot employee with great hair and a perfect ass, and the vaguely mean lesbian barista gives me free drinks."

"That's Robin," Steve says. He's smiling so hard.

"I know that now," Eddie smiles back. "Sorry for being an idiot."

"Me too." Steve nods. "Do you--could I still come to dnd? Or take you out sometime?"

"Why not both?" Dimples pop on Eddie's cheeks, and Steve's heart flips.

"I like both." They're still against the wall, but drifting into each other's space.

"So Dustin said."

It surprises a laugh out of Steve. "I'm gonna kill him."

"Too bad. He's a nice kid."

"Eh, we've got six more to choose from."

"I have a few more hours here, but there's a diner down the street that does some of the most mediocre pancakes I've ever tasted. Meet me there? Around 2?"

"A thousand lost puppies wouldn't make me miss it."

The next time Steve is out at 3am he's pressed against a building, Eddie kissing him so thoroughly he knows he's never recovering from this one.

[fortune-maiden]

the third route of even if Tempest feels like the third route of Raging Loop haha

(we’ll see if it also ends in the end of the world I guess lol)

[foone]

I see a lot of people joking about the adhd thing of "I have a appointment/phone call at 3pm, guess I won't do anything all day!"

But no one seems to make the connection that it's a time blindness thing. One of the symptoms of ADHD is not having a good and accurate sense of time. And not doing stuff prior to an event with a hard deadline is an obvious coping mechanism for that.

Can I go to the store? It's 10am and the appointment is at 3pm. How long does going to the store take? An hour? Three hours? Five hours? I DON'T KNOW!

I get anxious trying to do things before appointments because I'm aware that I don't know how long those things take, and that if I think I do, I may be very wrong. Too often I've been like "hey I can walk to the corner store and grab a drink, that'll take like 15 minutes!" and then an hour later I get back and whoops my rice has burnt.

Plus there's also the fact that ADHD people know that motivation and focus is a two-edged sword.

Like, let's say you decide to play a video game. You've got time, you can pause/save whenever, so this should be a perfect fit to make good use of your waiting-time. So you start playing and WHOOPS you get really focused for some reason today (because people with ADHD do not get to pick when their brain decides to focus) and the next time you look at the clock it's 2:49 and you haven't showered or dressed and the appointment is 30 minutes away. Fuck. (you could have set an alarm, but now you're asking people with the forgetting-things-and-time-ignoring condition to remember it set alarms)

And with motivation, it can be almost worse. Instead of playing a game, you so something useful or creative. You clean your room or fix your plumbing or write a story or draw a picture. And suddenly it's great. Your brain is firing on all cylinders. You've got all the motivation you can ask for, and you are FLYING. the ideas are brilliant, your hands are nimble, you're getting stuff done you've been putting off for weeks or months. And then the alarm goes off. Time to go to your appointment. Fuck.

You drive there, your brain still full of ideas and plans. But by the time you get back, the motivation is gone. You may still have the ideas but you don't have the drive to write them down. You can't force yourself to do it. Your sink is still in pieces. Your room is half-cleaned, and you have to shove all the sorted clothes into one big bin just so you have somewhere to sleep. You've left things half finished again, in a cycle that has been repeating your whole fucking life. It seems sometimes that nothing ever gets finished.

So next time you don't even start. There's not time. You've been burnt too many times. Why add another half-completed project to your pile of shame?

My point is that people seem to be going "lol I can't do anything all day if I have an appointment at 3pm" like this is a quirky "oh I'm so scatterbrained!" weirdness they alone have, and not a major complication of a disabling mental illness.

(and that's not even getting into the secondary effects. If you know that having an appointment ruins your whole damn day, you're going to avoid them. Even when it's things like "going to that party" or "meeting your friends for a drink/game" or "going to a movie with that cute girl from your math class". Things you should enjoy. Things that'd help you be social. Things that make you feel human.)

[hyunsvngs]

hyunsvngbinimas !

pairing: lee minho x fem!reader

warnings: reader is a cat hybrid, perv!minho, heats, slick, kind of omegaverse but not, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, depictions of porn

Nothing is going right.

Minho’s apartment smells of those cliche candles that just reek of Christmas - spiced cinnamon apple strudel, or something like it. He’s burnt his cookies. His hair is covered in white sugary flakes that he’d tried to make snow for his gingerbread house with, and they’re currently melting into his hair from how stressed out he’s getting. Felix will be here any second. He’s freaking out. Felix always judges his baking.

He sighs, scraping the burnt remnants of his baking endeavours into the bin. Felix will have to be happy with just the gingerbread house. Anyway, Minho got him an amazing present for Christmas - a new headset for his gaming setup that had little holes for his white fluffy cat ears to peek through. 

Being best friends with a hybrid wasn’t easy for Minho. Unfortunately, Minho had some weird affinity for cat girls and boys alike, and his computer was decked out with mountains of hybrid heat porn that would make even Felix’s weird friend Jisung stutter. Minho had gotten drunk one night and opened up to Felix about it, and had received an overly wet kiss on a cheek and a sweet chirp of “I’ll fuck you whenever, hyung”. Minho still blushes to the tips of his ears when he remembers it. 

Felix’s hybrid status isn’t the only reason he’s reserved as Minho’s lifelong best friend. Felix is devious, weird, and a little bit evil just like Minho - he’s also always late, which really means a lot to Minho when he’s stressing out like this. 

True to his nature, there’s a loud knock on the door approximately fifteen minutes after the meeting time after Minho had just put the baking tray of newer, more promising cookies into the oven. Minho throws his oven gloves to the side and then he’s charging over to the door to swing it open, ready to give Felix a fake lecture about being late to their designated day for exchanging presents. 

Only, when the door opens, Felix isn’t alone. He’s standing on Minho’s doorstep with a wild smile on his face, a beanie pulled over his ears and his white tail swishing in excitement. Next to him is you. 

And you’re, well, you. You’re a cat hybrid, too, sans-beanie and baring your orange ears for the world to see. You have a matching smile on your face, and Minho can’t help but fight his own smile back. It’s that contagious. Your fluffy winter dress is swaying around your mid-thigh, and when you turn to stop your suitcase from falling in the snow, your tail curls in annoyance.

Wait. You have a suitcase.

“Yongbok-ah,” Minho starts, his apron covered in flour. His apron is covered in flour. He’s a mess, and the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen is standing on his doorstep with a cute little dress on. He wonders if you’d let him flip it up and stretch your pussy open with his thick- no. He clears his throat, repeats Felix’s Korean name once again. “Yongbok-ah. What is this?”

“Your new roommate!” Felix beams, his smile stretching from ear-to-ear. Minho contemplates how he can kill him. “She was looking for somewhere to stay. Her landlord just kicked her out over Christmas, hyung, isn’t that so sad? Anyway, I remembered you saying you wouldn’t mind someone moving in to help with rent, so-”

“I work!” You blurt, cheeks sufficiently rosy pink and your bottom lip looking so biteable. Minho mentally chastises himself. He needs to behave. “I can pay rent, and Felix said you’d like me.”

Oh, he did, did he? Minho manages to drag his eyes away from you to stare menacingly at Felix, who only nods in agreement and smiles. Minho sighs, eyes flickering behind him. How quick can he do a deep clean of the house so that you think he’s perfect and amazing and maybe want to be with him? “I do have a spare bedroom.”

“Great!” Felix chirps. His eyes flicker between you and Minho. You haven’t taken your eyes off of him, tail swishing around your back excitedly. It’s orange with faint stripes in it, and Minho’s trying not to get hard in his pants over the way you’re grinning at him. Felix claps his hands together, gloved and muffled. “So, I’ve got to go now. Bye, hyung!”

“Y-Yongbok,” Minho blurts. Did he really just stutter? “What about your present?”

“Oh, give it to me another day,” Yongbok waves him off, already turning down the drive.

Minho scoffs. “What about my present, you little-”

Yongbok turns around. “She is your present, hyung. Silly.” 

Minho reverts his eyes to you. He can feel how he’s widening them in shock, his bottom lip quivering. He wants to say something. He wants to talk to you, but how can he? You’re looking at him so expectantly and your dress has damn pom poms on it. He’s going to die. “Uh. D’ya wanna come in? I have cookies in the oven.”

“Great!” You say, and Minho’s convinced your voice is exactly how angels sound. You shimmy past him with your suitcase and leave it in the doorway, sashaying into the living room as if you’ve been there a million times. He watches you sprawl on the sofa in awe, stretching languidly. If he squints, he might be able to see the panties you’ve got on underneath your dress. “I love cookies.”

“Uh, yeah,” Minho says intelligently, kicking the door shut. He’s quick to follow you despite still being in his apron and having white specks in his dark hair. He tries to sit down casually on the sofa, and you gravitate towards his body heat, curling up beside him. “Have you had a roommate before?”

“A roommate?” You perk up, looking at him. Minho thinks he’s going to die. He’s definitely hard now, and he’s glad the apron is loose enough to cover it. You blink, and then you nod. “I guess so. In college, I stayed with a bunny girl. She was super sweet.”

A bunny girl? You two… lived together? Minho’s heart has stopped beating, officially. Maybe you’re still close friends. Maybe you can bring her over, when one or both of you are in your heats, and maybe you’ll let him watch if you-

Oh, Minho’s so fucked.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re so fucked.

When Felix said his friend Minho had mentioned wanting a roommate, you hadn’t expected him to be so sexy. Even standing on his doorstep with an apron covered in flour and a timid expression on his face, he was sexy. He’d shown you to the spare bedroom, nice as pie, and had waited while you got settled in to comfier clothes before getting on the couch with him. You couldn’t stop your tail from swishing when he fed you a cookie, warm from the oven, and you’d been looking at him with round, owlish eyes. He has to know. You’re wondering how much you can put down to kitty tendencies just to get closer to him. 

“Can we cuddle?” You chirp, and Minho turns to you. He blinks, lips parted. His eyes are so dark, so round. “You know, kitty tendencies. I like the warmth. If it makes you uncomfortable, that’s okay-”

“No,” He shakes his head, patting his lap. “C’mere, kitty- sorry, God, can I call you that? Is that okay?”

You giggle, curling up in his lap. Your tail curls around his arm comfortably, and Minho chokes back a noise. You wonder if he’s alright. “Kitty is fine. I like it.”

Minho lets out a stuttered breath. “O-Okay, so- how do you want to do this? I can cook for us, if you wanna clean?” He shakes his head. You feel his body tense up from beneath you. His thighs are so broad and muscled you can’t help but nuzzle your nose into one. You’re purring before you even realise you are. “Actually, no. Don’t clean.”

“I can clean!” You insist, but he’s already protesting again.

“No, kitty. Please don’t. Please don’t clean.”

Why not? You screw your face up in a pout, but you can’t help but feel the most comfortable you’d ever felt. It feels domestic, almost, the way you’re curled up on his lap and he’s just letting you. He’s warm. He’s warm and toned, and you flip over to look up at him. God, he’s pretty - sharp nose, pouty lips, the cutest bunny teeth that would have you swearing he had to be a hybrid too if you hadn’t seen his human ears. You want him.

Minho looks down at you then, a smile playing on his lips. “Why are you staring at me, kitty cat?”

You blush, shaking your head. “No reason. Hey, do you wanna watch a movie? I’m not moving though.” 

“Of course,” Minho chuckles, his shoulders shaking. You watch as he reaches over you to grab the remote, flicking through channels until he finds a decent Christmas one. He looks at you, almost hesitant with his spare hand raised above your hair. “I- Felix likes when I scratch his ears. Do you- would you-”

“Yes, please,” You nod eagerly, and he snickers at your response. His hand threads into your hair, fingertips rubbing absentmindedly at the start of your orange ears, and you purr. It makes him tense up again. 

When you finally turn over to pay attention to the movie, it’s some stupid film about two people finding love at Christmas. You can’t help but hope you have a similar experience, and you definitely wouldn’t be disappointed if it happened with the man who’s currently stroking over your ears and humming a soft tune. It feels too easy with him, too natural, but you’re not one to complain.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re panicking. You’ve been living with Minho for a week now, and between him doing absolutely everything around the house and refusing to let you pay rent - for what reason you’re unsure - you’re determined to get him a good gift for Christmas. Christmas is only in a few days, and you just can’t find anything perfect scrolling through your laptop. You have goosebumps on your arms from how cold you are, but you’re so focused you can’t put an extra layer on.

You’re convinced you’re hallucinating when the screen freezes, turns blue, and crashes. What? You bang on the keyboard with clenched fists, ears flattening in annoyance. What’s going on? Has it… broken? No way. No way would this happen to you, not during the most important time of your life. You had to get Minho a good gift. 

He’s sat on the sofa scrolling through his phone when you perk your head around the doorway - or perk your tail around, since that’s the first thing Minho sees. He grins, turning to you. God, his grin makes your stomach flutter. 

“What’s up, kitty cat?” He muses, and you grimace. 

“I- I was doing… something on my laptop, and I think it’s broken,” You say, voice quiet. Despite getting so close to Minho in the week you’ve been there, including even taking naps together on the sofa, you still can’t push past your silly little crush on him. Especially not when he scratches under your chin and feeds you cookies. “Nothing weird. I just- could I use yours? Just for an hour or two, and then you can have it back, and-”

“Of course you can,” Minho cuts you off. You try not to stare at his biceps as he leans over to grab his laptop, white t-shirt clenching tight around his muscles. You suppress a whimper as he hands it to you, and then you’re scurrying back to your room with a delighted squeal.

The sheets are soft on your legs as you make yourself comfortable again, and then you open the laptop. It has no password, which is just so Minho, and is covered in cat stickers. He must really like cats. The thought makes your tail curl in delight, and you try to calm your excitement as the laptop boots up. 

Immediately, you take notice of the fact that his laptop is definitely a newer, more expensive model than yours. It makes you shy, embarrassed that you’re not paying rent to live in his house and still can’t even get a good laptop, but then you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. He has around ten files, labelled nothing other than numbers 1-10, and they’re neatly organised in a row across the screen. 

Before you can even process what you’re doing, you’re clicking on the first one. You gasp, hand covering your mouth. You’re snooping. Maybe… maybe the files will help you learn what stuff he’s into, what kind of things he’d love for Christmas? Yeah. That’s why you’re looking. Definitely no other reason. 

The first file has ten files inside it, all video files that are just begging for you to double click on. Could you watch them? Could you be nosy like this? Does that make you an awful person? You realise that yeah, you must be an awful person because you’re going to watch them. You’re going to watch every single one just to find out what they could be.

You don’t expect to be met with a cat hybrid being bent over a desk. She’s a girl, noted from the way the man’s speaking to her, and her slick is gushing around his cock. Your eyes widen, comically round, yet you can’t tear them away. Her tail curls around his waist, keeping him close, and her eyes roll back into her head. The camera is positioned to the side but it captures every single expression she’s making.

Is this what Minho’s into? Is he… into you? Would he fuck you like this, would he talk to you like this?

You’re clicking on the second video before you can even think of it. This one is recorded by the male, camera positioned to capture the cat girl’s tits as they sway and bounce enticingly. You want Minho to record you while you ride him like this. You wipe sweat off of your brow. She’s pretty, with blushing cheeks and ears flattened to her head as she moans in ecstasy. His pubic hair is drenched with her slick. You whimper. You want it. You want it with Minho. 

He must jerk off to these, you decide, clicking on the third video. This one’s a little different - the girl is on her knees, slobbering and spitting all over a rather large cock. Is Minho that big? It’d be perfect to breed you, he could hit your cervix like that. You wipe drool off of your bottom lip. It’s suddenly very, very warm, and you feel like you can’t breathe. Imagining Minho’s cock is sending your senses into haywire, your whole body feeling like it’s been ignited with fire and electricity and-

“Kitty,” A voice from your door. You perk up. You’d left it open, just slightly ajar, and Minho is standing there with wide doe eyes. “Oh, no. You’ve seen them. I’m so sorry, if you want to move out I understand and I- kitty?”

You’re panting. Your eyes are glassy, covered in unshed tears, and your t-shirt suddenly feels like it’s stuck to you. Weren’t you just cold? You can’t remember. Your senses are full of Minho, Minho, Minho, and you want him to fuck you under the Christmas tree or bend you over the sofa or his desk or just take you on the floor, you aren’t picky. 

“Minho,” You finally speak, chest heaving. “Minho, Minho, you- you- you like these? You- Minho, please, do you like these videos?”

He’s slow walking over to your bed, almost anxious to approach you. He sighs when he reaches the foot of the mattress, climbing onto it to sit cross-legged. He twiddles his thumbs. “Yeah. It turns me on. Yongbok- Felix said I have a kink for it. I’m sorry.”

“S-Sorry?” It’s so warm. It’s so warm. “Minho, Minho, I- I’m really warm. Are you warm? It’s really warm in my room, isn’t it?”

Minho’s eyebrows furrow. He reaches over, placing the back of his hand to your forehead, and you whine. Loudly. Just him touching your forehead with the back of his hand is enough to make your pussy drool slick into your sleep shorts, and you can’t even begin to question why you’re suddenly so wet, until Minho speaks. “Oh, kitty,” He coos, his hand moving up to scratch your ear. You hum, leaning into the touch. Your vision is blurry, but you can see him perfectly. “Oh, my girl. I’m so sorry. I think you’re going into heat, kitty. I’ll call Yongbok, and-”

“No,” You wail, surging forward. The laptop slides off the side of the bed with a loud clatter, and Minho doesn’t even blink, staring owlishly at you as you wrap your arms around his middle. You’re in heat. You can tell when his body hits yours, your pussy gushing and making even more of a mess just from his body, despite being clothed. “No. God, please, Minho, don’t leave. It’s you, I want you, I was thinking about you and me, and the videos, and-”

“You want me?” Minho’s voice is soft, and he swipes a thumb over your cheekbone. Your head is positioned on his chest, and you can smell him, earthy and woodsy and manly. He sighs, and then he’s speaking again. “I want you.” 

“Please. Please, please, please, please, I need you, I need to see it, I need to feel you,” You’re babbling, sweat dripping down your temple, and Minho lets out an amused puff of air. “I- Minho, is- do you want to? Please.”

“You need to see it?” He chuckles, shoulders shaking. His eyes form crescent moons and you can’t even admire how cute he is through your haze of lust. “What’s it, kitty cat? My dick?” You nod eagerly, and Minho shakes his head in disbelief. “I want to kiss you first. Let me do it right, yeah? Let me do it how I want to. I need to treat you right.”

You’re still shocked when his lips press into yours, pouty and plush. He licks into your mouth and you have to avoid nipping at his bottom lip, until he does it to you and you deem it fair game. You’re devouring him then, nibbling on his lip and sucking on his tongue and encompassing your arms around his neck. He lets you push him into the mattress, lets you run your hands through his hair and pull away to nip at his neck teasingly. 

“Kitty likes to bite, huh?” He huffs, and you nod, nipping him again for his cheek. Your tail swishes behind you, excited and playful, and you can feel how hard he is against your leg. “Better not bite like that when you suck my cock.”

You pull away from his neck in alarm, the milky skin littered in teeth marks and red bruises. “I can suck it? You’ll let me? Oh, please-”

His hand envelops in your hair, wrapping your hair around his fist and tugging hard. “Maybe later. I can feel how that pussy is drooling on me. You need it badly, huh? Need me badly.”

“Yes! Yes, yeah, since I saw you, I- I wanted you to fuck me through my heat so bad, pin me to the bed and just make me take it, and when I saw the videos I- Minho, I thought I was gonna die, and-”

Minho flips you over onto the mattress, your front planted against the bed. You let out a satisfied purr when he strokes your tail with one hand, and then he’s hooking his thumbs into your sleep shorts and yanking them down your legs. You feel the cold air hit your pussy and you moan, loud and high pitched, spreading your thighs to arch your back and present your pussy to him.

“Oh, would you look at that?” Minho coos, his thumb swiping over your hole. Your hole clenches with the lack of fullness, oozing more slick over his digit, and he groans. “Messy little pussy. God, do you want me inside you that bad? Little minx.”

“Please, please. Minho, Minho, will you fuck me? Look’it,” You whine, spreading your legs further. “Look at how wet I am. I need you, need you. M-master, please.”

Minho hisses through his teeth, and then his cockhead is pressing between your folds. When did he get naked? “You dirty little thing,” He whispers, his voice low. “Take master’s cock, then. You wanted to see it, how’s about feeling it?”

He sinks into you, all of his shaft in one go. It doesn’t hurt, only stretches you beyond pleasure, and your fingernails rip into the sheets with one loud moan. It feels insane, raw and veiny and pressing against your walls as if he was made for you. You let him grip your hips and arch you further, your tail wrapping around his waist to keep him close to you. It’s like the first video you saw, and the realisation has you whimpering into the sheets.

“God, you don’t know how long I thought about you like this,” Minho grunts, and then he’s thrusting. His pace is punishing immediately, your slick gushing and squelching around his cock messily and you can only hope his pubes are drenched in it. You want him to cum inside you, breed you, fill you up with kittens and mark you as his so that everyone knows. “Pliant, wet and so desperate for me.”

“Love it,” You slur, eyes rolling back into your head. You don’t realise you’re bouncing back on his thrusts, ass hitting the bottom of his tummy with every movement. He’s bent fully over your body, chest against your back and his lips whispering filth into your ear. “Love your cock, master, ‘s so big, I feel so full, I- hnnfg, master, master, will you breed me? Will you cum inside me?”

“Oh, kitty cat,” He moans, passionate, and when you try to look at him his eyes are rolling back into his head. His bunny teeth bite his bottom lip, almost drawing blood. His cockhead fucks against your cervix with every thrust, primal and intense. He wraps his arms around your front, hands clutching onto your shoulders to pull you back into him. “I’ll breed you, jagi. I’ll fuck you full until it has to take, yeah?”

You can’t think straight. Your pussy clenches around Minho’s cock almost painfully and it only makes him feel bigger, pulsing and throbbing inside of you. You need his cum. You need to cum - your clit throbs painfully with it. “Oh, oh, I need’a- master, master, I need to cum, I need to cum, please, hurts,” You huff, squirming beneath him. He reaches from your shoulder to pin your hips down into the bed, ensuring that you can’t thrash or wriggle anymore and he has full leverage to fuck you the way you need it. “It hurts! Ah, it hurts, I can’t, I can’t, I need to cum, I need to-”

“What’s stopping you?” He questions, hips starting to fuck you in a sinuous grind instead. The change in pace has your toes curling, hands scrabbling to find a better grip on the sheets as he lets you feel every inch and every vein of his length. “C’mon. Cum around my cock, and I’ll give you my cum, breed you full of kittens. Give it to me, jagi, c’mon, let me feel it.”

