#so I have this one teacher in a sport I play who makes me feel like absolute shit

[boyfhee]

FAIR AND SQUARE › lhs

SYNOPSIS › one thing about life— it's unpredictable. for example, you made a note to yourself about not associating too much with heeseung for your own peace of mind, letting him stay as the academic rival slash classmate that he is, instead of allowing him to be something more, except one thing leads to another and you find yourself face to face with the said man with your feelings all over the place. a lowkey confession leading to a mere competition, let the game begin.

WORD COUNT › 20.2k

GENRE › academic rivals / friends to lovers, mutual pinning because they're just competitive and oblivious ft in denial, fem reader, quite the 'he fell first but she fell harder' thing eye guess . . .

WARNINGS › mentions drinking, sheds light on family issues ( mostly on the reader's side ) bruise and injury, slightest of angst, arguments, suggestive ( fourth section, towards the end ) profanities, let me know if you spot more

PLAYLIST › tune in for a better experience

NOTE › i love this fic with all my heart and lungs, even more. anyway, i'm sorry to academic rivals fans, this doesn't have academic blood and gore, as quoted by my dear mai. SPEAKING OF MAI EVERYONE THANK @maiverie FOR BETAREADING THIS FIC!!!!!! im not lying when i say i wouldn't have finished writing this yesterday if it wasn't for her, like thank u for ur super helpful review that got my brain juices flowing :< luv u fr. ALSO both heeseung and reader are taking post grad course so of course, they're aged up ( no ages specified ) have fun reading.

I. BANE OF EXISTENCE

one thing about life— it’s unpredictable. 

for example, you’re in the library writing and reading papers on the topic you love, the one that you’re supposed to enjoy and the one that will become the reason behind your earnings in the near future, but here you are, sitting with a headache and a cup of coffee on the side. who knew the subject you've liked since grade one will betray you and become the potential bane of your existence? not you, surely enough. wednesday noons are for basketball matches, which explains why the library and hallways are quieter and emptier than usual. even the teachers make time for the tournaments off their busy schedules, it’s understandable— your university is known for having one of the best sports teams in the league, and the basketball team being the defending champions does nothing but fuel the pride of students and staffs as if they’re the ones on the court, trying to get the ball in the basket.

you wouldn’t say you don’t like being a part of the crowd because you’ve been to the badminton tournaments and know that watching matches is as interesting as playing, if not more. you just don’t have the time to attend any. with assignments piling up and exams ‘round the corner, you’d rather spend your last two months of the semester studying instead of yelling at the bleachers. you can always get the recordings if you ever feel like watching one, as for the results, the word goes around faster in your department than anywhere else, all because of one of the students being on the team. 

you try focusing, you really do, but your cup is just as empty as your brain and your phone is going up with notifications. you don’t see the point of miyeon spamming the gc with updates on the match when everyone in the group, except you, is with her, watching and cheering alongside. muting is a choice which you choose not to do, and the reason is between you and god, to be honest. long story short, it’s the lack of motivation clogging your thought process and the realisation that your friends are out there enjoying themselves unlike you is blocking any means of logical thinking. a day or two spent not studying wouldn’t make you fail the classes, and even if the guilt is pooling inside, you pack your stuff and walk out of the library, making your way to the indoor basketball court. 

the screams grow louder as you approach, each step reminding you that you still can go back as you choose to ignore it. exams can wait, you tell yourself, a day to myself can’t. your mother would tell you to take breaks and go out instead of studying all day, but being on top is an addiction. it’s no good, you wish other students would believe you, it’s a struggle, on the top, at the bottom, everywhere. you expect to turn a few heads as soon as you walk inside, which doesn’t happen, but you expected it. you don’t watch matches, this could easily be your third or fourth one, and the first basketball match, to be more specific. once you realise that everyone is busy watching the plays instead of noticing who comes and goes from the court, you make your way up to the one friend you manage to spot amidst the crowd— sung hanbin. indoor bleachers feel more compact than the outdoor ones. you've been to the football match last semester, courtesy of miyeon, and everything being outdoors really helps with the crowd and noise. 

“didn’t expect to see you here,” hanbin stands next to you, offering you a sip or two from his drink, which you politely refuse, eyes fixed on the court as if it was the home they’ve been searching for. “i thought you hate heeseung,” it isn’t until he takes his name that your gaze averts to heeseung. you don’t even know why hanbin would outright assume you’re here for heeseung. in fact, that man’s name didn’t even cross your mind until he was mentioned.

“hate is a big word, ‘bin,” your words are more of a whisper laced with hesitation, as if you aren’t sure of what you’re saying. hate, actually, is a very big and heavy word. despite its constant usage with your friends, you realise the weight it holds and the impact it has. hate and dislike— they’re different and yet similar enough to be used synonymously at times. not by you, of course, you have a clear distinction between the two, and as of now, you don’t know if what you feel for heeseung is a mere dislike or pure hatred. “i just don’t like him,” 

when he successfully shoots a three-pointer, you come to the decision that you definitely don’t hate him. heeseung is, more or less, the typical all-rounder straight-A student, the jack of all trades and fortunately enough, the master of all as well. he's the student teachers use as an example, the son parents wish for, the boyfriend people wished they had. lee heeseung is many things, and one of those is being the reason why you have the second highest score in your department instead of the first position, unlike how it used to be two semesters ago. 

heeseung transferred departments about thirty weeks ago, from chemistry to bioinformatics. it had been surprising on your side because not many opted for bioinformatics until they were certain of their goal. the course in itself is vast, like an ocean of several different fields and each and every one of them opens a door to a different outcome. bioinformatics isn’t something students picked overnight just because it had the vacancy and they didn’t like their initially chosen courses. as fun as the subject sounds, it demands consistency and time, something that heeseung lacks. you had seen him attend classes the first few weeks regularly, and then the ghost of him started sitting on the empty seat that belongs to him. skipping classes, arriving late, delayed submission of a couple of projects— you knew he wasn’t here to stay. it was to pass time, or whatever, you couldn’t care, didn’t care, not until he started acing the tests, practically dethroning you from your infamous ‘perfect all kill’ title that you had for getting nothing less than a perfect score, most of the time, give and take a few here and there. 

you still get good scores, amazing even, full score in theory and the same in practicals. it’s going well in lab manuals and project works but heeseung seems to get a perfect score in those too, something you started missing ever since he came into the picture. perhaps, it was something in the way he phrased his essays— you hoped it was. rumour has it that heeseung used to be a literature student, which could explain his outstanding english skills and his eloquent way of speaking. you even looked up his debate videos on youtube only to find more evidence on how skilled he is in public speaking. 

but above all, heeseung is, actually, just a really damn annoying student, quite literally the bane of your existence. he’s always set on stealing people’s spotlight during lessons, with you being the people, obviously, always answering questions with information that’s unrelated and probably even unnecessary. and for the shortest time, you even considered taking him off your ‘things i hate’ list because you were no different in highschool. when you’re the top student, it becomes a habit to talk about things as if you know them in your bones and impress teachers. hell, you even had rivals in highschool, although none of them got on your nerves the way heeseung does. basically, he has no reason to call you by weird names everytime you both pass each other in the hallways, or remind you that he’s the top student. ‘this is the vice-captain of the basketball team and the best student of the biotechnology department, lee heeseung, informing you on the up—’ seriously, no one wants to hear him introduce himself like that when you’re around. you’re pretty sure it’s engraved inside your brain with the amount of times he repeats it everyday. minjeong even says that heeseung is becoming more and more like sunghoon, and you would not know how or why because you didn’t attend highschool with sunghoon, unlike her. 

the court flares up with cheers when heeseung goes for a dunk which ultimately leads to their team winning the match, and you reach the conclusion that maybe you don’t hate heeseung but actually want to bang his head against the walls. your eyes follow him around the court, analysing his conduct during the match, the way he communicates so effortlessly with teammates using hand signs or quick phrases, the way he holds the team together when the ball is with him, despite not being the captain. heeseung might be the most unbearable person you’ve met so far, he’s actually just fine when his target is not you. you’re sure any other player is doing just as good but nothing comes close to how you see heeseung. it’s different, the light he is in, it’s unique, incredible, and inexplicably addictive. heeseung juggles between classes and basketball, you remember sunghoon talking about his part-time job when you passed by their lockers the other day. he doesn’t have it easy, you don’t either, but you had those all perfect kills by spending hours in your study while heeseung does better than you while winning matches, making money. 

it doesn’t take you long to realise that what you have for him could be dislike with a hint of jealousy, and you wonder if all the people would react the same way once they know who heeseung really is— a devil behind an angelic face, one who deliberately likes ruining things for you, as if his life depends on it. you still remember the day he personally texted you the wrong syllabus for a test, claiming that it had been updated and the professor had asked him to notify everyone. ‘and as you know, i have not been added in the group chat yet so i’m texting everyone personally,’ he had lied ever so smoothly as if his words consist of nothing but truth, as if lies are something he hasn’t even heard of. kudos to you for studying the original and correct syllabi beforehand, you still aced the test, if heeseung scoring the first rank is overlooked. 

you’re dragged back from your thoughts to the reality when a boy bumps into you while hurrying down to the players, hoping to get noticed. half of the students act like the team is actually a boy-band, you can see them on the front page of every single edition of university magazine. usually, you prefer waiting for the crowd to disperse before taking your leave from wherever you are, but a sudden reminder about the tests over text from your professor gives you a reason to leave early, all to make sure you could catch up to heeseung. you rush your way out of the bleachers once the teams start leaving the court, eyes fixed on heeseung to take a note of the direction he leaves. hanbin gives you a confused look before the words find their way out of his mouth. “where are you going?” 

“basketball shower room,” and your words could give him, and the other people who might’ve heard you, a wrong idea but you couldn’t care less. the goal was to see heeseung before he leaves the campus, which was highly likely because no one has it in them to attend four hours of classes after an exhausting match, not even heeseung, no matter how amazing he is. 

you make your way through the ocean of people, bumping into a few in the process as you make your way to the club room. a silent profanity leaves your mouth once you realise that the club room entrance might be filled with fangirls and boys, left and right, and the thought of shuffling your way out of the crowd to meet heeseung makes you reconsider your actions. heeseung might be a star student but isn’t amazing enough for you to step out of your comfort zone and do things to see him. 

“well, this is surprising,” your voice manages to turn his head towards the door. “thought you’d be busy with your fangirls, lee,” and it is surprising indeed because the hallways are unexpectedly empty with only a few people around. you would say they learnt to give the players their space after a game but that would be a lie considering the embarrassing history of students when it comes to people on the sports team. 

“they’re probably busy with jake,” heeseung responds with a smile, and even though he turns to his locker just as quickly, you could see the smile dancing on the corner of his lips. 

jake is rather a new player, a junior to be specific, and jay personally spent days waiting outside the physics department to get the guy on the basketball team. explains why he’s popular amidst students, he’s talented, good at studies— seriously, you wouldn’t understand how these people manage academics with sports. you couldn’t, and even if you managed to, you would end up passing out every few days. “does it suck to lose your fan-following to a newbie?” 

“not really. i still have you here,” heeseung wouldn’t call it ‘losing’ his fan-following because he’s using jake as bait to escape the crowd of students as quickly as possible. a junior has to make sacrifices, in this case it’s to save heeseung by sacrificing himself to the public. although, saying that he still has you looking for him even though a hundred others aren’t makes him feel better about himself. “no but seriously, what did you come here for?” 

“oh, it’s for the test on friday,” you pull out your phone, opening the group chat with the professor and the students who took the same course. it’s laughable how the universe put you in the exact same situation twice, although with the tables turned this time, and it takes everything in you to not tell him a made-up, wrong syllabi, and do what is rational. “the syllabi was extended up to chapter fourteen, till page three-ninety-seven. they sent it in the group chat this morning but i’m sure you hardly have time even to think about something else except basketball,” 

you’ve known heeseung for two semesters but that’s for the people to say. the truth is, you don’t know him outside what he shows to everyone else. you see him come and go, spot him around the bar with his friends on weekends you pass by it. you know he skips classes and asks students for notes. it’s not necessarily from you, though you’d prefer if he would ask you since you’re the best student in the whole department, after him, as much as you hate to admit it. on some days, you see him in the library, earphones plugged in. if you manage to sneak a glance or two, you’d catch him watching the match recordings and taking notes, you wouldn’t know what notes someone could take from matches. in short, you don’t know heeseung more than how everyone knows him. coming to the shower rooms and notifying him about the test might just be a discreet attempt at striking up more conversations with him, but also, you’re just fine with him being the academic rival slash classmate that he is. 

“yeah, semi-finals,” heeseung shuts his locker close, a sigh falling off his lips just like the water drops falling on his shoulder from the tips of his hair, after a shower. “doesn’t help that they’re at the same time as the quarterly assessments. thank you for telling me even though it means you’ll end up losing the first position to me once again,” and of course, the heeseung you know wouldn’t waste an opportunity to strike up a competition. it would be a lie if you claim to hate it because despite the sour look on your face, a part of you loves these little academic races with him. heeseung makes you strive to do better, he’s like the driving force you lacked which made college a whole lot better. after all, where’s the fun in getting a perfect score with the bare minimum effort, without some challenges knocking at your door? 

