#au: man of the match | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

honeyhoshi · 2 months

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hat trick!

the term 'hat-trick' is used to define when a player achieves the feat of scoring three goals in a single game.

summary: the first half of the championships is going to their opponents and everyone is looking to mingyu to lead the team to victory. as their star player, it’s a tall order, especially when his plate is already full with you.

this a part of the man of the match universe

genre: professional football (soccer) au, porn with a little plot

wordcount: 5,616

pairing: mingyu x afab!reader

warnings: HEAVY DDlg kink, HEAVY d/s themes, both parties are safe, sane, and consenting adults, reader is implied to be significantly smaller than mingyu, huge mingyu, big dick gyu (canon), (acknowledged???) exhibitionism, unprotected sex (pls dont do it, its not worth it), multiple sex scenes, spit kink (bec i wrote it), creampie (also bec i wrote it), mentions of masturbation, size kink go bbrrrr, bulge kink, pussy stretching, plenty dirty talk, mingyu uses soooo many nicknames (pretty, baby, princess, etc.)

author's notes: this is written for my dearest friend @madeforgyu who helped me bring forward!mingyu to life and for making his gf such a joy to write. thank you also to her for inspiring me to come back to tumblr after almost a decade.

Mingyu is pissed. He’s absolutely fucking livid.

This game had to have been fucking cooked. There was no way the ref was making all these shitty calls for him not to be paid off or something. The team had been making all the right moves but the second something seems like a foul, a whistle blows and somehow it's always someone from the Diamonds getting the blame.

Mingyu had come to four attempted goals on target and any other time was deemed offside by the refs. If he sees that fucking checkered flag go up one more time before they call for half time he’s going to really give them a reason for a red card.

Any other day he’d probably be able to brush it off after the half time break. But this isn’t any other day or any other match. It was the last match of the season — it was the Korean FA Cup final.

The 23-24 season was grueling but rewarding for the Diamonds. After the major upset at finishing as runners up in the season prior, the whole squad had come into this season with fire under their asses. The change in coaches was another thing — while their ex-manager, Mr. Cho was a hardass, their tearful promise to give him a win even after his retirement paired with Seungcheol’s no-bullshit coach style took them from 100% to 250% in the space of the off season.

Mingyu’s never been a better football player. Which is why he’s unhappy when the half time whistle does blow and they’re down 0-2.

Both teams shuffle into the tunnel to head to their locker rooms where their managers and coaching staff were waiting. Then Mingyu sees a flurry of pink shuffling through the mess of white and red kits.

“Excuse me, excuse mee, coming through please,” comes a light voice, parting the crowd.

There are a couple of chuckles and greetings coming from his teammates and even a high five and a “hey tiny!” from Hoshi before it finds its way in front of him.

It’s his girlfriend. It’s you.

Your presence at the game is no anomaly. You’re pretty much a permanent fixture, sort of like the 12th man of the team. Except you can’t play football for shit and you’re always somehow wearing the worst shoes for going on the pitch.

Everyone on the Diamonds’ side knows you — from the press, to the coaching staff, even some of the nutritionists. You’ve been with Mingyu forever. You hardly phase anyone around you when you bat your eyes at Mingyu and grab one of his hands in both of yours.

Mingyu tries to harden his glare at you, doing his best to send a look of displeasure at whatever it is you’re trying to pull.

“I’m soooorry,” you start, playfully rocking on the balls of your feet and trying to tiptoe to get closer to him.

Mingyu almost wants to roll his eyes.

The last of the team coaches enter the locker room but before the door closes, Seungcheol peeks out and meets Mingyu’s eyes. Hoshi’s head pops out next to him shortly after.

“I don’t have to tell you anything, I’m sure," Seungcheol starts, “But you’ve got 10 minutes, Gyu.”

“Tiny, I need my forward in tip top shape, alright?” comes Hoshi’s laugh.

Now Mingyu really rolls his eyes.

You can’t help the giggle that bubbles out, “Aye aye captain!”

You don’t have to be told twice when Mingyu drags you into an extra locker room and says “Skirt up, pretty.”

He makes quick work of slamming the door shut, not even bothering to lock the door. But he does flick the lights open. He wants to see. He has to see all of you.

When he turns around he clicks his tongue at you seated on one of the benches. You’re still rolling your underwear down your legs. They’re a completely useless pair. Though he admits most of your underwear is useless, either too frilly, flimsy, just there for decoration. It’s okay. He likes pretty things. No wonder he likes you so much.

“Uh-uh, doubletime princess. No time for the usual. I need to come before stepping back on that fucking pitch.”

Mingyu’s agitation from his sub par showing during the first half is bubbling under his skin. He’s been stiffening under his shorts since he saw you shuffling through the tunnel and the minute you grabbed his hands, the only thing in his head was how badly he needed to stuff you with his cock.

He grimaces at the pout on your lips as you finally untangle that stupid lacey thing from your frilly socks and platform sneakers. Mingyu grabs your wrist and drags you up against the wall that isn’t lined with lockers. He presses your front against the wall and uses his knee to spread your legs apart.

On instinct you stick out your ass, eager already despite him still being fully dressed, wiggling slightly to show him you want this too.

With quick, practiced fingers Mingyu undoes the knot of his bottoms and pushes down his compression shorts low enough to pull his cock out. He breathes a sigh of relief because finally he can flip up your skirt and see just how needy you are.

He has one large hand wrapped around his equally large cock and inspecting the view in front of him. His other hand settles on the roundness of your ass, grasping slightly to spread you open. He eyes your pink puckered hole and allows his gaze to move down to your pussy. He’s pumping himself roughly to get himself to full hardness as he eyes the slick that’s seeping between your lips. You’re almost jealous. That’s your job.

Once he’s satisfied with himself, he lets his cock rest between your cheeks, and he grasps you on both sides to squeeze. You want to cry, almost scared he’ll get off like this, just fucking the tightness of your pressed asscheeks. It’s almost quiet save for his panting and the way your slick cunt is starting to wet his cock.

So you whine loudly, that unimpressed, unsatisfied one that precedes a—

“Daddyyyyyyyy!”

Fuck there it is.

Mingyu grimaces and clicks his tongue again. No use being quiet now. Or ever, really. Everyone knows anyway.

He turns you around quickly, hoisting you up in his arms and moving to wrap your legs around his slender waist. This position has your pussy pressing up against the underside of his cock and the slight relief it gives you makes you nearly sob.

Instead you whine. You whine and start to grind sloppily as the feeling of delirium starts to course through you. It comes naturally when it comes to Mingyu. You’re addicted and so is he.