With a wail and a sharp inhale of breath, you’re cumming quicker than you ever have with any partner or even your own hand. Your pussy pulsates and gushes around him, and he grunts through your orgasm, trying with all of his might to fuck you through it. You try to thrash, to grind back on him through it, but he has you pinned down with a vice grip that only proves to make you cum even harder. 

Minho’s hips press tightly against yours, and with a deep sigh, you feel his cum flood inside of you. You’re purring with the sensation of it, warm and thick and reaching your cervix with every messy pulsation of his load. You hope it takes, deep down inside you - you hope you’re swollen with it, that everyone knows he’s yours and you’re his. 

With the knowledge that you’re full of cum, your heat is slightly sated, and you blink through the fog while Minho sidles up next to you. When did he pull out? You huff and cuddle into his chest, and he reaches up instinctively to scratch over your ears. 

“Good?” He questions, voice timid. You blink owlishly.

“Good?!” You shriek, lifting your head up to stare at him. “I’m enlisting you for the rest of my heat, and then every day after that. You’re mine now.”

Minho chuckles. “I think that’s the best Christmas present I’ve ever been given.”

“Well, I was actually looking for something to get you when my laptop broke,” You say shyly, and Minho turns to look at you with a wide smile on his face. “It’s embarrassing! Just have me instead.”

“I think I’m okay with that,” He yawns, eyes fluttering shut. “Nap. You’re gonna need to be fucked again soon.”

You wondered how he knew, then you remembered the videos on his computer. “That’s true. Merry early Christmas, Minho.”

“Merry early Christmas, kitty cat.”

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Danny's final Interview with Tim Drake for the Wayne Enterprise's Space Program Operation Janus Crew... Demon Twin AU.

Danny had been waiting for his offer letter from WE to be officially part of the Janus Crew. He'd done all the standard rigorous testing and passed with flying colors. He'd talked to every single head engineer and interviewed at all levels to prove that he was the man for this mission. It was as good as gold, so Danny was surprised when he got a call from the PA to Tim Drake, the CEO himself, to come in for a final interview. Just a formality and mostly just to meet the man who was going to be the poster boy for their program. Makes sense, but is unnerving, nonetheless.

The second he walks into the office space, Tam Fox seemingly does a double take, blinking a few times when he explains that he's there for a final interview. She nods and he proceeds as if nothing about that was weird.

Tim Drake has four laptops in front of him and a scattering of papers, but looking up to see Danny, he closes them all and the image of a scattered young man trying to run a Fortune 500 company is replaced with some one of deadly capability.

"Danny Fenton. Great to meet you, I appreciate you coming by today." Tim says, but Danny can see the sharks fin in the water.

"Of course, I'm excited to be part of the Crew." Danny throws back, making it clear right away that Tim needs to cut to the chase if Danny's not going to be an astronaut with WE. NASA will take him back in a heartbeat if WE is going to try and play games.

"We're excited to have you, everyone speaks of you like the next Armstrong or Aldrin. I just had a few questions, as an informality, that I wanted answered."

"I feel like I've answered every question there could be about me, but go ahead. I'm an open book."

"Great. I suppose I'll start with asking about your adoptive family, the Fentons. Were they good to you when you transitioned to their home?"

"...It's not common knowledge that I'm adopted. Mom and Dad are fine. We have a strained relationship now because of my teenage rebellion but I still go home for most holidays." Danny is on edge, but also a bit excited? How did Tim find this out?

"I see. I'm an adopted child myself, you can understand maybe why I asked. Do you have any relationship with your birth family?" Tim asks, but its clear he's asking something else. Danny calls it how he sees it.

"What are you trying to find out? I mean really, you're very polite but this doesn't have to do with my job."

"I'll cut to the chase then. Do you hold any allegiance to Ra's al Ghul or the League of Assassins?"

"Woah." Danny blinks.

"Woah as in you're surprised I found out, or Woah in surprise that you've been found out?"

"Woah as in, what the fuck, I haven't thought of his name in decades. I escaped pretty young after being abused from birth."

"That's what I needed to know. You have a sister through the Fentons, and a cousin that I suspect is a clone, any other siblings?" Tim asks, his to the point question making Danny's head spin. How the fuck did this guy know about Dani?

"How do you-"

"Any other siblings, Danny?" Tim repeats, cutting him off.

"...Yeah. I should have a twin running around out there. But if this has to do with whatever crazy bullshit he might be up to, I swear i'm not in contact with him or his family. I haven't been since I freed myself."

Tim looks like he's contemplating something, his eyes are still evaluating Danny as though he were a frog in freshman year Bio.

"I have a little brother, Danny, and it's interesting. He's not particularly fascinated by space but he likes to keep up with all the astronauts. I took it upon myself to research you once you came on the roster two years ago for this position. I know you're capable and I had no doubt that you'd be the man for the job. Then I saw your picture."

"You... saw my picture?"

"My brother watches out for Astronauts because he holds onto the hope that someone from his past might be one some day. That it might lead to their reconciliation." Tim clarifies.

Danny can't do anything but stare. No. No way.

"I told Damian not to look into the astronauts for the Janus Crew. Want to guess why?" For the first time, Tim's eyes look soft around the edges. Danny stays silent for a while, head reeling from this information.

"...Is he. Is he free?" Danny finally asks.

"He's left the league and burned all allegiance he held for them, if that's what you're asking. Came to join his dad, my adoptive father, when he was about ten. So just a few years after you made your own way out without him."

"That's... That's good. I'm glad. He's healthy?" Danny can't help himself but inquire. He'd loved his brother until it literally broke him.

"Most days. He runs an animal sanctuary, has a girlfriend and a best friend, gets along with our large family."

"Woah." Danny's near speechless again.

"I'm telling you this because... He's going to find out Friday with the press release of you being our Crew Leader. He'll see you and no doubt try to contact you. I want you to have the choice of reaching out to him before that, or at least make your peace with what you have to say to him if you don't want a relationship."

"Why?"

"Because I don't care to see my siblings hurt. Here, it's my personal line, below it is Damian's. Reach out to me if you'd like for me to plan a meeting spot, reach out to him if you'd prefer I stay out of it. I understand completely if my questions have led you to not trust me." Tim offers him a piece of paper with two phone numbers on it, Danny takes it with shaking hands.

"I... See. Okay." and then after a moment, Danny added numbly "Thanks."

Tim stands and Danny follows, they're both walking towards the door and Danny can't help but feel like he's waiting for another shoe to drop. Tim has a look in his eye like Jazz might on his birthday.

"One last thing before you go and you're officially listed as our star Astronaut: I took care of those pesky case files and lab reports for you. The white ones. It is quite literally impossible for that heinous shit to every bother you again."

"Wait, What? Why would you do that for me? You couldn't have known-"

"It's what family is for. Have a good day, Janus Crew Lead Danny."

[barcaatthemoon]

lover || leah williamson x reader ||

your friendship with leah was never destined to stay as such.

you had moved around for your entire life. you grew up as an army brat, going from station to station as your parents were moved around. it was rare for you to be in one place for more than maybe six months at a time. so, whenever you started playing soccer professionally, you weren't too upset to be one of the frequently traded players in the nwsl. you had spent four seasons playing there before being called over to arsenal for a long-term contract.

staying stagnant wasn't something that you were good at. it felt weird to sign a multiple year lease on your apartment. still, you were proud of yourself. you could be the one to break the cycle of constantly moving around in your family. the idea of settling down somewhere sounded nice, and london was a great city.

you quickly got to know your teammates overseas. you found a best friend in your captain, leah. the two of you had been fairly friendly playing against each other internationally, but had never really gotten to know each other off of the pitch. now that you were on the same team, you had taken the chance to become close friends.

"does it count as a team bonding night if it's just the two of us?" you asked as you spread out on leah's couch. she had a few movies lined up for the two of you to watch. there had been a team bonding night, but leah had whisked you away at the last second, claiming that they had gotten enough of your time already.

you knew that wasn't true. you spent nearly every night at leah's or with her at your place. leah liked coming over for dinner because you hated going out to eat. most of the restaurants that were quick and nearby were decent, but not something you wanted to eat regularly. the jokes about british food had definitely not come out of nowhere.

"we're on the team, and besides, we need to have all the chemistry we can," leah said. you rolled your eyes a little as you leaned your head against the palm of your hand. leah moved into the space in front of you, draping your arm across her midsection as she pressed play on the screen. leah fell asleep pretty quickly, leaving you to lie awake with the thoughts of how nice it felt to have leah in your arms. it wasn't like you were in love with leah williamson, you just had sprouted some feelings for her with all the time you'd been spending together.

…

"come on, let's go!" you smiled to yourself as you heard alessia shout at you from the bench. she was going crazy beside leah, who was equally as excited as you played. leah was yelling and shouting, but it was being drowned out by the majority of the other players cheering you on.

"come on baby!" leah's voice rang out as you managed to fight your way into the box. it was a 1-v-1 with mary, who you knew wouldn't let you get a shot in so easily. you could have kicked it back for an assist, but you wanted to score a goal for leah. she wasn't quite cleared yet, and something told you that it'd be good for her morale.

you took your shot and watched as it soared high above mary's hand. the ball slotted perfectly in the top left corner, which was a shot that you had a lot of difficulty getting before. the team went crazy as you ran over to the sidelines by your team's bench. leah was the first one up to her feet to greet you. you pulled her into a bone-crushing hug, one that she reciprocated fully.

"good job out there. that was beautiful," leah told you. your cheeks flushed at the compliment, which you'd pass off as the heat if anybody pressed you about it. your teammates didn't seem to care about that, only that you had pushed arsenal into the lead with that goal. you went back out onto the pitch to resume play with a little pep in your step.

at the end of the game, you shook hands with the other team before going to find leah. she was waiting for you with an extra water bottle in her hands. you happily accepted it, knowing that she had snagged one with your favorite flavoring inside. you managed to down half of it in a couple of gulps, absolutely parched after playing like that.

"you keep playing like that and we'll have to make sure that you bleed red and white." a couple of your teammates patted the top of your head as they lazily embraced you. you watched the majority of the group go talk to fans in the stands, leaving you and leah all alone with each other.

"i think that was your best game yet," leah told you. you shrugged it off as you sat down on the bench, ready to rest your legs for a bit. leah pulled them up onto her lap and started to rub the knots out of your thighs for you. "we've all noticed how hard you work to stay in good form. you don't have to do all of that, but we appreciate it."

"i want to be good. i want to make you proud," you said. leah smiled as she leaned towards you a little. her forehead was almost resting against yours and it would have been so easy to kiss her, but you didn't. you couldn't kiss leah, she was your best friend and it had to stay that way if you'd make it for the rest of your contract with arsenal. no matter how badly you wanted to roll around like horny teenagers on the pitch together.

"i'll always be proud of you, win or lose," leah promised. she glanced down at your lips, and for a moment, you thought she'd kiss you. instead, she pressed a kiss to your cheek before pushing your legs off of her. "let's get you a shower. how does that sound?"

…

the midseason break following your big win seemed to have called for a team night out. usually, you were the type to stay inside of look for a low-key bar, but the girls insisted on a club. leah seemed to want it just as badly, so you agreed to go with them for her sake. it was becoming more and more obvious to you that your feelings for leah weren't going anywhere. there were even times whenever you swore that she had to have felt the same way.

still, you kept your feelings to yourself. that was something you had always been good at. at least, it was something that you were good at sober. drunk was a completely different story. after shots with the girls, a couple of your own cocktails, and a few more shots snuck in with the backline, you were stumbling around as an open book.

"have you met leah? she's the prettiest girl in here. i think that i'd like to kiss her," you said to a complete stranger. they gave you a weird look as your teammates came over to collect you. leah wasn't in the group, instead somewhere over by the bar chatting up a girl you thought was way under leah's league. "why doesn't she just flirt with me? i mean, we spend all our time together, we're practically dating. i already think i'm falling in love with her."

"excuse me?" beth shouted in your ear. you winced at the sudden loud noise, which you hadn't been expecting. they managed to get you out of the club, but in taking you away had caught leah's attention.

"i said that i think i'm in love with leah. i think i've been in love with her for a while now," you repeated, unaware of the object of your affections being right there. you heard the click of heels behind you and turned your head to see leah. the alcohol was a godsend, allowing you to have forgotten about your love confession. "there you are, i've been waiting for you all night. can we go back inside and dance? please?"

"i think that you need to go home," leah said as she put her arm beneath yours to support you. "who let you drink like this?"

"the girls, we had a competition," you said proudly. leah laughed a little at how cute you were. "will you take me home? oh, and canwe watch movies together? i love it when we cuddle on the couch."

"shh," leah shushed you. she hadn't been drinking nearly as much as you, so she was still easily embarrassed. she whisked you away into an uber before any of the girls could question her about the cuddling. leah held you close in the backseat of the car, trying desperately to ignore the way that you were making her heart pound in her chest.

she helped you up to your apartment, unsurprised when you asked her to stay. there had been a lot of close calls between the two of you, and tonight felt like the night when it'd all come to a head. leah averted her eyes the best she could while still helping you change. it was hard to remind herself that she didn't get to look at you like that and have the thoughts that she was.

"do you think you could hold me tonight?" you asked softly. leah noticed that you were signficantly less drunk than you had been, but the smell was still heavy all over you. you'd have to shower it off in the morning, as would leah if she held you throughout the night. "can i have a goodnight kiss?"

leah was apprehensive about kissing you while you were drunk, but she couldn't look you in the eyes and tell you no. she was slow and gentle, just barely giving you a peck on the lips. she began to move away when you let out a whine in protest. leah sighed as she rested her forehead against yours.

"kiss me harder," you told her. leah did as you asked every step of the way. she gave you exactly what you wanted until you started pawing at her clothes.

"not while you're drunk. if we take this next step, i need you to remember it, please," leah pleaded with you. you seemed to understand much better than leah had expected you to. instead of whining or protesting, you just shifted a little and let your hands press against leah's back. "goodnight, love."

"night leah," you mumbled against her chest. she closed her eyes and started counting down until she heard you snore, just barely getting through a few seconds. leah wasn't generally one for prayers, but she was praying to whoever would listen that you'd wake up in the morning feeling the same way about her.

[aquaquadrant]

Philophobia

Word Count: 5,271 Warnings: Shipping, inappropriate/crude humor, paranormal activity, suspense/mild horror, descriptive kissing, mild language Summary: For architecture major and paranormal skeptic Grian, his friends’ after-hours ghost hunting group was just an excuse to spend time with his crush, Scar, without having to actually ask him out. But one fateful night, he finds there just might be things in this world that are scarier than emotional vulnerability… even if only by a very slim margin.

A/N: Did someone ask for a Phasmophobia-inspired Scarian au? Oh yeah, my friend @lunarcrown did! Inspired by the art she made here.

So this is kind of a modern-day college au (not set within the fictional universe of Minecraft), howEVER there are some fantasy aspects in that non-human species (like mob hybrids/monsters) still exist cuz they’re fun and I’m not giving anyone a normal modern name cuz that’s too weird. This is only Phasmophobia-inspired in that GIGS have a ghost-hunting group that functions the same way, but rarely find any conclusive evidence, and don’t have unlimited lives cuz they aren’t playing a game. With that out of the way, hope y’all enjoy, please reblog/comment if u do! - Aqua

~*~

Philophobia

~*~

“I think this is gonna be the one, guys,” Impulse says, turning their van into the driveway.

The suspension creaks as they roll over gravel, rattling the frame in a way that hums through Grian’s hollow bones. His arm is cold where it presses against the window; it’s almost sunset and Impulse has yet to get the van’s heater fixed despite his promises. Stupid demon blood keeping him warm while Grian shivers in the stupid custom pleather jumpsuit that Scar insisted they had made, for their stupid ‘brand’ as a stupid ghost-hunting group. Great, his stupid zipper’s come down again- he stubbornly zips it back up because unlike Scar, he doesn’t like constantly having his bare chest out on display.

Of course, he hasn’t got as much to show off as Scar, who must be getting up at 3 am every morning to work out in order to maintain all that muscle. No wonder Scar prefers to keep his zipper down to his belly button, and doesn’t seem to have ever met a shirt that fits him properly.

… Not that Grian’s ever paid much attention to that sort of thing. 

Grian gives an exasperated sigh. “You’ve been saying that about every case we’ve had for three years!”

“No, no, I really mean it!” Impulse insists. “I feel it in my bones.”

“Yeah,” Scar agrees, leaning forward so his shoulder brushes against Grian’s, “you know Impulse bones good!”

The earnest nature of his statement- and the unexpected physical contact- makes Grian flush. “Scar!” he shrieks, swatting Scar’s shoulder.

“What?” Scar defends. “What, he- he’s got big and strong bones, wonderful bones…”

He acts as if he’s got no idea he said something that could be taken the wrong way. And if it weren’t for the upturned corners of his mouth and the barely-restrained laugh in his voice, Grian might actually believe him.

“Dude,” Skizz chuckles from the front seat, “shut up, that’s awesome.”

Impulse sighs. “Anyway,” he says pointedly, “the place recently had a change in ownership. Previous owner passed away-”

“From murder?” Scar gasps.

Another sigh. “No, from liver failure.”

Grian snorts. “From all the drinking he did to forget about the ghostly hauntings?” he presses, exchanging a cheeky grin with Scar.

“No,” Impulse says, with the patience of a saint, “just normal old-age organ failure. The guy was ancient, and some kinda recluse. House had been in his family since it was built, but uh, he had no living relatives, no will when he died. So the bank took ownership and it’s been sitting off-market for like, fifteen years, til some hot-shot investor thought he could flip it-”

“Ughh,” Grian groans, tipping his head back against the seat. “Investors are the worst-”

“I know, I know,” Impulse soothes, “but um, he’d barely begun when things started happening. Contractors reported it day one, then the owner experienced an event himself and called us. So it’s basically still untouched.”

They haven’t even reached the end of the driveway yet, passing by seemingly endless rows of tall, gnarled pines. Admittedly, Grian’s curiosity is piqued. When he agreed to join this stupid ghost hunting group three years ago, he didn’t do so in the hopes of actually discovering any real paranormal activity. The whole idea is laughable. Ghost hunting is a pseudoscience, at best. Just a bunch of idiots scaring themselves silly in an empty house- and now they’re the idiots! Even their name is stupid: Ghost Investigation Group Services, or GIGS, embroidered on their ill-fitting pleather jumpsuits.

But despite his outright skepticism and dislike for pulling late nights in his already extremely limited free time, Grian’s got one very good reason for agreeing to join.

And his name is Scar.

Grian spent half a semester pining away at the fellow architecture major from across the lecture halls of their many shared classes. Charismatic and easy on the eyes, it was inevitable that Grian would develop a bit of a crush. But as they spent more time together during class projects and conversations in the hallway, he found out just how kind-hearted and passionate Scar was, and how easy he was to talk to, and how strong his arms looked in long-sleeved shirts…

… Yeah, ‘crush’ perhaps isn’t the right word.

So when Impulse- the engineering major who Grian was partnered with for physics lab- got the brilliant idea to start a ghost-hunting group with his best friend and roommate Skizz, and Scar expressed interest in joining, Grian made a split-second decision in a moment of weakness. He maintained his skepticism, claiming that he wanted to tag along just to prove how silly the whole idea was. Impulse was fine with it, while Scar said Grian had to wear the same uniform as them, and the rest was history.

(To be fair, that was before Grian knew it’d be a pleather jumpsuit.)

So here they are now nearly three years later, rumbling down a long gravel road in the dark and cold, up late on a Saturday night even though he still isn’t finished with his condominium model that’s due at 8 am on Monday and he’s fresh out of popsicle sticks. Moments like these almost make Grian wish he could just ask a guy out like a normal person, so they could spend time together without chasing pretend ghosts around dusty houses all night.

But that’d require him to talk about his feelings. Ugh, he’d rather let the ghosts get him.

“Alright.” Impulse slows the van to a halt. The doors unlock with a heavy clunk. “What do you guys think?”

Grian isn’t expecting much when he glances out the window. But the sight that greets him immediately prompts a hasty exit from the vehicle, scarcely noticing the sudden chill, his jaw dropping open in awe.

It’s a Victorian. Not a house that someone has mistakenly called ‘Victorian’ just because it looks old. A genuine, honest-to-goodness, Queen Anne’s style two-story Victorian manor with an asymmetrical facade and a rounded corner tower and a generous wrap-around porch, silhouetted against the fading light of the evening sky.

Grian reaches for his flashlight. Sweeping over the exterior, his breath catches. Knots of ivy creep up the walls, and there are a few places where the intricate wood trim has been lost to previous repairs and weather damage. A couple of the windows are bricked up. Most of the paint is faded and peeling. But overall? It’s beautiful.

“Oh man,” Grian murmurs, pushing his glasses back up, “look at the shape of it... look at the dormers!”

A second beam of light joins in; Scar’s emerged from the van. “Lots of character,” he says, sounding similarly entranced. “And still in great condition! Oh, it’s beautiful. It’s enough to make a man cry.”

Impulse hops out of the driver’s seat, chuckling. “I knew you two would like it. It’s an ‘85.”

Grian gives an appreciative whistle. “Look, I still don’t think we’re gonna find anythin’,” he says with a sideways look at Scar, “but I gotta tell ya… if- if I were a ghost… I think I’d haunt a proper house like this. Not those builder-grade boxes in the suburbs.”

“Right?” Impulse says, his forked tail flicking through the air. “That’s what I’m sayin’... I uh, I think this place has real potential.”

Skizz, who’s come around the van to stand with them, nods thoughtfully. “Definitely somethin’ special ‘bout it, that’s for true,” he says, exchanging a look with Impulse. Then he claps his hands together. “Alright gentlemen, let’s get movin’!”

Impulse and Skizz turn towards the van, heading to open the back.

Grian stares after them, squinting suspiciously. That wasn’t just any look. That was a Look. A Look that he knows all too well. They had that same Look on their faces at last year’s frat mixer, when they rigged the speakers at the Heta Kappa house to play ‘Margaritaville’ every time someone flushed a toilet.

It means that they’re Up To Something.

… Grian’s sure he’ll find out sooner or later.

“Well, Grian,” Scar says, hands on his hips as he surveys the property, “if it’s any connotation, at least we’ll get to study some real architecture tonight.”

Grian gives him a bemused look. “Consolation?”

Scar blinks. “Cono- what, what’d I say? Con- coronation?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, ey,” Grian chuckles, patting him on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

~*~

“Check it out, dude,” Skizz calls excitedly, “temp’s dropping in here! Five degrees colder than the rest of the house!”

Grian makes a noncommittal noise. “It’s an east-facing room and the sun’s only just set, of course it’s colder than the rest of the house,” he says, idly passing his UV glow stick over an armchair. No prints, of course. “I doubt they’ve updated the insulation anytime within the last two decades.”