“what can i do, i’m all about fair play,” there’s a subtle shade behind your words, reckoning to the multiple incidents of him ruining things for you. this could take a really nasty turn if you were to resort to his ways, except you won’t because you’re better than him. “good luck, and we’ll see who loses the first position to whom,” 

heeseung wipes his hair before switching to texting on his phone, the smile still adorning his face like a jewel. you assume it’s the delight from winning a match, it’s obvious. his eyes couldn’t help but sparkle at every little achievement, always looking forward to something more, something challenging, that’s lee heeseung for you— someone who knows he has an easier way around things but would deliberately walk down another path and test his limits. shocking how it took you one basketball match to see the passion he has for things he’s interested in, that he’s more than a sport jock or a straight nerd, he’s more than someone who takes courses to pass time, more than someone who is just a show-off.

“heeseung,” the dislike, the hatred, the envy, it might all be a lie. “well played today,” because in the end, there’s a minimal possibility that you’re leaving the room with nothing but the slightest of admiration for the guy who is nothing but an obstacle between you and that first position in upcoming finals in two months. 

and it would be a lie too to claim that your words didn’t catch heeseung by surprise.

II. RIVALRY, FEELINGS, ETCETERA. 

it has been a little over one day since heeseung’s conversation with you outside the shower rooms, twenty-seven hours to be exact. twenty-seven hours of him hearing the same last words over and over again, twenty-seven hours of him failing all and any attempts at straight thinking and twenty-seven hours of him not thinking about anything except you. all of it ends up in three hours of practice and not one good shot from heeseung. the sighs and snickers from teammates fill the court every few seconds— truthfully, they never leave. heeseung is simply too lost to pay attention to them. 

“heeseung, you good?” a pat on shoulder from jake and the words following soon after manage to pull him out of his spiral of thought, even if it’s for a brief second. 

“he’s not, won’t be anytime soon,” sunghoon replies as if the answer was on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be revealed. “yn came to watch the last match, after all,” there’s a smirk on sunghoon’s face, heeseung can tell it in the intonation of his words. 

jay pauses just seconds before going for a layup, joining the conversation. “wait, she did?” 

“yep, saw her standing next to that hanbin guy or something,” 

“mate, you cannot be acting like this over a girl and that too, four days before finals,” this conversation, as a whole, is beyond jake’s comprehension. a part of the reason could be because he joined the team late, thus missing out on a huge chunk of internal jokes and gossip and goes amidst the players. and no amount of reasons can convince him into thinking that it’s fine to act out-of-character before important matches just because your crush showed up at one of your matches. 

“she’s not just some random girl. she never attends matches, but she came to watch my match,” heeseung clarifies as if the reasons behind his antics are valid and acceptable. “you wouldn’t know how i feel right now,” 

“you’re on cloud nine, we know, your crush gave you the attention you’ve been lacking but trust me, she would ignore you just as efficiently if she sees you perform like this,” 

“she’s not a crush,” and despite it being a well known fact amongst the basketball team that heeseung has a thing or two for you, he always refuses to accept it. one can say it’s the pride thing. you barely even talk to him unless it’s about studies, and your conversations are mostly along the lines of who outdoes whom in tests and assessments. moreover, everyone knows heeseung is the reason why you’re the second best student in the department— as much as you hate to admit it, again— because he transferred and flipped your world, probably even dribbled around with it like a basketball. a word goes around every few days about you glaring at him in class, which is not true, you’re instead focusing your eyes on something in an attempt to think. he just happens to sit right in front of you and be the object of focus. heeseung might as well believe that you hate him, even though yesterday’s conversation was far from how people talk when they hate each other, and his assumptions could account for the constant words of denial that fall off his lips. 

jay snickers before landing a hook successfully. “yeah, and i’m a pigeon,” 

“oh, shut it, jay,” heeseung turns to look at the other boy. “she’s just someone i admire. have you read her essays? her papers? god, we’re a year away from graduation but she’s already writing mind-blowing papers, one of them was even published in the monthly issue of some magazine. she’s already on her best performance and still tries to do better, always down to guide juniors with lab work and also is on the research team for the paediatrics department at asan medical centre. all this, and she studies all day. if i were her, i’d pass out. i can’t go a day without entering the court,” 

“and he says he doesn’t have a crush oh her,” sunghoon rolls his eyes, it’s like if he heard another line of excuses from heeseung, he could see the back of his skull and have a look at hs big, fat brain. 

“because i don’t? you guys never had someone you admired so much that they practically became your role model despite being in the same year?” unlike other things that heeseung does, calling you his role model has a reason. first, it can give him a reason to talk to you. heeseung is almost convinced that you hate him, and if this persists, it would get harder and harder for him to approach you, but with the lie— half lie— of you being his role model and so wonderful that he couldn’t help but admire you from afar while trying to overcome his social anxiety gives him a reason to talk to you. plus, it sounds plausible, he doesn’t understand why his brother says it’s bound to fail. 

the second reason and more to do with his friend group. no one in his friend circle is capable of keeping a secret— jay ends up spilling tea unconsciously, jake tells one person who he trust and that person turns out to be the most untrustworthy person ever, beomgyu, well he’s on the team but telling him would be like standing on a stage and announcing to the whole campus, and sunghoon, he’s the mother, he cannot digest food without disclosing secrets. even if it’s common knowledge that heeseung has a tiny crush on you, denying it in front of the whole campus everytime one of them brings it up helps him with his reputation and fortunately, ends up keeping it a secret. besides, he’d rather have people tease him for calling you his role model than having a crush on you. 

“i surely don’t have someone i admire to the point i read all their papers and know each and everything they’ve volunteered for,” jay argues back, set on proving his point. “tell me what am i gonna do knowing that she’s on the paediatrics research team?” 

“i think this is the most i’ve known about yn ever since classes started and that too, because of heeseung,” beomgyu chuckles, earning a side eye from heeseung in the process. 

“enough, let’s get back to practice,” heeseung intervenes in an attempt to change the topic. he does not want his closest friends making fun of him for liking someone— it’s supposed to be human nature to have a crush. 

“you get back to practice because you’re the only one fucking up because of your silly little crush. i’m done, jay, call me when we’re having a practice match because i need to attend theology or my professor would write me up,” taehyun passes the ball to sunghoon, the latter yelping in surprise at the sudden yet successful catch. 

“i don’t have a crush—”

“of course, let’s get you back to practice,” jake cuts heeseung off mid sentence, moving back to take his position as sunghoon passes the ball to heeseung, who, as expected, misses the catch due to lack of concentration.

it’s going to be a long day for the team. 

. 

. 

.

“a little birdie told me you went to see heeseung in the shower rooms?” are the words you hear as soon as your classes are dismissed, miyeon walking up to you and hanbin discussing the set of questions your professor distributed just a few minutes ago. 

“i didn’t go into the shower rooms, i was outside, near the lockers,” and there’s a difference. to be in the shower room implies you were there in the shower, which definitely gives rise to several wrong ideas of different levels. specifically, you didn’t even enter the locker room. you were outside, leaning against the door, watching heeseung as he walked freshly out of the shower, a towel around his neck, you both strike up a small talk. yeah, that was the scene, not with you in the shower and whatever miyeon’s imagination leads to after that. 

“so you did go!” she claps her hands together as if it’s a celebratory occasion, turning her head to look at the boy next to you. “what were you saying about yn not having a crush, habin?”

“it’s not a crush, miyeon,” and it’s true— heeseung is not a crush. he’s a classmate, a rival, an over-qualified and impossibly competitive student, someone you would want to take your time to study. “what, i can’t even go to tell a classmate about the updated syllabus for a test now? i would’ve done that for anyone, not just heeseung,” 

hanbin sighs, packing his bag. “sure, but he’s in the groupchat. he could’ve checked it himself,” 

“um, i doubt that,” you’re preparing a powerpoint in your head, multiple slides on why you needed to do what you did. “he’s busy with basketball and i know how he gets when the matches are around the corner. don’t you remember how he skipped two weeks of classes straight because of matches last semester? and it’s the finals this time, i don’t think he even opens texts about anything that’s not basketball. i mean, he responded to my messages six days later because he was busy with practice,” 

you say it like you’ve known heeseung for a decade and have been through the ups and downs with him. you wouldn’t care about who does what in the classes, if it’s a paper plane flying right over you, landing just second to the first row of seats or if it’s someone being brave enough and playing music during lectures. biology, in your opinion, is a subject for those who are serious about doing something unique while staying in the academic field. you don’t encounter troublemakers often, once a blue moon if the heavens make a mistake. on other days, it’s quieter than a library, emptier than cemeteries at night. 

to think your life as a biotechnology major got interesting after heeseung switched majors is astonishing and equally debatable. 

“i don’t see why i should remember all that about ‘just a classmate’ but thanks for telling,” and before you know it, hanbin and miyeon are out of the class, on their way to wherever their next stop is. seriously, they’re having it easier than you. they go to games, movies, drink on weekends— something you haven’t had a taste on ever since the year started. somewhere, you could be blamed for your hectic schedules. studies, lab work, and thesis, they suffice for all the stress a student in post graduation studies can handle. volunteering and writing papers is on you, things wouldn’t have been arduous if you had decided to move slowly, one step at a time. sometimes, the hunger for more leaves you starving— quite literally. 

you spend an hour or so in the classroom along with a few other students, going through the same old routine of yours— watch videos, take notes, transfer them to your document in your own words and make it sound as innovative and convincing as possible. heeseung would be better at this than you. you’re exhausted to the point that accepting your defeat to him doesn’t even faze you anymore. he used to be a literature student, had english as a side course as an undergrad, he’s bound to be better than making essays sound they came right out of shakespeare's drafts, phrases and metaphors that would put fitzgerald to shame. 

you didn’t care about what went down in your classes until heeseung came along. call it craziness or the weird impression you have of students in your field, heeseung is far from the typical biotechnology student aiming for a postgraduate degree. he skips classes, plays basketball as if studies are a side business, and yet still manages to ace every test like an all-rounder. he shouldn’t even be in classroom, he should be in the labs, being the most important subject of studies. there are days you think of him as a social experiment— how quickly can a robot piss off a straight-A student with its impeccable skills— of course, the subjects wouldn’t know it’s a robot but you do, you’re almost convinced he is one. there’s no way he’s the top student with the amount of effort he puts in. one would claim that he studies after classes, at home slash dorms, but you can bet your life he doesn’t. there have been numerous instances when you’ve spotted him in the background of someone’s picture at a bar. he’s always with people, he has a humongous friend group, god knows how someone can live like that. at first, you were convinced he isn’t real, as worrisome as it sounds, and if he is real then he needs to be studied. 

which leads to what you’re doing right now— making your way to the basketball court. you don’t know how or why you’re doing it. you started with your studies, ended up thinking about heeseung, and now you’re on your way to the basketball court. although, it’s not half a bad idea, now that you think about it once again. 

your mind goes all the way back to when you watched him play for the first time, which was just a day ago actually. you don’t know anything about basketball, you don’t know much about heeseung either, but there’s one thing you’re sure of— heeseung is class and heeseung on the court, they’re different. you’ve noticed the way he clicks his pen relentlessly out of nervousness when he can’t solve a question, the way his back tenses up for a fraction of a second as soon as he’s asked to explain something. you’ve seen the hints of fear in his eyes when he asked you for notes last semester just three days before exams, scared that he would fail. heeseung isn’t sure of a lot of things and basketball isn’t one of those. 

“you’re not practising?” you ask him when you swim out of your thoughts, watching him climb up the bleachers and sit next to you. the court seems much better when it’s empty, free from the loud cheers of spectators, but that could be just you. 

“i was, as you see, but i saw you up here and thought it was time for a break,” you could see his teammates shake heads at him in disappointment, proceeding to continue with their practice. “what’s up?” 

you don’t respond to him and instead, take your time watching the others practise their shots. you watch the way one of them, who you think is taehyun, goes for a dunk, credits to hanbin for telling you names for a few shots. next to you, heeseung shouts out a tip or two for the boy for him to have an easier and effective approach at the said move. heeseung is good at dunks, you’ve heard it from students, you’ve seen it in the last match as well. just one shot was enough to tell you how good he is at it, it’s like basketball flows in his veins, like he can close his eyes and still manage to get a basket. 

your eyes ghost up the court and shift to him— there’s a content smile on his face, a relaxed posture as if there’s nothing for him to worry about. he takes a sip from his energy drink, you wonder if he, or anyone from the team, even gets time to have their meals. the expression on his face, it’s something you’ve never seen on him during lessons. it takes you back to the match, how he looked on court a day before, certain of every move he made, every step, every breath, without doubts, no second thoughts. you’ve done enough lab projects with heeseung to know how his hands shake when he’s preparing a slide or extracting a sample from a centrifuge, afraid that one wrong move and he would mess up the efforts of everyone in the group. that hesitation is nowhere to be seen on the court, gone like it has never existed. as if lee heeseung, the star student and player, has never had an encounter with nervousness and hesitation in his life. there’s a thin line between studies and sport for him, you finally realise it after much consideration. maybe, you’re going beyond your boundaries and making assumptions about a guy you barely know, even if you would never voice all these thoughts to him, you think you know the reason why there’s a different him on the stage when the ball is in hands.  

“how did you realise that you like basketball? you know, like it enough to devote so much of your time and have it alongside studies?” because even if biotech is something he’s studying and wants to make a career in, you guess that it’s just a source of satisfaction. in your eyes, through your perception, basketball is what makes him truly happy. 

you don’t know why someone wouldn’t pick satisfaction over happiness, especially when it’s coming with its hands full of opportunities to grab that bag.