Even if your bare cunt is already pressed against him and all Mingyu has to do is angle your hips slightly to slip in, he goes the extra mile.

He supports your smaller frame with one hand and uses the other to lift a corner of his jersey to his teeth so he can bite it. He pulls it up high enough to expose his stomach and your mouth waters at the sight.

Mingyu looks good. He always looks good and he knows you like it when he’s on display for you as well. The dips and groves of his stomach, how it's still damp from the sweat from the first half, has you clenching around nothing.

He feels it against his cock and he quickly decides to quit playing around. You two probably have around 6 minutes and not a second to lose. So he flips the front of your skirt up and groans at the sight of you.

You’re soaked and coating his cock as you try to grind against him, a futile attempt to somewhat relieve yourself.

So Mingyu pulls away slightly to position the head of his cock at your entrance.

“D’you play with yourself at all, sweetheart?” He says, tapping the large head of his cock against your clit.

“Huh?” comes your confused response.

“I asked my dumb baby if she played with this little pussy?” He answers meanly.

You flush. It’s like a routine for you to stay with Mingyu the night before a game, allowing him to let off steam and go into a game day glowing and stress free while you sit on his lap in the team bus full of his cum from your morning fuck.

But the night before the cup finals had you attending a work event at the last minute because of a scheduling issue that had both you and Mingyu pissed off and horny.

You suppose that’s partly to blame for the first half that had even you swearing at the refs from your seat in his private box.

“Just a little—“

He clicks his tongue, “How many fingers d’you use?”

“Just two daddy, a-and I stopped!” you cry almost petulantly.

“Yeah, baby? Why’d you stop?”

“Because it was no good!” You bounce in his hold slightly, biting your lower lip as he continues to tease your entrance and clit. Just the head of his cock was enough to get you this wound up.

He grins. It’s brilliant and handsome and just so fucking mean because he says, “Thats right. Two of my dumb baby’s fingers are nothing on daddy’s cock,” and pushes into you.

Mingyu has always been so big and thick and you have always always been so much smaller than him, his cock always stretching a little painfully when he first slips in. But today, with such little time and even spending the night away from each other, the stretch punches the breath from your lungs.

You squeal in equal parts delight and distress and Mingyu sets a brutal pace, not even letting you settle into the feeling of him inside of you.

But you understand. You’re his good girl so you look at him with big teary eyes, bottom lip in between your teeth and nod dumbly at him. Words fail you whenever he’s inside you but it’s okay. It’s better than okay.

You two have long established how nothing nothing in this world makes you happier than when he uses you as he wants, when slips into you whenever he wants, and calls you his princess while destroying your insides.

His eyes are transfixed on where the two of you meet and you can’t help but follow his gaze. It’s absolutely lewd how you wrap around his cock, airtight, and how the sloppy noise echoes in the room.

“Look at my little pussy,” he starts, “my perfect little hole. My baby’s little cunt was made for me.”

Your cries are growing needier, louder, and more depraved. At the back of your mind you remember to worry about how tonight's the championship match and that the halls are surely bustling with press, staff, and even the opposing team. But Mingyu is fucking you so deep, so fast, that he’s literally fucking the thoughts out of your head.

You fight to stay with him in this room, in this moment, but before your eyes completely shut close, you feel his hand wrap around your throat.

“Daddy’s running out of time, baby,” he says, “so be a good girl and stay still for daddy, huh?”

You whine and nod as his hips move faster and he cages you up against the wall, your arms coming up to wrap around his head.

“Words, princess. I need words.”

You want to swear at him and thrash in his arms but you’re feeling too good, too lost in the pain and pleasure. You bite at the collar of his jersey because it's the only thing you can do to quiet the pathetic whimpers, babbling, and indecipherable cries Mingyu’s pulling from you.

Mingyu presses a kiss to your temple quickly, “My dumb baby,” he coos, “look so pretty when you’re crying on my cock. That’s my pretty baby, daddy’s almost there. Keep being good for me, m’kay?”

He speeds up his fucking, hips pistoning, and the press of his cock pressing against that spot in you that makes you see stars.

Mingyu pulls you into a kiss that’s all spit and teeth and bruising lips. He sucks on your tongue before separating the two of you and looking back down at his cock bullying its way into your pussy.

It happens before your mind can process it but at the speed of light you feel a wet, hot thwack of his spit landing on your clit harshly and you cry out, unable to keep it in.

“Daaaaddy!” It’s loud and keening and you’re sure everyone on the other side of the wall hears.

But it’s all Mingyu needs and one, two, three, brutal thrusts later, he’s spilling deep into you, fucking you through his orgasm.

Your eyes fly open as he rubs at your clit with his thumb while he pulls out and slaps at your puffy clit before he brings your face close and presses back in for a long, deep kiss.

When he pulls away and meets your eyes there’s a mean glint in them and a shit eating grin that is almost frustrating enough to bring you back to tears.

“See baby, if you’d been good, I’d have made you come.”

“B-but! I was good, daddy! I was so good for you!” He settles you back down on wobbly legs and tucks himself back into his uniform.

You’re looking at him in indignation, tears brimming at eyes, threatening to fall. Mingyu’s eyes soften as he brushes the tears away with large thumbs and tucks your hair behind your ears.

It’s a futile attempt to have you looking presentable but your smudged lip gloss and the mess at the back of your head are enough to sell you both out for your halftime activities.

“Being good means not touching what belongs to daddy when he’s not there.”

All you can do is huff. He’s right.

You’re trying to fix how your jersey (a custom pink version of the Diamonds’ home jersey) is tucked into your skirt when you catch Mingyu picking something up from the floor.

It’s your underwear.

“Gimme!” You pout, trying to reach for it. But all Mingyu has to do is raise it above his head and it’s impossible for your to retrieve the flimsy lace

“I think I’ll keep this one for now,” he starts, “Think of it as a lucky charm.”

He unrolls the flimsy fabric and folds it into a small square, tucking it into his compression shorts and tightening up the drawstring of his uniform.

“If you want to be good for daddy tonight, you’ll keep all my cum inside of you, won’t you?” He says sweetly, talking you through the idea he’s suddenly come up with, “then daddy will win this game and fuck you with my medal on.”

After trying to get both of you presentable again, you slip out of the auxiliary locker room hand in hand just two minutes over Seungcheol’s initial 10 minute deadline.

You greet the team as they all line up again to return to the pitch and smile proudly as Mingyu talks to his teammates about feeling more relaxed and ready to play. You don’t miss the way he lets go of your hand just to wrap an arm around your waist, hand resting just on the curve of your ass as you two pass the players of the opposite team.