“And hey, look,” Impulse chimes in from the corner, “I’ve got EMF 1.3!”

Grian doesn’t even look up. “There’s an exposed outlet in here and I’ll bet the wiring’s older than I am. And in any case, it’s still below the recommended threshold.” Ew, okay, now that’s a suspicious UV stain on the floor, but not of the supernatural kind…

“Oh, it’s definitely not up to code,” Impulse agrees. He waves his EMF reader around a bit, making the pitch warble. “But I dunno, I think this must be the ghost’s favorite room. Might not be here right now, but I’m getting some real vibes…”

Grian rolls his eyes. “Sure…” 

Twenty minutes in, and despite the house’s hauntingly elegant construction, it’s been the same old story. The house is empty and quiet, as abandoned houses tend to be. Quite sparse, as most of the furnishings probably went to auction. The furniture that’s left is covered with tarps and every surface is coated with a fine layer of dust. He can smell mold somewhere in the floorboards and there’s apparent water damage in the ceiling.

The only renovation attempted thus far was the removal of some cheap linoleum tiles that were laid in the kitchen at some point- a renovation Grian can heartily agree with, there’s some absolutely gorgeous hardwood underneath- but they didn’t get far. The removed tiles are still sitting about in a haphazard pile, hammer and chisel abandoned on the floor beside them. Frantic footsteps smeared in the dust and powder paint the scene of a terrified contractor fleeing for their life from the reported ‘ghostly hauntings’. 

In any case, they haven’t heard any activity from the spirit box, nothing unusual has stood out on UV, and the salt Impulse laid out is still undisturbed. Surprise, surprise. Grian’s spent most of his time admiring the elaborate wooden trims lining every wall, scuffed as they are. What he wouldn’t give to properly restore this place…

“Hey, Dipple Dop?” Skizz calls suddenly. “Your radio working okay?”

Impulse gives him a curious look. “Huh? What, is there-” He pauses, glancing down at his radio. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah, actually, mine’s on the fritz, must be overdue a battery change.”

“Oh?” Grian tilts his head innocently. “You don’t think it’s a ghoooost?”

Impulse purses his lips. “I don’t think everything is a ghost,” he says mildly. He clips the radio onto his belt, turning to the door. “I’ve got extras in the van, hang on…”

“I’ll go, too,” Skizz says quickly, slinging an arm and his wing around Impulse’s shoulders. “Buddy system! You know what, I- I’m tellin’ you, you never split up when hunting ghosts. That’s how they get you, dude.”

Oh. Oh, no.

Grian gives them a warning Look.

They give him a cheeky Look back.

“Yup, yeah, that’s true,” Impulse says with obvious feigned sincerity, steering Skizz out of the room. “So uh, you two keep at it, okay, and we’ll be right back…”

“Oh, okay!” Scar says cheerfully, busy setting up the tripod over in the corner and completely oblivious to their scheme. “Have a great time not getting murdered!”

Grian opens his mouth to protest, but Impulse and Skizz are already gone out the front door. Leaving him and Scar completely alone. Totally by coincidence, surely. Oh, he knew his drunken confession to Impulse at the school’s annual bar crawl fundraiser night would come back to bite him eventually.

It’s almost insulting, in a way. Like they think the only reason Grian hasn’t made a move is because he hasn’t had ample alone time with Scar. Like he needed them to give him an opportunity. But if he’d wanted to confess to Scar, he already would have. He’d have had it well done by now. They could give him a little credit.

See, the thing is, he’s thought about it. Plenty of times, in fact. But the issue he keeps coming back to is that if he tells Scar about his crush on him, then Scar will know about it. There’ll be no going back at that point. And if Scar doesn’t feel the same way- well, Grian can kiss their friendship goodbye. So yeah, no, he doesn’t think he’ll be making any dramatic love confessions tonight, strangely enough.

The risk of an awkward silence developing is astronomical, so Grian clears his throat. “Man… isn’t this place somethin’,” he says, then immediately fights the urge to cringe.

Scar, luckily, gives an emphatic nod. “It is, it truly is amazing.” He straightens up, dusting his hands off as he turns to Grian. “You know who’d really love this place, is Gem?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” Grian agrees. He busies himself with the UV, so he’s not just standing around. “We should take some pictures for her.”

“Oh, good idea!” Giving the tripod a final once-over, Scar wanders over to Grian. “So, any fingering goin’ on, yet?”

Grian nearly drops his glow stick. “Sorry- any what?!” he screeches, whirling around on Scar.

“You know, ghost fingers!” Scar says, perfectly innocent. He holds his hands up, wiggling his fingers in demonstration. “On the- on the glowy light?”

Grian takes a deep breath, face burning. “Oh Scar, buddy, you gotta think through your words better before you say them, alright?”

“Whaaat?” Scar pretends like he doesn’t know. “What, I’m just- you’ve got the stick, you know, little glow stick for when the ghost touches, uh-”

“Nevermind,” Grian groans. “Anyways, no, I haven’t found any ghostly handprints and I never will, because ghosts aren’t real.”

Scar folds his arms. “Well, hey, maybe the ghost is just polite! You know, he- maybe he’s just minding his business, not touching anything or- or anyone. Just because we don’t get anything on UV doesn’t mean ghosts aren’t real, I’ll have you know.”

Grian sees the challenge for what it is. “Alright…” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his spirit box. Holding the transponder to his lips, he belts out, “Where ahhre yewww?” in his best imitation of an over-exaggerated pop-punk accent. If Impulse and Skizz are eavesdropping through their radios, he hopes he gave them a start.

Scar laughs. “Oh man, been a while since I heard that one! You-”

I’m close.

Grian jumps so badly he nearly drops the box, his wings puffing out involuntarily. “What?! Wha- who said that?” he demands, spinning around.

Scar blinks at him. “What? Did you hear something through the box?”

“I- I dunno?” Grian says uncertainly. The box seems to be working as normal; when he holds the receiver down, there’s a faint hiss of static, and the bulb remains white. No further noises come from the speaker.

After a couple seconds of tense listening, Grian feels silly. Way to play it cool. He switches the box off with an exasperated sigh. “No, of course I didn’t hear anything through the box. Like I said, ghosts aren’t real.”

Scar hums noncommittally. “Oh, Grian... you know, there are some things in the world that can’t be explained.” 

Grian snorts. “Oh, yeah? Well, I- I got a few explanations for ya.” He counts on his fingers. “It could’ve been this old house creaking in the wind, or an electrical surge causing feedback through the transponder, or- or, not to mention, Impulse and Skizz pranking us through the radio?”

Scar snickers. “That does sound like something they’d do, I’ll give you that.”

“Yeah.” Grian slips the box back into his pocket. “And y’know, being in a creepy abandoned house, after dark, out in the middle’a nowhere... it’s easy to think you’re hearin’ things.”

Scar rolls his eyes, but his expression is fond. “I know, I know, so you’ve told me. But one of these days, mister, you’re gonna eat your words.”

“Right,” Grian drawls. “I’m so scared…”

The front door slams shut.

That makes Grian pause. They always leave the front door open while out on a job. It saves time when they have to go back and forth from the van, and saves battery life on their radios when they can just shout to each other through the open doorway. Obviously this job is a little different, because Impulse and Skizz have clearly got it in their heads to try and get him and Scar together, but he wouldn’t think they’d go so far as to-

The lights suddenly flicker and go out. But in the split-second before they do, Grian sees a shadowy figure silhouetted against the door.

Pure instinct takes over. Grian spins on his heel, grabs Scar by the arm, and absolutely flies down the stairs to the basement. He knows they’ve disturbed one or two piles of salt but right now, he can’t bring himself to care. His wings are bumping against the walls and he’s certainly never tried carrying someone as big as Scar before but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even process the ache of it rattling through his body. He bursts into the basement, feathers flying, and careens towards the back of the room, around a tall shelving unit, and into the corner.

There’s a heap of boxes stacked up in this corner; Grian unceremoniously shoves Scar over top of them, dropping him in the narrow space between the boxes and the wall. He’s wedged in as far as he can himself, laying across the boxes, his double pair of wings preventing him from squeezing in beside Scar. He’s still got the UV light clenched in his fist, he realizes belatedly- he braces his forearms against the wall to try and cover it, fanning his wings out behind him to block it out from the rest of the room. Glancing back over his shoulder, he tries to gauge how much light is getting through when a noise makes him freeze.

Footsteps.

They’re soft and light- certainly not the heavy boots of Impulse or Skizz. No, they sound almost barefoot. And as they gently tap down the stairs, the sound of giggling fills the air. It’s a feminine voice. Young, like a child. Like a little ghostie girl is prancing down the stairs to murder them.

Grian thinks he might pass out. Can ghosts actually kill people? How would they do it if they’re incorporeal? He’s never considered the question before, he never thought he’d have to because it’s ridiculous, ghosts aren’t real, of course they can’t kill people-

The footsteps stop. 

Grian isn’t sure if he’s still breathing. He doesn’t dare move. A chill runs up his spine, making every single feather stand on end. He can almost hear the high-pitched violins that would be playing right now if this were a horror movie; the cheesy, overdrawn kind of horror movies that are always playing at the drive-in that the four of them watch while piled into the back of the van in a tangle of limbs and spilled popcorn and oh god he’s spiraling now because he’s about to be killed by a ghost-

Bye-bye!

The chill recedes. Somewhere in his peripheral vision, he sees the faint glow of light from upstairs return.

It’s over.

Grian’s mind is spinning. What was that? What was that? It seems impossible, it doesn’t even feel real to be in this situation right now but he is, there was a ghost, there was a ghost. It feels insane to even think it. But the residual adrenaline coursing through his body reminds him it was very real, he just encountered a ghost.

A ghost! Oh, after three years of very loudly decrying the entire concept as rubbish. He can’t believe it. He really can’t believe it, this is the absolute last thing he expected to happen tonight. Ghosts are real. Ghosts are really, really, real. He doesn’t know what to do, who would ever believe him? Is this how the others have been feeling this whole time? God, he can’t believe this-

“G...?” Scar’s voice pipes up hesitantly. “What... what are we doing?”

Oh, right. Grian glances down at Scar- and his heart jolts. He’d been so focused on getting away from the ghost, he’d acted without thinking, so only now does he realize the... predicament he’s put them in.

Scar’s slumped against the floor beneath him, head tucked just below Grian’s arms. His long legs are still draped over the box that Grian’s laying across, resting on either side of his waist. And due to the odd posture Grian’s in, his chest has been thrust rather close to Scar’s face, lit by the soft purple glow of the UV.

This is probably the closest Grian has ever been to sitting in Scar’s lap.

Grian’s not proud of the yelp that escapes him. “Sorry, sorry!” His wings flail as he struggles to push himself off of the wall, stumbling back onto his feet. It’s clumsy and uncoordinated and he nearly falls backwards, his heart pounding.

Scar manages a laugh, easing himself up off the floor. “No, no, it’s okay, I- I just... what- why’d you bring us down here?” he asks, dusting off his jumpsuit.

Grian catches his breath. “Wait, you... didn’t hear the creepy ghost on its way to kill us?” he asks, frowning.

Scar‘s eyes widen. “What? There was a ghost?”

No way.

“Are you-!” Grian throws his arms up. “Honestly, I- I know avians have better hearing than most but that’s insane. She was laughing! Laughing and skipping down the blumin’ steps! And you didn’t hear any of it?”

“No…?” Scar shrugs helplessly. “I’m sorry, okay! I- I don’t know, I was- a lot was happening, you- you’re grabbin’ me, pulling me down the stairs and into this little corner, I didn’t know what was going on! I didn’t know, I- I was all disconbodulated- disco- bobo, bobumated? I was a little distracted, okay. Jeeze, give a man a break…”

“Distracted?” Grian repeats incredulously. “You’re the one who actually believes in ghosts, here, how could you get distracted? What do you…”

He trails off. Scar is very clearly fighting to avoid looking at Grian, but for the briefest moment, his eyes dart down to Grian’s chest. Suddenly confused, Grian follows his gaze, and-

Oh, for goodness sakes. At some point during his frantic flight, the stupid zipper on his stupid jumpsuit came down again, exposing a frankly scandalous amount of skin. Not Scar-level of scandalous, but pretty close.

Grian immediately feels himself turn red. “Oh. Uh- right,” he hastily pulls the zipper back up, “sorry ‘bout that…”

Wait. Wait just a second. 

Scar was distracted from a literal ghost hunt going on... because Grian’s bare chest was showing? Does that... does that mean he liked it? 

Scar’s avoiding his gaze again. His cheeks are tinted pink.

“Scar...?” Grian ventures carefully. “Were you... lookin’ at my chest?”

Scar’s cheeks darken. “Ah, I- I- don’t- I mean, why would you- I didn’t mean to, it’s just...” He fumbles for the words. “What- what am I- hey, your pecs were basically in my face! I wasn’t trying to look, I- I just-”

“Scar,” Grian says, keeping his voice light and teasing, “did ya… did you like what you saw?”

Scar splutters for a moment. “Well, sure, Grian,” he tries to laugh it off, “I mean, anyone- anyone with eyes can see you’re uh, you know, you’re- you’re pretty attractive. I- I’m secure enough to say it, I don’t care, it’s- sure, of course, you’re very muscular! You’re a- you’re a muscular man, it’s just not always obvious with the sweaters you wear. Or- sorry, you call them jumpers in Britain land, right, they’re jumpers-”

“You been checkin’ me out, Scar?” Grian asks, caught somewhere between playfulness and utter disbelief.

“Uh...” Scar rubs the back of his neck. He exhales slowly, clearly debating with himself. “I... maybe? What... what would you say... if that were the case?”

Grian swallows. His heart is absolutely racing now, and he’s broken into a cold sweat that’s definitely not supernatural in origin. The air between them feels fragile; he’s acutely aware that a single word from him could swiftly plunge them back into the realm of safe familiarity, of casual light-hearted teasing between friends. Scar’s always said things that bordered on the flirtatious, and Grian can hide behind the plausible deniability of teasing. This entire interaction doesn’t have to mean anything. It can be easily moved past and forgotten.

And yet, strangely enough… Grian doesn’t want it to. Maybe it’s the post-haunting adrenaline or the fact that he could’ve died tonight, but all of a sudden, he feels like taking a chance. Like he could finally say what he’s wanted to say for the last three years. He managed to hold his own against a blumin’ ghost, for goodness sakes- he should be able to face his own feelings head on.

He takes a breath. “I’d say that’s a relief… ‘cause I’ve been checkin’ you out since day one of first year.”

Scar stares at him for a long moment. His expression is utterly unreadable. The silence draws on long enough that Grian feels a spike of panic, worried that maybe he’s mishandled the situation-

 “... oh my god,” Scar says finally. “Really?”

It sounds like the good kind of surprise. Grian offers a shy smile. “Yeah, yeah,” he admits. “I- Scar, I know I’m real good at playin’ these things close to the vest, but uh, I- I’ve had a massive crush on you since... basically since the day we met.”

“Huh.” Scar blinks. “You’re serious. You- you’re not pranking me right now?”

That startles a laugh out of Grian. “No! Scar, I don’t- we just survived being hunted by a ghost, I’m not pranking you!”

“Well, that’s- that’s amazing!” A grin spreads across Scar’s face- and man, oh man, does he have just the most wonderful smile. “Oh my gosh, G, I don’t- you don’t even know how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

The relief is almost overwhelming. “Yeah, me too!” Grian laughs, half-dazed and half-giddy, running a hand through his hair. “I- I even- look, the whole reason I even joined this group was as an excuse to hang out with you!”

Scar’s mouth falls open. “No way! That’s- that’s the whole reason I joined in the first place, too!”

Now it’s Grian’s turn to gawk. “Are you joking?”

“I’m not!” Scar insists, “I swear, I’m not- Impulse said he wanted to start the group and maybe we’d all join and get to hang out and I thought ‘hey, ghosts are cool and Grian is cool’ so I just-”

“Oh, I can’t believe this…” Grian groans, hiding his burning face in his hands. “We really are idiots, we’ve wasted nearly three years…”

Scar’s hands close around Grian’s wrists, lightly pulling them down from his face. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time,” he says smoothly, leaning in.

Corny, but Grian will allow it. He closes the gap, tilting his head up to meet Scar’s lips.

In that moment, everything else fades away. All the nervousness, all the second-guessing, even the bombshell discovery of the existence of ghosts- there could be one standing in front of them right now and Grian wouldn’t care. The way Scar gathers Grian in his arms, hands gently roving through his feathers- it’s bliss. It’s perfect.

Scar kisses him strong and purposefully, with no trace of carelessness or haste. He doesn’t rush. There’s intent written into every single movement, jaw working to deepen the kiss. Grian curls against him, hands splayed across Scar’s chest. He can feel Scar’s heart pounding through his flushed skin, and it’s wildly exciting- to think Scar is just as breathless as he is. 

Growing bold, Grian dares to slip his tongue into Scar’s mouth, and the noise he makes- part surprise, part delight- sends pure electricity fizzling up his spine. His mind is starting to drift away from him, lost in the sensation of weightlessness, of floating, that almost makes him feel like he’s gone completely incorporeal- like his own spirit has become untethered from the mortal coil.

Then Skizz’s voice comes down the stairs.

“G-Sharp! Scarface! You down here? We just saw a freaking ghost on the cams, and- oh my god!”

Grian breaks away from Scar, but not quick enough. He turns to see Skizz and Impulse standing at the bottom of the stairs, expressions shocked. And then, as if they’d rehearsed it, they both break into massive shit-eating grins and spin around to high-five each other.

“Woo!” Impulse cheers. “We got ‘em! Ladies and gentlemen, we finally got them.”

“Yeah, baby!” Skizz pumps his fist in the air. “Oh, I love it!”

“Oh, would you two stop it?” Grian huffs, but he’s not really cross. Hard to be cross when he’s on cloud nine. “The ghost did most of the work, alright?”

“That’s right,” Scar sniffs, winding an arm around Grian’s waist. “You know, I- I’m startin’ to think you all were in cahoots! Cahoots, I say!”

“Dude, if only,” Skizz laughs, walking over to clap them on the shoulders. “Could not have planned it better, that’s amazing. Well done, gentlemen!”

“Yeah, it’s about time!” Impulse adds, crossing his arms. “I was starting to think we’d graduate before either of you fessed up, I- I had to take drastic measures…”

“Impulse,” Grian says warningly, “if you’re about to tell me you started this whole paranormal investigation group just as a way to push me and Scar into confronting our feelings, I swear-”

“No, no,” Impulse assures him, chuckling. “I really do like the ghost-hunting deal, don’t worry. But uh, we did deliberately ditch you guys in the hopes that something would happen.”

Scar waggles his eyebrows. “Oh, things happened, alright.”

“Scar!” Grian swats at him, but he’s laughing and it feels good. It feels right. After all this time spent worrying about worst-case scenarios, about denying his feelings for the sake of maintaining the comfortable mundanity of his comfortable life, it turns out the scariest part was the fear itself.

The irony doesn’t escape his notice. A bit on the nose, if he’s honest.

“But in even bigger news,” Impulse graciously continues, “you saw the ghost? And you believed it? You, Mr. Non-Believer in all things ghostly?”

Grian sighs. “Yeah, yeah, I know…”

“This is incredible!” Skizz claps his hands together. “Okay, okay, we gotta go cleanse the area and I wanna hear everything, got it? Don’t leave a single detail out!”

Grian slips his hand into Scar’s as they follow Impulse and Skizz back up the stairs. “Yeah, alright,” he relents. He supposes he’s due for a lot of ‘I told you so’s’. But really, it’s a small price to pay for the life-altering knowledge that ghosts are real… and for finally finding the courage to believe in something extraordinary.

Scar hums. “Wait, details about the ghost or about the kissing?”

“Scar!”

~*~

[leah-lover]

Two hearts one timeline. Alexia putellas x reader.Angst

Part 1. part 2

“ Why did it take you so long to go out with me?” asked alexia. She sat opposite wearing a dress, heer hair was down, her makeup was minimal but she was absolutely stunning.  Her words were true though. It took her asking you out 4 times for you to agree. 

“ Well I wanted you to be sure that you wanted me. I don't want to cause you any stress especially because this is  a crucial part of the season.” you respond. “ I am happy you agreed to come with me. And yes, I really really want you.” she cheekily responded. 

Both the conversation, food and wine were great. Once you finished she drove you to your house. 

“ This was definitely the best date I have ever had.”  you say to alexia once you get to your door. “ i will be happy if this date continues?” she suggests. 

“ I am not sleeping with you, capitana. We have a game tomorrow, you need sleep. I am willing to kiss you though.” you say before giving her the sweetest most gentle kiss. Her hands on your waist, your on her neck. You last for a while before pulling out. “ go home and rest, capi.” you say before pulling out of her hold and entering your apartment complex. 

The next morning was matchday. You had a strict routine to follow and you did it to the T. However, flashes of the night before kept flooding your mind from time to time. Alexia’s smile, laugh, and lips were all what you were thinking about on your way to the stadium. 

Upon getting there, you also do your usual routine getting ready for a game you were starting, Alexia still on your mind. When you saw her in her game fit you couldn't help but let your jaw drop. She was in fact wearing a very sexy look that you wanted to tear it off her right then and there. When she saw your reaction she couldn't help but smile. 

The game started out really well. You managed to score 2 goals in 10 minutes which earned you an embrace from your captain, and the team was dominating like usual. however , it would all turn at the 60 minutes when alexia falls on the ground. You weren't far away from her when it happened so you ran as soon as you saw her ignoring the play happening. You knelt as soon as you got there and heard her say “ Joder, joder, no joder mi rodilla, no otra vez.” you understood that she was cursing about her knee. 

You then get the hai out of her face and tell her to calm down. “ Dulce bebé, todo estará bien.” you comfort her. 

You didn't hear the whistle blow, still in your bubble with Alexia when Parti urged you up to leave space for the medical team. You were shaking with fear for Alexia but the play resumed. She was the only thing on your mind for the next 10 minutes you were on the field before Jona subbed you out. 

You made an excuse for needing ice from the locker room so that you can go in and see alexia. 

Once you got there, she was laying on the physio bed alone and her knee was bandaged up.  “ ohh my sweet baby” you say to her when you see the tears i n her eyes. You go to her cup her face and kiss her lips and her red cheeks gently. 

“ It's gonna be fine mi amor.” you add but she is still silent. “ Can I stay with you?” you ask. “ Look, Jona is pretty upset about me re-injuring my knee. I don't want him to blame you or anything so it is best to keep our relationship a secret for now.” she says breaking what was left of your heart. You get up and leave immediately not wanting her to see you cry. You try and collect yourself before heading out to the field again. 

You keep your head down, meet the fans and shake the hands of the players. 