“eh, i don’t have a sob story about it, if that is what you’re hoping for,” he chugs down the contents of the can before crushing it to the slightest, eyes squinting at the opposite wall before they move back to meet yours. “i never had to sit and think about basketball and studies, you know, as in how am i going to manage both of them. it just happened. i started playing basketball in middle school and it has been with me ever since,” 

heeseung’s side of the story is simple— a mediocre guy who was introduced to sports by his older brother and now, it’s one of the most important things in his life. middle school heeseung preferred staying in and playing video games instead of going out. in fact, middle school heeseung resembles you in all the ways that make him different from you right now. he has been good at learning and remembering things, he takes liking to things quicker than others do. basketball was like for him— easy, quick, fun, like a way to release all the stress after a long day at school. in heeseung’s story, there isn’t a main character who helped him choose the path he’s walking right now. instead, all he had was his family who introduced him to the various aspects and opportunities, and he simply ended up joining hands with the ones he liked, deciding to not let it go before the dead end. 

“i want to have that passion for things,” a soft laughter falls off your lips, it’s an attempt to make your sob story look less pitiful. “i used to paint and play piano— but painting, mostly, was really good at it. i learnt how to draw before i learnt how to tie my shoelaces. i couldn’t go a day without painting, but then highschool happened, i had pressure to do well, expectations from friends and family, had a dream outside painting, and now, i haven’t painted in years,” 

unlike heeseung, art started as more than just a side business to you. it’s not something you were introduced to in the middle of your life but rather is something you grew up with. you can blame or credit your mother for making paintings and having them in almost every corner of your house. it’s one of the reasons why at five years old you were beyond fascinated at all the patterns and colours. no one would’ve guessed that science would manage to sweep you off your feet right from the first grade, given the way your hands danced a duet to their own melody along with a paintbrush, as if each stroke has a conscious life of its own. no one would’ve guessed that your mother would tell you to stop painting and focus on studies, neither would they have known that she would become the reason why you no longer feel the same way about art. as stated before, life is unpredictable— because no one would’ve guessed that sitting here on the bleachers with heeseung and sharing a piece of your life would water the seeds of doubts in your heart, the ones that bloom at the sight of him.

he thinks your story is sad— with all due respect, without sarcasm, of course. it’s the best he can say. “i think it’s more of a ‘connection’ thing. you think you’ve lost the connection but you simply need to pickup a canvas and some colours to relink, if you get me,” because heeseung has had somewhat of a same experience, with music, and sitting front of a piano to play one of sibelius’ symphonies after senior year highschool finals was all it took him to find his lost interest in music. even though it’s nothing more than just a hobby, even if it's just something he considers as a way to pass time, heeseung knows how it feels to let go of something that is an integral part of one’s life. 

“it has always been about timing, heeseung,” you shake your head, trying to prove him wrong using your own arguments. “you think i haven’t tried painting again? i still have art supplies stacked up in my cupboard. it’s all about timing. when you like something, you only get a few chances to make sure it stays with you for a lifetime. how many people do you know who have given up on their hobbies because they claim to have lost interest? the thing is, the interest is still there, it’s the inability and fear of not being able to do it again. if you timing is off, no matter how much you try, things won’t work, and what you love will end up becoming a closed chapter of your life,” 

a pause. he sits still, eyes admiring your face while his mind is busy replaying your words in the back of his head. heeseung wonders how valid they are when it comes to people. he likes you, despite the constant denial which is only for show, by the way. it doesn’t take a scientist to read him. reading him isn’t even close to rocket science, he doesn’t understand how you haven’t caught up even after being incredibly smart. he has seen you hang out with hanbin— heeseung hates that guy, by the way. there’s no solid logic, it’s just that hanbin seems to be around you all the time and heeseung thinks of him as a leech sucking blood off its host. heeseung would never admit but it’s just his jealousy playing tricks on him, and even though it doesn’t look like you have any romantic feelings towards that guy, it would be fucking embarrassing for heeseung lose you to a guy who isn’t even half as qualified as him. ( yes, he is judging characters based on academic qualifications, no heeseung wouldn’t explain why )

“i like you,” and so, he lets his feelings win for once, deciding to let his heart take control instead, closing doors to any room for rational thinking like it never existed. “you said it was about timing, about trying hard enough and having only a few chances, perhaps, just one bullet, and i’m shooting my shot right now. i don’t want to remember you as a closed chapter of my life,” 

it would be such a waste of chemistry if you end up becoming just a closed chapter of his life. heeseung has done his research, more like reading tons of books and watching hundreds of movies to understand the potential that two academic rivals have. no one knows this, not even his closest friends, but heeseung’s favourite genre might simply be enemies to lovers and living that trope doesn’t sound as bad when it’s with you. he has spent hours thinking about the number of productive library dates you could have, working on projects together and brainstorming about the next biggest revolution in the RDT world, changing the public’s outlook at genetics forever. it sounds stupid and makes him sound even stupider, even as a lost cause, but heeseung doesn’t care. in his mind, it’s the best date someone could have. to live and become successful together, it sounds like a perfect plan to him.   

truthfully, you have always been a part of heeseung’s future, near or distant. he always always pictures you in his life, standing next to him during graduation, bidding goodbyes at farewell, exchanging shy greetings at reunions ten years later while reminiscing about everything he did to irritate you, that would sound embarrassing a decade later. your presence will always be significant to him, he just hopes to remember you as something more than just a rival, just a classmate he never really got to know, just a person he spent his two years hating upon, just a crush he didn’t get to confess to. 

the catch— heeseung has already started picturing his future and you are not even sure of your present— and while he is looking at you for an answer, you’re lost inside your head, looking for words to articulate. 

heeseung is someone you planned to stay away from for the rest of your university life. him stepping into your life already costs you a lot, namely: dropping in ranks and losing your infamous title. his actions cost you the time you could use to study, which is actually upon you because you can simply ignore him instead of spending hours on thinking about his hows, whens and whats. heeseung was supposed to be the academic rival slash classmate that he is, instead of allowing him to be something more, but beyond rivalry, feelings, etcetera. you knew the way you felt about him, even though you couldn’t be as certain as him, or even to claim you see him the same way he feels about you.

turns out, heeseung has always been sure of certain things in his life. 

“heeseung, i’m—”

“not sure? busy? stressed? i know you have a lot of things going on right now. take your time, study for the finals, finish your papers, sort out your own issues and then come back to me. i’ll be waiting,” it’s like he’s not only good at studying but also at reading minds, because heeseung seems to have guessed a part of exactly what you’ve been thinking. call it timing, jay calls him to get back to practice just a few seconds later— a perfect excuse to leave. “looks like my break is over,” 

you sit speechless, watching him walk away like an opportunity that just walked out of your hand. it feels like a slight defeat, like a test you failed when you could've scored better, if not a full score. it's funny because this wasn't a competition, you weren't rejected, more like you rejected him, but it still feels like he has the upper hand. it's funny and equally annoying because heeseung is supposed to be nothing more than just a nobody, somebody you aren't even supposed to spare two thoughts on, but here you are sitting with the guy with your feelings all over the place. 

“heeseung,” you stand up, your voice making him turn to look at you, both of you ignoring the sight of his teammates standing motionless in their positions, too stunned at your voice reverberating in the almost empty court. “let’s do this: if you manage to stand first in the finals, i’ll date you,”

a lowkey confession leading to a mere competition. his lips morph into a smirk, the ones he'd pass you before tests, an open challenge offered directly to you. “and if i don’t?”

and you mirror the same smirk back at him, you weren't going to back off simply because it's about the person you possibly have a crush on. “i become just a closed chapter of your life,” 

let the game begin. 

III. LIAR AND THE LOVER

despite heeseung’s sudden confession, you’re doing quite well, taking it better than expected. you had your moment of confusion back when the words of proposal fell off his lips— anyone would. after all, it’s lee heeseung we’re talking about. you can only imagine the saddened faces of his fangirls once they hear about him confessing to you.  

“jay told me you made a bet with heeseung?” hanbin’s question catches your attention as soon as he steps into the cafe, managing to turn a few heads towards you in the process. 

“you know jay?” 

he sits next to you, pulling out his laptop in a hurry. you can guess it’s because of his essay that’s due before six in the evening, one he could’ve written last night instead of getting wasted at his friend’s birthday gathering. “we share history, also, that’s not the answer to my question,” 

“it’s not a bet, ‘bin,” your words aren’t half wrong. “just a silly game, y’know? i didn’t even expect him to agree,” frankly, even you don’t know why or how you came up with such a bizarre idea in broad daylight. usually, people get bouts of excitement or embarrassment while confessing or being confessed to, but in your case, you jumped over the fence and made a proposal that you have only seen in fiction. 

“nah, no way you’re setting up your whole love life for failure and calling it a silly game,” the disappointment is evident in hanbin’s voice as his fingers danced over his keyboard, typing with a speed that could leave the trains behind. well, people tend to get like that when you have an assignment due and the deadline is just a few hours to go. you guess that he’s too busy to even listen to your reasoning, which is appreciated considering you have no reasoning as for why you did what you did. 

“you made a bet with heeseung,” you turn your head around, making the boy next to you do the same in the process. it’s miyeon— you should’ve seen it coming, honestly. your actions have consequences, as always, and one of them is dealing with her non-stop interrogation as if you’re the prime suspect for some gruesome crime and every question answered wrong opens gates to capital punishment. sometimes, you wonder why she didn’t go with studying law instead. 

“how do you know?”

“everyone knows, yn. it’s all they’ve been talking about,” she sighs, sitting opposite to you while taking a look at hanbin’s laptop. “even the football fanatics are talking about attending the game, god, hanbin we better hurry that day or we’re not getting a seat,” you should’ve seen it coming, honestly. miyeon might not be the most social person, but she definitely is the most updated. nothing escapes her, every tiny incident reaches her ears one way or another, and if not, then she just finds out about it using her sources, given you don’t know about her sources. it’s one of the reasons why you’re almost convinced that she runs a shady side business alongside her career in bioengineering. 

you take a sharp breath, going through the bunch of papers arranged in your file. “it’s not that serious. he confessed to me and i said i’d date him if he manages to secure the first position in the finals as well,” 

“you did that knowing he hasn’t been studying because of games while you’re studying like your life depends on it? there’s no way he’s going to be first, and everything aside, it was a wrong fucking move to play with his feelings,” play with his feelings— a pause, you don’t like how it sounds. you’re not playing with his feelings, that’s far from what you’re doing. it’s a game, a competition, new to your friends but you and heeseung have always been familiar with it. there’s an unspoken rule to test each other’s limits. the last time you and heeseung did something like this, it resulted with you writing ‘lee heeseung is smarter than ln yn,’ in bold on a sheet of paper and putting it on the notice board for the whole campus to see. in your eyes, it's history repeating itself yet again. sure, there is something else at stake, but the rules are the same, and you don’t know why your friends are acting like you’ve done something terribly unethical. 

“no one’s playing with his feelings, miyeon, and i know for a fact he’s making time to study for finals,” you clarify your side, slight annoyance evident in your voice. “besides, it doesn’t matter. it’s not like this is serious, i only did this to buy time to figure out my feelings while the game gives me a reason to study and not get distracted. you know how i get when i lose focus,” 

that could be the reasoning behind your actions, of course. even while sitting in a cafe with your friends and having a conversation that is about to make your blood boil, you’re thinking of heeseung in the back of your head. his words play over and over again like a broken record player, the image of him on court or studying pops up in your mind every now and then. obsession is a disease and you have it bad. it’s crazy to be thinking about someone so much without being absolutely floored for them. 

“so you’ll date him despite the outcome?” hanbin drags you out of the well of your thoughts, a question that leaves miyeon flabbergasted. 

“if i manage to figure out my feelings then of course,” a chuckle falls off your lips. “i’m telling you guys, it’s not that serious. i’m sure he knows it too,” and you’re really confident about this— it usually never ends on a good note. 

“and if he doesn’t? what if it’s serious for him? yn, you never know how one thing might affect someone, and feelings are not something to gamble on. you should’ve told him you need some time to think instead of giving him a false hope or whatsoever,” it’s now that you start having second thoughts. the next two hours go by amidst silence, a few small talks blooming here and there, but dissolving just as quickly within the ticking clock of deadlines for assignments and exams. 

it doesn’t take a scientist to know when miyeon is upset, for she isn’t the best at masking her emotions. through the sneaky glances at her that you’ve stolen over time, you can tell she’d rather spend the evening in silence than talk to you, which is a challenge with herself because she’s really talkative. it takes two to sing a duet, two to play and game, two people to make a relationship work. heeseung and you— the two of you are enough to make decisions for yourselves, decide what’s right and wrong and, something about miyeon questioning your choices doesn’t sit right with you. 

too many cooks spoil the broth, it’s the principle of your life, the words you’ve been following to this date. it was your decision to have a few friends instead of a fifty— quality over quantity, as one might call it— and there has never been a moment when you regretted having a handful of people to call friends. instead of consulting too many people about your major in university, you simply went with what your parents and homeroom teacher suggested. life has been good so far. the more the better is something that isn’t applicable in your case. instead of telling everyone about your dilemma regarding heeseung, you decided to keep it to yourself, eventually opening up to heeseung when the time comes. you’re doing just fine on your own, it doesn’t make sense to you why a third person’s opinion is making you doubt your decision making abilities that you’ve been so proud of. 

this is not a gamble, you tell yourself, it’s a fair play. you gave him options, he made the choice, it’s consensual. you didn’t force him into this game, he didn’t pressure you to respond, it’s a harmless competition that’s bound to have a positive outcome. you even spend a good fifteen minutes wondering if you should go back to heeseung and take it all back in case he finds it insensitive to put his feelings on the line. doing it in person seemed impossible so you resorted to texts, typing and deleting your message before giving up altogether. in your head, this was an okay decision. a sweet confession, a person with unsure feelings, a harmless competition. 

you hope it doesn’t backfire ten times worse. 