“Good luck, daddy. Come back to me a champion, please.” You bat your eyelashes at him and press the most innocent of kisses to his cheek.

The sweet moment is interrupted by an exuberant, “OKAY! LET’S GO!” from Hoshi.

You roll your eyes at him playfully but give in when he asks for a fist bump and says, “Tiny, thank you as always for your invaluable contribution to the Diamonds.”

You head off to where Hoshi’s girlfriend is seated, opting to be surrounded by friends and fans alike, but not before hearing the two teammates’ exchange.

“You ready to show them up, rockstar?” Is Hoshi’s jest.

Mingyu can only laugh and say, “Fuck you.”

And show them up he does. Just 6 minutes back on the pitch and Mingyu reminds everyone why he’s one of South Korea’s most prolific strikers. With an assist from Jeonghan Mingyu is lighting fast as he performs one of his signature moves and sends the ball flying to the top left corner of the goal.

You scream your throat hoarse as you watch him run across the pitch towards a camera, pointing and kissing the diamond crest on his chest.

Not long after that Mingyu nets a freekick from just beyond the penalty box, equalizing the game. With so much at stake and still so many minutes on the clock, you can hardly breathe easily, knowing it could still go either way. And it does.

At the 80th minute the opposition scores their third goal and you could practically feel the Diamonds’ crowd deflating, fearing a repeat of the previous year.

“They can still equalize, I’m sure of it,” you hear Hoshi’s girlfriend from beside you, “As long as Soonyoung doesn’t fuck up and your boyfriend produces another one of his miracles, we can take this to penalties.”

You groan. You hate penalties, but you know how much this match means to Mingyu and the team.

Despite the possibilities, the game has gone into injury time and the crowd around you already look like they’re ready to pack up but sticking around just in case.

The majority of the players are crowded around the opponents’ goal, desperate feet hoping to score or hoping to defend. At this point some of the opposite side’s players are just trying to kill time to secure their win.

Hoshi is yelling orders from along the Diamonds’ midfield, abandoning his goal with the confidence that his teammates will surely take another goal.

But time just about stops when the Diamonds are awarded a corner. Jeonghan looks like he’s dragging his feet about taking it, walking away to have someone else take the kick. But in a split second he turns back to kick the ball in a beautiful arch that meets none other than Mingyu’s right foot to take a third goal.

Hat trick.

Penalties are an awful cruel thing for any football fan, you think. Even after over ninety minutes a winner still isn’t decided and it falls down to each team’s five penalty takers and their goalkeepers.

Hoshi’s girlfriend is in hysterics next to you, gripping your hand like a lifeline. Mingyu had been the first to take his penalty, the ball floating almost gracefully and finding itself out of the keeper’s reach in a split second.

The score was at 4-3 with the Diamonds in the lead after Seungkwan’s attempt had found the back of the net neatly. If their opponents miss this, the championships would be theirs.

This all falls down to their captain.

Hoshi has always been so dependable and today is no exception. The very second he deflects that fifth and final attempt, cheers erupted in every direction and the final whistle is blown.

The Diamonds won the Korean FA Cup.

The players, the coaches, and press flood the pitch and white confetti erupts around you. Before you know it your seatmate has vanished. She’s running across the pitch to jump into Hoshi’s arms, kissing away the tears pouring down his face, the team captain overcome with emotion.

Jealousy flares in your chest and you try to look everywhere for Mingyu. You stand indignantly, looking all over for him when you’re reminded of gravity.

The intensity of the match and the anxiety at its uncertainty had taken your mind away from your mid-match tryst with Mingyu and from the fact that he had come so deeply inside of you that it was only now that you were standing and pacing and you could feel the thick, sticky seed moving inside of you, threatening to drip out of your hole. You didn’t even have any underwear to catch it and sop up the mess, the lace neatly folded and tucked into Mingyu’s own underwear.

You stamp your foot and a whine pathetically when you feel someone come up behind you. You quickly turn to see that, amidst the chaos, Mingyu had found you.

You’d only been away from each other for an hour but in that hour he had become a champion and that fact alone had changed him. He looked like some Greek hero with how he stood with pride painted on his face and how his handsome smirk screamed winner.

God, you needed to suck his cock.

Luckily for you, Mingyu had the same idea. With the flurry around the win and the podium and carpets still being set up, the captain, manager, and executives still giving interviews, Mingyu knows everyone will be busy and he has time to whisk you away before anyone will even notice he’s gone.

That’s how you end up in the team’s main locker room, still a bit messy from the half time huddle, kneeling in front of Mingyu’s locker and choking on his cock.

“That’s right, baby. Take it slow so you can take more daddy in your mouth,” is his sweet encouragement before he takes the bottle of champagne next to him and takes a long swig.

You’re transfixed, blinking teary eyes to clear them, just so you don’t have to look away from the sight in front of you.

Mingyu had stripped everything off, feeling like he was overheating from the match he’d just played. He sat like a king, leaning back against his locker, spreading his legs and propping one leg up on the bench. He’d popped open a bottle of champagne and pressed the mouth of the bottle to your lips, watching the alcohol overflow from your mouth and drip down your chin to your neck and down your chest.

He kisses you shortly after, tasting the Moët on your tongue and pushing you down onto your knees.

There’s no need to preface anything because in no time you’re gagging on him. It doesn’t take much to have you drooling all over him, his cock so much bigger than what you should actually have in your mouth.

“You can fuck my throat, daddy, please please please!” You gasp out as he pulls you off of him so you can take in a deep breath.

“I know baby,” he says before taking another swig of that champagne, your eyes following the way his Adam's apple bobs.

He leans down to bring the bottle to your mouth and says, “tongue out, my filthy girl.”

Your spit is thick and sticky in your mouth and you make a show of it when you follow his orders. He wraps a hand around your throat to steady you as he pours champagne into your mouth again, not caring about how much falls down the side of your mouth and dampens your jersey.

He leans back, pleased with the indulgent mess before him, and grabs at the hair at the crown of your head to pull you back down on his cock.

You’re a dream. You had been so good, so obedient at learning to take his cock over the years, and now he’s sure he’s molded himself into your throat the same way he’s made your pussy perfect for only him.

“My perfect girl’s got the most perfect mouth, huh?” He’s holding you down onto him, keeping your head in place, “The filthiest fucking mouth and its all for dad’s cock.”

The noises are disgusting. With your mouth full you can’t say anything but you’re happy just to listen to him come undone. Your spit and his pre-cum gather at the sides of your mouth but you don’t want to stop until he’s pumping his sticky cum onto your tongue.