When you get to the locker room you change quickly and head to your car without saying goodby to anybody which they would later find weird. 

You cry the whole way to your house “ she is ashamed of me.” you say quietly between sobs. When you get home you go directly to your bed and fall asleep wanting this day to end. 

You wake up at 4 am and check our phone to find a text from alexia “ estrella i am just trying to protect you.” 

“ thank you capi.” you respond and shut your phone again. You didn't realize how much you felt for Alexia until you saw her down on the field,  an image that would haunt you.  

The next morning you got a message from the group chat that said that alexia was injured and needed another surgery. So you text her wishing her good luck and that you were thinking of her but she was radio silent. 

The following days were grim for you. You felt bad waking up and even worse going to training. All you thought about was how Alexia was doing. You were getting regular updates through the group chat but wanted to hold and sooth her knowing how badly she felt. You wanted to kiss  her and be with her but you couldn't since patri was at her house and a few medical staff members too. 

You were bad at training, you didn't sleep well or eat well and your negative state was obvious to the entire team. 

“ chica what’s wrong?” asked aitana one day after training. As soon as she put her hand on your back you broke down and started crying. You didn't realize how touch starved you were and how much you needed to be comforted. 

“ You need to talk to me right now.”  ordered aitana after you came down. 

“ I caused alexia’s injury.” you declare looking at the ground. 

“ We started dating a few weeks ago and we went on a date the day before. I think I distracted her and caused her injury. I just want to be there for her and love her but we are a secret so I can't.” when you verbalized  your feelings you felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. 

“ re-injuries happen when you had an ACL it's not your fault estrella . if you want to go see the captain a can arrange that.” 

You look at her in shock before she says “ go get ready i go do some phone calls. “ 

When you park in front of her apartment, nerves settle in your stomach but you push through, go to her door and open it with the keys patri left under the mat. 

You enter as quietly as possible. When you set your gaze on her form you feel relieved. She was laying on the couch watching tv with her knee propped up on a pillow. 

When you see each other she smiles and you tear up. 

“ oh my god i missed you so much.” she says when you reach her. “ Amor, why are you crying?” she adds. 

“ I missed you.” you respond before meeting her soft lips. “ I was  so worried.” you say before she cuts you off. 

“ I know aitana told me. Amor, you didn't cause anything and I am sorry for pushing you away.” 

“ te amo” she added. “ I love you too” you respond before kissing her again. 

[redflagshipwriter]

check yes to go on a date w a dead guy ch 4 progress

next chapter here

(masterpost with this story here)

It took a minute for Jason to recover from that realization. He kept the anger he felt off his face. Danny didn’t seem upset about dying young, but that didn’t mean much. It wasn’t an appropriate topic to prod about on a first meeting. He’d get there eventually.

Jason stilled. Ah, shit, he still didn’t have a plan. Just eating together was too short and too boring. He needed to have something better than that.

Fuck, what were they going to do next? 

Jason strained for ideas. What was a good date? Normally, he'd know more about a person before they hung out romantically. 

Well. Actually, normally he hung out platonically with someone a lot before he started to feel interest in them. This was all kinds of backwards: but he didn't want it to end yet. 

“So, uh, what do you like to do?” Jason asked. Masterful. So smooth.

Danny scrunched up his nose. “Lately my afterlife sucks,” he groused. “I am drowning in paperwork and busy stuff.” He slumped over. “I miss being in high school,” Danny sighed. He drew his knees in and rested his elbows on them, then squished his cheeks with his palms. “I guess I used to just hang out, you know?” He shrugged. “Played a lot of video games. I miss that.” 

“Of course,” Jason said, despite never having hung out and played video games in high school. He'd been an overscheduled nerd in junior high school and then been too dead for high school. “That sounds fun. Wanna go back to mine and play something later?”

Danny lit up, blue eyes sparkling in the fading light. “Yes! That would be great.” He straightened his legs and kicked his heels against the side of the building. “Wait, can we do the whole grungy high school hangout thing with pop and chips and dip and pizza and stuff?”

He almost said “we literally just ate”, but what the hell. “We'll hit the store next,” Jason said. He couldn't say no to that face. Look at ‘em. He was so excited.

'Ugh, god. Danny died in high school,’’ Jason realized. He'd already known Danny died young but it still stuck in his stomach like a rock. 'No wonder he misses what he did then. He's interacting with the physical world now but if he died, he probably went to like, dead land immediately.’

But, uh. Video games. He could do that. He kept up a conversation as his mind churned, asking Danny what kind of games he liked.

The thing was, Jason didn't really play video games. He had a console at his place and if he was hanging out with Roy or Dick there, they'd bring a game over. He owned like, two games. 

He considered popping by the store and just buying something. But that would be weird and intense. He'd probably freak Danny out if he went and dropped money on a game just to play with him. 

Ok. Well. He'd get someone to drop off games before he and Danny could get back to the apartment. Jason sneakily got out his phone and strategized. 

Steph? No. Terrible. He couldn't let that girl know he had a date until the poor bastard really liked him for sure. She'd either chase Danny off or somehow orchestrate the two of them getting engaged. 

Tim? God, no. He'd definitely own a lot of games but they'd all be for the PC, and he'd hang around and smirk about Jason meeting up with Danny.

Dick? Too far away, and way too smug. He'd take it as an opportunity to tease.

Oh, wait. He had it. Jason opened up a message to Duke and sent out a quick “I want to bribe you. Homemade pizza? Artichoke dip? Fried oysters???” 

“Did you take a life?????” Duke shot back. Then, “pizza! What do you need?” 

“Get to my place with a bunch of video games that'll work on my tv in less than an hour and I'll make whatever you want.” 

The three dots indicating typing popped up. They stayed there for a weirdly long time. Then, Duke said, “Can I stay and hang out? 🥺”

Adorable little bastard. Jason typed out NO and then hesitated, feeling kinda bad.

“Who's that?” Danny prompted. 

Ah, shit, he was being rude. Jason flushed. “Asking a little brother to bring over a game,” he admitted. “He wants to stay.” 

Danny laughed. “That's adorable,” he announced. “It's fine by me. Lots of games are better with more people, anyway.” 

Well. If that was the case, Jason was fine with it. He sent Duke an OK and then put his phone away before the inevitable “I AM THE FAVORITE SIBLING” fireworks started. 

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

yes or no?, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader, slight yoongi x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook is distraught to know he can't jack off. After all, he spent all that money to complete his tattoo sleeve. He wasn't about to ruin all that hard work just for a quick nut. But it's going to take a while to heal. Days – no, weeks! – with no masturbating. Waaah! Why did he pick his right arm?! Thankfully, noona to the rescue... right? RIGHT?!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; slight crack b/c JK's POV; JK is whipped, welp; smut (fem reader, minor D/s dynamics, sexual fantasies, heavy petting / teasing, cock-and-ball torture, finger sucking, spit kink, handjob / m-masturbation, edging / orgasm denial, hair-pulling kink, nipple play, m-receiving oral, multiple orgasms, mentioned forearm kink); noona!reader; pleasure is JK-focused and JK's POV

'magic-8' ball noona is back! no need to read, just know there's a yoongi x reader x jk sex triangle and they're roommates :D

--

Jeon Jungkook was in pain, horny, and depressed.

On the plus side, his tattoo sleeve was almost completed!

Woohoo!

Sigh, no, he still felt like throwing himself into a wall and sliding down to become an unmoving puddle of goo. So tired. He always felt like this after the adrenaline of a long tattoo session. Session days were fun while he was in the studio hanging out with the tattoo artist, even for hours on end. He had brought his own snacks, plenty of water, and pain medication. The artist had even brought lunch for him – probably because Jungkook was spending a LOT of money covering up some old tattoos he ragretted regretted, but hey! Free food! Jungkook was always happy to receive free meat!

Wait. That sound weird.

Eh.

Anyway.

He sighed as he fumbled with his keys, trying to use his left hand as much as possible. Today, the artist had worked on his right forearm and filling in his elbow with black. The skin there was irritated and covered in plastic, which made it annoying to do common tasks he noticed. Great. Another day of not getting off. Yeah, Jungkook loved getting tattoos but it made him grumpy that he couldn’t just jerk off whenever he wanted.

What?!

It was a legitimate reason to be grumpy, dammit.

Why did Jungkook pick his right arm for his tattoo sleeve? Simple. He had no foresight and tattoos were permanent. Whoops. (He was not an idiot. Trust.) He finally got the key into the lock and turned it. His life wouldn’t be so hard (keke) if it wasn’t for his current living arrangements. To be clear, he really did love living in Kim Seokjin’s house full of his friends. There was just one problem. One very sexy problem.

He opened the door cautiously, wondering if he would hear moaning today.

Silence.

Whew.

The house smelled really good though. Like food. Mmmm. Food. Jungkook wandered in, loosely holding onto the strap of his large black bag and stepping out of his shoes, neatly settling them into their spot… to avoid getting scolded later. He was a good boy.

Sometimes.

The current residents of the home were: Kim Seokjin, the owner of the house, actor, and professional whaler in too many games; Kim Taehyung, a fashion model and close friend that had taken over Park Jimin’s spot after Jimin had moved out to work overseas for a while; Min Yoongi, a music producer and quite possibly sex on legs (Taehyung’s words, one had to be there for it to be funny); and the Magic-8 ball noona. The only girl. Also, she was, erm, part of a consensual sex triangle that Jungkook was a member of but he definitely didn’t start it.

Really…!

Anyway.

She had a real name but Jungkook was always going to remember that cursed hunk of plastic denying him twenty-six times. Besides, it was just easier to refer to her as noona since she was the one female and older than him. It was proper and polite. She was only by name when he was on his knees and begging to cum.

Cough.

Anyway!

He made his way into the kitchen carefully. It wasn’t unusual for the house to be fairly quiet as it was quite common for the introverts to split up and occupy themselves with their respective hobbies, especially when Taehyung went out with his friends. Jungkook vaguely remembered Taehyung saying he was going to a sauna with his squad or something like that. Seokjin was probably playing MapleStory in the master bedroom with his headphones on. Something about a new update. He wasn’t coming out unless to eat and even that would be rare. Yoongi and noona… well, they were either fucking or holed up in their respective rooms being creative.

Oh.

Yeah, did he mention the other part of this sex triangle was his sharp-witted, cat-eyed, resting-bitch-face-but-secretly-a-tsundere hyung? And the first place Jungkook witnessed Yoongi and her having sex was the kitchen he was about to walk into? His dick twitched every time he entered the kitchen because of it. He both felt guilty and became aroused by the wrongness of it. Then got more turned on when he remembered that he couldn’t masturbate tonight. Maybe he should just touch himself with his left hand to relieve some pressure. Or make it worse. On purpose.

Ugh, maybe he really was a masochist.

Jungkook rounded the corner and yelped when found himself cornered by his hyung and his noona glaring at him.

“Wah!”

“Oh, look who decided to show up,” his grumpy hyung grumbled.

“There you are,” his mischievous noona mused, waving about a ladle like it was a magic wand. “Sit down, sit down. You must be hungry after a long day.”

“Why didn’t you text? We ended up having dinner without you, hah,” Yoongi hmphed, poking Jungkook in the chest. The older male looked tired and overworked. One glance between the glowing, calm smile to Yoongi’s messy black hair sticking up in every direction. It was pretty clear what went down. RIP, hyung. His hyung was wearing an elegant black silk pajama shirt and matching pants with the waistband slightly askew. Red mark on the fair skin of his exposed collarbone.

Here? Or in her bed? Or in his bed? Or… mine so it smells just like them?

It was an irrelevant thought, as Jungkook rarely slept in his own bed despite having one. He had a bad habit unique quirk of falling asleep wherever he was, whenever he felt the need to sleep. This greatly annoyed Seokjin and made Taehyung laugh. Sometimes Jungkook would wake up with the latter guy sleeping on top of him like a handsome sloth. Just Taehyung things. But most times, Jungkook was in his noona’s bed.

Hey! It was a comfy bed.

Ahem.

Jungkook received another sharp poke and he jumped, stumbling as he was pushed to the kitchen island, extra startled as Yoongi wordlessly pulled out the seat for him. He got a what? look in response, complete with black strands falling over those narrowed dark brown eyes.

“Don’t you have to be careful about your arm, especially the first night?” Yoongi puffed. “Don’t get used to it.”

“O-Oh… yeah… t-thanks, hyung.”

Yoongi pretended not to hear and scooted himself towards the stove. She was standing next to a pot on low heat looking remarkably put together in red plaid pajamas. Jungkook plopped his butt onto the tall chair and put his bag on the other, yanking off his beanie. Ruffled his hair quickly to avoid his short black hair looking flat and dumb. He pretended like he wasn’t checking out the way her juicy butt completely filled out the pants and the way they clung to her lush hips. He pretended he didn’t notice that the top was relatively cropped and he could clearly see her amazing waist to ass ratio. He definitely didn’t say anything about how nice it was to see the beautiful curve of her neck due to the cute sheep-shaped claw clip collecting her hair back. And he surely didn’t go completely breathless when she turned around with a steaming bowl, suddenly realizing her pajama shirt was held together by only a single button in the center and she clearly wasn’t wearing a bra. There was a row of buttons; she just hadn’t done them up.

Fuck.

It was violently unfair that she was allowed to look this hot in normal clothes.

She leaned over the counter and placed the bowl in front of him. He could see down her shirt. Damn. Even through the flannel fabric, Jungkook could still see the peaks of her nipples if he really stared. Really, really stared. For maybe ten seconds.

He jumped at the clink of a metal spoon against ceramic.

“You should eat,” she said with an enigmatic smile. Gracefully balanced her chin on the back of her knuckles, her fingers fanned downwards, her elbows resting on the counter to look into his eyes.

Shit, he was smooth melting like butter under that hot gaze.

“Pick your jaw off the floor,” said a gruff voice in Daegu satoori.

Jungkook jolted as crabby Yoongi appeared seemingly out of nowhere – well, he was here the whole time, oop – and cocked an eyebrow at him. Now the older two were both standing side by side, observing him expectantly. It was only then that Jungkook looked down and realized what was in front of him.

“Wait… it’s not my birthday.”

She chuckled. Her eyes sparkled with mirth. Ugh, he loved seeing them directed at him. “Seaweed soup will be good after a long tattoo day. You need nutrients. You need energy. Plus, Yoongi added beef in there for you. There’s some rice too, but not too much because Yoongi said you don’t like having too many carbs before sleeping. More meat, as you like it,” she concluded, using the spoon to show him all the ingredients. “We made it for you. Eat.”

She smiled exactly how the Cheshire cat would grin. He glanced at Yoongi who was staring at his fingernails like they were the most interesting thing in the world. They stood close to each other. No mistaking their closeness. The worst (best?) part was that even though Jungkook knew exactly what had happened while he was gone all those hours, he didn’t find this scene offensive.

In fact, he felt a bit teary from their consideration.

“T-Thanks…”

He took the spoon from her, his inhale hitching as his fingertips brushed against hers. Oh, her hands. Those lovely hands. His gaze shifted up, his heart beating fast. The side of her lips tugged upwards.

A smile turned smirk.

His cock twitched as Jungkook remembered her smirking face grinning up at him with his cum drenched all over her tongue. The last time he had jacked off into her mouth.

Argh!

He had used his left hand, mostly because he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to do the repeated motion of bending his right arm and bringing the utensil to his mouth right now. Hmmmm. He scrunched up his face and wrinkled his nose. It probably wouldn’t be the best idea. He didn’t want to mess up the line work and all that nice color shading. He was already doing the cover ups, after all. Plus, it did hurt a little moving too much. He would just see how far he could get. It was pretty easy since it was soup and the pieces of beef were cut pretty small.

They must have thought of that.

Jungkook tried not to cry grateful tears into his seaweed soup as he heard his hyung and noona busy themselves with cleaning the kitchen, ‘cause that would be utterly embarrassing and not very manly, sniff.

Thankfully, he was saved by his rising boner.

The thing was, Jungkook was pretty sure he wasn’t turned on by pain. Ahem. Okay, maybe a little (lotta) bit. But, time and place! This was precisely why he picked a very cool and very talented male tattoo artist. He could ask questions and be noisy and immature and not feel bad. Jungkook liked female artists but he would get too mentally distracted because he didn’t really know what to talk about, so his mind would end up wandering to another set of hands and then, bam! A not useful boner. Also, he didn’t want to creep anybody out or make them uncomfortable. That would be mean.

But, uh.

Jungkook was beginning to realize he enjoyed and hated these long sessions. He enjoyed them because he very much considered his tattoo artist his friend. He enjoyed them because his close friends were supportive, bought him snacks, and told him he was cool or brave for getting so many tattoos (very important, yup). And, yeah, he liked the repeated stabbing (it was addictive, okay?!). But he also enjoyed them because of how attentive his noona was before and during the aftercare process. She helped him prepare his bag prior to the appointment, would make sure to remind him to keep the area hydrated, make him his favorite meals (meat!), and be the first to help him in case he needed it. As for the hate part…

Ugh, it made him so fucking horny knowing he couldn’t get off without her help.

Yeah, sure, he could use his left hand. But the nut would be pisslow awful and not at all satisfying. Of course, Jungkook could wait and use his right when he felt like it was fine but that wouldn’t be for a while. He didn’t spend all that money to have to explain that he wanted a touch-up because he needed to cum being around a literal sex goddess his noona (not to mention what a mortifying thing to say to his poor tattoo artist that didn’t need to know all that). And there was no way in hell Jungkook was going to avoid his noona during his recovery. She had just made him seaweed soup! Oh, yeah, and Yoongi was there too. Anyway, the forced waiting turned him on even more than usual because there was a real reason behind it. After his first long session, he even clumsily edged himself with his left hand, multiple times, before he asked her to get him off, just so it felt even better when her lips closed around his leaking, desperate cock.

Jungkook choked on some beef.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m – ack! – fine. Totally fine!” he managed to hack out in a very not-fine tone.

“You look like you’re choking,” Yoongi commented matter-of-factly, eerily similar to a narrator of a nature documentary.

“Be careful,” she laughed, coming around the counter to rub his back. Aaaah! Jungkook lifted his right arm slightly and tried to subtly punch his dick down into submission but, as it turned out, his erection was as stubborn as he was. Awesome. Not to mention space was very limited under the counter. Shit. She patted in between his shoulder blades. “Want some water?”

“No, hah, I’m f-fine,” he wheezed, freezing up a little at her touch. He thought he was used to it by now but he really wasn’t, especially when his dick was already halfway up the stairs to heaven. Down to hell to the circle of lust? Whatever. She wasn’t too close, as she was on his right side, but he had enough memories to know how skin-to skin felt, enough times of her breasts pressed to his back and her hands exploring his chest, enough moments of her agile fingers splayed out over his pecs like blooming flowers, running her nails over his skin, flicking his nipples, all the while tracing her tongue along the base of his neck with her hard nipples rubbing against his shivering back…

Okay.

Jungkook was not fine.

“It’s kinda warm…” he mumbled as she moved away.

“That’s because you’re still wearing your jacket and having hot soup,” Yoongi pointed out, putting away some bowls. “Take it off.”

“Want help?”

It was a very innocent suggestion. Thus, Jungkook spent the next minute trying not to reveal that he had popped a boner while eating seaweed soup, sitting up and sticking out his arms like a Ken doll, letting those dreamy, long fingers peel away his oversized white and black racer jacket. Left arm first, then the right, taking care to slide it off, the sleeve cocoon stripping back to reveal the beautiful butterfly that was his fresh, brightly inked right arm.

“Oh? That’s right, you were covering up some big tattoos today, huh?” Yoongi perked up, his raspy voice with a twinge of curiosity, padding over to investigate. Underneath the jacket, Jungkook had worn a closely fitted, white, ribbed tank top. Comfy but wouldn’t get in the way. “Ho, so much color. Quite rockstar of you. You’re become such a cool guy, heh.”

“I wanted the individual images to stand out more and the artist suggested adding some color,” Jungkook clarified, slurping away at his dinner again. “I just trusted him.”

“He did such a good job,” she was saying, delicately holding his hand. Jungkook tried not to melt into a puddle. “The gradient is fantastic. The text here looks cleaner too.”

“Oh, yeah, I asked him to clean up some of my older tattoos too. For consistency.”

He continued munching happily until…

“So, what’s with the boner?”

Jungkook nearly choked again.

“Ay, Yoongi-ssi, leave him alone,” she chided, smacking Yoongi in the butt. Received a scalding squinty side-eye in response but she didn’t seem to give a shit. Nerves of steel. “You know he can’t cum unless I let him.”

Wow, okay, way to broadcast the facts!

“Hey!”

She tilted her head and rubbed the tip of his nose. Open-mouthed smirk included. Gulp. “Am I wrong?”

Against his better judgement, Jungkook pouted. “Noona…”

She patted his thigh. Condescendingly. He intensified his pout but it was futile. “Finish eating, okay? I’ll help you out in the shower…” She winked, devilish. “As usual.”

Yoongi snickered. “Just don’t be too loud.”

“Put on some headphones then,” she countered.

“Oi, I’m not blowing out my eardrums.”

“Then listen,” she hummed, caressing Jungkook’s jeans. “Or watch. No one’s stopping you.”

The bottom of Yoongi’s lips upturned, giving him the expression of a disgruntled cat. “I have to sleep.”

“Oh, like you don’t sleep enough, grandpa.”

“That wasn’t what you were calling me when I had you folded in half under me.”

Jungkook was left to slurp his soup to the sound of their bickering as her hand gently stroked the inside of his thigh. It could be worse. Could be better too, like her unzipping him and establishing dominance by jacking him off at the kitchen island. But Yoongi was not so easily fazed, so she didn’t, and Jungkook cried at (and secretly enjoyed) the feeling of pre-cum soaking through his underwear.

Turns out, he didn’t have to wait that long to enjoy suffering.

Er.

Attention?

Towards the end of his meal was getting a bit annoying to scoop up what was left, so Jungkook put down the spoon to pick up the bowl and drink of the rest of the soup. For a brief second, he was let go and he noticed Yoongi was flicking his hand over his noona’s chest. She grabbed his hand, pulling that scowling face to her into a sudden and tense kiss. Hey, he wasn’t above some adult entertainment while eating. Well, maybe not during the majority of the meal, but Jungkook kept a (big) peeper out. From his periphery, he saw Yoongi slip his hands under her shirt and heard her murmur in satisfaction, trailing kisses over Yoongi’s face. He saw his hyung smile in response, warm and genuine and butterfly-inducing.

Jungkook lowered the bowl slowly as Yoongi opened his eyes.

And winked.

Devilish.

“I’m leaving,” Yoongi suddenly announced, untangling himself and slinking away.

His noona snickered and shook her head. “Okay, nerd.”