. 

. 

.

three days later, you find yourself on the way to basketball club rooms once again. you checked the court, it was empty, and your only option was to check the club slash locker rooms if you wanted to see heeseung. okay, first things first, you don’t miss him— maybe a little, but it’s because you miss hearing his weird ass answers in class even though they’re right. heeseung just has an unique approach to things, in other words he simply knows how to buy time and go in detail about things he’s an expert at to impress the professors. however, that doesn’t seem to be the case for him because he has approached you six times in the past three days, asking if you’re free to hangout. 

you like to think he misses you or that his requests were because he wanted to make sure you don’t study and lose to him, either could be true. knowing heeseung, he’s capable of going both ways. whatever may be the reason, you turned him down all six times, and it’s not because you have something against him— of course, you don’t. that’s common knowledge by now— your reason for not hanging out with him is studies, as expected of you honestly. the bet aside, you had way too many chapters to learn before exams and all heeseung ever does is take up your headspace everytime you sit down with your books spread open. avoiding him in thoughts wasn’t possible so avoiding him in person was your last straw. 

which leads to the present : you rushing to heeseung, again,  not because you miss him but because you need his help, though one of the reasons could be that you feel bad for turning him down six times. you can hear muffled laughter from a distance as you approach the club rooms, a bang against one of the lockers, a loud profanity that follows afterwards. their humour is beyond your level of understanding. 

“heese— oh, um—” you greet and turn away just as quickly when you realise that one of them is shirtless. it’s obviously heeseung, you can’t mistake his face for someone else. and you’re guessing he’s the last one to come out of shower because everyone else is dressed, maybe he’s someone who likes to take his time showering— you seriously need to stop thinking before your imagination goes bonkers. “sorry, can you come outside for a second when you’re ready?”

another round of laughter follows, more like teasing remarks because you can swear you heard a few of them refer to you as his girlfriend, and it gets you a little flustered, you won’t lie. you even hear one of them yell ‘ooh, get it, heeseung,’ as heeseung walks out, fixing his t-shirt, responding back with his middle finger up at whoever made the comment. 

“hi,” his voice isn’t much louder than a whisper, eyes fluttering between you, the floor, and his teammates who pretend to not look when you peek inside. there’s a soft smile on his face— it’s cute, you think, and then rethink what you just thought. heeseung is, well, not cute— usually. he’s good-looking, handsome, hot, sexy, even, since you’re on the topic of finding adverbs that suit heeseung. cute is rarely one of them, you don’t think you’ve seen him as flustered as he is right now— rubbing his nape, a tint of pink on his cheeks, avoiding eye-contact— that’s far from the heeseung you’ve been seeing for past two semesters. 

“hi, can you send me the pdf of the extra set of questions that prof sent last week? i think i accidentally deleted it while clearing up my storage,” you get straight to the point, trying not to waste much of your precious time. “i could’ve texted you but figured you’d be too busy with practice to check messages,” you remember what happened last time; he took six days to reply to your texts. you’re quite a patient person otherwise but in this case, you’re in dire need of questions to practise for tomorrow’s mock. 

“ah, sure, give me a minute,” and he pulls out his phone, scrolling through an ocean of files and documents to look for the one you need. you do think he’s gorgeous though, it’s a well known fact that he’s stunning, but you think this look of heeseung surpasses the other ones quite easily— hairs wet after shower, partially covering his forehead, a white t-shirt that’s slightly wet near the shoulders because of the water dripping down— you wish he’d at least dry his hair before catching a cold. “actually, i would have replied to your texts if you had— oh, yes, there you go. do you want me to email it to you or…?”

“oh, just texts would be fine, thank you,” 

“done,” a pause, you feel his eyes on you as you go through the pdf to take a brief look at the contents. “do you want to go for a walk? or are you getting back to studies?” at this point, you’re sure that question is a way to tease you about your obsession with studies. heeseung may think you’re overdoing it because you want to win, but it’s no more than the normal amount of hours you spend studying. he never paid you any attention to care about that. 

“no, i’m done for today, actually,” and that’s a big fat lie considering you were planning to solve some questions and revise two chapters before leaving the campus, but it’s fine. you feel bad for rejecting him six times either way. 

never in your life did you imagine that you’d be going on a walk with heeseung. it’s nothing serious, you just didn’t think there would be a day where you two would have normal people conversation while doing normal people activities instead of trying to disparage each other based on grades and academic performances. to think about it now, heeseung isn’t half bad, it was all in your head. it’s not like you had vile assumptions about him, you did find him annoying and way too prideful— anyone like him would be, actually, and heeseung is still quite humble about his achievements because if it was someone else, they sure would have made it everyone’s problem. 

actually, heeseung is insufferable as well. you remember your first encounter with him, first and so far, the worst— in the laboratory. you and heeseung sat next to each other and when the professor asked him to briefly explain his experiment, you realised it’s oddly similar to yours. you had accused him of cheating, like any sane person would, which led to him getting two scores less than a perfect. he only lost one score because of you, actually, and that too because you were professor’s favourite and heeseung was new to the department. the other score, you don’t know where he missed, but that incident led to heeseung deleting your powerpoint thirty minutes before your presentation, which led you stealing his notes and selling it some junior through an undercover twitter account, which led to the professor asking you to help him with notes before exams, and everything ultimately led to the realisation that heeseung is actually quite decent if you behave with decency as well. the give and take is serious for him, because he gave you notes and so, you had to take his offer of going on a walk. even though it seemed like you had a choice, a part of you knew it was a mirage. you would’ve ended up on a walk with heeseung one way or another. 

“i come here whenever i’m tired or just not feeling well,” he says and you wake up from your daydream of memories you shared with heeseung. the way he phrases his words makes it sound like he has brought you to one of his most secret locations, one that no one knows except taehyun, probably, considering they’re close friends, but in reality, it’s the playground you pass by every single day on your way from your apartment to university. 

“oh, are you okay? are you nervous for tomorrow’s match?” you continue, deciding you shouldn’t ruin his favourite place for him. honestly, no one would’ve guessed that lee heeseung would come to a children’s park on bad days. 

“actually, this walk was for you, you looked like you’d pass out if you spent another hour in front of books,” and you’re done, standing speechless with your eyes wide open at his words that he says with a victorious smile on his face. “you should start taking breaks, yn. it’s not a bad thing to go home earlier when you’re tired,” 

he’s right, oh, you know he’s absolutely right about everything he just said, from passing out to going home. a part of him probably even feels glad to have you out on his little walk with him, you’re getting your well deserved rest, thanks to him. heeseung might even ask if he can walk you home considering you’re ‘done for today,’ which is very thoughtful of him— but what does this make you? a liar? miyeon was right, you’re gambling, even though it’s not that serious. so far, you’ve lied about being done with your studies and the bet you made with heeseung because at this point, it’s more like a prank, except it’s not funny and that it might end up with him getting upset with you because tomorrow is basketball tournament’s finals and you’re here wasting his time, all because you lied. 

a liar and a lover, on a date at children’s park— match made in theatre club, you’d say. 

“are you sure this is not your way to manipulate into not studying and losing to you, just so you can date me?” you try to play it cool, knowing very well that it can be one of his tricks or whatsoever. after all, it’s the same heeseung who made you trip in front of your class just three days after being transferred. 

“i was being genuine but it doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” of course, it doesn’t. he gets to win, after all. “can i walk you home?” just as you had guessed. 

“i would love to go home but my bag is still in the library,” you had considered taking it with you, actually, but dismissed the thought once you realised you had to come back to the library and continue with your studies. albeit, you’re not studying, that’s on you for lying into oblivion and giving into his requests.  

once again, you two are back to walking, this time back to the university campus. it’s nice, having a walk with heeseung, it’s sweet, slow, comforting, like slow music flowing around and engulfing you in its arms. the unsaid words are weighing on your shoulders, you can feel the pressure, but it’s not awkward. above the busy hustle of the city and blaring horns, it’s a quiet world with heeseung, it’s nice, like a warm hug after a long day. you didn’t think you had it in yourself to spend a minute next to him without overthinking and possibly starting a banter. you didn’t think heeseung had it in him either, to make a walk feel so close to home.  

“so, how are you coping knowing you’re going to lose once again?” and, it’s back again. everything is a hoax actually— his looks? a trap. his smile? a trap. it’s all a facade because once he opens his mouth, nothing but horseshit comes out of it. 

“very well, in fact, because i know i’m the one getting that first spot this time,” call it overconfidence but you really do think you’ll get your title back this time. you’ve been studying well and hard enough, solving questions and going through every extra set of notes and exercises your professor sent. although, you would claim to beat heeseung had you been prepared or not because it’s fun messing with him. 

“i’d rather have you show some mercy, in that case,” before you know it, you’re already standing in front of the library. “academic defeat and a heartbreak, it already sounds painful. i hope you go easy on me,” it’s sarcastic, of course, all these saccharine words of confessions made you forget how he is under the layers of smiles and winks that adorn his face. a session full of silence follows, the comforting tranquillity morphing into something tensed as he steps closer, your breath getting caught up in your throat as your mind dysfunctions— it’s the effect he has. 

“heeseung,” you put a finger on his lips— the only thing between him and you, the only thing helping you stay sane and composed at the moment, because only you know the struggle of pulling yourself together while standing inches away from heeseung as he grabs your wrist and plants a soft kiss on your finger before removing it from his lips. 

“why, that’s unfair. you get to see me anytime you want while i have to wait because you’re busy studying, you even get to see me shirtless, and i can’t even get a kiss?” and you hate the look in his eyes, you hate how close he is standing and how it makes your heart go crazy. this isn’t even the beginning and you hate how you feel like you’ve already lost, and you hate how confident he is with every breath he breathes against your lips. “just kidding, see you tomorrow,” 

and you hate how this is where you realise that you’ve fallen deep, and you’ve fallen hard. 

IV. PLANET TO A SUN

heeseung has been thinking about the walk for an hour and twenty-seven minutes— actually more, ever since the moment he got home last night, but that is how long he has been practising for, eyes on the ball but mind revolving around you like a planet to a sun. you had texted him about a rule this morning— no kissing before finals. actually no kissing before we start dating, lee— your exact words. they have been holding him back from thinking straight, even made him practise an apology while looking in the mirror if in case his actions offended you in any way. lost in thought, heeseung manages to get another shot in. that’s twenty-third in a row ever since he stepped on the court, which is unbelievable, even for him. 

“is it just me or did heeseung’s performance improve overnight?” jake looks up at jay, fastening his shoelace, a chuckle escaping his lips that goes unnoticed. 

the latter offers a hand to jake, helping him stand as they share a laugh before jay passes him the ball. “well, of course it will. he has to impress his girlfriend today at finals,”

“she’s not my girlfriend,” heeseung grunts almost as if hearing you and the word girlfriend in the same sentences cuts ten years from his lifespan. he knows it doesn’t, he’d kill to call you his’. the reason behind his edgy behaviour is your text and the weird rule you’ve inserted in an already weird bet— it’s not like he minds it, the bet, obviously. heeseung definitely minds not getting to kiss you for the next few weeks. 

“yet,” jay clarifies, emphasising enough for the world to understand that his words are supposed to be in italics. “she will be if you score more than her in finals, which i don’t think is possible because unlike you, she has been studying all day everyday. i don’t know how she’s still alive,” and jay isn’t half bad student himself. juniors in business have his name residing on the tips of their tongues. he simply thinks you’re a freak for being in no clubs and not participating in anything that doesn’t involve studying. 

“she’s the top student for a reason,” jake adds. 

“i am the top student,” and hearing his friends call you the top students hurts heeseung’s ego a little bit. crushes aside, you’re his rival before his girlfriend, and you’re not even his girlfriend. you’re basically just a rival. “also, it’s not hard to study all day if you’re used to it,” 

and jay scoffs in disbelief. “right, you would know something about it, lee i can’t go a day without playing basketball heeseung,” 

“hey, everyone,” your voice reverberating in the court is what stops heeseung from responding to jay with a snarky remark. “just wanted to wish you all goodluck. i really hope you guys win the tournament or else, it’s going to be hard for heeseung to deal with two loses after i beat him in finals as well,” 

heeseung rolls his eyes in disbelief, you hear taehyun exclaim that he has been team yn since the very first day, a claim that few others proceed to back up, especially sunghoon, with his own lore of how he prays everyday for you to win the bet with heeseung. you’re honoured to receive such support, to some extent. a part of you still wishes for the whole thing to be a secret restricted to just heeseung and you but again, it was your fault for placing bets in court, in front of the entirety of the basketball team to witness, even their coach. 

“you’re a little too confident, don’t you think so?” he smirks, taking a few steps towards you with the ball supported between his arms and torso. “let me know where you’d like to go for our first date,” and it turns out heeseung is just as confident about winning the bet as you, perhaps even more. you are not surprised, being defending champions does that to people, or so you believe.