You pull off of him to lave your tongue over his balls, sucking on one and then the other before saying, “Daddy, I think I deserve to drink your cum, right?”

Mingyu swears under his breath, somehow still not believing how lucky he got with you, your depraved mind the only one that can match his own.

He downs the rest of the champagne and moves to kiss you, sharing the drink. You gulp down what you can before going back down on him, holding down his hips as the muscles beneath your fingers jerk as he fills your mouth.

Mingyu comes in thick ropes of sticky hot cum that you almost have trouble swallowing, but daddy trained you to be a good girl, thankful for everything she gets. So you swallow every single drop, proudly showing Mingyu your empty mouth.

“Atta girl.”

You try to be on your best behavior and good for Mingyu for the rest of the evening. You’re the picture-perfect girlfriend watching and cheering proudly as he gets his gold medal and the team cheers in unison once Hoshi lifts the trophy above his head. The pictures are taken and the interviews are given but there’s only so much you can take and by the time Mingyu has you buckled up into his car, you’re feeling unnecessarily bratty.

“Baby,” Mingyu starts. You’re some fifteen minutes away from his house and he’s about to get into it now?

“Mm,” is your petulant response.

“Listen to me,” he warns.

But it almost comes as an instinct to you to retaliate, having the most fun when you two go back and forth like this.

“Don’ wanna.”

From the corner of your eye you see his jaw harden.

“Didn’t daddy fill you up, today?” He says as more of a statement.

“He did.”

“Didn’t daddy feed you his come, princess?”

You start to flush, “He did.”

“And then didn’t daddy say he was going to fuck you with his medal on if he won the championships?”

He’s pulling up to his house now and you almost let out a sigh of relief.

“He did,” you answer.

He parks and turns to you, “Then you are going to get out of this car and head up to our room and you are going to strip yourself naked.”

You’ve been waiting for this. Finally, away from any prying eyes and ears, no matter how accepting, you can finally let loose and have him every way you want him.

“Daddy will park the car and unload the stuff and when I come into the room I better see that messy pussy served up for me.”

There’s buzzing in your ears and you bite your lips.

“Of course, daddy.”

It starts with your good intentions, really.

You had asked him kindly to lay back against the pillows and the headboard promising that you were going to be real good, daddy, I promise! And that you were so proud of him, that he was so yummy on the field and of course he was going to be the winner.

You wanted to reward him, said that daddy deserves to be ridden to have your tits in his face, to be spoiled.

To be fair, it was a valiant effort on your end. Once he’d settled into bed, you squealed and threw yourself over him, chest to chest as you rubbed your bare pussy onto his cock.

You were aching to be stuffed but you know how sloppy and wet he likes your pussy to be. And through his cum from earlier today was smeared all over your cunt and thighs, you knew you could do better for him.

You pressed kisses to his chest while running your hands over the dips and divots, the hardness and softness of his chest and abs and sighed dreamily as you met his eyes through thick lashes, “I love you daddy, I’m so happy for you.”

“I love you too, baby. I’m happy I made you happy,” was his simple response.

You bit your lip at the elation that filled your chest and you pressed a quick kiss to the gold medal resting on his chest. You stood on your knees on either side of his hips and kept one hand on his stomach to steady yourself as you lined his cock with your entrance.

The delicious stretch and resistance was still there as you sank down on him, his own spend mixing with your slick, making the slide delicious.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off how your pussy split open to take all of him. The pace is slow and your whimpers of “Daddy, daddy, daddy” made his head spin.

But while slow and romantic was good, it was always just how your love making started. This was all before your thighs had grown tired and your lower back started to hurt.

Mingyu tried to talk you through it, guide your hips on how to grind just right for the head of his cock to press against that spot inside of you. Even his encouragement of you can do it, pretty, daddy’s tired is futile when you finally cry out.

“But daddyyyyy,” comes the high pitched whine, “I’M TIRED TOO. Don’t you feel bad for your baby?”

And he breaks at that.

He sits up and flips the two of you over without even pulling out and your eyes roll as the movements jostle him inside of you.

The anticipation is reaching its boiling point when lifts one leg and places it over his shoulder and pulls out of you to rest his cock on your sopping cunt.

He loves this. It’s fucking sick, but he loves to see how big he is compared to your little hole. He loves to see the head of his cock aligned with your belly button and how you clench around nothing, already missing him inside you.

Before he decides to push his cock back inside you he grasps himself by the base and rubs harshly at your entrance and clit with the engorged head of his cock. It makes you squeal as the rough stimulation shocks your system.

He had left you hanging during half time, with only just enough time for him to fill you up, and you had been too preoccupied blowing him to rub yourself to completion after the match.

But the blessed feeling of an orgasm is finally bubbling back onto the surface now that Mingyu was focusing on your pleasure.

“You’ll give me this, right, baby?” He says pulling you back to him. He wants you to be present, to know how he’s making your body tick, “Be my good girl and wet my cock, daddy wants this pussy to be dripping when he fucks it.”

You whimper in acknowledgment and he speeds up his ministrations, the stimulation getting to him as well as beads of pre-cum mix with your slick and eventually, the spray of your cum squirting out of you messily.

Your moan is music to his ears and you cry out as he pushes his cock into you, not giving you even a second of respite.

With both hands free, Mingyu positions both of your legs over his shoulders, your stupid frilly socks tickling his ears. This position is a favorite for the both of you. He loves how deep he can fuck you like this, the head of his cock kissing your cervix. And you love how when you put your hand just under your belly button, you can see and feel how his cock moves inside you.

“Fuck, look at you,” he says all too breathless, “So fucking perfect.” The sweat beading on his face falls on your temples and you want to cry — what a waste not to taste him on your tongue.

“My perfect little cocksleeve, that I made just for me, isn’t that right. Fuck.” He’s losing it and God do you want him to fall apart.

He pulls away slightly and laughs to himself a little when he sees how his medal, still around his neck, is resting on your chest, bouncing slightly as he continues to fuck into you. What a sight. And only his.

What a day it’s been for him to have woken up in this very bed alone and just another football player hoping for a dream to come true. And to end up here now, in the same bed with you calling out to him like a litany of prayers and his champion’s medal sitting between your tits, bite marks on the flesh contrasting prettily against the yellow gold.

He bites his lip and focuses on your bodies and how you can barely get the word ‘daddy’ out coherently, mumbling dadd-da-daddy-dad unintelligibly. He does you a kindness and presses a hand down where your smaller one is, and thrusts hashly, loving the way you clench around him as you finally reach a second peak. The vice grip your pussy has on his cock is enough to push him over the edge as well, spilling another load into you and your eyes flutter shut.