Then she turned around and, before Jungkook could say anything about Yoongi running away like a criminal undercover, she revealed that her shirt was now open and fully exposing her perky tits and large, hard nipples.

“Oh!”

Jungkook felt his eyeballs nearly pop out of his skull at the unexpected surprise.

She acted as if they could ever have a normal conversation with her boobs right in front of his face. “So, are you still tired? Just wanna get washed up and go to sleep?”

He tried to answer but from the first word it was impossible. Her pajama shirt was sliding down her perfect shoulders, revealing smooth skin and the flannel fabric cradled her breasts, framing them perfectly. She smelled fresh and fruity, just like her signature lotion scent. Blackberry and vanilla. Her forearms lay against his thighs, forcing his body to turn, and he gasped as her fingers fanned out over his muscular thighs and squeezed them, basically half-crawling into his lap to look up at him, asking her questions in a very leisurely and unbothered tone.

“Tired…?” he echoed, his brain in a completely different dimension. “Wuh?”

Her hands glided up his sides and delicately closed in around his waist. He gasped, stiffening as her touch encased him, feeling the action through the fabric of his tank top. She hummed softly, caressing his waist. Slow. Tender. Not a second of rushing even though blood was rushing straight down into his dick at record speed. He felt her gaze on him and shifted his own to her face, seeing her observe him with lovely eyes that contained all the innocence of a kumiho.

So, none at all.

Her smile reappeared, mysterious and sinful.

Her palm grazed over his tense abdomen and he whimpered under his breath. Or so he thought.

“Feeling good?” she asked serenely.

“Y… Yeah…”

Down. Tracing the button of his jeans. His breath caught in his throat. Fingertip by fingertip, in slow motion, tapping lightly on his bulge. Barely any pressure. Solidly tucked between his legs, her ass sticking out. He would be fine with the other side of the view too. This house needed more mirrors, Jungkook concluded.

“Do you remember why you came to me?”

He stopped staring at her ass as the question registered. He was holding his right arm out and his left elbow was resting on the counter. “In the beginning?”

“Mhm.”

She was now cupping his covered erection and pulsing her grip around it, making his cock throb and leak everywhere. Great. His boxer briefs were a cum-filled mess now, surely. He could feel the squish and the stimulation against the tip. Agonizing pleasure.

His cheeks warmed. “Ah… Yeah… because… my previous girlfriends said I f-fucked like a robot…”

“You think maybe you just weren’t that into them?” she questioned, running her fingertips of her other hand along his back and waist, sending tingles up his spine.

“I…” It was impossible to concentrate. “Ah… Well… A-Aren’t you supposed to fall f-for their personality first…?”

“Is that why you’re into me? My personality?”

Jungkook looked down.

Right at her personali-titties.

He swallowed so hard that he almost choked.

Again.

“Hm?” she mused.

Ripped his gaze from the visual of her prominent nipples hanging down next to his open thighs and into that sly stare that knew everything. Gulp. She continued toying with his crotch, stroking along the length, dipping down to pat the outline of his balls, smirking wider as his cock jerked in his pants. The roar of his heartbeat thundered in his ears. Fuck. It was the power in that gaze. The confidence in her stance. The ability to be below him and be completely, utterly in control. The taste of forbidden fruit, just within reach. The sensation of his whole body being overcome with want and the way she gladly overwhelmed all his senses by her presence alone. She didn’t have to touch him at all. She didn’t have to expose herself. She didn’t have to smell so good. She didn’t have to.

She simply chose to do all those things to drive him even more crazy.

“Yes or no?” she purred.

He could lie, but he was a terrible liar.

“Y… Yes…”

She seemed very satisfied with his response. Slid up between his legs, her hand on his back dropping and gliding up against his chest instead. He shivered, his lips parting as she rose, closer, the warmth of her exhale washing over him, a soft sigh and then their faces close, centimeters from each other with his racing heart under her palm. Her fingers spread out. Her index found his silver chain necklace resting on his collarbones, playing with it with a small smile.

Her other hand was still on top of his hard dick.

Jungkook used to think that there was no way sex could be sexy. The idea of it was sexy. In practice, sex used to be awkward and uncomfortable, but essential to get his rocks off. It felt like something he had to do. But it wasn’t like that, at least with her. Well, he still sometimes felt awkward and uncomfortable, but Jungkook suspected she was doing it on purpose. He didn’t mind though, because she always touched him with such fondness and – maybe this was the delulu talking – but he really didn’t need the sex so much as he needed her to keep looking at him the way she did.

His dick throbbed suddenly in protest.

“Ah–!”

She tilted her head and kissed him.

Placing a chaste kiss right below his lips, the soft press taking his breath away, and then her lips ghosted over his, grabbing a fistful of his tank top and kissing him deeply. Fuck, how he loved her lips. How could he describe them? So fluffy and yet so insistent. Determined, seductive, pulling him to her and sighing, her contented breath filling his lungs and giving him life. His left hand found the collar of her shirt and gripped it tightly, not even realizing he had closed his eyes instinctively, wanting nothing more than to melt into her. Her hair brushed against his cheek and neck. Her scent warmed him, sweet and decadent. Her knuckles pressed into his sternum, unyielding. Her fingers tangled into the silver chain around his neck, possessive.

His brain melted into a puddle of bliss.

He moaned her name into her lips as she parted. She squeezed his inner thigh through his loose jeans. Still, the fabric was too thick for it to be satisfying enough.

“W-Wait…”

“You kinda taste like beef,” she remarked, releasing her hold and patting his chest. “Come on. If we fuck in the kitchen, I’ll have more to clean than your dishes.”

Jungkook felt his cheeks burn. “O… Oh.”

She backed up a step and took way too long to button a single button to cover her breasts again. He spent a good ten seconds gawking at their perky shape and the way her obvious nipples stuck straight out. She acted as if nothing was wrong, lingering between his spread-open thighs.

“You have to shower quickly, right? Go get started and I’ll come wash your back.”

“But, n-noona–!”

Her hand flew up and landed at the base of his neck. Thumb to one side, four fingers on the other. Jungkook froze.

She cocked an eyebrow.

Then she smirked.

His pulse hammered in his throat, so close to being constricted.

“Are you saying you’re flexible enough to wash your own back now?”

Jungkook shook his head so fast his vision blurred. “Nope. I’m weak. Help. I can’t take off my clothes either. Owie. It hurts so much.”

“Mmmm, very convincing.” She didn’t sound convinced. At all.

Damnnit.

-

“Gah!”

She gave him an exasperated look. “As if I haven’t seen you naked before.”

Minutes later, Jungkook found himself sitting in the bathtub, puffing his cheeks as he washed his hair with his left hand and felt the bath sponge rub against his back. Ah. She was leaning over the side of the tub, holding onto his left shoulder and rubbing circles into his back. Aaaah. He had left the plastic on his right arm for now, intending to remove the tape as his last step so he could rinse it off with a gentle, unscented cleanser. The water was lukewarm. Not the greatest, but he didn’t want to steam up the bathroom. It would be bad for the tattoos.

“U-Um… noona?”

“Hm?”

She rubbed down to his lower back. He sat up straighter. There was a wet towel blanketed over his crotch. Not really for any reason other than cold. Yeah. Anyway. She leaned over and kept going, massaging him at the same time. He gasped as she pressed the base of her palm into his muscle and kneaded.

“I… uh… about what I said earlier…”

“Mhm.”

He jumped a little but she was just leaning over to grab the detachable showerhead, adjusting the water to the correct temperature. “I hope… I hope I didn’t offend you or anything. I do like your personality a lot. You’re assertive and funny and you always remember stuff I like,” Jungkook rambled, lowering his left hand. His right was slightly hanging off the edge of the tub to keep it out of the way. Of course, he scrubbed his armpits before she came in. It would have been rude not to clean all the important bits first.

She rinsed off his back. “I’m not worried,” she chuckled.

“Oh, okay.”

“I don’t mind that you’re shallow. It’s flattering, coming from a hot guy like you.”

“That’s good – wait, what?!”

She sprayed the top of his head and sent him into sputters.

“Ah!”

She grabbed his shoulder, quickly and vigorously rinsing off his hair before pulling the showerhead away and turning off the water. Not before spraying him in the chest though. Jungkook found himself with his drenched hair flat against his forehead, making him unable to see. He felt like a wet dog. He almost wiggled away – until her arm slid down and rested against his chest, her other hand slipping under his wet hair and pushing it back, laughing playfully as she spoke.

“Oh, Jungkook. You’re so silly. Don’t worry about nothing,” she sighed, petting his head.

He couldn’t say anything.

Mostly because her tits were now pressed against the top of his back.

Oh, fuck. Her large, soft nipples rubbed against his shoulders. And her breasts, ooh, so plushy. “Everyone knows you like my personality.” So bouncy. Mmmm. “Just like how everyone knows you’ve been thirsting after me since day one.” No, it was more like first thirty seconds of seeing her. “Just like how everyone knows you’re a pain slut.”

Her breasts pressed against his shoulders.

Wait.

What did she say?

She plucked the towel away from his crotch and locked her fingers around his package.

“AAH!”

She slapped a hand over his mouth and pinned him to her body, crouching over him. It was then – how could it be only THEN – that Jungkook’s brain fully registered that she was topless. Possibly bottom-less too! Not only was she naked but also she was roughly massaging his balls with his rapidly hardening length trapped between her thumb and index finger, essentially making a cock ring with her two fingers and a ball cage with the rest. He gasped, rolling his head back onto her shoulder, moaning behind her hand as her touch switched between caress and choking his balls. There was no water in the tub as the drain wasn’t pushed down.

Her hand changed from covering his mouth to slipping two fingers into his lips.

“See? You like this,” she whispered, sultry and low.

He tried to gurgle out, n-no way, but he was too busy lifting his hips and thrusting upwards, trying to get the friction he so urgently desired but couldn’t achieve. She dragged her nails across his balls and his eyelids fluttered, sucking on her fingers, spit trickling past his lips and down his chin, his moan echoing in the bathroom when she finally closed her grip around his aching cock, pumping slow, running a fingertip over the head, slicking out the pre-cum leaking out.

“P-Please…” he whined.

“You gotta get out now,” she reminded him.

“No, please…”

She slowly thrust her fingers into his mouth, rubbing his tongue. “You should wait longer, shouldn’t you?” He tried to shake his head but he couldn’t, his hips bucking as her speed increased. “Don’t want you to get sweaty and all that.” Fuck, please, he wanted to scream and nearly did when she let go and lightly smacked around his stiff erection, slapping his cock against his tense inner thighs. It bounced around, the head dark red, aching for release. He was so hard that his cock popped right back into position, sticking straight upwards between his spread legs. “Do you really think you’ve been a good boy?” His own saliva was dripping down his chin. How did she get this level of desperation out of him so easily? She held his shaft up with only the back of her thumb and firmly smacked his balls, rapid and light, making him cry out and squirm. “Hold it up.”

“N-Noona, please…”

“Hold it up if you want me to suck your dick,” she ordered calmly.

The thrill raced up his spine. His hair was dripping, droplets down his cheeks and neck. This was it. This electric, intense feeling that seemed to control him, his hand ghosting down to wrap around his twitching length, gasping sharply when her fingers left his mouth. She cupped his chin instead, tilting his head up and now they were looking at each other, only for a moment, her sparkling eyes rich with passion, intoxicating pleasure snaking up his core as he melted under her hot gaze.

This was the feeling Jungkook always wanted.

She lowered herself down. He stared at the ceiling as she teased his balls, moaning and lazily stroking his cock as she slapped them, dragged her fingernails over them, squeezed them. Spit on him. He whimpered, teasing the underside of the swollen head of his cock, more, flinching as she spat on him again, gasping as she dug her nails into the sensitive area behind his balls, coaxing himself to the edge and then stopping, building the frustration.

She kissed his hot cheek.

“You’re doing so good,” she murmured into his ear, licking it softly.

Her right hand closed around his left and they edged him together, their fingers laced, her teeth on the curve of his ear and his moan radiating off the tiles. Long, deep strokes, building up the speed. So good. Tight, rapid pace, close, his chest rattling, so close, his eyes rolling back when her hand clamped around the base of his aching cock and squeezed hard, cutting off the high and colliding him into the mental wall, his dismayed cry drowned out by her lips devouring his.

Fuck!

Was he going to get to bust a nut or not?!

-

“Please, don’t.”

He put on his best pout as she held the Magic-8 ball in front of her body. Still wearing her black seamless panties, but that was it. She was lightly sitting on his thighs, straddling him on the bed as she shook it teasingly.

“Noona, come on…”

“Why not? It’ll be fun.”

She lowered it and Jungkook gasped as the black plastic ball touched his chest, wiggling uncomfortably as she rolled it back and forth. Foreign and cold. It warmed up against his skin.  She leaned over him, not adding more pressure, but giving a great full-frontal view with her breasts trapped between her upper arms.

“It won’t be fun for me,” he whined, gripping the sheets tightly.

He reached up to squeeze her breasts, using his left hand, shuddering as he felt her hard nipples against his palm, looking up to see her tongue dance at the edge of her smirk, her tousled hair trailing down her shoulder. That had been the game before. He would ask to have sex. She would shake the Magic-8 ball and get his answer – resulting in twenty-six straight refusals from that evil children’s toy. Unlucky? Maybe. Cursed? More likely. Extra cursed because it was Park Jimin who purchased and gifted her the thing.

Grr.

Jungkook was still pissed about that.

She tilted her head, sending part of her face into delicious shadow.

“We can make it a little game.”

His hand slid down her arm and covered hers.

“No games,” he begged, catching the edge of his lower lip with his teeth. Her eyes shifted down. He was playing all his cards. She muttered under her breath, hah, I love that underlip mole of yours, how can I resist a lip bite, fuck, and those cute, round, big brown eyes… all while lowering herself to him, drawn to his plea, releasing her hold on the Magic-8 ball.

She rolled it on his chest and into his open hand.

“Okay. No games.”

She kissed him again.

A claim to his lips. Soft and insistent, working him into a frenzy, making him grip that hard plastic ball tightly as his breathing shallowed, moaning as her tongue slid in, out, in, out. He felt her hands frame his head, crowning him with her fanned-out fingers. Tingling as her thumb rubbed across his temple. His jaw. His earrings, toying with them, nipping at his lower lip and sucking on it, her warm body settling between his legs, soft to hard, rubbing up against him.

Fuck.

Fuuuuck.

She pulled on his hair roughly and his lip slipped from her teeth due his own whimper, gasping hotly as her kisses danced down his throat, then running her tongue over the trail of kisses. She had a hand planted onto his chest to prevent him from arching his back, lapping at his collarbones daintily as she tugged at a fistful of his still damp hair. Sparks of pain showering down from the crown od head meeting the maddening bliss of her lips on his chest, traveling, decorating his clavicle, each mark of her teeth mirroring the redness of a fallen rose petal.

He tried to lower his chin and shuddered against the hurt, making better and worse at the same time, opening his eyes as she let go of his hair, seeing her sliding down his torso.

That ass.

He felt a nip at his nipple and his breathing hitched, snapping down to see her looking up at him, expression highly amused.

“Pretty nice ass, huh?”

No one said she was humble.

He grinned. “Yeah, I should take a pic and make it my phone background.”

She chuckled, running her tongue over his hard nipple and Jungkook shivered, transfixed by the image and the simultaneous surge of pleasure. He lifted his head higher off the pillow. Shallow breaths, watching, the glossy tip of that dexterous pink muscle against his dark nipple, her lips closing around it, feeling his body stiffen as he felt the sucking sensation vibrate through him. The moan bubbled in his tightened chest as she gently bit, licked, sucked, alternating between the actions. Her fingernails dragged over his sides and flexed abs, electrifying his skin with the pressure. He flinched when she released him and replaced the rough play with kisses, moving across his chest to do the same to his other nipple.

She glanced at him, witnessing his perverse enjoyment with a knowing glint in her eye.

He clutched the Magic-8 ball at his side with in his left hand, falling back into the pillow moaning, writhing slightly as the sucking intensified. Her hand slid down, stroking the inside of his thigh. He could barely feel the side of his half-hard cock brush against the back of her hand.

“F-Fuck… please…”

His entire body jolted when she popped her lips off him and sealed her work with a kiss.

“You’re so impatient, Jungkook,” she hummed, pressing her tongue flat to his nipple and rubbing roughly, saliva sticking to his skin. “So needy.”

His mind was spinning. Blood running hot under his skin, body uncontrollably quivering, clutching the sheets and the Magic-8 ball for dear life. The pent-up arousal was driving him insane but, as a wise man once said, gotaa go insane to stay sane. Or something like that. Jungkook couldn’t remember any wise proverbs right now. He was too horny. She was rising, re-clipping her hair with that cute sheep-shaped claw clip, keeping it out of her smirking face.

“Y-Yes, I am needy… a-ah… please…”

Slipping down, down.

She pressed her palms into the innermost part of his thighs, spreading her fingers over his crotch, and swallowed his cock.

He moaned so loud that Min Yoongi surely heard.

Hey.

No one said Jeon Jungkook was subtle.

Especially when being pleasured.

Immediately his cock swelled at her up-and-down motion that came with tongue and lips and a tight, wet, warm throat that pushed him in as deep as possible. He was always somewhat shocked at how easily she maneuvered him without her hands, preferring instead to use only her mouth to take him all the way to the base and lick at his balls, her constricting throat suffocating the thick head of his cock, and then back up, running the sensitive skin over the roof of her mouth and closing her lips around the tip tighter, teasing the underside of the slit with deft flicks. Then, again, swallowing his growing length, molding her tongue to his girth, slathering saliva over his balls.

God, Jungkook loved the bed suck.

She had an immaculate level of control when giving a blowjob on the bed. He didn’t have to do anything but lay back and relax, occasionally looking down to follow her head movements and see his length glistening in between her plush lips, then collapsing again as the erotic euphoria overtook him again, his chest fluttering with the intensity, his core tightening, lost in lust. He completely forgot the itchiness of his right arm. The colors were brighter under the overhead light and the lotion he had applied right before getting into bed, a sharp contrast to her bare arm against his hip, her elegant hand nestled up his side, her perfect round ass in the air. His pants blending into moans, floating on cloud nine from her tight, soft mouth and agile tongue, wondering how the fuck he got this lucky.

She’s basically a porn star in bed, Park Jimin once said.

She paused when she noticed him watching her again. Extended her pink tongue past her lips, slapping his balls and scooping them up against the base of his cock, raising an eyebrow at him.

Damn.

Truer words had never been spoken.

Then – thankfully – she returned her attention to his cock, except this time it was tighter, faster, and he gasped, feeling her push the head up and force it deeper into her throat when she descended, oh, fuck, he could see her breasts bouncing too, those perfect nipples, damn, obvious wet noises drowned out by the more obscene sounds he was making, crying out, moaning, the pace intense and deliberate and racing, and the only way he could describe it was as if somehow her mouth had become a warm, wet sleeve for his twitching cock, powerfully massaging his length all over, close, his eyes rolling back.

There.

He groaned as he shot into her suffocating throat, wanton and pathetic, finally, his mind going blank, pumping thick cum into that tight pocket and whining as she swallowed, fuck, finally, her pinning his flinching hips down as his shuddering length jerked again, another vicious throb and dripping cum, tears stinging the edge of his vision, gasping out her name as the apex of pleasure consumed his nerves and set them alight.

Fucking finally.

He felt his orgasm squish into the back of her tongue and around the aching head of his cock and he moaned. Long and loud and pornographic. He felt himself twitch in her mouth. She brought him down, slow and wet, a low hum vibrating from her throat to his cock to his core.

Jungkook panted.

Tension shimmered throughout his chest and limbs, keeping him breathless.

Wait.

Her tongue rubbed against the underside of his girth, fanning out along the pulsing, abused head, sending racing sparks over his ass and up his spine.

Wait a second.

Her fingertips glided over his slick balls, squeezing them and making him shudder at the shocking bliss.

I’m still hard.

He yelped, snapping his head down, but it was too late, too late to stop, the afterglow of his last orgasm building towards another, her head sliding up and down, her lips flush to his glossy shaft, him whimpering while he watched, shivering at the lewd image and the idea of back-to-back orgasms, so good, fuck, she looks so good and it feels so fucking amazing, the addictive adrenaline spiking, the lasting buzz radiating all over, oversensitivity increasing the forbidden pleasure, tight and wet and soft, taking him as so deep his balls slapped into her chin, the muscles of his body flexed and tense, hard underneath the soft.

His second orgasm slammed into him.

His head fell back and the pleasure swarmed him, knocking the air out of his lungs, drawing out his lustful moan, his heartbeat roaring in his ears. Her name tumbled out of his lips, praises, swears, her name again, the words mixing together on his confused tongue. She swallowed again, loud to his ears, so obvious, and he trembled all over. The sharp spasm of ecstasy left him rattled, whining, feeling her licking him again but tender, even more gentle this time, slurping around his softening cock, the sensitive skin prickling and pulsating under her warm tongue.

“So… fuck… s-so fucking good…”

Oh, how he loved the feeling of her lips and those kisses feathering his thighs, his crotch, his cock, his balls, shivering in delight, all his previous frustrations making it everything so much more satisfying.

Uh.

He didn’t just think that.

Shit.

“Man, you’re loud.”

“Gah!”

“Hey, Yoongi.”

She planted herself on top of his drenched cock, laying out all over him with her hands on his chest and shoulder. Jungkook gawked at her and then at his hyung standing there at her open bedroom door, looking around at the pastel sheep plushies decorating her room and pausing at the pink bunny and tuxedo cat plush sitting on her desk. Then those dark brown orbs moved back to her ass leaning against Jungkook’s still trembling thigh.

“You could have taken off your panties,” he grumbled in his low voice.

She turned her head to look back at Yoongi. “Sorry. I didn’t think about it since I wasn’t going to get any tonight. I didn’t know you would be watching.”

Her words made Jungkook frown. “What do you mean, you aren’t getting any?”

She faced him again, raising her eyebrows. “What are you talking about? We shouldn’t push it. You’ll get too sweaty.”

“But, noona, that’s not fair, I could…?”

Silence.

A bird cawed outside.

“Use you left hand?” Yoongi snorted. “Meh.”

She smiled. “I’ll wait. I can be patient.”

Yeah, well, guess who couldn’t be patient?

As the youngest, he protested. “You could use my thigh. Or… Or my forearm! You like that!”

“No, no. I’m fine with waiting.”

“You’re doing this on purpose! You’re torturing me by not letting me feel you cum!”