“mhm, let’s have you score a date first, lee,” you would have loved to talk more but decide to bid your goodbyes as soon as hanbin’s message pops up on your phone, the little scowl on heeseung’s face going unnoticed the moment he sees his name on your phone screen. heeseung would never in his wildest dream confess to being jealous— it doesn’t even make sense for him to be jealous of hanbin because he confessed to you, and you seem to like him back. his worries are pointless just like the useless art projects his art teacher used to assign in middle school. 

your fingers dance on the keyboard of your phone as you reply to hanbin, the subtle taps synchronous with your steps with you rushing across the quadrangle, taking the nearest flight of stairs to the library. you wanted to spend the day at your apartment since classes are suspended for the rest of the day on account of the match. however, hanbin managed to convince you into coming to the library to help him with a few assignments here and there. you’re not opposed to studying on days-off, in fact you think it’s better since you get all twenty-four hours to yourself instead of investing any of it in classes. the match gave you an excuse to call in for a break, or an excuse to take your time choosing the outfits as if you’re the main character on such a big day. 

the librarian gestures to you to slow down the moment you almost avoid slipping on the tiled floor, in the process of holding the door frame to stop yourself, an embarrassed apology makes its way from you to her as you spot hanbin in the further corner with his airpods plugged in. your first instinct is to scare him from behind but the thought leaves your mind as soon as you remember that you’re in a library, and getting kicked out on a day that has been treating you well so far doesn’t sound so smart. 

so, you settle with approaching normal, instead of pulling random stunts, pulling out the chair opposite to him quietly to not make any sounds, mumbling a soft ‘hi’ as he takes out one of his airpods. “where’s miyeon?” 

“sick, she’s skipping today’s match as well,” hanbin replies, eyes fixed on the notes he's copying from the laptop to loose sheets of paper, before looking up at you with another question on the tip of his tongue. “are you two still not talking?” 

“we did, none of us brought up what happened that day, though,” you shrug as if it doesn't bother you anymore, as if you don't want it to bother you more than it already does.

miyeon and you have known each other since university, she was a senior in undergrad course who was forced by financial circumstances to skip one academic year, thus rejoining in third year along with you and hanbin. seeing her was less frequent while she was still a senior, although you're not sure if you've spent more than three days away from her ever since postgrad school started. a heavy tension masks all your conversations with her, over texts or in person, and even though you're trying to act like the small talks with her don't hurt you, a part of you is starting to miss the best friend you used to talk to all night, about wasted matters and sharing useless gossip.

silence fills in for the lack of words between you and hanbin and you allow it to do so, deciding not to disturb the decorum of the library anymore. you scroll through your phone mindlessly, there’s nothing to look at except people going crazy about the evening's match. you even manage to stumble upon a thread of arguments featuring students of your university and the one the team is going against. it’s all empty threats, seriously, ‘kys’ and ‘ur mom’s in my bed’ aren’t even insults at this point. they’re funny, sometimes, but you’ll never understand why or how they ended up being insults. ( honestly, you don’t see the potential ) 

“are you serious about heeseung?” a crack in the ice, hanbin's question catches you off guard, with a number of questions running back and forth in your mind before you settle with the one to respond with in return.

you blink in confusion. “i guess so, why?” 

“nothing, it’s just i never expected it to be him, y’know, considering your history,” you think it's unavoidable, questions along these lines, they would've been asked sooner or later. truthfully, even you didn't expect yourself to fall for heeseung.

your history, what even is there to call history except blood and war? both you and heeseung have been up each other's neck from the moment your gazes collided. it sounds like a stupid beef between highschool students, almost embarrassing now that you both are nearing post graduation. with all the days that you’ve spent thinking about ways to get on his nerves, or worse— ruin his projects, it wasn’t just you who resorted to ruining each other’s hard work— no one would have known you and heeseung would ever end up on this note, with him chasing you and you pinning for him, all under the blankets of a silly bet.

“well, as i always say, hanbin, life is unpredictable,” there’s a smile dancing on your lips, a dazzling hint of factuality in your eyes. “besides, he’s a nice guy behind all the annoying things he does. i think he's pretty serious about me, or us, too,”

hanbin has noticed the way you smile at your phone. it doesn’t always happen, only when you’re talking with miyeon or a few friends from highschool, now heeseung ranks up on that list as well. he’d be lying if the uneasiness doesn’t bother him, it’s bound to surface when he remembers all the nights you spent complaining about heeseung. actually, the rant session included hanbin, you and miyeon, but she would rather go to sleep than listen to you complain like a child for hours on roll, leaving you and hanbin driving the conversation. he has lost count of the amount of times you’ve ended up crying in the process, or the amount of times he has hung up on you only to show up at your place late at night to make sure you’re doing okay, and the nights you two have spent watching movies and falling asleep on the couch, followed by the mornings gone by with miyeon being salty over the fact that none of you invited her to your impromptu nightover. 

the thought of heeseung confessing to you still surprises hanbin, it’s one of the things he deemed as impossible since forever. and he can go, warn heeseung about hurting you, dropping all sorts of threats at the boy. hanbin can go on for hours about how he would make heeseung’s life a living hell if he ever broke your heart. he can prove the righteous friend that he is, but at the end of day, he would always be the third person between you and heeseung. hanbin can only assume so much about you two, not even sure if all of it is right. he can only wish so much for you to have eyes for someone else. 

and so, all he does is shoot a smile at you. “i hope he is,” 

. 

. 

.

the only time you step out of the library is exactly three hours and thirty three minutes later, to sprint towards the basketball knowing that you absolutely cannot afford losing seats in the first two rows. fortunately, or unfortunately enough, you’re not the only student going crazy about the game. you can swear at least a dozen came out of the library right after you, even though all of them may not attend the game.

you’re already running late— well, still twenty minutes early but that doesn’t give you much time to meet the team and secure the front row seats. and meeting the team is an excuse, let’s be honest. you want to meet heeseung, have a quick private talk, kiss him good luck, you don’t know; you wouldn’t. your head is in a mess, behind you hanbin is yelling for you to slow down as you run down the stairs. half of you is worrying about seats and the other half is wording her sentences out for you to say when you meet heeseung, and the team. you can wish them all the luck in the world, after all, it’s the university team and you would love to see them win. the whole craze about sports doesn’t feel real and worth the hype but things start coming full circle when you’re the one watching. slowly, as one would expect, but you are starting to understand why everyone goes bonkers during tournament season. 

“damn, slow down,” hanbin huffs, grabbing your arm for you to slow down. “it’s not like they wouldn’t start without you,” 

“that’s the problem. what if they start without me?” but your legs wouldn’t rest before arriving at the court. you know your words sound funny, painting you as if the result of today’s match depends on you. it feels crazy to be this excited about a mere basketball match, nonetheless you know it’s not the match you’re actually looking forward to. “besides, i’m more worried about seats,” 

“i asked hao to save two for us. he’s friends with heeseung, i think he will do that much for his friend’s girlfriend or whatsoever,” you see him roll his eyes at his own words, proceeding to slide his hands into yours before continuing on your way to the venue, this time a little slower. 

you have heard about hao from hanbin and miyeon a few times. he’s pursuing a masters in music, wants to teach violin professionally according to hanbin. miyeon has even attended one of his recitals last autumn, something from sibelius, if you remember correctly. he is popular, and you see the depths of his popularity as soon as you spot him on the bleachers, surrounded by people left and right, one of them trying to grab a seat next to him before he points at you and hanbin, and the crowd goes mild, ultimately dissolves as the players step in. 

“i didn’t know heeseung had a girlfriend,” you don’t know what you were expecting, perhaps a few words of greetings, hi’s and hello’s since you two are meeting for the first time. anything, except that question. 

“believe me, i didn’t either,” and why even is heeseung going around telling everyone that you’re his girlfriend?        

the court breaks into cheers as soon as the game commences and yet, it feels a little quite. perhaps, it’s miyeon’s absence getting to you. had it been her next to you instead of hanbin and hao— who are busy amongst themselves by the way, talking about anything but the match— she would’ve been eating snacks non-stop, giving you a little talk on every player, like a resume. it’s take her fifteen minutes to give you summaries on players from each team, their achievements, girlfriends and probably even mothers, who knows. although, you haven’t attend many games with miyeon to pinpoint every good and bad thing about her impromptu presentation, her unofficial commentary helped you sit throughout the match. it feels incomplete without her, not just the game but days in general. it’s definitely her absence making your surroundings feel quieter. 

so, long story short, you don’t have a clue of what’s happening. well, you do, a little. you know what a dunk and a three pointer is besides the names of players on your university team, but that basically sums up your knowledge about basketball. all sorts of voices are mingling in the air but you’re busy following the ball around the court with your gaze, occasionally cursing and clapping when the team misses a close basket or scores a comparatively difficult basket. the tension between the two teams keeps rising as the game continues. you notice sunghoon groan in disappointment as one of the players from the opposite team gets in a banked shot from the wings, scoring two points for the team. a part of the crowd goes quieter at jay’s failed attempt to save the score for his team, beomgyu patting on jay’s back while muttering something along the lines of ‘good job.’ involuntarily, your eyes travel to heeseung, whose expression stiffens at the sight of the scoreboard displaying a two-point lag.

a time out call follows as the players move back to their respective ends, and it physically hurts you to see the difference in atmosphere between the two teams, or the frowns on the faces of players on your university team. for a second, you even consider walking down to them as they gather around the coach, grabbing water bottles and towels while nodding at the coach’s words between heavy breaths. you catch jake looking in your direction for a brief second, a smile makes its way to your lips before he responds with one as well, proceeding to nudge heeseung’s arm and pointing in your direction. his actions are left with no response— it hurts a little, although you are aware that anything else falls after winning the match on his priority list— and they get back on the court as the game resumes. 

“they need to catch up soon,” hanbin mutters, taking a look at the clock. and even if it’s just a two point difference, you’re starting to understand why it creates a huge gap. it’s almost like scores on a test. going from eighty-three to ninety then hundred is easier than going from ninety-eight to hundred. greater differences are easier to overcome; for you have so many rooms for improvisation and thus, so many chances at closing the gap. the closer you are to a perfect score, the narrower are the chances and it’s almost impossible to pin-point and work on every single weakness of yours within those two points. you’re pretty sure your words would hardly make sense to anyone else, but nonetheless you understand why everyone on the court looks more attentive, probably like meerkats on the lookout for preys and predators. 

much to your disappointment, the play continues with the rivals dominating the court, giving low to zero chances for the opposition to get their hands on the balls. you even see a few of them trying to provoke heeseung, the latter trying his best to not react but you’re afraid he would start throwing punches if another one of the players passed by him with his middle finger up heeseung’s face. one of them, who you assume is the captain judging from the way he has been directing his team, goes in for a hook, immediately getting blocked by taehyun as the court bursts into loud cheers once again. 

“that was a little too far for a hook,” hao comments, and you nod as if you understand his words and know exactly how a hook is supposed to be. you didn’t even know about a hook until now, and you’re still not sure what it is since all the shots look almost the same to you. 

from that second onwards, it felt as if the control transferred to heeseung’s teams as they transition quickly from defence to offence, making quick passes and running the court, practically catching the opposite team off guard. jay passes the ball to jake, who takes a leap from half court, driving towards the unguarded basket. a quick layup using the backboard, as you hear hanbin name the shot, and basically everyone runs to jake for scoring two points for the team as the scoreboards displays a sour tie. it’s a seemingly easy match after that, especially when the players look like they’re back into the game. sunghoon passes the ball to heeseung who goes for another layup and fails, much to his despair, before going in for a dunk and scoring yet another basket for the team, leading it by two points. you see him passing a cocky smirk at the player from before as jake pats him in the back with heeseung almost stumbling in the process. 

heeseung shoots you a wink before focusing on sunghoon’s words as they get back into position, and even amidst the butterflies you got by his recent actions, you don’t miss the way he stretches his fingers, ring-finger specifically, pointing something about the movements to jay before getting his focus back to the game; and you just hope it isn’t what you’re thinking it is. 

it’s a slow game after that, no points scored, four fouls with two of them back to back, one by each team respectively. the frustration increases on the court, evident in each step taken by the players, groans and sighs fill the atmosphere and get louder than the cheers that have gone quieter once again. it isn’t until a few minutes later that all the players run to the front court as soon as they see an opportunity for a fast break with taehyun taking the lead, passing the ball to jay just a few seconds after, who passes it to heeseung— and call it the lack of efficiency or bad timing, heeseung bumps into one of the players from opposite team, an uneven balance, and falls directly on his right knee, as one of the opposite players throws the ball off-bounds to stop the play. 

the medics take him to the benches, bringing ice packs and everything else before escorting him inside. you considered following him inside before hanbin tells you that the officials aren’t letting anyone meet him, probably until they receive updates of his situations. you bite the inside of your cheeks in nervousness, palms sweating as if you’re about to appear for an exam you weren’t informed about until five minutes ago, or maybe it’s even worse. the murmurs from the crowd or the group of girls behind you, to be more specific, do nothing but make you feel more anxious. zhang hao, being a sports medicine student, tries to give you an insight on heeseung’s injury, telling you that even if he fell directly on his knee and it could result in a patella fracture, or perhaps just dislocation— words that compel you to yell at him to shut up before he ensures that heeseung will be fine. hanbin does that for you, noticing your slightly panicked state, telling hao to talk about anything but anatomy of how badly a simple injury can affect a player, and when sunghoon and taehyun return to the officials with an update on heeseung and a pale face, you knew you had to run to your heeseung as if it’s the end of the world. 