Mingyu doesn’t pull out of you but sets your legs down and massages the insides of your thighs because he knows you’ll complain about them tomorrow.

He slips off his medal and sets it on the bedside table next to your phones.

After arranging your bodies to be more comfortable, he presses soft kisses on your ear and into your hair, chuckling slightly as you mumble in your sleep that it tickles.

Mingyu can’t help but keep that smile even as he settles down. It feels so good to be a winner.

-`✮´- if you've come this far, thank you and it'd mean the world to get a reblog or to hear your thoughts on my first fic on here!

#frizzy fiction #seventeen smut #svt smut #mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #au: man of the match

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 10 months

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Though The Path May Be Long, I Shall Find You; Leona Kingscholar

A path lies ahead, some are more treacherous than others. At the end of the winding, coloured footsteps is where they can rest; a bird directing them forward, made out of precious stone.

Main Character; Leona Kingscholar

Supporting Characters; Kifaji, Jack Howl

Content; Soulmate AU (I use the term soul match), gender-neutral reader, hurt/comfort, some inner turmoil, bird shenanigans, can be read as platonic, familial, or platonic and that was done on purpose

Content Warning; injury (Leona), I do mention scars/marks but I don't mention where/what they're from

Word Count; 5.5 K

Author's Note; The bird messengers are inspired by mutual relationships that people and some animals have with birds. As with all of my writing, do NOT put my -or other creators' for that matter- works into AI. I did struggle a bit with writing this, so it may read a bit differently, but hey, I wrote it and that's what matters.

Ruggie's Story | Jack's Story

Prologue

Much like the Sea Witch gifted merfolk with soul matches, the King of Beasts did much the same with beastmen. Instead of a song playing in their head or their soul being tugged at by their match, beastmen would receive a messenger made of stone. Typically, this stone messenger would come in the form of a bird, as they can travel far greater distances than a terrestrial creature. And the stone represented what their match would help them overcome in this lifetime. It represented a confidant, an advisor, a friend; the person that they needed most.

And once they were ready to find their match, glowing footsteps would lead them along the path.

These messengers are delivered during the night of their fifth birthday by the southern winds and remain dormant until the time is right for them to start searching their soul match, typically around their thirteenth birthday. If a child does not receive their messenger, it is said to be a marker of bad luck, a bad omen. Not only just for the beastman in question, but for their family and the community at large. This marker is of even greater weight should a member of the royal family not receive a messenger. The last time that happened, a great drought hit the land, causing mass famine and illness. Since then, any member of the royal family who does not receive a messenger is forced to abdicate the throne, even if they are the firstborn. For the common folk though, it holds less weight, even if it is still considered a bad omen.

What if someone does receive a messenger but they don’t activate? What does that mean?

It could mean several different things. It could mean that their soul match has passed before they had the chance to find them. It could mean that their match wasn’t here yet, still to come into this world. These lifeless messengers often bring a sense of loneliness or bitterness, and many a beastman try their best to discard these cruel reminders. No matter how hard they try though, be it magic, force, or distance, the little stone messenger will always come back. Always there as a reminder of what could have been. A reminder that only they can see. The little stone bird will sit by them, vacant of life, but watching them still.

But only they could see their messenger, the only other person who could see it being their match. They would only become apparent to each other once their person decided that they wanted to find their match, that they were ready. Upon finding each other, the two birds will fly around the two, performing an aerial dance. Once this dance is completed, their match’s bird will land on their shoulder, and their bird will land on their match’s in return.

And once these messengers activate they will stop at nothing to guide their person to their match, and cannot be destroyed. It could take hours, days, weeks, months, years, or even several lifetimes, but the bird is determined to find their match, even if the person wanted nothing to do with them. The bird won’t stop, and even though the path may be long, they will always find their match. No matter what.

…

Main Story

…

...

Leona had somehow managed to escape his various caregivers and the supervision of Kifaji… again. But who could blame him? The palace wasn’t the best place for a rambunctious four-year-old. He wanted to play. To explore. To not sit through Kifaji’s boring lectures and lessons. He wanted to just be a kid. And Faleena was always busy, not always able to play hunting games with him and leaving him without a playing partner. So it becomes a habit, to escape the confines of the palace, to trade the grand halls for the grasslands.

The little lion prince continued to walk through the tall grass, running his hands through the swaying blades. The sun was starting to kiss the earth as the sky slowly melted into night, and he could hear the various calls of animals from the brush. But he didn’t pay them much mind, since he was told that they would never harm him, as he was part of the royal family.

Something hopped out of the grass, catching the young lion-beastman’s attention; a butterfly. His eyes followed the slow wing beats and he decided to chase after it. The butterfly didn’t seem to notice or care, staying just out of reach and continuing on its lazy flight path.

“Come here,” Leona called after it, trying to jump and catch it, but the insect avoided his grasp. “Don’t fly away! Can we be friends?”

The butterfly eventually landed on a tree, high up on a branch. Now, why was Leona so determined to catch it? Well, he wanted to get a closer look at it, maybe have it land on his nose before letting it go back into the bush. It was a challenge, one that he wasn’t backing out of so easily.

Leona looked up into the tree and his ears twitched. “Fine then! If you’re not going to come down, I’m coming up!” He started making his way up the tree. Oh, if Kifaji could see him now, he would have grown a white hair on the spot seeing the young prince so high up. But the thought of his advisor’s fretting just made him climb up higher even faster. There! The butterfly was almost within his reach, just a little bit farther-

The butterfly took off, flying off into the sunset, just as he was about to finally catch it too. Leona sighed to himself. At least he had a nice view of the amber sun dipping behind the horizon, turning the sky into warm oranges, pinks, reds, deep blues and violets. Rustling from the canopy caught his attention, and he looked up, curious as to what was making the sound. Sitting on the branch above him was a red-billed hornbill, cleaning its plumage.

“Hi,” he waved at the bird, swinging his legs back and forth.

The bird stopped preening, its full attention focused on Leona. Further up in the tree, he could hear the faint chirping of baby chicks.

Leona stood up on the branch, getting closer to the bird. “Can I see your family? Do you have baby chicks? I wanna see!” He asked excitedly, getting far too close to the bird’s personal space and nest.

The hornbill ruffled its feathers and took flight, but it didn’t go very far. Instead, it turned back and swopped by Leona’s head, trying to tell the child to back away. Instead of backing off though, Leona caught the bird mid-flight. The bird, fearing for its own and its family’s well-being, scratched at his face, leaving behind a large scratch mark going over his left eye.