Jungkook paled as his hyung and noona grinned at the same time. Deviously. In unison. Scary as fuck. Yoongi leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his long black hair framing his cunning eyes and open-mouthed smirk, serving every bit the allegations of being sex on legs. Jungkook trembled as he felt her trail her fingers along the base of his neck, sensually rubbing his collarbone. Thumb on one side, four fingers on the other. Not moving up but reminding him nonetheless.

“Whatever gave you that impression?” she drawled.

They were in cahoots.

Not that Jungkook minded.

That was how he got this lucky in the first place.

The Magic-8 ball rested against his naked hip, the window reading, without a doubt.

--

masterpost

[trensu]

It's Will that gives him the idea.

"we don't really celebrate father's day anymore," he had said awkwardly, "but I can't hang out anyway."

"why not?" Dustin demanded. He was gonna end up bored and alone because he didn't celebrate the holiday and everyone else had plans. he had been counting on Will to keep him company.

"I'm gonna get Jonathan a new record and I want to listen to it with him," he said.

"can't he get his own records? C'mon, we could go to the arcade or something."

"no, Dustin," his tone took on a stubborn edge that made Dustin pause. "He's my brother and I love him, and he's the only guy besides Bob who's ever even tried to look out for me. So I'm sorry but I'm gonna be busy on Sunday."

Dustin didn't argue after that but it did get him thinking which is why on Sunday morning he biked all the way over to Loch Nora and started banging on Steve's door.

"what do you want, Henderson?" Steve sighed the most dramatic put upon sigh Dustin had ever heard.

"you're not my dad--"

"wow you really are genius!"

"shut up, shut up, listen to me!"

"okay, geez, I'm listening."

"you're not my dad and I don't want you to be my dad. I don't even really want a dad! Lots of dads aren't even that great and my mom already has the single parent thing down. But you taught me how to do my hair and how to talk to girls - even though that advice sucked, I didn't need it to get Suzie at all - and you're gonna teach me how to drive--"

"woah, hey, no I never said I'd do that, wh--"

"--and you've saved my life but I think we're even because I've saved your life too."

"Henderson don't you have anything better to do than harass me in my own home?" Steve said. he was using that exasperated tone he got when he knew he wasn't keeping up with what was going on but didn't want to admit it.

"actually no I don't but I'm here for a reason," he reached into his backpack and took out the gift he clumsily wrapped with scraps of brown paper bags. He shoved it into Steve's hands. "You're basically the only adult male figure in my life. And I appreciate you."

Steve squinted at the gift and then at Dustin and at the gift again before he said fussily "is this a prank? If something gross explodes from this, I swear to god, I'll--"

"Just open it, Steve!"

"Fine, fine, keep your shirt on," Steve said and tore off the paper. He blinked and in a softer tone said, "Oh."

"I don't know if you even like making models but I know you love cars and this kit looked just like yours, so yeah."

Steve stared at the kit some more. Dustin started to fidget. It was always better to be honest with your feelings but maybe this was too much for Steve. Maybe Steve didn't like him as much as Dustin did. Steve was not as enlightened about these things as Dustin.

"I've never made a model before."

Dustin hunched his shoulders and tried not to feel stupid or hurt. He should have expected this. They weren't even related. This was probably too weird. He reached out to take the gift back.

"it's fine, I can return it, whatever."

Steve raised the kit out of Dustin's reach.

"Hey, this is mine," he said.

"you don't even like it!"

"I never said that! I'm just gonna need a dweeby little nerd to help me build it. You know anybody like that?" Steve asked, batting his eyes innocently.

"you're such a dick," Dustin grumbled, fighting back a grin.

"watch your language!"

"shut up, you're not my dad."

Steve laughed as Dustin shoved his way into the house. Hours later, after much shouting and ribbing and one incident of spilled paint, a small model of the beemer was left to dry while Steve forced Dustin to watch the baseball game on TV with him. It wasn't the worst thing ever, and after Steve mentioned the statistics involved, it got way more interesting ("of course you'd like the math part, you weirdo" "you don't understand the stats do you" "shut up and watch the game, Henderson"). When the paint was dry, Dustin followed Steve upstairs and watched him carefully and deliberately place the model between a couple of sports trophies.

"yeah, I guess it looks pretty cool," Steve said with exaggerated nonchalance. "Now beat it, kid. your mom's gonna freak if you're not home when she gets back from work."

"can you give me a ride?"

"ugh, fine."

Dustin grinned. This had been, hands down, the best father's day ever. From the look on Steve's face when he placed the model, Dustin was pretty sure he agreed.

[leahwllmsn]

16,904 | leah williamson x reader

so this was something I wrote a few years ago and I decided to change it into a leah fic cause I've been so obsessed :-)

hope you like it!

--

Melbourne

October, 2023

You finally tell your friends that you’ve been talking to someone you met online on a Friday night. The response you got is that they all think you're crazy, and you can’t blame them—saying that you have a tiny crush on this blonde who’s almost twice your height and likes football and country music without actually knowing if this said blonde exists is kind of crazy.

But you really do like talking to Leah and you could only hope that Leah is Leah and not some fifty-year-old man. 

“You don’t even know what she looks like,” one of your friends snorts. 

“It’s not always about the looks,” you argue.

“That’s true,” another one of your friends chimed in. “But you gotta admit, the looks matter a lot.”

You were about to correct her and say no, they do not, because yeah, sure, Leah is so freaking gorgeous based on the pictures on her profile, but what matters the most is that she’s so kind, and funny, and just overall amazing.

Instead you kept your mouth shut. A part of you don’t want to share Leah with anyone just yet. 

(And another part of you still needs the confirmation that that is actually Leah because god damn it Leah is the most beautiful woman you have ever seen and you wish that it’s really her.)

—

6 Oct, 9:02 pm

y/n: I told my friends about you. they think it’s weird that I’m starting something with you when we’ve never met  

y/n: it’s not weird, is it? 

leahw6: starting something huh? ;) 

y/n: shut up 

y/n: we met on tinder. what were you expecting to find? a math tutor? 

leahw6: ...  

leahw6: you’re really funny, love

leahw6: and no, it’s not weird 

y/n: good 

y/n: and for the record, even if they think it’s weird I couldn’t care less 

—

6 Oct, 9:25 pm

leahw6: just to be clear 

leahw6: ‘starting something’ that means you want to date me right 

y/n: how else could I mean that 

leahw6: idk maybe you were the one looking for a math tutor 

— 

London

October, 2023

“Where did you meet her again?”

“Tinder.”

“Tinder,” Lia repeats.

“Yes,” Leah nods. “When we were in Australia for the World Cup… I got bored one night and decided to go on Tinder.”

“And you found her there,” Lia muses, sipping on her cup of coffee. “Wait, so she lives in Australia?”

“Melbourne, yes.”

“And does she know you’re all the way here in London?”

Leah hesitates before answering. “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Oh boy,” Lia gives her a sympathetic look. “Does she know who you are?”

“Me… as in Leah?” Leah gives her teammate a confused look. “Yeah?”

“You as in you’re Leah Williamson.”

“Oh,” realization sunk in Leah’s face. “Then no. I mentioned I like football and she said she hates it. So, I doubt she knows who I am.”

“Oh boy.”

“I know,” Leah drops her head on the table. “I’ll tell her soon but what if it’s a deal breaker?” 

“Which part? The part where you’re a famous footballer or you live thousands of kilometers away?”

Leah grimaces “Distance problem. She already said she hates football and wouldn’t dare step foot in a football game, but it’s fine! That’s not a problem because I can and will convince her to watch one of my games.”

Lia laughs. “Sure, buddy.”

“I really like her,” Leah continues. “She’s funny and witty and passive aggressive sometimes but it’s so endearing. She has great taste in music, great taste in movies and books, and just great taste overall—”

Leah’s words get cut off with Lia’s hand on her mouth. “You’ve known her for a few weeks and this is already how you act?” Lia chuckles, taking her hand away. “You got it bad, Williamson.”

Leah groans. “I know.”

“Just tell her now. If she likes you the same way, I have a feeling that she wouldn’t mind either.”

—

24 Oct, 4:13 pm

leahw6: can we talk ?

y/n: sounds serious 

leahw6: kind of 

y/n: are you getting tired of me already :( 

leahw6: ofc not 

y/n: oh okay :D 

leahw6: idk how to say this 

y/n: do you want me to call you? 

leahw6: oh god no 

leahw6: omg wait 

leahw6: I didn’t mean that in a bad way I swear  

leahw6: it’s just that if you call me I’ll be hearing your voice for the first time and I’ll be even more nervous  

leahw6: and I don’t think I’ll be able to put out a coherent sentence bc I’ve been imagining so much what your voice would sound like with that face and all my guesses are that you have an extremely hot voice, raspy maybe?  

leahw6: but actually no I don’t think you have a raspy voice 

leahw6: a deep one maybe and holy shit a deep voice with an australian accent? I’ll faint on the spot I’m afraid  

leahw6: no you can’t call me 

y/n: okay...? 

leahw6: I’m really sorry please ignore all that 

y/n: I won’t ignore it, it’s adorable  

leahw6: you think I’m weird don’t you 

y/n: absolutely 

leahw6: great 

y/n: it just makes me like you even more

leahw6: I live in london 

y/n: as in the one in england … ? 

leahw6: is there another london I don’t know about 

[incoming call from y/n]

leahw6: why are you calling me ?! 

leahw6: I told you I’m too nervous rn 

y/n: I don’t get it. it says that you were 2km away? 

leahw6: yeah… I was on vacation… kind of...

y/n: kind of?

y/n: so you don’t actually live here? 

leahw6: y/n if I was only 2 km away from you I would make up excuses just so I can see you everyday 

y/n: how many km is it instead 

leahw6: between us?

leahw6: google says it’s 16,904 km

y/n: ??! holy shit 

leahw6: I know 

leahw6: look, I get it if you want to stop this. not everyone is cut out for long distance

y/n: we’re like

y/n: on opposite sides of the world

leahw6: I know

y/n: do you want to stop this? 

leahw6: I don’t 

y/n: then we won’t 

leahw6: are you sure 

y/n: let me call you 

leahw6: NO 

y/n: leah

leahw6: give me a day to prepare 

y/n: you’re so dumb

y/n: but fine 

y/n: do I at least get a facetime

leahw6: FACETIME? 

leahw6: no. you get a phone call. voice only

y/n: r u catfishing 

y/n: I knew it you’re too beautiful to be real 

leahw6: ha ha 

y/n: call me tomorrow okay lee? 

leahw6: okay

leahw6: and y/n

leahw6:  thank you

y/n: what for

leahw6: for giving us a chance

y/n: leah I’d be stupid not to 

—

Melbourne

November, 2023

You're in the middle of a meeting with boring, old men in suits when your phone rings—very loudly at that. You curse yourself for forgetting to put your phone on silent, quickly pressing the red circle on the screen, but not before smiling at the caller ID.

When the meeting finishes an hour later, you immediately pick up your phone and dial Leah’s number.

“Hey you.” 

You smile at the voice on the other end. “Sorry I couldn’t pick up. I was in a meeting.”

“Oh sorry, bad timing. Thought you were finished for the day”

“Bad timing indeed,” you chuckle. “It rang really loudly.”

“Y/n,” you could hear Leah’s soft giggles. “The silent feature exists for a reason.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you take a seat in your office chair and sigh contently. “I’m glad it rang though.”

“How so?” 

“I saw your name and my mood instantly picked up.”

Leah snorts. “You’re such a sweet talker, mate.” 

You throw her head back in laughter. “But it’s true!”

Leah doesn’t say anything after that, all you could hear is the sound of chatter and honking of cars. “Where are you?”

“I just had breakfast, I’m walking to the… office.”

“You called me when you were having breakfast? Am I that much more interesting than whoever you were with?” you ask, your tone teasing.

“Of course you are,” is Leah’s reply and you could feel your stomach flipping upside down.

“Now who’s the sweet talker?”

“Still you.”

“Says the person who couldn’t stop telling me I’m pretty when we facetimed for the first time.”

Leah laughs and you really, really love the sound. “But you are pretty.”

“But I don’t think I need to hear it every five minutes.”

“Just accept the compliments, love.”

“Okay,” you relent, a grin spreading across your face. “Who did you have breakfast with?”

“Just my team– colleagues. My colleagues, Beth, Viv and Lia.”

You go silent for a few seconds, the last name ringing a bell in your head. “Lia as in your ex?”

“The one and only.”

“Oh.”

Leah must’ve sensed the jealousy in your voice (but honestly, you aren't jealous, you’re really not), because the next thing you know Leah is laughing and telling you that it didn’t work out between her and Lia because they were better off as friends.

“You see her everyday though,” you say, your voice less confident than before.

“And what about it?”

“You don’t see me everyday,” you pout, staring at a polaroid picture of Leah smiling at the camera that is stuck to the wall of your cubicle. Leah sent you a handwritten letter along with that picture a few days ago. Your roommate was the one who received it and it went something like this:

“Oh my god, there’s no way this is your Leah.”

“What?” 

“This! Is this really her?” 

“Is that Lee’s mail for me? Did you open it?!” 

“I got curious!” 

“Give me that!” 

“You never mentioned that she looks like this!” 

“I just haven’t shown you what she looks like ‘cause everyone kept on teasing me!” 

“Because she could be a fake for all we know! But holy shit, she’s soo stunning. Does she have a twin sister?”

“No.”

“A twin brother?” 

“No.” 

“Can I have her instead then?” 

“What the—no?!” 

“Fine, be stingy like that.” 

“...I’m really fine with us like this.”

You blink away images of your roommate in your head and focus your attention back to Leah’s voice. “What did you say?”

“I said I’m okay with not being able to see you everyday,” Leah repeats. “Talking to you over the phone is enough.”

You smile. “It’s enough for me too. It’d be great to have you next to me but this is good too.”

People would think otherwise but for you, having Leah a phone call away really is enough; you'd take hearing Leah's laughter through the phone than not hearing it at all.

—

10 Nov, 1:11 pm

y/n: I got a dog

leahw6: ???!! 

leahw6: Y/N CALL ME OMG 

leahw6: I WANT TO SEE 

y/n: you’re more excited to see him than me :// 

leahw6: YES 

y/n: excuse me 

leahw6: WHAT’S HIS NAME 

y/n: robert 

leahw6: ROBERT? 

y/n: yes, robert 

leahw6: he's now my favourite

leahw6: SEND PICS

y/n: :/ 

y/n:

leahw6: you know you're my favourite too  

y/n: :D 

leahw6: but I think I like robert more than you OMG HE'S ADORABLE!!!!

y/n: bye 

—

London

December, 2023

leahw6:  want to hear a funny story

y/n:  what is it

leahw6:  a guy tried to hit on me tonight

y/n:  excuse me???

[incoming call from y/n] 

“That’s not funny,” is the first thing Leah hears once she accepts the call.

“Hello to you too,” Leah stifles a laugh. You sound tense and Leah can just picture the frown on your face.

“Leah.”

“Yes, babe?” Leah learnt that the quickest way to melt away your anger is to use pet names and so for any argument (even if Leah is in the wrong), Leah would always win.

This time it doesn’t seem to work. “How is that funny again?” 

“Darling, I’m just teasing you.”

“Did a guy really hit on you?”

“Yes,” Leah answers honestly. “He bought me a drink.”

“I see.”

Leah doesn’t like how dejected you sound. So she presses the button for facetime and the first thing she sees when you accept is her girlfriend pouting at the screen.

“What are you doing?” Leah giggles.

“Is all of this funny to you?” you pout even more, your phone screen illuminating your face in the dark room.

“Did I wake you up?” Leah asks instead. She knows you like to sleep in on weekends.

“Yes, but that’s fine. You know I want to talk to you any chance I get,” you answer, shifting so that you’re now lying on your side.

“You’re the best,” Leah says as she climbs in bed, tucking herself under the covers.

“Obviously,” you scoff. “Unlike that stupid guy who doesn’t know you’re off-limits.”

Leah grins at the annoyed look you’re giving her. “Baby?”

“Hm?”

“It’s so cute when you’re jealous.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course I’m jealous. He gets to be within your presence while I’m stuck here, freaking sixteen thousand kilometres away from you. It’s unfair.”

Leah sends her a soft smile. “But you’re the one I’m talking to every day, so who’s the real winner here?” The frown is still present on your face and Leah wants nothing more than to kiss it away—so that’s what she did.

“Leah, what the hell are you doing?”

“Kissing you,” Leah answers simply, kissing her screen again.

And when Leah hears laughter from the other end, her heart feels much lighter.

“Lee, have you cleaned your phone? That’s gross.”

“Shut up. I’m trying to be romantic.”

“Cute, but maybe clean your phone first.”

Leah rolls her eyes at you, her smile never leaving her face. “At least I made you laugh.”

“You always make me laugh,” you say, your face so close to her camera that the entirety of Leah’s screen is just a close up of your face. Leah’s heart swells in adoration at the sight.

“Did you have a good night's sleep?” Leah asks.

You hum in answer. “Now it’s your turn to get a good night’s sleep.”

You could see how hard Leah is trying to keep her eyes open.

“This sucks, time difference sucks” Leah pouts. “I just want to talk to you.”

“Baby,” you give her a sad smile. “It is how it is. We’ll talk more when you wake up.”

“Yes, captain,” Leah gives you grin, her eyes fully closed.

“Good night, Leah. Sweet dreams.”

You watch Leah go to sleep for a few minutes, the sound of her soft snores making it seem like she’s right next to you. 

That night Leah dreams that you're right next to her, holding her close and keeping her warm on the cold winter night.

[aroeddiediaz]

7x04 Coda

Sprained ankles hurt. Eddie shouldn’t be as surprised as he is by the pain, because he knows all too well that the amount of pain injuries feel like is almost inverse with the actual damage they cause. A shot from a sniper felt like almost nothing, while a stubbed toe sends ricochets up his spine.

But that’s nothing compared to the encroaching feeling of dread as Eddie thinks back on his interactions with Buck over the last two weeks, and what might have caused his best friend to lash out at him.

“I think we fucked up,” he grumbles to Tommy, who gives him a quick glance before returning his attention to the road.

“You mean with Evan?” Tommy says.

Evan. That was kind of weird, right? Eddie had only ever heard Buck’s sister and parents call him by his first name before. He’d only used the name once himself, when he told Buck about his will.

But Buck hadn’t corrected Tommy on it, so he must not mind, Eddie supposes.

Eddie shakes that stray thought away.

“Yeah,” he continues, even though talking kind of hurts right now. That didn’t seem fair, it’s Eddie’s ankle that’s injured, not his lungs. “I mean, with me kind of blowing him off to come to that karaoke night… and the UFC fight in Vegas… and the pickup game…”

Looking back on it now, Eddie’s not sure when it all got so out of hand. He and Tommy had hit it off on the Coast Guard ride back to LA, while Buck was off checking in with Bobby and Athena. He’d been so excited as they shared their similar interests and history- army, MMA, old cars- that he’d immediately made plans to hang out. When Tommy mentioned that he could get them rinkside tickets in Vegas, Eddie had jumped on it immediately. He didn’t even think about mentioning it to Buck.

And the babysitting thing… Eddie kind of wants to curl up thinking back to the strange face Buck had made when Eddie asked him to watch over Chris. Buck usually loved hanging out with Chris, even volunteering for it when Eddie mentioned having plans, so he didn’t think twice about asking it of him. He should have known.

“Ooh, yeah.” Tommy lets out a whistle. “We did fuck up, huh. Could have at least invited him to muay thai after the match.”

Eddie laughs a little, strained by the pain and the stirrings of shame. “Buck doesn’t know muay thai. Just boxing.”

“Yeah?” There’s a funny tone to Tommy’s voice. “Maybe we should teach him.”

Eddie does a careful rotation of his inflamed joint. The stretch does help ease the pain a little. “Maybe you should offer him lessons,” he says. “I’m gonna be out of commission for a little bit.”

Tommy glances at him again. A slightly longer one, with them stopped at a red light, kind of searching. “You think he’d be interested in learning from me?”

“Oh yeah. You’re great. And Buck’s a quick study for sure.” Eddie glances out the window, and sees the urgent care clinic sign just past the intersection. “Actually, you think you could do me a favor?”

The light turns green. Tommy drives forward. “Of course.”

“Could you talk to Buck for me?” Eddie asks. “I’m sure he’s feeling all sorts of guilty right now, and it’s not his fault. He just got a little too aggressive at the game.”

It’s really too bad. Buck’s really good at basketball, for someone who hates the game so much. Eddie’s sure he’ll never get Buck to touch a ball again.

“Uh, yeah,” Tommy says, slowly, as he pulls up into the parking lot. “If you’re sure you want me to speak with him.”

Eddie nods. “He’s probably licking his wounds at his loft right now, and he’ll need a bit of a kick in the pants before he comes to see me. I trust you.”

Tommy chuckles a little. “Alright, then. I’ll swing by his place in the morning, before my shift, check in on him for you.”

That’s a relief. They find a parking spot close to the clinic entrance, and Eddie hisses a little as he opens the door and swings his legs out. He needs to be more considerate of Buck’s feelings, going forward. He has the sinking feeling that he’s started to take him for granted.

He’ll have to pay him more attention.

[seeingivy]

you belong with me

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: high school!au, gojo is a robotics nerd, reader is class president, emo nanami (my beloved), toji is ur shitass football playing boyfriend, typical cheesy highschool drama

an: tell me why posting this is giving me a tummy ache like I haven't posted for gojo in forever and now i think I suck at it :OOO anyways, please be nice to me about this and close your eyes if you hate it. also, totally reliving my high school days when I was senior class vice president (worst experience of my life) FDLJFKDSJFLS

--

You’re a hater. A self proclaimed, real-life, deep in your soul hater. 

What do you hate today? Being class president. 

You hate that you willingly ran, somehow won, had people up your ass all day about stuff that wasn’t in your control, and got stuck in the current situation you were in. Which was arguing with your boyfriend Toji, as you pace around your room and do your own fair share of screaming back. 

“You just did that shit because you were pissed at me.” 

“I did not, Toji. You know, not everything is about you. Other people needed the money and I put it where it was needed.” 

“To the color guard team? Babe, no one gives a fuck about the color guard team. Everyone is at the homecoming game to watch the football team. Not a bunch of idiots waving flags in the air.” 

“They’re also part of the game and all their equipment is broken. They need it more than you when you guys literally get donors and funding from the district and-”

“You’re just pissed about the sweetheart thing. That’s why you’re doing this shit and taking it out on everyone else.” 

“Toji, I’m not even mad about-” 

You’re met with the sound of ringing over the phone, signaling that Toji had enough and finally hung up on you. You flop straight onto your bed, pushing your face so hard into your pillow that sits uncomfortably against your nose and the smell of your laundry detergent makes its way to the crevices of your brain.

You hear a banging behind you and twist around to see Gojo pointing at his walkie-talkie, switching it on as you reach for yours. It’s still covered in glittery pink stickers from when you were seven, the silver coming off on your hand every time you grab it. 