“heeseung,” you breathe out, stepping aside to let the nurse from the infirmary leave before you walk closer to him. the awkwardness between you and other players, namely jay, jake and beomgyu, besides the coach, rings all the bells to remind you that coming here was probably a bad idea. well, of course, you like heeseung and are worried for him, but the tension in the air makes you feel like you showed up uninvited. “are you okay?” 

you ask nonetheless, voice close to a whisper, as you stand at a distance, looking at the bruise on his knee. the smell of antiseptic spray fills your lungs, nose scrunching at the way you could almost taste the diclofenac at the back of your mouth. 

“not really,” he inhales sharply, exhaling a reply once everyone left, knowing they had a game to get back to. “look at you, are you worried for me?”

“i’m regretting coming here now,” liar. and then you let the silence carry the conversation with itself for the next few minutes. you don’t know what to say— what can you say? all you do is sit next to him, hands brushing against his as his winces at the slightest touch. heeseung opened his mouth to say something before dismissing his words with a heavy sigh the very next moment. you almost hold his hand— almost, thinking of holding it ever so carefully as if it’s glass with thousands of cracks, and then you’d kiss it ever so delicately, you did it— almost, but then, it’s just you getting upset over the fact that he played even after hurting his hand.

“so, they’re benching you,” you say in an attempt to strike a conversation, a little conflicted with your choice of words, wondering if he even wants to hear about something related to the match at the moment. 

“of course,” he says it like a matter of fact, a fact whose impact doesn’t seem to touch him. “please tell me they have jeno substituting for me. i’ve barely been getting updates in the group chat,” the least he expected was for one of the substitute players to keep him updated about the game through texts, and heeseung planned to get back to the court until you showed up, taking a seat next to him on the benches in the locker room. you don’t understand why they didn’t take him to the infirmary, and decided to think it’s because locker rooms are closer and if there’s anything heeseung should not be doing right now, it’s moving his injured leg. 

you shrug. “i don’t know, i’ll ask hanbin,”

“thanks,” and even though heeseung isn’t really fond of your friend for reasons that are widely known, at least amidst his friend group, he really hopes hanbin is of some use. 

it’s quiet now. you can hear faint cheers buried in the layers of walls and rooms that stand between the court and the locker room, a few muffled footsteps filling up any spaces left in the air, here and there. you assume it’s his fans trying to check up on him, as annoying as it sounds to you for you’d rather have this moment with him all to yourself. you hear him sigh heavily once every few minutes, trying to ball his injured fingers up in a fist to allow the slightest of moments and ensure healthy circulation, a soft hiss leaving his lips at the sensation of striking pain shooting up his nerves. unlike heeseung, your attention shifts to his injured knee with a faint chill running down your spine as you look at his bruise, which now looks more bluish than it was when you had arrived, signifying the possibly alarming amount of blood that has now clotted in the tissues. 

“you can cry,” nudge him with your shoulders and heeseung directs you to the most disgusted face in return. “what? it’s the finals and you’re injured so you won’t be able to play today. any normal person would sob their eyes out,” 

“i’m not a kid, yn,” he nudges back, a chuckle slipping off his lips. 

“trying to act all cool but you’re probably going to cry yourself to sleep for days, or even weeks,” he holds out his hand for you to hold it as you stand up, an action you give into without opposition, intertwining your fingers with his. there’s a smug smile on your face and he sees it as well, although only you know the way your heart is somersaulting at the way your hands fit his’ like pieces of a puzzle. “i know what you are, heeseung,”

he scoffs at your words, hands still entwined, a lovesick glow in his eyes— it’s your first time seeing this side of him, you’re glad to be one of the people to see it. silence has never felt so comfortable to you. the distant noise from court feels like it rushed on its way to you and heeseung, and stopped at the doors, as if you two are beyond its reach. you might never say it to him, but everything seemingly ceases to exist when you’re with him, and the world feels timeless. it’s embarrassing, cringe, and it’s making your heart beat faster with the way he looks at you. “you need to shut up,”

“make me?” a quick response, one that was supposed to be a joke, a joke which was supposed to be accompanied by laughter and brushed off as another baseless comment, but another second passes as you continue to look into his eyes, and you realise you’re actually considering it— leaning in towards him while giving his hand a light tug to pull him towards you the slightest, your other hand cupping his face as your gaze ghosts up his eyes and settles on his lips. when it comes to him, rationality is out of the window and your lips are on his’ planting the softest kiss at the corner of his mouth before pulling away like nothing ever happened.  

a pause; you could hear the silence ringing in your years, eyes fixed over him as if you’re spilling all your secrets to him, waiting for him to take a hint. “what even happened to the ‘no kissing before finals’ rule?’”

and you realise you had actually forgotten about it, for better and never for the worse, because as you said and as he repeated, it’s all about timing. empty locker rooms, quiet hallways with not a soul around, your hand in his, his eyes on you— the timing couldn’t be better, and you know better than messing up and letting heeseung become just a closed chapter of your life. “yeah, i could care less about that,”

there are a lot of things you could care less about, like the cold metal that stings against your back as he pushes you against the lockers, or the fact that anyone could walk in, any minute; you don’t care, don’t know. his lips are on yours and his hands are on your waist, it feels euphoric the way his lips move in synchrony with yours, fitting like puzzle pieces. heeseung tugs you closer by your waist, a faint gasp escaping your mouth that dissolves immediately into your breaths mingling together. it’s intoxicating and is making you go insane, the way he manages to sweep you off your feet with the smallest of actions and simplest of words— from the very first day. 

heeseung was right, and you as well, it’s all about timing. from the day you first looked at him in a seminar, to the day he switched to biotech— you plan on asking him why because so far, all your guesses seem implausible— down to the day he confessed, leading up to this moment with you pressing against the lockers and his lips against against yours. heeseung sighs softly, cupping your cheeks and tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you could feel the heat of his breath against your lips when you pull away just when it was about to get better, avoiding his lips when he leans in to chase yours barely a millisecond later. your eyes shift down to his hand, one that has been injured during the game, and you proceed to hold it carefully, brushing your lips over the bruise lightly before adorning it with feathery kisses as his other hand travels down to your waist once again, pulling you closer. “you should go easy on yourself,”

you whisper the exact same words he had told you a day ago, traversing your eyes back towards him while your gazes have a conversation so foreign, as if it’s only for the silence to understand. and it’s quite literally just the two of you basking in silence as he rests his head against the crook of your neck, planting a few kisses here and there before pulling you even closer, as if you were going to disappear any second. “i think, i’m in love with you,” 

and timing be damned— because heeseung confesses to you once again, and then he’s kissing you once again, slowly, sweetly, in love, and timing doesn’t even matter because every second feels right with him. with the same air of delighted indifference he comes to know well in the gleam of your touch and the curl of your lips, you simply kiss him back as if to say, hate to admit, but i’m in love with you too. and timing really be damned because you hear loud rounds of cheers as you feel his shoulders stiffen. a slight disconnection between you and heeseung makes you wonder if he’s thinking about the results of the game, which is inevitable, but this is about you and him, and nothing else. you hear the notifications from his phone go off, hinting that the match is probably over, and you pull him into another kiss, another round of selfishness guised as an outlet for him to forget about the game, another round of messy make outs, tasting the freedom of ignorance. 

and then you don’t hear from heeseung again.  

V. OBJECT OF ALL DESIRES

days without heeseung feel like they’re forty-eight hours long.

you think it’s a disease or some sort of withdrawal syndrome. this isn’t your first time without him, in fact, you used to do just fine without him in your life until you let him in. at this point, it isn’t even about not being able to see him— heeseung has been absent for almost seven days. you even asked jay about him to see if he has been in contact with any of his teammates but much to your disappointment, he disappeared off the face of earth like he never existed. taehyun has constantly been reminding you to not fret too much, knowing that heeseung gets a little dramatic after losing matches. you can take his word, obviously, a friend from highschool would know heeseung better than a girl who started talking to him normally barely weeks ago, although you couldn’t help but worry about him as seconds passed like water dripping down the tap, disturbing the silence. 

you know how losses feel— like a part of you has been taken out and you’re left to bleed. it’s worse when it’s about something you’ve loved all your life. you’ve walked next to losses, hand in hand. when you know you’ve lost something while having it in the palms of your hands the whole time, the feeling eats you inside. you wonder if heeseung is feeling the same way you think he is, even if he didn’t show it a week ago when you had met him in the clubroom, the feeling starts to sink in when you’re alone amidst the ghosts of nobodies. even though he was smiling and acting like the little shit he is, you felt anger and regret in the way he kissed you. there was a sense of numbness dripping down his fingertips in the way they brushed against your cheeks, cupping your face. you could’ve been a sweet escape— it hurts to admit that the emotions weren’t possibly real, but you couldn’t blame him. 

losing a match, to put it in your words, meant failing in a test; and losing because of an injury, it’s like skipping a test you prepared for, because of fever. except tests can be rescheduled for students who missed— a luxury heeseung, as a basketball player, cannot enjoy. even you couldn’t believe your eyes when the students on the forum started talking about the lost match, all sorts of comments going around, though none targeted at heeseung, fortunately. yet, your first instinct was to dial his number— out of reach, the first thing you hear on the other side of the line, and all you’ve been hearing for days now. 

you had considered cutting ties with him, not literally, but as in stopping to chase him as if he’s the oxygen you inspire. you could’ve showed up at miyeon’s place with apologies, her favourite snacks and a brief explanation of why you did what you did, and everything that has happened as the consequences of your own actions. with weekends approaching, you could’ve planned a two-day trip with her and hanbin before the winter snow made it hard to commute— just anything to get your mind off heeseung, since apparently, you weren’t on his mind either. albeit, you end up doing nothing, no trips, no plans to see miyeon, it’s just you and your bruised heart with soju on the side. your mind is way too cluttered with thoughts about heeseung to focus on studying and at the same time, it’s way too empty to try doing anything else.  

so, you simply venture down the hallways, drowning in all kinds of thoughts, good and bad. you can use the time to study but concentration has been far out of your reach ever since the match, or ever since he went underground, to be more specific. the impromptu make out session was probably his last straw— it makes sense. you kissed someone who had been walked out of a match because of an injury instead of consoling them. you let your feelings get the best of you, making everything about yourself yet again. you won’t be surprised if heeseung decides to ghost you for the rest of his life after that; or maybe, that’s not possible since you see a familiar figure sitting in the outdoor basketball court, spinning the ball with it’s axis on the ground in a directionless manner. 

“heeseung?” you notice his back tense at the sound of you calling his name, head down low as if he’s responding with an exasperated sigh. “where the hell have you been? i’ve been trying to reach you— heck, even your friends haven’t heard a word from you in days,”

“not now, yn, leave me alone,” and an exasperated sigh is what it was. 

“look, i know—”

“just, what part of leaving me alone do you not understand?” you try to speak but heeseung cuts you off just as efficiently as he does other things, with annoyance heavily evident in his words. had it not been heeseung, you would’ve left already, for you have more important things to tend to, and you’re certainly not interested in matters you’re not supposed to be included in, if only it wasn’t heeseung, and if only you weren’t crazily worried for him. 

“oh, i understand it clearly, every part, actually, and i also understand that you’re upset and leaving you alone would certainly not be the best move considering the way you went MIA for a week,” and you understand his impulses about disappearing into thin air, wishing the ground eats him up or for the walls to cave in till he’s entombed in them, but a person as smart as him should know taking out helps better than thinking about wanting to vanish. “we can sit and have a talk if you stop being such an asshole about it. i’m down to listen to—”

“fine, what do you want to hear about?” he cuts you off in annoyances, the ball rolls down to a distance like your heart when you see the unfamiliar emotion in his eyes. “you were right. i went home and have been crying myself to sleep. i haven’t been eating well either. i skipped five out of nine mocks and barely passed the four i gave, let’s add that too. is that enough?” 

you don’t like the way he puts it, as if it’s supposed to make you feel better. maybe about the bet, maybe, since he’s supposed to rank above you in finals to get around dating you, and maybe watching him lose is supposed to offer you some sort of relief— seriously, what you’re feeling right now is far from that. guilt, anger, shame, you’re not unfamiliar with those emotions. they eat you inside and it’s not because you’ve met with defeat, it’s because of falling off all the expectations people had, giving them another reason to point fingers and laugh. you could be really over-reacting, but if you didn’t have your parents telling you it’s going to be fine every time you didn’t do well on tests, you don’t know where you would’ve been right now. and you think you can play a part of the same for heeseung, if not all. 

you sit next to him, nose scrunching at the sight of dust on the cement laid with cracks. that’s what you get with an outdoor court no longer in use. you can see little plantlets germinating from the soil, emerging through the cracks, the rusted ring catches your eye. heeseung huffs as you settle next to him, wondering exactly how long the court has been unused for, considering its lack of maintenance. “let’s date,” 

and your words are not what you were planning to say or what should be said in this situation, but they still manage to extract a response from him. “don’t play with me,” 

“i’m not, in fact, that is what i’ve been wanting to say to you for days. of course, this isn’t the best timing, but i don’t know what else to say,” you pause in what feels like embarrassment. too bad, his crush is not good at conversations. sometimes you end up nodding and blinking for five minutes straight before saying anything, after a person opens up to you with tears and blood. “and, i’m not going to tell you to stop acting like a child or whatever because the team lost such an important match and somewhere, you’re blaming yourself for it, which you shouldn’t, by the way. all i need to say is that you still have the next year to make up for what you’ve lost now,” 

second chances come with higher expectations from people along with words that end up making one feel worse about their situation. you’ve already heard a few students talk about how heeseung should’ve been more ‘careful’— as if it was his choice to get injured and lose the match. you know it wasn’t going to be easy, especially with his injury that probably requires him out of the court for weeks, but you hope that amidst whatever he’s feeling, between self-loath and regret, heeseung manages to find himself once again. 