He let go of the bird, hissing in pain, teardrops starting to form. “Kifajiiiiiiii,” he yelled, tumbling down the tree and running back to the palace, tail in between his legs. “KIFAJIIIIII!” He didn’t want this to happen. He just wanted to play. To have fun. To be a kid.

…

Leona went to bed on the night before his fifth birthday, lightly tracing the still-healing scar on his face. It was still sore, and it stung, both physically and emotionally. Why does nobody like me? He snapped out of his thoughts though, shaking his head.

“You have no one but to blame but yourself, your majesty,” Kifaji said, standing in the doorway to his room. He strode in, and although his words may have sounded harsh, there was a softness in his expression. Sighing, he placed a cool, damp, cloth on the prince’s face. “What were you thinking? You should know better than to run off-” He stopped, noticing the conflicted look on the young boy’s face. Nagging can wait, right now Leona needed comfort, not a lecturer. “…But what’s most important is that you are alright.”

Leona sniffled, “What about my face though? It hurts… I just wanted to play… And it’s going to leave a scar-”

Kifaji smiled softly, “It will heal in time, as all things do. Besides, the King of Beasts had a mark just like it. It may hurt now, and perhaps it will leave a scar, but it proves that you overcame hardships. That you’ve learned lessons.” He tucked in the prince, adjusting the blankets around him. “As for the bird, I believe they were just protecting their family. Your mother would do much the same for you and your brother, as would your father. Now, off to bed with you, as you’ll be receiving your messenger tomorrow.”

“What do you think they’ll be,” Leona asked, his visible eye filled with curiosity. “Do you think it’ll be a bearded vulture? Like Faleena’s?”

Kifaji hummed, “I can’t say, as only you will know that come morning. Now, off to sleep with you. After all, tomorrow is a big day.” The blue-haired man dusted himself off, double-checked the cloth to make sure it was still damp and then left for the night. Leaving the young prince alone.

Leona picked at the dressing on his eye and looked out his window. Outside the stars were shining bright, and the songs of night birds and insects filled the air with their rhythmic melody. A warm breeze played with the curtains, casting dancing shadows onto the walls.

“Please,” Leona whispered to the stars, “please, please, please bring me a friend… I just want a friend.” He pleaded to the night sky. The warm breeze now playing with his hair, lulling him gently off to the land of dreams.

His dream was calm, a starlit sky ahead of him and shifting, glowing sand beneath his feet. All I want is a friend. Can I please have a friend? But he heard nothing, just the gentle hissing of the shifting glowing sand beneath his feet as he walked toward the horizon. A large lion stood in the distance, glowing green eyes looking towards him, beckoning him forward. But when he tried to walk towards them, the sand shifted, having turned into tar. And when he looked back up, the lion was gone. Leaving him with nothing but glowing sand and black tar.

When he woke up in the morning, a small hornbill made out of green calcite sat on his bed stand, silent and watching. And it would have been in perfect condition save for the large scar that cut across the left side of its face, mirroring Leona’s to the T. He touched his scar, remembering that fateful night only three weeks ago. “Why,” he whispered. Why did it have to be a hornbill? Why would the King of Beasts gift him a messenger that had hurt him? Why would he gift a messenger that left behind a scar? And why did it have a scar of its own?

…

It’s been fifteen years since Leona received his messenger, and it has yet to come to life. Yet to fly around. Yet to show him any sign that he had a match out there, somewhere. He took it as a sign that they had either died before they had ever met or, a more bitter thought, that they had yet to enter the world. He didn’t want to be some glorified babysitter.

He has tried to get rid of the damned bird. Thrown it as far as he could when he was younger. Used banishment spells on it as he learned about magic. And when his unique magic had manifested itself, he even used King’s Roar on it. But no matter what he tried, or how hard, the bird always reappeared, even when he turned it into sand. Still as silent and lifeless as it always has been since the first day it had shown up in his life. Still, a bitter reminder that he would rather forget about and pretend never happened.

Even in the ceremonial room, it followed him, taking a liking to his shoulder despite him flinging it off at any chance he could, before just stuffing the annoying thing in his pocket. People would give him a weird look, as they couldn’t see what was pestering the lion beastman, but they ignored him for the most part. Well, most people that is.

“Something bothering you,” Vil murmured under his breath, just loud enough so that only he could hear. “You seem more… irritated than usual.”

Of course, the Pomefiore House Warden would notice his behaviour. He wouldn’t even be surprised if that other third-year and creepy stalker, Rook, was keeping tabs on him. “And, what’s it to you?”

Vil raised a brow, “Just something I took notice of. Can’t be giving your new dorm members a bad impression on the first day.” He paused, as the ceremony was beginning, and welcomed the new Pomefiore students with a practiced smile.

Leona rolled his eyes but welcomed his new wards albeit not as prim, proper, and practiced. They deserved something real, and not dripping with formality. “Well, that ceremony was as boring as ever,” he yawned, having missed his usual nap that he would have at this time of day. “I’m going back to the dorm. If you’re in Savanaclaw House, follow me.”

That’s odd though, that blithering fool of a headmage was nowhere to be seen, and Leona could hear all of the hushed whisperings amongst the students. But he could hear the faint footsteps of two people making their way down the hall. And low and behold, the headmage entered the room in his usual tiring and flamboyant way. Huh, looks like one of the freshmen hasn’t been sorted. He didn’t really care though, even when that cat tried to set the room on fire, or the bickering with Vil. This was all so tiresome, honestly, why did he attend this again?

He didn’t pay much attention to the new Savanaclaw students, leading the way silently. And even though he couldn’t see the other beastmen’s messengers, he could hear the faint rustling of wind as they flew about behind them. His eye twitched, the weight of the stone hornbill weighing heavy in his pant pocket, still cold, still lifeless.

Upon reaching his room, he promptly flopped onto the bed, tossing the bird to the other side of the room with a satisfying crack. Leona closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, promptly falling asleep. Back to that damned dream where he was stuck in the shifting sands at night, the only source of light being the distant, twinkling stars and the faint gold glow beneath him. And the tar had grown, nearly drowning out the glowing gold.

The stone bird righted itself and came to rest by his head. The orange light from the setting sun warming it. As the sun was traded for the night, the stone bird blinked, finally and slowly coming to life after all these years of stillness.

…

Leona felt something pulling at his hair. Groaning, he grabbed the closest pillow and haphazardly swung it about, trying to get rid of the intruder. “Cheka,” he hissed, as the first person that popped into mind for this annoying behaviour was none other than his young nephew. But when he cracked an eye open, the cheerful five-year-old was nowhere to be seen. Something was still pulling at his hair though.