“Come in, bunny.” 

“Loud and clear, Toru.” 

He smiles, setting his hardware down - probably for another weird ass robot he was making - as he holds it up to his face, talking again. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah. Just arguing with Toji, again. I’ll start allocating some of our funds to get you some sound proof windows.” 

“Much appreciated, Madam President. That’s very generous of you.” 

You laugh, dropping the walkie talkie to lift your fingertips to your temples, lightly massaging the pulsating under your skin. 

“For what it’s worth, the color guard team is really grateful you did that for them. I know Utahime was so excited when the new flags came in, she was flipping them around on the field for hours.” 

“That’s why it’s even more annoying. I know what I did was right, but he just doesn’t see it that way. Uta dragged me down to the field to watch them and their choreography looks so much better with the multicolored flags. They were really happy about it.” 

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown?” 

“Heavy is the head that’s dating Toji Fushiguro.” 

He laughs as you switch your channel off, taking the last few seconds to study you before you draw your curtains. He can see the tension sitting in your shoulders and how clearly it hurts you to argue with Toji like this. And it infuriates him. That you even have to go to sleep angry and that the cause is the headass idiot you’re dating. 

Toji Fushiguro is lucky, far more lucky than he realizes. Not for obvious reasons. Yeah, he’s a great football player and yeah, he’ll probably get scouted for some really good university at the end of the year. He doesn’t have a shortage of friends or intelligence and for all intents and purposes, he’s loved (which Gojo doesn’t understand at all). 

He’ll probably be that scumbag that people see a few years down the line and then get infuriated at. Because if an absolute asshat like Toji Fushiguro can be successful, then truly all things have gone to shit. That the patriarchy is real, that society is broken, living proof that the asshole always wins and everyone else always loses. 

But no, those are common reasons to hate Toji Fushiguro - ones he’s heard echoed by Suguru and Shoko every time he does something that pisses the two of them off. Like scream obscenities in the hallways, block their parking spots when they’re going to class, call them names when they walk by. 

No. Toji Fushiguro is lucky because he gets to date you. Because out of the long list of girls he had to pick one, Toji just had to pick the one that was his. The girl he’s been in love with since he moved in right across the street and had a smiley neighbor excitedly waving at him through her bay window. 

To him, love has always been the pigtail braids you used to wear everyday in the fourth grade, the matching walkie-talkies you bought him in sixth grade when he got grounded, and that sweet smile you’ve had since the first day he’s met you. 

And when he sees those green curtains pulled against the bay window he’s stared at for years, where he’s loved you from for years, he lifts the walkie and says what he forgot to mention. 

I love you.

--

Thanks to your gracious ride, you make it to school thirty minutes early. Your intuition - that Toji was ditching you as your ride to school this morning - was correct. Luckily, you made it in time just before class started. 

Nanami’s already seated on the green bench outside the classroom, headphones plugged into his ears. As you walk up, you silently wonder how much hair gel it takes to keep his Gerard Way hairstyle in place. 

“Hi Kento! How is my best friend doing on this fine morning?” 

“We’re not best friends.” 

“Sure we are!” 

You reach forward and pinch his cheek in your hand, which he only swats off and rolls his eyes at. That’s how you know your best friends. Because if it was anyone else, Nanami would probably break their hand and walk away. But he always lets you tease him, because he know he loves you. 

“Are you still fighting with that dog?” 

“That dog has a name. And it’s Toji. And I’m not sure, he didn’t pick me up for school this morning.” 

“Did he at least tell you he wouldn’t?” 

“No. I was lucky enough that Satoru had walked Megs to the bus stop a little late and I was able to get a ride with him.” 

Nanami looks over, narrowing his eyes at you, as the hallway starts getting crowded with people. And you know what he’s saying, what he’s been saying for the past few months. 

“You know, it’s very normal to give your neighbor a ride when they need one. Not everything has ulterior motives, Kento.” 

“That’s true. Everything doesn’t have ulterior motives. But he does. I’ve seen how he looks at you.”

“How does he look at me, Kento?” 

“Like he’d kiss the ground you’d walk on.” 

You roll your eyes, reaching up to mess up his perfectly styled hair. It doesn’t budge and you get a handful of minty smelling hair gel.

“As if.”

Like you’ve summoned him by bringing him up, Satoru’s sidestepping to where you and Nanami are sitting, Shoko and Getou in tow with him. 

“Nanami~~ How’s my best friend doing?” Satoru says, bending over to totally obscure Nanami’s line of vision.

“Shut the fuck up, Gojo.” Nanami responds. 

Nanami stands up, giving you a look, before he stalks away to his next class. Leaving you, Satoru, Shoko, and Getou standing in front of your classroom.  

“So. I hear you have a robotics competition?” you ask.

“Yeah. Next Saturday. We always practice our hardware out the night before, throw a little party in the lab. You should come.” Getou says, smiling at you. 

Satoru smacks Getou in the stomach right after he invites you, clearly trying to tell him something with his eyes. And then when he catches you staring, he gives you a nervous laugh. 

You get it. He doesn’t want you there.

“Don’t act too excited to see me now, Satoru. Anything more and I might think you like me.” you bite sarcastically.

“What? No, it’s not like that. I just-” Satoru stutters, 

“So you don’t like me?” you say, smirking at him. Shoko and Getou are laughing, the tips of Satoru’s turning pink as he very adamantly tells you that he does indeed like you. 

“I have stuff to set up for the homecoming game that day, so I won’t be able to. But I’ll try my best, yeah?” 

“Okay. Next time?” Getou asks. 

“Sure, Sugar-u. I’ll see you guys around, yeah?” 

You give the three of them a polite smile as you trudge away, leaving to meet Toji at his locker and give him a piece of your mind for this morning. Which leaves Shoko and Getou to give Satoru the scolding of his life. 

“Are you fucking stupid, Satoru? You made it seem like you didn’t want her there.” Shoko says, smacking him on the back of the head. 

“I panicked! Plus, Haibara always likes to play Just Dance and I’d rather not embarrass myself in front of her.” Satoru responds, rubbing the now sore spot on the back of his head. 

“You’re hopeless, Satoru. She’s never going to like you if you keep rejecting her the way you do.” Suguru says, dragging him along to the robotics lab. 

“She has a boyfriend. Who isn’t me. As if she would even consider dating me in the first place.” 

And when the three of them pass you by the lockers, clearly getting yelled at by Toji, it only furthers their argument more. 

“Yeah, I’m sure she really loves him, Satoru.” 

--

Your argument with Toji hours prior simmers in your head, as you wait for the bus to arrive and for this godforsaken day to finally be over. You watch him pile into his car with Salma and the other boys from the football team, which only makes your anger fester more. 

He’s doing this to piss you off. Of course, he’s doing this to-

“Need a ride?” 

You look up and unclench your fists to find Satoru, sparkly blue eyes shining at you and a hand held out to you. 

“Thanks.” 

He leads you to his car, an almost demolished Honda Civic from his maniacal driving, and you climb in, immediately putting your head in your hands. You can feel him moving around you, the engine purring on and him backing out of the spot. 

“About earlier. I don’t not want you to come to the robotics thing. I just thought it was awkward the way he asked you and I-I didn’t want you to feel obligated to come, you know? And I-I’d like it if you came too and so would the rest of us.” he rambles, a hand in his hair. 

You look up, his ears tinted pink from the confession. 

“I was just teasing you, Satoru. I’ll try to make it by, okay?” 

He sighs, a clear breath of relief, and looks over to smile.

“Okay, cool cool cool. Now tell me why you and Toji are fighting.” 

“When aren’t we fighting?” you murmur, pressing your head against the glass. 

“But why?” 

And when you look over, his blue eyes staring into yours, in earnest while the light is red, you unload it all. 

“Do you know about the sweethearts thing they do at the homecoming game?” 

“Uh. That’s when the cheerleaders wear the jerseys right. And then decorate the locker room or some shit for the players.” 

“Yeah. Well, it’s not limited to cheerleaders. It usually is, but if you’re dating someone, that person can do it for you.” 

“So I’m guessing Toji doesn’t want you to do it for him.” 

“Not exactly. He was just saying that it’s more traditional for a cheerleader to do it since they’re also on the side of the track and he wants to see his name out there instead of running around, trying to make sure the game is running and all that.” 

You slump into the chair as Satoru frowns, a pitying look in his eyes, as he keeps driving. You can’t help but watch him, his silhouette against the window - defined jaw, the slope of his nose. 

He’s not the guy who ran away from kissing you in the eighth grade. He’s just ten times hotter. 

You shake your head, letting the thought spill from your mind, as Satoru looks over. 

“Jamoca?” he says, giving you a wide grin. 

You can’t help but laugh, nodding as Satoru makes a sharp left turn, making his way to the ice cream shop. 

Jamoca is your favorite ice cream flavor. Coffee, layered with fudge and almonds, became a proclaimed favorite when Satoru dragged you once in the sixth grade. After very sorely losing the class president battle, you moped in your room for five days - even going as far as borrowing one of Nanami’s My Chemical Romance vinyls to truly and properly mope. 

On day three of blasting the vinyl, Satoru called enough and dragged you to the closest ice cream store, claiming it was the closest thing to therapy that you normies could afford. Since then, any bad day was easily solved with two things. 

Jamoca and Satoru. 

When you make it to the store, Satoru’s excitedly dragging you out of the car, his hand pressed in yours as you both run into the store, giggling while you order your single scoops. And when he drags you out to the curb and you sit there, you silently think to yourself why you ever stopped doing this in the first place. 

Satoru leans over, digging his chocolate fudge covered spoon into your cup, before talking. 

“So. If you guys fight so much, why are you still dating?” 

“Dunno. Feels weird to initiate a breakup, I guess. I can’t see myself doing it.” 

“Even when he wants other girls to be his sweetheart?” 

“Even when he wants other girls to be his sweetheart.” 

You kick the pebbles into the broken parts of the pavement, leaning your elbows on your knees. 

“I don’t know, Toru. I guess he was just the first guy who ever liked me back and then I….spent so much time in the relationship and trying to make it work that it feels weird to let it go now.” 

Satoru swallows hard, eyeing his melting ice cream, as he ponders the best response. Because in earnest, he has two options. Support you or be selfish. Support you to stay with Toji, to do what you’ve been doing because he knows it’s what you want. Or be selfish. Tell you that he you deserve better, that he could be that for you if you just let him. 

He reaches over, flicking you in the forehead. 

“Ouch, asshole.” 

“You’ve got a really big brain in there. And you always have. You’ll figure out the right thing to do, just give it time.” 

And when you give him a halfhearted smile, reaching over into his cup for a bite of his ice cream, he lets it go. 

He can’t be selfish. Not when it comes to you anyways. 

--

After running around all day, you give yourself thirty minutes to go to Satoru’s robotics thing. After triple checking the microphones work, the yearbook team has access to the field, the glitter has been set out for everyone trickling in, and that everyone who could possibly need your phone number has it, you speed run to the other side of campus, to the robotics lab. 

And when you make it, the five of them - Haibara, Nanami, Shoko, Getou, and Satoru - are in the room playing Just Dance. Shoko’s sitting on top of the desk, flippantly moving her remote in the air, while Satoru quite literally is trying to give it all he’s got - and losing apparently. 

You lightly push the door open, which stops the two of them in their tracks, and you’re met with some very excited cheers as they all drag you into the room. You take a seat next to Nanami, giving his cheek a pinch, which he hates. 

“You’re Haibara, right?” 

“You know who I am?” 

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re friends with Nanami and Nanami and I are best friends.” 

“No we aren’t.” responds Nanami, now sulking two seats away from you. 

“Are too.” 

You throw the nearest object, a pencil at Nanami, as you turn back to Haibara and laugh. 

“I like your shirt. Flight of the Navigator is a really good movie.” 

You see Satoru, Shoko, and Suguru’s eyes widen in the back at your words and hear a considerable amount of groaning from Nanami behind you. And after twenty minutes, you find out why. 

Haibara really, really loves Flight of the Navigator. Almost too much. In earnest, you barely remember the movie - at most, maybe the weird little alien companion he has. But here Haibara is, reciting the cast, the directors, acting out the scenes and it’s clear to you that you’ve tapped into some monster they all keep hidden. 

Luckily for you, Satoru comes to your rescue. 

“Okay, Haibara. I’m going to steal her for you for some Just Dance.” 

“I don’t Just Dance Satoru.” 

“Oh yeah? You’re just saying that because you know you’re going to lose.” 

You scoff, knowing exactly what he’s doing. 

“As if, sweetheart. I distinctly remember you banning us from ever playing that game together after I beat you in the fifth grade.” 

“You’re rusty. Maybe we’ll start with something easy. Like Rasputin.” 

“I could do Rasputin in my sleep, bitch.” 

“Prove it.” 

You roll your eyes as you march over to the front, where they’re projecting the game onto the screen. And just for posterity’s sake, you take Satoru’s sunglasses from where they were flipped over on the desk and put them on, effectively blinding yourself from the screen. 

And when the songs start, you can hear them all laughing behind you, Satoru and you hurling insults at each other as you dance on. And somewhere around the middle, you’re sure Satoru must be losing because he grabs your hands and suddenly he’s swinging you around in the air, his hands on your waist as you laugh. 

And when you take your blindfold off and the song dies down, Satoru wins by five points. 

“You asshole. You literally cheated, Satoru.” 

“Did not. You’re just a sore loser, bitch.” 

“You kiss your mom with that mouth?” 

“Every night, sweetheart.” 

You put the palm of your hand in his face as you push him away, moving to sit on the desk. He joins you, the two of you now watching Haibara and Nanami have a very one sided dance battle. 

After forty-five minutes, Satoru’s phone buzzes three times and the smile on his face drops when he checks. You place your hand on his, squeezing twice before asking. 

“You okay?” 

“Huh. Oh, yeah. I-I think you should go to the field. Right now.” 

“Wait, what? But you hate that kind of-” 

He grabs your hand, dragging you out, as you both start running to the field. You keep asking as he pulls you on, getting almost no response and only a faster pace. 

And when you reach the field, you catch just the end of it and the only thing grounding you to that moment is Satoru and Utahime, who was surely the one who had texted Satoru, holding onto your shoulders. 

Salma, the cheerleader Toji picked to be his sweetheart, just asked him to homecoming during halftime. And he said yes. 

Utahime squeezes your hand three times, a soft look in her eyes when she talks. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just thought you would want to know and I wanted to tell you because you’ve been nothing but nice to me.” 

You smile, moving into her open arms as you whisper a small thank you into her shoulder. She leaves, having to return to the color guard team waiting for her on the side, leaving you and Satoru standing on the pavement right by the field. 

“Take you home?” 

“Thanks, Toru.” 

“You want Jamoca?” 

“Not today.” 

He nods, a hand on the small of your back, as he leads you to his car, even going as far as opening the door for you and letting you crack the windows while you drive back - which you know he hates. 

At the first red light, he taps on the top of your head to get your attention. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” 

“What? Of course, not. Toji is just an asshat who doesn’t see you for what you’re worth and-” 

“No. No, no. Not like that. Do you think there’s something wrong with me because I’m not even the tiniest bit sad right now? I’m…relieved.” 

Satoru looks over, the red front the traffic light flashing on your face, and a blank expression staring back at him. 

“Of course, not. He’s a grade one idiot. Anyone in your position would feel that way, bunny.” 

“I know. That’s true.” 

“But?” 

“Does this make me defective, Satoru? Like, maybe I just can’t like people that much or something and I was the problem.” 

Satoru twiddles his thumbs on the steering wheel, pondering the same question he has been asking for the past few days. Encourage her or be selfish. 

He can’t be selfish with you. 

“Okay, Y/N. Close your eyes.” 

“Huh?” 

“Just do it.” 

“Okay.” 

He looks over, to find you eyelids fluttering shut, your face lit up by the streetlights outside.

“Now. Tell me about your dream guy, bunny.” 

“What are you going on ab-” 

“Just do it.” 

You sigh, before thinking hard about his question. 

“Someone I can be comfortable with. That’s my type. Like we can have fun together and play games but also being around them is comforting to me. Things might suck, but at least they are there to kind of pick me up at the end of the day. They’re nice to people and are surrounded by good company, because you are who you love and they try to be better each day.” 

After finishing, you open your eyes to find Satoru staring at you, an all-knowing look on his face. 

“Bunny?” 

“Toru?” 

“Does that sound anything like Toji to you?” 

You slump back into your chair, sinking down. 

“No.” you murmur. 

“You aren’t defective. Well, maybe in the higher level cognitive thinking part because you clearly have some impaired decision making but-” 

“Hey. Don’t be rude, asshole.” 

“Get out of the car.” 

You crane your head out the window to see you’re in fact not at your house, but at the ice cream store. And when he comes around to your side of the car, opening your door, he drags you out, the two of you eating you ice cream in the light of the dingy lamp outside the store. 

--

You knock hard on your window, only stopping when Satoru looks up from his desk, dropping the pencil he was just scribbling with. You point to your walkie talkie, switching on the channel as he grabs his. 

“Hi bunny. You look nice.” 

“Thank you. Are you coming tonight?” 

To homecoming. Because despite all odds and last night, you still have to go. And crown the homecoming king and queen since you’re the class president, which you’re sure will be Salma and Toji since the universe is very, very kind to you. 

“I’m sorry. Haibara needed help designing something for next week.” 

“Oh. Okay. I wish you were.” 

“I wish I was too. His hardware is Flight of the Navigator themed so wish me luck.” 

You laugh, giving him one last smile as he pulls the curtains to his window. And when you see his navy windows against the pane you’ve stared at him through for years, it only now occurs to you. 

When he asked you to describe that last night, he unlocked something. Bringing it to your attention, to the forefront of your mind. 

The person you were describing is him. You lift your walkie talkie to your mouth, press the button, and mention the words you forgot to say. 

I love you.

And then you turn on your heel and drive yourself to the dance. 

--

Satoru ponders it for thirty minutes. 

Support her or be selfish. Support her or be selfish. Support her or be selfish. 

Be fucking selfish. 

Satoru gets up, dropping the hardware he was making for Haibara, and pulls out the first suit he can find. He grabs his walkie talkie off his desk, convinces Megumi to go beg your mom (who loves Megumi) for your walkie talkie, and then goes ninety on the freeway to get to the school on time. 

He finds Nanami first, the glob of gel on his head somehow even worse than normal and sets his plan in motion. 

“Nanami.” 

“Please, for the love of god, not tod-” 

“Go hand this to Y/N.” 

Nanami and now Shoko are taking the walkie in their hands, flipping it over and inspecting it like they’re the fucking FBI. And more importantly, wasting time. 

Three feet away, you’re standing by the punch table, counting how many balloons are on the ceiling. You reach three hundred and fifteen when you’re approached for the first time that night, by Nanami and Shoko. 

“Nanami. What is going on with your hair? You can’t possibly need that much hair gel.”

“You would be shocked, Y/N.” 

“That's what I said to him too. But this is for you.” Shoko says.

She hands you your walkie talkie, the silver glitter coming off on your hand, as you flip it over. 

“Did you break into my house, Shoko?” 

“No. But I’m guessing Satoru did. He ran in here five minutes ago and basically yelled at us to give it to you.” 

They both shrug as they walk away and you look around, clutching the walkie talkie so hard in your hand you think you might break it. Satoru’s here.

And when you scan your eyes around the room, you see him at the front door, his eyes already fixed on yours. He’s smiling so big that it makes your heart squelch and suddenly you’re moving towards him. And as you both start walking (running) to each other, you can’t help but feel the anticipation of what’s coming. 

Except that’s right when Toji stands in the middle of the two of you, his characteristic slimy, sneer on his face. He reaches for your hand first. 

“Can we talk, Y/N?” 

"No."

You shrug your hand off, pushing right past him, as you walk closer to Satoru. You can hear Toji shouting something at you, but you’re too tunnel visioned on Satoru to pay attention. And when you reach him, you’re both smiling so big at each other, that it makes your face hurt. 

He lifts his walkie talkie to his mouth, talking first. 

“Come in, bunny?” 

“Loud and clear, Toru.” 

“I love you.” 

You can feel yourself smiling so big, so excited that you’re basically jumping on your toes, your walkie shaking in your hand. 

“I love you.” 

“Oh thank god. I was scared I was going to get a breaking and entering charge.”

You laugh, pulling him down by his tie and kissing him square on his face. And when he pulls away, ears pink and face red, you whisper against his lips. 

“It was always going to be you. I belong with you.” 

He smiles, that stupid smile you’ve stared at, loved for years and you can’t help but cheese, leaning forward to kiss him again.

--

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog @platrom  @k0z3me  @kayleegomez  @yihona-san06  @bsenpai @sweetenertea  @skzismyhome  @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters  @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @squirrelspoetry

[perlelune]

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | vi.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

"You know you shouldn’t lead him on like that," Mindy muses from your bed, her eyes not lifting from the Stephen King novel she’s engrossed in. 

You place your phone above the vanity drawer after hanging up. You just decided on another study meetup with Ethan. 

It’s been a few weeks since he began tutoring you. There’s been a sharp improvement in your grades and you’re starting to believe that maybe you’ll be able to graduate just like the rest of your friends. 

Before, all those things felt as unreachable as the stars in the sky. But Ethan, with his kindness and unlimited supply of patience, made it a reality. 

Sure, you won’t be a top student anytime soon, but at least now there’s hope of you not failing the course and falling behind. 

"What? I’m not leading him on. Ethan and I are just friends," you defend, puckering your lips as you apply the finishing touches to your makeup before the big game. Your gaze keeps bouncing to the clock. The playoffs begin in a little less than an hour. 

Tensions are high tonight. This is no regular game as whichever team wins will go on to compete in the national championship. 

It’s one of the reasons Chad and most of the guys on the team have been in a weird mood all week. 

Besides, honor’s at stake when a team plays on their own turf. 

The pressure’s been off the charts for the cheer squad too, Alana having run the team into the ground to perform well today and not miss a single step. 

Despite how exhausted you are, you’re almost thankful for that. Focusing on cheerleading has helped you file away that god awful night. 

The humiliation you experienced still burns a hole inside you whenever you remember it.

While you can’t quite shake the lingering sensation of being watched, you can at least try to reclaim a semblance of normalcy. 

Hopefully Ghostface had his fill of tormenting you and won’t do anything like that ever again. 

Mindy arches her brow and scoffs, "It’s pretty obvious he’s got some desperate puppy crush on you." Under her breath, she mumbles, "...And I’m still not entirely convinced he’s not Ghostface."

You pause, the tip of your lipstick almost snapping as you press it tight against your mouth. You unleash a heavy sigh and whirl to her, brows drawing together.