“actually, i’m planning to drop out of the team next year and focus on studies. my parents were already against me playing basketball during postgrad, i’m finally starting to notice why,” basketball could’ve been his entire career if heeseung’s grandmother had not wished for him to go into the medical field. seeing the insides of a person makes him want to empty his bowel from the mouth so biotechnology was his next option. heeseung thought having two hands would give him the benefit of managing basketball and academics together, unlike how his parents had wished for, but his recent mock scores and lack of time devoted to studies is making him question his choices. “and what the hell were you on about dating, by the way?” 

you’re half immersed in your own thoughts until heeseung directs the question at you— brows furrowed, confusion shadowing his face— you realise it’s your turn to do the talking. “oh, you know, dating. i think we should start dating already, it’s quite inevitable after that day in the clubroom,” 

it is evitable, really, but you’re down bad— with all due respect. 

you haven’t been okay ever since you realised that you like heeseung, and you’ve been trying to act normal about it, attempting to not lose your cool-hard-to-get-girl composure— miyeon’s words, and they make you cringe— while the thought of him is eating your brain slowly and gradually, making you go insane. if you were to narrate from where you opened and closed the door at, it would be a slippery slope, you don’t know how someone ends up falling for the person they despise. the yn from a month or two ago would be knowing, you can see her shrugging and getting back to her books, saying see saw it coming. ( it’s miyeon’s fault for making you even think about having a mind blowing chemistry with heeseung ) the you from two semesters ago, when he first transferred, would hate you and call you a traitor, might even write whore on a mirror while looking at it because you fold at the sight of hot, smart and sporty men who are perfect at everything, even at ruining someone’s life, like he’s ruining yours; and the yn from highschool, you see her squealing on the floor because oh, what a fan of enemies to lovers she was— heeseung wouldn’t even have been in the current picture if your highschool crush slash rival liked you back. the current you, well, she’s a goner, and in denial that she’s a goner. too much pride does something to a person, especially when you’re an over-scorer and an academic weapon. you’ve lost all your abilities of letting your guard down even once, refusing to give up and accept defeat, no matter how tortuous it is on the inside. 

the current you is more like a victorian man looking at ankles for the very first time. 

“and the bet? what happened to it?” he chuckles, of course, anyone would, considering the way you’ve lost after placing the bet with utmost confidence slash overconfidence. see, it never ends well, anything, with overconfidence, it doesn’t end well, never have and never will. and you, you don’t learn, sitting with the very well known fact that if you were given the chance, you would place the bet with him again.  

“ah, i didn’t mean to do that, honestly. i was confused when you confessed, it was so sudden, i didn’t know how to respond. the bet was the best i could come up with,” miyeon was right, you could’ve used something along the lines of ‘i need some time,’ that day instead of pulling out a bet right out of your ass, and now you don’t know how to save face. at least the fact that heeseung confessed first makes you feel a little better about yourself. “c’mon, i know you love challenges. i was just trying to see if it gets you turned on or something,” 

and heeseung scoffs in disbelief, eyeing you at your choice of words. “yeah, i feel very turned on knowing my crush dragged me into a bet that i’ve been working so hard for and she wasn’t even serious about it,” 

“working hard? from what i saw, the only thing you worked hard for was basketball,” you raise your brows, a taunting intonation in your voice. a part of you regrets the choice of words, knowing that basketball is seemingly quite a sensitive topic to bring up at the moment. albeit, the slight fear evaporates off when he laughs and dismisses your words and nothings. 

he leans a little closer, hands touching yours. “you never know what i’m up to at home,” 

a pause; you look in his eyes and then at his lips, he mirrors your actions with a smirk on his face. you guess that there’s a second meaning to his words, not sure what, but the look in his eyes tells you something about it. “i think we should get back to when you were talking mental and i was talking you down,” 

and you could grab his face and kiss him with no one around, on the unmaintained basketball court for the grey and cloudy skies to see. you could run your hands through his hairs and tell him how crazy he makes you while planting kisses down his neck. you can kiss him till both of your lungs are begging for oxygen, and that's when you'd tell him how he makes you feel— breathless and drowning, a little insane every time you see him flirting with someone that's not you. you can kiss him till the sun goes down and evening takes over, it doesn't matter if you're outside for the world to see. you would've kissed him if heeseung hadn't leaned back, looking at the ball lying stray at a distance.

“by the way, i’d love to date you,” he smiles at the infinite horizon before looking at you, as if waiting for a response already known.

“yeah, i figured that,” you try to play it cool as if you’re all knowing. it’s partially true, he did confess to you first. “let’s make another bet: no kissing before finals, and the one who ends up giving in first has to buy dinner,” you come up with yet another bet, your voice hinting the enthusiasm for no apparent reason.  

heeseung squints at you, a little conflicted, quite unsure of your words. it sounds like a moment of deja vu, hopefully on a better note this time ‘round. “that’s not even valid, we made out not even a week ago,” 

“let bygones be bygones, hee,” he likes the sound of the little nickname you've given him, unlike bygones, the word you use to refer to your very first kiss with him as if it's an unfortunate memory. “it’s decided then, no kissing before finals and the loser has to buy dinner, and i won’t be satisfied with anything less than a five star meal,” 

you squint, index finger pointing at him, a challenging composure. another chuckle from him makes it’s way to you, lips curling into a faint smile. it takes you all the way back to the day you placed your first bet with him, with head empty and no logic, for the entirety of the basketball team to see, hear, and talk about it as if it’s supposed to be on the headlines of the national newspaper. your eyes spark up in anticipation, wondering if the two of you are down for another bet, one that doesn’t proceed towards failure, hopefully.

“the last time you did something like this, you ended up running back to me and asking me to date you,” he scoffs softly, side-eyeing you with a mocking gaze, quite ready to pull out the receipts if you ever deny his words. you hate how correct he is, all the time, actually, and you hate how you don’t have words to argue back.

lee heeseung, a nobody to you till he switched to your department, just some student who was there to pass time until he started ranking above you on tests and flipped your whole world upside down. you tried to not think about him and failed every time— still beats you why. you’ve never let distractions get the best of you, but heeseung, perhaps he’s more than just a distraction, or maybe he isn’t a distraction at all. he’s like a plant in your garden that you could care less about— should care less about, it’s growing without harming your plants, but it’s creeping against a wall with pretty flowers for show, and before you know it, it’s demanding for all your attention that you offer without second thoughts, unwillingly at first. 

he’s the bane of your existence and object of all your desires, to put it simply and make it sound cliché. you’ve had your moments trying to run away from him, get him out of your head, annoy him to the point he’d prefer flying to the other side of the globe, or that could be you too, anywhere, far from him. but life, for the thousandth time, is unpredictable. when was the last time something worked out exactly how you had planned— can’t remember, obviously, just like the way you don’t remember when heeseung started occupying a corner of your brain, popping in and out at random times and disrupting your thought process. the more you tried to ignore him, the further he housed in your head, the deeper in your heart, closer, within your reach, as if for you to grab his hands and let him enter your side of the world. 

and so, you kiss him again, pulling him towards you with the collars of his jacket. you feel him smile, a triumphant smile, as expected from someone who is used to winning. you don't think you can say you've lost, not at the way he cups your cheeks and tilts his head to deepen the kiss just moments before you pull away. “i always run back to you, don’t i?” 

and you're a child infatuated with their favourite sport, a painter falling in love with strokes, a pianist dancing to the melody of rachmaninoff, a student addicted to getting a perfect score, a player addicted to winning. you trace back to things you like, you always run back to heeseung,

and you always would. 

TEN MINUTES LATER :

heeseung plants a soft peck on your lips. “dinner’s on you,” 

“fuck!” 

#—approved. #@ : fas. #k-labels #kflixnet #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #lee heeseung #heeseung #heeseung imagines #heeseung scenarios #heeseung fic #heeseung fanfic #heeseung x reader #heeseung x y/n #enhypen x reader #enhypen x y/n #heeseung fluff #heeseung angst #kpop fic #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x y/n

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for entertaining a friendship with a child?

okay so this might be a weird one or even a controversial one i honestly have zero clue how other people will receive this, apologies in advance if i ramble!

to begin, i (23ftm) and this kid (15f) first met about a year ago. one of my best friends (23m) is a pretty big model and tiktoker and she was a fan of his, and she was pretty recognized online for making cool edits and stuff of him and coming to meetups etcetera, so he knew of her from there, and over time with always seeing each other at meet ups and her being in his discord server (where i mod) she kind of became pretty well known to us.

an important thing to note is that she's SUPER neurodivergent and she's had a really tough life. she lost her older brother a few years back and she's (i'm not sure of the correct way to put it, her family is originally from the netherlands and their english is kind of in the works so this is how they put it) developmentally behind a few years - her parents describe this as her being "mentally more 13 than 15" but her behaviour to me is even younger than that. she's very very innocent and trusting, very overemotional and sensitive to criticism etc, loves stuffed animals and pink and cartoons and all of that. she's told me she feels like a little kid sometimes and will talk/act like one so maybe there's an element of trauma-rooted age regression there, i'm not super sure - i'm not gonna get into detail but she's talked to me about her life a lot and she's had some pretty fucked up shit happen to her.

from the beginning she pretty much imprinted on me - she's told me before i remind her of the big brother she lost, and ever since then she's called me her "big brother" and "family" etc. at first i was more just playing along with it to make her happy but over time she really has become something like a little sister to me, i feel super protective of her. i want to become a teacher after college (not to mention eventually a parent with my fiancee) so i think at least part of it is that taking a kid 'under my wing' so to speak is giving me experience with it all. i've always been kinda paternal/protective over kids in general but i was the youngest sibling in my family so i never really had anyone to utilise that on before

she does rely super heavily on me emotionally, especially because after i found out she was being bullied pretty badly at school i started dropping by to keep her company during breaks/lunch and making sure shit was okay (which her still-living brother used to do, but he's a famous?? - unsure How famous, i don't know sports at all - footballer/soccer player who's often in another country and can't see her often anymore), and i've been working with her to curb that. i'm actually currently working with her parents to find her a good therapist and support system. she's no longer in the tiktok friend's discord just because it was getting a little all-consuming for her and we encouraged her to take a break, but she's done a TON of work on herself and maturing since then and she does plan to rejoin at some point soon.

however, i find it really really hard to gauge whether being so close with a child is... like normal? or not. i honestly can't tell if it's kind of the internet caution about adults talking to minors kind of warping my brain and making me overly wary of what people will think or if i'm doing something wrong or if it's genuinely like a weird situation, so i guess i'm looking for outside perspectives.

the things that make me question it is that like i said she's very 'mentally young', she's very sheltered, and there definitely seems to be an element of her kind of replacing the older brother figure she lost with me. on top of that, we met through her being a fan of my friend, and though she's now separate from that i worry there could still be an element of power there because i'm close with the guy she calls her idol. her family knows me and seem totally chill with everything, but they've told me she tells people at her school that i'm literally her brother and basically 100% talks about me as if i'm her biological family, which i find super sweet but at the same time wonder if it's healthy.

she obviously needs therapy and hopefully soon we can get her it, but: AITA for entertaining a sort of found family dynamic / friendship at all with someone very vulnerable and young or is this genuinely helpful for her?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[janeyseymour]

Bruises

for @sleep-deprived-athlete 🤍

Summary: you come into Abbott looking like absolute hell. Melissa is worried.

WC: ~2.55k

You really hadn’t meant to get all bruised up at the Rugby game on Saturday- but the sport was tough, and you were by no means a player who would give up a play because you were afraid to get a little scuffed up.

Maybe a little scuffed up was an understatement, if you’re being honest. Your jaw is a beautiful shade of purple and so is your eye thanks to a shoulder to the face, your shoulder is killing you, and the one tumble that you had taken left you with a sore ankle and a bit of a limp.

Still though, being a teacher never stops, and you find yourself dragging your bags and yourself into Abbott bright and early the next Monday. 

Your sitting in the staff room, drinking your coffee and icing your shoulder as you continue to go through your lessons for the last coming months of the school year, when the rest of your friends start to make their way in as one big clump. How they all manage to pull up to the school and walk in together almost everyday without fail is beyond you… actually, you know how. They told you that they all plan to get there at exactly 7:43 to enter the building at 7:45, but you were a stickler for time and an early riser already, so you just came in before everyone else to enjoy the peace and quiet while you had the room to yourself.

“Y/N!” Janine gasps. “What happened to you?” 

“Hm?” You hum as you allow yourself to take your eyes away from your paper for just one second. Only then do you realize that Janine, Gregory, Jacob, Barbara, and Melissa are all standing in front of you with their jaws dropped and looking quite concerned. “Oh, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Sweetheart, forgive me for being blunt, but you look like you went to hell and back,” Barbara states. 