Flipping over, he finally laid eyes on the intruder, and he stiffened. Sitting on the edge of the bed was his messenger, and it was alive. After a decade of stillness, the pale green crystal bird was finally alive and moving about. He rubbed at his eyes, and the bird was now walking towards him, doing its little call and looking way too happy for his liking. What the- What kind of sick joke is this?

“Oi,” he pushed the crystal bird away, as it had tugged at his hair again. “Cut it out.” Why was it finally awake now of all times? It’s been ten years since it should have awakened, back on his tenth birthday. And now, out of the blue, the now alive and annoying bird had finally decided that now was the time. “Why are you alive?”

The bird flipped onto its back and played with his school uniform ribbon. Why did he expect an actual answer? It was a stone bird. But Leona’s brow was furrowed. Why was the bird finally awake? His face soured even more. I swear if they’re a kid… He didn’t want to deal with another Cheka, especially not for his soul match. Tch, why did I even bother waking up? The bird continued to play with the ribbon, rolling about on the bed.

Leona rolled his eyes and ignored the bird, at least it was pre-occupying itself and not annoying him. Hornbills are playful birds after all, so it makes sense that his messenger would be too. Why again, did the King of Beasts send him a hornbill as his messenger again? “I’m not going to go out of my way and find them,” he huffed, grabbing his ribbon back from the bird.

The hornbill stopped playing and snapped at his hand. “You need to find them,” they spoke in his mind. Ugh, he forgot that they can do that. That the messengers could speak to them in their mind when they deemed it as an important matter. “And they are not a child. They are around your age, from what I can sense. You need to find them.” All of the playfulness from before vanished, suddenly reminding him of Kifaji. Stern… Disappointed.

“What I need is for you to leave well enough alone.” He swatted at the bird, but it flew off and sat on the balcony where they could watch at a safe distance but still have an eye on him. “I don’t need or want you… or them.” They weren’t there then, why should I want them now?

The hornbill ruffled in irritation, “They couldn’t be there, not at the time at least. And you’re lying to yourself.” Their tone shifted, wavering, like they knew something. “You will need them sooner than you realize. When you change your mind, do call.” With that, the bird took off into the morning, leaving behind Leona with his thoughts.

The lion beastman tensed and relaxed his fingers, brow furrowed. “Like hell I’ll need them sooner rather than later,” he muttered to himself. Today had barely begun and he already wanted for it to end. He knew nothing good would come of that bird.

…

You held the green crystal in your hands, turn

ing it over and looking at the carved features. The hornbill was wiggling its toes and singing to itself happily. It was a cheerful little thing and always kept itself busy. And on occasion, you would see a similar bird sitting on the roof, but they never came down from their perch and would fly off before you could investigate further.

You had no idea why or how you came to possess the stone bird. No idea why it was alive the morning after your sudden arrival in Twisted Wonderland. No idea why there was a near-perfect replica sitting on your roof. And you had no idea what it all meant. But in the short time that you had your crystalline friend, you’ve grown attached. Yes, they liked to cause some mischief every now and then, but they were very sweet. They even took a liking to resting on your armchair as you worked, singing their little song.

The little bird even tried to fight that third-year Savanaclaw student, Leona, for you. During the first encounter, where he nearly took a tooth for stepping on his tail they had flown around in a panic; which wasn’t much help. But during his overblot, they had taken a hit from his unique magic, King’s Roar, for you. You had thought that your little friend was gone, forever turned into sand and lost to the wind. Even the bird that sat on the roof went missing for two weeks, but then they were back. Playful as ever before, but there was something else there as well, a sadness of sorts. Frustrated. Restless. Now they also had a large gash, from where they had been hit and it mirrored your own cuts and bruises that you had sustained from the fight. You also noticed that it had other marks, ones that you had sustained back in your dimension.

You should have been angry, but you weren’t. You felt tired, and a sense of guilt. Why had this little bird risked its life for you?

“Prefect,” Jack’s voice snapped you back to the present. Oh right, you had just been forcibly evicted from Ramshackle… the only place you could call home in this world. Now you were sitting in the Savanaclaw Dorm. “Are you alright?”

You blinked, coming out of your thoughts. Jack, even though you two had only just become acquaintances(?), friends(?), was observant that you were spacing off. “Ah… no,” you sigh, all of the stress of the past weeks catching up with you. “No, I’m not alright.”

Jack’s ears twitched, and your crystal friend hopped up onto your shoulder, rubbing its beak on your face. “Do you want to talk about it?” He looked at your shoulder, where the bird was sitting.

“Can you see them?” You could lay your heart bare right now, but you knew most of the answers to them. What you wanted to know was about the bird, and what it meant.

Jack shook his head, “No, but I can hear the flapping of wings.” His brow pinched, thinking. “Has anyone told you? About soul matches?”

Your bird hopped up onto your head and got comfortable up there. “Jack,” you breathed, rubbing your temples, “no one has told me anything.” You paused, realizing how harsh the last part came out. “Sorry, Jack. I didn’t mean-”

But it’s true. No one had told you anything about what a soul match is. Anything about what the bird meant. Anything about how you were possibly going to get back home; if it was possible at all? Anything of real importance when it came to living in this world besides the fact that there were seven pseudo-gods who were villains in your world and that magic was real. You had the scars to prove that much. And you were tired, so tired of not knowing anything.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he placed a hand by yours, in case you needed to hold on to someone. “I don’t know your entire story, Prefect, but I do know that today was stressful… I can tell you more about soul matches, and what your feathered friend means. But that can wait until you’re ready.”

You felt the crystal bird shuffle a bit, letting out a little snore. “I want to know.”

“There once was a king, both noble and fair. Who sought to bring joy to his people’s hearts. The King of Beasts travelled to the horizon and made an agreement with the setting Sun and the whispering winds. On the eve of their sixth year, beastmen and residents of the Sunset Savannah would be gifted a crystal bird messenger. No two were ever the same, as the birds would carry the marks and scars of their person. The crystal itself holds a message on what their match will help them with. These birds are only visible to their person, and can only be seen once they have decided that they wanted to find their match. And though the path may be long, and lead to many different crossroads, the little crystal bird will always find their match.”

Jack’s explanation of the bird messengers played in your head as you stared up at the ceiling. Said bird was sleeping beside you, and much like the story, it had all the same marks you had. The pale green crystal shone softly in the moonlight. Apparently made out of green calcite; a stone meaning to expand your compassion, to heal, of letting go of anger and resentment. You knew that you needed to work on that, but so did your match.