"Mindy, please. Not that again," you plead. 

It's not the first time your best friend has shared her doubts regarding Ethan and you wager it won't be the last.

Every time she catches you texting him or hanging out, disapproval paints her features. She also squints and gestures at him that she’s watching him whenever she crosses paths with him. 

It saddens you that she can’t get along with him and won’t relent regarding her suspicions. 

Ethan’s helped you so much. It’s unfair that your best friend keeps claiming he’s a murderer without any evidence to back it up. 

And outside of tutoring, he’s been a great friend to you, always here to wipe your tears and listen to you talk about anything, however trivial. Every time you ramble on about cartoons, your collection of stuffed animals and how you’d love to get more, clothes or anything really…Ethan wears that same fond smile on his face. 

Outside of Chad, you never had a guy best friend. Unfortunately since getting into college, you haven’t seen much of him since he’s so well liked and has developed such a large circle of friends. 

So Ethan’s a breath of fresh air. 

You relish the ability to talk without fear of judgment or being belittled for the things you pluck joy from or how forgetful and absentminded you can be sometimes. 

Ethan has not made fun of you once for misremembering a word or your tendency to get lost around campus. Instead, he escorted you to class and promised to be with you more often so it doesn’t happen. He also agreed with you that it’s not your fault because every building looks the same, which everyone in your friend group laughed at you for mentioning before.

Mindy leaps from the bed, exclaiming, "Come on, Ethan? Shy, dorky guy who no one suspects because he’s so shy and dorky." She lets out a humorless laugh. "Maybe he went all 'if I can’t have you, no one can' and decided to get rid of the competition…permanently."

Your eyes roll as she concludes her theory with a repeated stabbing motion towards her throat.  

"You’re ridiculous." You get back to gauging your reflection. As you adjust the pink bow in your hair, you add, "Ethan’s cool. And I can actually understand some of the stuff Professor Atkins says in class now thanks to him."

In the mirror, you watch a sullen Mindy fold her arms behind you. 

"I still don’t trust him." She flicks her hands skyward and exhales in defeat. "But I can’t tell you who to hang out with."

You step away from the vanity to make your way to your pouting best friend. She accepts your hug, a deep scowl still etched on her face. 

"Let’s just drop it, okay?" you offer. "I hate arguing with you."

Mindy sighs against your shoulder.

"I’m just trying to keep you safe."

Leaning back, you squeeze her shoulders and smile. 

"I know, and I love you for it…but you gotta ease off him, Min." She groans at that, tossing herself back onto your bed with her arms spread. As she glowers at the ceiling, you maintain, "Ethan’s been an amazing friend to me."

More curses are grumbled under her breath. Shoulders slumping, you elect to give it a rest and stop trying to convince her. 

You know how stubborn Mindy can be. There will be no changing her mind tonight, or anytime soon. 

Casting the upsetting topic aside, you hop to the center of the room and spin in your cheerleader outfit.

"How do I look?"

"Like a fembot specifically designed to appeal to the male gaze," Mindy deadpans. 

You angle your head sideways. "Is that a good thing or bad thing?"

She chuckles and smiles at you before elaborating, "You look smoking hot, babe." The befuddled frown on your face vanishes, an elated grin supplanting it. Mindy returns to her reading and gives you a thumbs-up. "Break a leg."

Grimacing, you grab your pom-poms from underneath your bed and head for the door. 

"Hopefully not or Alana will kill me."

You’re on your way to meet up with your squad when you stumble upon Ethan in the hallway. As usual, he’s dressed simply in a blue button-up and dark slacks, damp locks of his curly mane kissing his forehead. 

He greets you in that bashful way he does while you beam at him, shaking your pom-poms. 

You jog in his direction with a bounce in each step.

"Ethan, hey!"

His gaze widens as it roams over you, pink dusting his cheeks. 

"Wow, you look…"

Placing a hand on your hip while the other lifts your pom-pom above your head, you adopt a cheerful pose. 

"Cute?" you suggest. 

Ethan’s throat ripples as he gapes at you. 

For a while, he only does that, stare at you open-mouthed. 

His face then turns an even brighter shade than before as he dips his head down momentarily. 

"Y-Yeah. Something like that," he stammers. 

His reaction drags an amused chortle out of you. You surmise it’s the first time you’ve addressed him in your full cheerleader getup and he must be somewhat taken aback. 

"I didn’t know you liked sports," you observe.

He shrugs.

"Not particularly but everyone is going and Chad’s my roommate." He points at the camera hanging from his neck. "I also kind of got roped into taking pictures for the school paper."

Some of the other cheerleaders wave at you as they’re running out to the field. The impatient clamor of the crowd already swells from the bleachers, loud enough to be heard even from the corridor. 

One of the girls from the squad, Lisa, stops as she catches sight of you and Ethan. A quiet conversation flows between the two of you, an inquiry swaying in her hopeful blue orbs. 

You give her an imperceptible nod and she smiles at you, quickly averting her gaze and striding away when Ethan glances from her to you with a look of utter confusion on his face. 

"What the hell was that about?" he asks, thick brows drawing together.

"About that…It’s good that I ran into you because there's something I meant to tell you, hm, more like ask you."

He inches closer, his eyes on you wide and alert. 

"Ask me what?"

A sliver of hesitation zips through you but you remember the promise you made just a few hours ago at cheer practice. 

You can’t back down. 

You swallow a lungful of nerve and reveal, "So…one of the girls in my squad sort of has a massive crush on you."

"Oh," he exhales, his shoulders sagging. His smile fades, understanding seeming to dawn on him. "You mean that girl I just saw?"

You nod and explain,  "Her name’s Lisa." He considers you blankly. You wave your hands in front of yourself. Words rush out of your mouth in an apprehensive string. "I know. I know. Trying to set up your friends is so cringe but she noticed you since the beginning of the year. The thing is she’s shy and doesn't know how to approach you. I promised her to ask you if you’d be interested in hanging out sometime." You twiddle your thumbs and mumble, "She’s super pretty and so nice, and she’s even into that same board game you told me about the other day…" You trail off, forehead creasing as you try to remember the name. 

Ethan tonelessly corrects you when you misspell the name of the game. 

You perk up and giggle, "Right. She just told me. I don't know how I forgot."

Ethan studies you long enough that it becomes unnerving and you start fidgeting under his sizzling focus. 

You grow nervous, wondering what he’s thinking. Usually, you wouldn’t meddle with anyone’s love life. But Ethan’s done so much for you. If possible, you want to do something for him too.

You just don’t know what you could do to thank him. 

Setting him up with someone from your squad seemed like a good idea, especially since you’re pretty sure Ethan’s single. You haven’t seen him hang around any other girl besides you. 

A heavy sigh drops from Ethan’s chest as his lips lift into a small half-smile. 

"The thing is, I already like someone," he confesses, patting his camera.

Your eyes bulge as a wave of embarrassment washes over you. 

"You do? I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize." You blink up at him in curiosity. "Who is she? Does she know?"

He chuckles. "She doesn’t know anything."

You approach him and squeeze his arm encouragingly. 

"Well you’re awesome so if she can’t see what’s right in front of her, you’re allowed to move on."

Ethan lets out another wry laugh. 

"If only it were that simple."

Your brows knit. "What do you mean?"

He runs his hand through his thick curls and exhales a long, weary breath. 

"She’s all I can think about. Literally." He pauses, his gaze corralling yours. "Every hour of every day, I think about her."

"Wow, that’s intense." You rub his forearm and send a sympathetic smile. "Sounds like it’s more than just a crush. Sounds like you’re in love with her."

"Yeah, I guess I am. Silly me, huh?"

"Don’t say that. I’m sure things will work out in the end. You deserve to be happy, Ethan."

His attention on you sharpens before a slow smile unfurls on his lips. 

"You know what? I think I do."

"Of course you do."

Your answer makes him smile wider. 

The moment is shattered when one of the players wedges himself between you and Ethan and steals an ephemeral, chaste kiss from you. 

The buff brunette quarterback flashes you a pearly grin.

"A kiss for good luck?" he says, winking at you.

"Uh, sure," you reply shyly, butterflies swarming your belly. 

He smiles at you one last time before jogging towards the stadium. 

"Who’s this guy?"

You blink, Ethan’s deep, blunt voice startling you. 

Pivoting back to him, you explain, "Oh. Tyler and I met at the boba shop the other day. It’s too early for anything serious but he’s cute and has been super nice to me."

It’s been pleasant to bask in some sense of normalcy again after what happened last month. You craved it. Tyler’s easygoing, fun to be around and he’s never pressured you to do anything once. 

Ethan’s jaw clenches as he scoffs, "Do you just go for every guy who buys you candy or gives you some half-assed compliment?"

Your mouth hangs open in shock. "Ethan? What do you mean?" 

He scrutinizes you for a few seconds before sighing and moving to walk away. 

"Nothing. Don’t worry about it."

The hand you wrap around his wrist stops him, Ethan halting in his tracks. You tug him back with a contrite pout, your concerned gaze rising to meet his. 

"I am going to worry about it. Ethan… Did I say something upsetting? I feel like maybe I did. I'm sorry about Lisa. I thought she'd be your type. She's everyone's type."

"Well, she isn't mine," he replies icily. 

Budding tears tickle the back of your eyes but you repress them. It’s not the time to weep. The game’s about to start. 

So you swallow them with ease, deciding you’ll give Ethan a proper apology later on. 

Instead you give a sunny smile and ask, "Are you coming to hang out with everyone after the game? We all decided to meet up for chili fries and beers whatever the outcome is."

Ethan’s eyes fall on your hand wrapped around his wrist. He shifts your grip so your small hand rests in his larger one. He studies your twined hands, rubbing his thumb against the back of yours. 

When he looks at you again, a glint dances in his chestnut orbs. 

"Thanks but I’m gonna be busy actually." He flashes you a broad grin. "I just remembered I have some trash I need to take out."

~

[its-time-to-write]

how about a Jamie x reader fic when they go away to Amsterdam they sit together on bus and they wake up cuddling and then there’s an issue w hotel booking and there’s a one bed trope and they end up waking up cuddled together and then they admit feelings and reader goes to game with a tartt jersey on <3

I’ve been thinking about this forever, and I’m terribly sorry it took so long!! I do enjoy being an adult, but I’m at a point in life where I don’t have much free time and if I do, I use it to sleep😂

I really miss the days when Ted Lasso was still airing and the x reader tags had new content every day. I feel like that one meme of Thanos when he’s like “Fine. I’ll do it myself.” Shoutout to all y’all who are still here and reading my stuff! Love you!!

smile at me

It’s straight-up fucked. It really, really is. But also maybe it’s good, as Keeley pointed out, because not having a boyfriend anymore means you can focus on yourself?

Or something. 

Of course he had to break up with you right before leaving for Amsterdam. Hell, he broke up with you because you were leaving for Amsterdam. 

“I don’t want you going to another country with a bunch of other guys,” he had said. “It’s them or me.”

“It’s literally my job,” you told him. 

Apparently, that didn’t matter. 

But what-fucking-ever, you’re at Keeley’s waiting for a car to take you to the airport, and she’s promised to make sure you don’t think about your stupid ex even once. 

It’s times like these you wish Ted were still here with a spot-on pun and some dad-type advice. All you ever get from Beard is a weird anecdote and a vaguely threatening look. 

Keeley chatters on for the entirety of the ride to the airport, through customs, and all the way to the lounge. 

“You’re gonna get loads of great content for the socials, babe. Candids, action shots, behind-the-scenes. Friendlies are fucking amazing!”

Last time Richmond were in Amsterdam, they had lost horribly. They’re hoping to make up for it this time around. 

The plane is full of Greyhounds, both footballers and coaches alike, with Rebecca at the very front. Keeley plops done in the seat next to her as Dani waves at you from the middle. 

“I saved you a seat!” he calls. You smile as Sam takes your bag to put it in the overhead. “Thanks, Dani. You excited?”

Dani grins. “I think this time I am ready to see a whole field of tulips!”

You laugh as the lads roll their eyes. Jamie leans across the aisle toward you and says, “Oi, what’s the twat doing while you’re away?” 

You press your lips into a thin line. “Not a clue.”

He raises an eyebrow and says, “You break up with him?”

“He broke up with me.”

Jamie twists his face into a scoff. “And you wonder why I call him the fucking twat. Prick. Bet it was so he could finally fuck his coworker.”

You shrug. Jamie’s never liked your boyfriend. It’s not like you were together long, only a few months. And sure, he was a little bit of a twat, but sue you. You had a special place in your heart for pricks with a heart of gold, only he didn’t even have a heart at all. 

“You should date someone better,” Jamie continues. 

You glare at him and retort, “Oh yeah, because it’s just that easy. You got some one in mind?”

Jamie gives you his most angelic look and says, “What about me?” which makes half the plane dissolve into laughter, yourself included. 

“Cheers, Jamie,” you say as you wipe your eyes. “I needed that.”

A strange look crosses his face, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual cocky expression. “Anytime, love,” he replies as you turn to start a conversation with Dani. 

As much as you’d like that, Jamie would never date you. His joke stings a little but you brush it off. Maybe you’ll find another twat in Amsterdam to distract yourself from the fact that you’re half in love with Jamie Tartt.

—

“I’m sorry, we don’t have a booking under you name,” the hotel concierge says.

You tap your nails to your wrist. “Are you positive? I’m with AFC Richmond, they should’ve had one.”

The concierge taps on his computer for a moment before shaking his head. “No, I’m afraid we don’t have anything. And all of our rooms are booked this weekend. Might I recommend the hotel down the road?”

Damn it. There’s no way this is happening. Everyone else has gotten to their rooms without a hitch and here you are, alone in the lobby as you pull out your phone to call Keeley. There’s no way this is fucking happening. 

“Everything alright?” asks a voice behind you, and you jump. 

“They don’t have a room for me, and they’re fully booked,” you explain. 

Jamie looks at the concierge, who shrugs apologetically, then back to you. He asks, “Why don’t you share with me?” and you frown. 

“I thought you were rooming with Declan,” you say. 

Jamie lifts a shoulder. “Yeah, but he switched with Richard because O’Brien fucking snores and he don’t give a shit.”

You say, “So you’re with Richard, then,” and he shakes his head. 

“Nah, Richard’s with Jan.”

“I thought Dani was with Jan,” you say. These fucking footballers. What’s the point in having set rooms if they’re just going to switch it all up.

“Dani is with Jan,” Jamie says patiently, as if this all the most obvious thing in the world. “But Dani’s a cuddler, so he’s probably going to fucking end up with, I don’t know, Isaac or someone. Which means I get a room all to meself.”

“Right,” you say slowly. “Alright, I can do that. As long as you don’t mind.”

Jamie winks. “Sharing a room with a pretty girl for four days? Ain’t a problem, love.”

You laugh and follow him to the elevator.

—

It feels a bit like playing with fire, agreeing to room with Jamie. Especially since you’re freshly single and definitely open to a rebound. But there will be two beds and a lot of space and anyway, you’ll be busy with the match and social media, respectively. 

Except as soon as you walk through the door, you realize there’s a tiny little hitch.

“There’s one bed,” you blurt out, so surprised you’re unable to filter your words. Jamie blushes a little bit as he says, “Yeah, um, Cockburn and I hate sleeping alone, so we asked for one. He grew up sharing a bed with his brothers and I just fucking hate being alone. I can sleep on the couch if you want.”

“No,” you say firmly, “you need good rest. It’s not a problem.”

It’s not a problem. 

Or at least it wouldn’t have been if Isaac had been a shittier captain. 

But as it is he’s great, so he’s got the whole team going out to dinner at a pre-determined location complete with a dress code of no t-shirts and apparently you count as part of the team, so you have to go too. You’re in your massive bathroom trying to curl your disgusting travel hair when Jamie walks in wearing one of those white hotel bathrobes.

He asks, “You mind if I’m in here?” so you shake your head, struck temporarily mute by his bare clavicle. Fucking hell, you feel like a repressed Victorian woman. 

Jamie says, “Mint,” and goes about his alarmingly detailed skincare routine. You’re pretty sure you’re done with your hair so you crane your neck in an attempt to check the back. 

“Missed a spot,” Jamie says. “Want me to get it for you?”

You shoot him a dubious look but hand him the curler. He runs a hand through your hair, picking up the offending strand and it’s all you can do not to shiver. 

“Mum taught me,” he explains and you nod ever so slightly, not wanting him to accidentally burn your neck. Jamie says, “All good,” and runs his whole hand through your hair this time, making the curls bounce. 

You choke out, “Thanks,” and hurriedly put away your things, desperate to leave before Jamie can pick up on the fact that you can barely handle being in the same room as him, and that you have great concerns about what the night will bring. 

—

“You look fucking hot,” is the first thing Rebecca says when you meet her in the lobby. Keeley looks mildly offended that Rebecca took the words out of her mouth, but she just laughs and taps your arm. 

“Gonna break a few hearts tonight, yeah?” she grins.

You’re not sure about that, especially since dinner turns out to be a very domestic affair. It’s loud, sure, but it’s definitely toned down since it’s a pre-match celebration instead of a post-match one. You’re with Sam, Keeley, and Roy with Jamie far, far away. You push all thoughts of him from your brain only for memories of your ex to surface. You frown. 

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” Roy says and for a moment, you think he’s talking to you. But he’s actually talking to Jamie who has moved from his place across the restaurant to right behind your chair. 

“Fuck off grandad,” Jamie says good-naturedly. “Wanted to tell this one that some of the lads are going out dancing after this. Not too late,” he hastily adds at Roy’s burning scowl, “just for two hours and we’re only allowed one drink.”

You’re pretty sure that’s a bit more liberal than Roy likes, but he nods his head slightly so he must be in a good mood.

“So, you coming?” Jamie asks and before you can reply Sam and Keeley chorus, “Yes she is.”

You give Keeley a Look before turning back to Jamie. “Guess I am,” you reply.

The smile Jamie gives you does more to make your head spin than any amount of alcohol you’ve had in your lifetime.

—

Jamie has taken it upon himself to wipe that frown off your face. He might have been watching you over dinner and that might have been why he chose that exact moment to invite you out, but he’ll never fucking admit it to anyone except Sam. And Keeley. And maybe Cockburn when it was the off-season and they were a little tipsy. (But not drunk, never drunk.) 

So yeah, sue him if he’s spinning you around on the crowded dance floor just because it makes you laugh. It’s not his fault that he’s been wildly in love with you since the day Higgins hired you. It’s not his fault that you’re easy to be around and have the most beautiful smile he’s seen in his life. 

And fuck, it certainly isn’t his fault you can’t see in yourself what others do. Why you settled for a piece of shit like your ex, he’ll never know. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do his best to show you how special you are. He knows you’ll never feel the same about him, but maybe he can help you level up your standards. Maybe if you’re with someone good, it’ll hurt less that it’s not him. 

So he lets you hold his hand for the entirety of the two hours that the team is out and doesn’t say a word when you don’t let go in the cab back to the hotel. 

You’ve gotten that closed-off look in your eyes again, the one that means you’re thinking about your ex, so Jamie knocks his shoulder into yours and asks why he can’t have the password to the team’s Instagram account, which is a sure fire way to get you to lecture him on irresponsibility and aesthetics and the best way to get your eyes to come back to life.

—

Honestly, it’s easier to fall asleep than you might have expected. It’s a big bed and you’re fucking tired. 

You just didn’t expect to wake up in the middle of the night crying, but it’s always fucking like this when you go through a breakup. You go to sleep fine and wake up sad, so you do your best not to wake up Jamie except you’ve both ended up entangled in each other’s arms, so he can feel you shaking. 

“Hey,” Jamie says in a soft voice, “You’re okay, love.”

You half expect him to push you away once he realizes you’re so close, but he only pulls you closer and presses a kiss to your forehead. Maybe it’s because you’re both half-asleep, but it feels like the most natural thing in the world. 

You sigh and settle into him, drifting off in a matter of moments. 

—

You wake up to a pair of blue eyes watching you. 

“How you feeling?” Jamie asks, voice gravelly with sleep. 

You just blink at him. It’s hard to form coherent sentences within the first ten seconds of waking up, and even harder with the memory of Jamie’s arms around you last night. 

Wait. Not just the memory. The present reality because neither of you have moved. 

Jamie misinterprets your silence and begins to extricate his arms.

“Sorry,” he says, “I’m not to trying to like, cross and fucking boundary or something. Should’ve left you alone.”

You’re still not awake enough to talk so you grab him to stop him from moving away. He gives you a questioning look so you say, “I wouldn’t have agreed to share a bed if I thought you were a creep.”

Jamie grins. “So like, if Jan had offered to share a room you’d’ve said no.”

You wrinkle your nose as you say, “Jan’s not a creep.”

“He’s the fucking worst,” Jamie grumbles, “And anyway, can we not talk about Jan fucking Maas this early in the morning?”

“Sure,” you say, “let’s talk about something else.”

Despite your comment, you both lapse into silence. You’re enraptured by Jamie’s blue eyes. You’ve never been able to study them this close before, and you want to take this opportunity to memorize every fleck of green. 

Jamie seems to have a similar thought, except his gaze flicks to your lips. 

“I have morning breath,” you tell him and he says, “Real men don’t give a shit, babe,” before leaning forward.

It’s softer than you’d expected, sweeter. 

It’s also strange to think that you’re making out with Jamie in bed, and that he’s the one who initiated it.

The thought is so absurd that you giggle, mid-kiss. Jamie breaks away and says, “Oi, there’s no way that was a shit kiss.”

“No,” you say between giggles, “it’s just weird that we’re doing this. Like, how are we supposed to look each other in the eye after?”

Jamie moves so he can look at you better, and you roll from your side to your back. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“Oh come on, we share a room and a bed, we kiss because I have all these sad feelings and you’re feeling a lot of emotions about the match, and then we have to work together after. It’s silly.”

Jamie cocks his head. “That’s what you think is happening?”

“Yes?” you say. None of this is going how it’s supposed to. “What do you think is happening?”

“I like you,” he says, and there is absolutely no mistaking his meaning. 

“Oh,” you reply in a small voice. “Since when?”

“Since before you started dating the twat. When Higgins introduced ya to the team.”

“That’s a fucking long time ago!” you exclaim. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Jamie rubs his face. “Yeah, ‘cept you showed up to work tellin’ everyone how you started dating the twat. And I ain’t a home wrecker.”

You groan. “Fuuuck. I literally only dated him to try to get over you.”

Jamie shoots up. “What?!”

“Yeah,” you say, “I’ve been like a little bit in love with you ever since you winked at me during that first promo I did.”

Jamie blows out a breath. “Okay. Think that’s enough talking. C’mere. We’re making out proper, like, then we’re going to breakfast.”

You grin as you climb onto his lap.