…

Leona was still at ends with himself after his overblot, and that herbivore from Ramshackle was now also crashing at his dorm of all places. But he did owe them, and like hell he was going to let some octo-punk get the better hand. He also happened to overhear the familiar story that Jack had shared with them. So he hadn’t been hearing things, the Prefect did have a messenger. But why did the thought of them having a messenger put a sour taste in his mouth?

You need to find them. You will need them sooner than you realize. He hated to admit it, but the stone bird was right. Maybe if he had taken their offer he would have found them by now. Maybe he wouldn’t have overblotted… Maybe he would finally know that someone could accept him, not because of his title or royal status, but because, just maybe, they would accept him for just being him.

“You were right,” he huffed, turning over and looking to the balcony.

The crystal hornbill was back like it had never left. “Are you ready then?” It flew over and took a roost on his forearm. Are you ready to start healing? It wasn’t spoken, but it was implied, especially after all of that blot had surfaced.

Leona shifted to an upright position, looking up to the stars, feeling the warm air gently surround him carrying the scent of warm earth and blossoming night flowers. “... Not yet.”

The bird nipped at one of his ears, “What are you waiting for then? An invitation?” It continued picking at his ears, trying to get Leona to action.

His ears flattened, from irritation but also to escape the attack. “Oi, cut it out, would ya? I want to make it up to them first before waltzing in like some ‘prince charming’ into their life.” He rolled his eyes at the cliched term. He didn’t view himself like that, and he didn’t want his soul match getting that idea either. He knew that he had aspects of himself that he needed to work on… That he needed to heal. But he didn’t want them taking the brunt of it. He wanted to prove to them, that besides his initial rejection, he was trying. That he wanted to make this work… Whatever this proved to be. Be they a friend, found family, or even something else. He was tired, so tired of being alone… maybe he could finally let someone in.

“Hmph, as long as you don’t keep them waiting for too long.” But the hornbill’s stoney expression softened, joking. Leona didn’t notice how the bird looked off to the side, looking at your sleeping form, nodding at the matching bird sitting beside you. “And they are a lot closer than you think.”

Leona flopped back on the bed, making the bird take flight to avoid getting tossed about. “Mmm, what matters most is travelling the path, whatever it may look like, and finding them at the end of it. Or whatever that bedtime story was.”

Going back to sleep, he was expecting to be back in the endless glowing dunes as he usually was every night. Stuck in the tar. But tonight was different. Instead of barren sands, he was surrounded by blooming flowers, towering trees, and a pleasant filtered light radiating through the branches. He was in the botanical gardens, under his favourite tree, his hornbill chasing after some butterflies… And the lion from all those years ago was back, standing in front of him. Follow the path. Find them. And it was gone, but he felt a hand on his shoulder. He placed his over their’s, squeezing it.

…

You’ve noticed something different about Leona ever since you made your alliance during Azul’s overblot. Yes, he still called you herbivore, but he seemed easier to read, not as closed off. You could tell that he was joking with you by the sway of his tail, and the flicking of his ears.

“Head in the clouds again?”

Oh right, there’s been another new development alongside Leona. Your crystalline friend now spoke to you. Well, not really speaking, more so talking in your mind. The first time it happened you nearly threw it across the room, but honestly, what were you expecting? A talking crystal bird shouldn’t have been that shocking to you after everything you’ve been through.

Your attention snapped back to the lecture Professor Crewel was giving a certain group of first-years about not eating during lab. “Just there’s been a lot,” you said. Seems like there wasn’t going to be any new content taught today since somebody decided to eat the ingredients and get rushed to the infirmary room. You wonder if Crewel just said that his hair was dyed or if he was going white early due to the impulsive thoughts and actions of his students. So you were able to freely discuss as much as you pleased with your stone friend. “What can you tell me about them?”

The bird paused in its fuddling with a spare pen, “I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not?”

“You need to travel down that path on your own decision, not influenced by anyone,” they took off, leaving you alone for the first time on their own free accord. But gold, glowing footsteps followed them, leading the way.

I need to travel the path on my own decision. You knew those glowing footsteps would lead you towards your soul match. But why did they lead to Ramshackle?

…

Meanwhile, in the botanical gardens, Leona was sitting comfortably under one of his favourite trees, eyes closed and tail swishing back and forth peacefully. But he was awake, and he was listening in to the conversation of his hornbill and a new voice.

“How do you think it will go?”

He recognized the voice of his hornbill.

There was shuffling on the branch, a new voice entering his head. “They are both quite stubborn, but seeing the progress thus far, even without them knowing, is promising. But they must go forward, forge their own path.”

He cracked an eye open, seeing the two green birds sitting together on their perch. But something else caught his eye, glowing footsteps. Follow it. So he followed them, the footsteps. Leona saw the other hornbill, his soul match’s hornbill take flight, the footsteps leading in the same direction. He looked back under the tree. To follow or not to follow, that was the question…

He ran after the footsteps, his hornbill clutching onto his shoulder for dear life.

“WHAT IS WITH THE SUDDEN CHANGE OF HEART?!” They squawked, falling off and flying beside him.

Leona rounded a corner, nearly running head-first into a Scarabia student, but he ignored him and kept on running, getting weird looks from everyone. “I’m tired of waiting,” he snapped. But also, he knew that there was going to be no perfect time to find them. He realizes what he needs to work on. He realizes that it will be a rocky path. That it will take time to heal. But he knew that whoever was at the end of the glowing footsteps, that they had the matching hornbill. That they were right. That they were his equal in all things. Regardless of status. Regardless of upbringing. Regardless of what even his first insecure thoughts were.

He stopped running, looking to where the footsteps disappeared under the door. The front door of Ramshackle Dorm. He put his hand on the doorknob, but he didn’t turn it.

They are a lot closer than you think. They weren’t able to be there for you for a reason. So it wasn’t just a sense of owing someone then. That bitter taste in his mouth from when he found out you had a soul match was jealousy that it could be someone other than him. Of course, it was you. One of the first people in a long time where he felt like you weren’t looking down at him, or just judging on initial interactions. That you accepted him. That you rolled your eyes whenever he felt like being snarky with you. That you bantered with him. That he felt… lighter with you.

But his hand didn’t move. He took it off the knob. He wasn’t just going to barge in. So he knocked on the wood, three gentle tap tap taps.

You looked up from the busted wall you were trying to patch up, the ghosts having alerted you that someone was waiting at the door for you. The fact that they were waiting surprised you, usually people would just come in unannounced or just kick the door down. But they were waiting. You made your way to the door and looked through a large crack. What was Leona doing here?

You opened the door, and you noticed the same bird that watched after you from the roof. Both of your birds took flight and danced with the other before coming down and landing on both of your shoulders. Performing the soul match dance.

"I'm glad it's you."

Fin!

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