“It looks a lot worse than it is,” you tell her as you avert your eyes back down to the papers in front of you. “I promise you, I’m fine.” You adjust the icepack before wincing slightly at the cool sensation.

Melissa and Barbara share a look before Melissa sighs softly. She digs around in her bag for a second before pulling out her CBD oil. “Move your hair.”

You do so without looking up, not really questioning the instruction. You’re so focused on your lesson plans that you just follow the order without a second thought. You’re shocked though when you feel liquid on your shoulder. “Mel, what?”

“It’s just CBD oil… it’ll help ease the pain,” the redhead tells you. And then her hands are rubbing the oil into your shoulder, and you can’t help but let out a soft groan. Shit… maybe you really should go get your shoulder checked out. 

“Hun, what happened?”

“Just got a little roughed up,” you sigh as her hands continue to massage the sore spot.

That does not help the worried looks that your coworkers are giving you. 

“Guys, I’m fine,” you promise them. “I have to head down to my classroom to do a bit of prep, but I’ll see youse all at lunch.”

As you stand and start to gather your things though, you let out a small hiss in pain at the pressure on your ankle. All of their heads immediately snap in your direction.

“Hun,” Melissa frowns.

You hold up a hand, silently requesting for no further comment on the matter. You limp your way out of the staff lounge and head into your classroom. You thought that you could make it through the day without having to put your ankle brace on, but you were clearly wrong. You’re lacing it up when the redhead makes her way into your room and closes the door.

“What’s going on?” she asks you frankly. 

You just continue to lace up your brace, mildly annoyed that she won’t let it go.

“Mel, I’m fine. Just a little-”

“A little roughed up,” the second grade teacher cuts you off. “I heard you the first time. You don’t get to come in here after a weekend with a shiner that competes with the one Kristen Marie had after her and I squared up after Nonna’s funeral, a bum shoulder, and an ankle brace and get to be mysterious about it. What gives?”

You take a deep breath before meeting her green eyes with your own. “I fell. I’m fine.”

“Fell?” Melissa raises a brow as she folds her arms across her chest. “You don’t get all of your injuries from a fall.”

“Well, I did,” you sigh. “I don’t know what else you want me to say. It’s the truth.”

“Did anyone help you fall?” the redhead asks. “I know you and your girlfriend broke up a couple weeks ago, and if she did this to you-”

“She didn’t do nothin’,” you tell her quickly. “Now please- I have to prep for today.”

“Hun-”

“Melissa,” you grit through your teeth. “Please. I have to prep, and I’m moving a little slower than usual, so I need all the time I can get.”

Your coworker purses her lips. “Fine. But know that I’m always here if you need to talk.” She turns on her heel and heads out towards her work wife’s room. You close your eyes as you pinch the bridge of your nose. 

“She’s actin’ real weird,” the redhead states as she sits in Barbara’s rocking chair.

The kindergarten teacher nods. “Poor thing looks like she crawled out of the seventh layer of hell.”

“And she got real snippy with me when I asked her if Jen had anything to do with it… shut me down real quick and refused to talk to me anymore,” Melissa sighs. “I just want to help her if she’s in a sticky situation.”

“Melissa,” Barbara says softly. “If I do remember correctly, you were the same way when things got messy with Joe.”

“I know!” the second grade teacher huffs. “But now that I’m on the other end of it… I just want to help if I can.”

“And that is very kind of you,” the older teacher tells her friend. “But if she’s not ready to ask for help, the only way that you can help is by being kind and gentle with her.”

“I guess,” Melissa purses her lips. “Well… I suppose I should go pretend to do my job.”

“I suppose you should,” Barbara nods. “But seriously… do not go all Schemmenti over this. I’m sure Y/N is fine, and if she isn’t… we’ll be there to help pick up the pieces later.”

The redhead grabs her coffee before entering the staff lounge once more. She brews another pot of coffee and fills her own mug before grabbing a spare from the cupboard. She prepares that second cup of liquid gold the way she knows you like it before heading back down to your room.

“Hey,” she knocks on the doorframe gently. “I figured I would bring you another cup so you don’t have to limp your way down during prep.”

You smile at her gently, as much as your bruised jaw will allow you to. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Melissa says softly, so out of character for her. “I’m here to help.”

When you expect her to linger, she just gently sets the cup of coffee on your desk and makes her way back out to her own classroom.

When your kids come in, they’re immediately asking you what happened, if you’re okay.

“I’m doing just fine,” you chuckle. “But thank you for your concern. If you think I look bad, you should see the other person,” you joke, thinking none of them will care enough to repeat your words. What you’re saying is right though- the other girl got just as roughed up, if not worse. Oh how wrong you are. 

Come lunch, Melissa is right at your door, asking if you want her to bring your lunch down for you from the break room.

“I can come get my lunch,” you chuckle as you wave off her offer. “I could use the movement anyway… been teaching from my chair.”

The two of you make your way into the staffroom, and she all but pushes you into a chair before grabbing your lunches out of the refrigerator for you. When you expect her to sit down next to you with her own lunch, she doesn’t. She heads for the fridge again and pulls out two ice packs. She gently tucks the first one into your bra strap to ice your shoulder, and then she’s sitting down and gesturing for you to prop your foot up on her lap.

“Melissa, I’m really okay,” you try to tell her again. She shakes her head though and all but forces your leg into her lap. She unlaces your brace before setting the icepack over the bruised area. Then, and only then, does she dive into her own lunch.

You smile softly at her. “Thank you.”

“Someone’s gotta look after you when you won’t ask for help,” she rolls her eyes. “And I’ll be damned if it isn’t me.”

The lunch period passes by quickly, but then you remember that you have recess duty. With a sigh, you reach forward to lace up your brace again.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Her hands try to stop your own.

“I have recess duty,” you tell her. “Don’t worry, I’m planning on bringing a chair out and just monitoring from there.”

She ties your brace up for you before standing with you. “I’m not letting you lug out a chair by yourself with your ankle and bum shoulder… Jesus, don’t you think you should go get your ankle checked out? It’s the size of a baseball.”

“I’ve had worse,” you sigh offhandedly as you begin to make your way outside. No more than thirty seconds later is she outside with you, two chairs under her arm. She sets them out before gesturing for you to sit down.

“Thanks,” you mutter. The two of you sit there for a bit of time before the warmth from the sun begins to become too much for you, and unconsciously you roll up a sleeve- revealing the bruises on your arms.

The redhead next to you does everything she can to not stare at them as her mind goes a mile a minute, wondering exactly how you got all of these injuries.

And then two kids run up to the two of you. One is in your class, and the other is in Melissa’s.

“Miss Y/N,” your kid says as she bounces on her toes.

“What’s up, Jayla?”

“Tell Amaya what you told us today about why you have all of your bruises,” she tells you. “She doesn’t believe me.”

“I fell?” you respond, confused as hell.

“Yeah, but what did you say after that?”

“Thank you for your concern?” you tell her, even more confused than the first time.

“But then what after that?”

You shrug.

“You told us that we should see other person that did this to you!” Jayla yells.

You purse your lips into a fine line, and you can see the way that Melissa is eying you in your peripheral view. “That’s just an expression, hun. I didn’t mean it literally.”

“You still said it,” your student smirks before turning to her friend as they walk off. “I told you she said that!”

“So,” Melissa leans in. “What was that?”

“I didn’t really mean it,” you huff. “It was a joke. I didn’t think the kids would remember it.”

“Hun,” the redhead lays a gentle hand on your shoulder. “If you need help…”

“I don’t need help,” you sigh. “I promise you. I’m just fine.”

And then the bell rings to signal the end of recess. You limp your way over to your students’ line while Melissa gathers the chairs under her arm again and takes them inside. You get the kids back inside and finish out the day teaching from your desk. 

After school, as much as you would love to just go home and relax, there is a staff meeting. You slowly make your way into the library and take up your place next to Melissa. While you’re waiting for everybody else to come trickling in, the redhead reaches into her bag again and pulls out her CBD oil. Before you can stop her, it’s on your shoulder again, and she’s gently working it into your skin.

“Thank you,” you whisper softly, trying not to groan out in pain.

She just nods before lifting your injured foot into her lap again. Melissa unlaces your brace again and begins to rub the oil over your swollen ankle. At that, you grimace, but you let her continue. 

And then Ava is making her way in.

“Hey y’all,” she grins as she makes her way over to your table. “Damn girl… you did a great job on Saturday.”

You chuckle lightly. “Thanks.”

“What game?” Janine asks. “And why weren’t we invited?”

“Ava wasn’t even invited,” you roll your eyes. “She was just there where I was playing rugby.”

“I was there to…” she smirks. “Check out the eye candy and go window shopping. I had no idea Y/N is the hottie that she is.”

“You play rugby?” Melissa raises an eyebrow.

You nod. “And that… is how I got the black eye, the bruises, and the shoulder and ankle injuries.”

“Why wouldn’t you just say that?” the redhead asks you. 

You go to speak, but Ava decides that now is the time to start her meeting, claiming that most of the faculty was in the room and she doesn’t want to have to be here much longer. So, you aren’t able to answer.

Once the meeting is over, Melissa is helping you out to your car in silence. 

“Why wouldn’t you just tell me that you got hurt playing sports?”

“I didn’t wanna seem like a wuss,” you shrug, only to wince slightly at the throbbing in your shoulder. “I didn’t want no one making a big fuss over me.”

“Hun,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “Of course we were going to make a big fuss over you when we saw you. I was out here thinking you got beat up or were getting abused… I wish you would’ve just told me that you got hurt playing a sport.”

You turn a bit sheepish. “Sorry.”

“You promise me that this was from rugby?”

“Promise,” you sigh softly. “The team I was playin’ was tough and showing no mercy… the ref called a bunch of flags, but by that point the damage was done.”

Melissa gives you a sympathetic look. “Well, why don’t you come over tonight, and I’ll help nurse you back to health? Cook you dinner, let you ice, rub some more CBD oil on your injuries.”

“Are you flirting with me?” you tease her. 

The woman in front of you just shrugs. “Maybe… what do you say?”

“I’ll be there by five,” you chuckle as you hobble along to get into your car. 

TAGS, and lmk if you wanna be added: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

[sooniebby]

A dream i had has been haunting me so here i am.

A jock any sport my dream wasnt specific just a popular jock is the reader and he is just so popular and everyone loves him and of course everyone assumes since his this big jock his the dom in the relationship between him and his boyfriend when in fact his the complete opposite.

The boyfriend can be in the band or a part of the cheer team again it depends on the sport and my dreams never clarify, He hears one of these conversations and has a brilliant idea that he was gonna put the reader in his place and everyone is gonna know that place.

Kinks you can go wild with, But praise and a little the reader getting dumb on whoever you choose the nerd to be cock but the rest you can do what you please 🤭🤭

ఌ 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑

꧁ 𝙊𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

Word count › 2.5k

Rating › NSFT

Warnings › none

Kinks › praise, voyeurism, semi-public sex, use of pussy/feminine terms

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＢＥＧＩＮＮＩＮＧ

“Isn’t that (Name)’s boyfriend?”

“Mickey?”

“I thought his name was Mikey?”

“Nah man, it’s Mickey!”

Marcus sighed. He hated having to practice for the marching band when the football team was practicing as well. The players didn’t know how to whisper. He was really wondering if he should give them a look that he could hear them.

He wasn’t sure why the football coach allowed them to practice with them here but he was sure it was because the teacher for band was a sexy man. Marcus could tell the coach, Coach Pattinson, loved to stare at his band teacher’s ass.

But he couldn’t lie. Mister Yang had a nice ass.

More importantly though, Marcus could sometimes see his boyfriend playing. But it was mainly rare. (Name) played soccer so obviously he couldn’t play while the football team occupied the field.

Today was that day the soccer team practiced somewhere else.

He was getting a bit agitated at this point. The heavy drum strapped to his chest and the sun beaming down at him. God, he wanted to just walk home. But he did like his band mates. He didn’t want them to hate him for any reason so he’d put it with it.

But that didn’t mean he’d do it without complaints.

“Marc! Pay attention.” One of his band mates whispered, poking him with a drum stick. Marcus quickly put his focus on Mr. Yang as he continued to drone on and on about timing and making sure to be energetic during performances.

Marcus tried to pay more attention, even though he had already heard this speech once before. Expect the two players whispering (?) about him started up once more.

“I wonder what (Name) sees in him.” Thing 1 said.

“What do you mean? Mickey is a cute ass guy. Especially his ass…” Thing 2 muttered.

“Mikey… And yeah I guess. It’s kinda flat to me. Mr. Yang has a much fatter ass than him.”

“True true… I mean look it at… I wonder what it looks like when he jumps…”

Thing 1 whispered. The only time he ever whispered. “Perv.”

“You started it!” Thing 2 shouted, earning a glare from Coach Pattinson. Thing 1 & 2 quickly quieted down.

“But for real, who do you think tops?” Thing 2 muttered.

“(Name)… obviously. The dude is bigger and taller than Mikey. How could Mikey top him?!”

“(Name) is only 5’10 at the most. He’s not that tall. And he’s hardly that muscular. It’s mainly his legs.”

“Says you, Mister 6’4!” Thing 1 punched Thing 2 on the arm, earning a wince. “(Name) has an ass that could rival Mr. Yang, though.”

“Didn’t he play baseball?”

“He plays both sports. Such a cool guy. I’m not sure how he doesn’t go crazy.” Thing 1 looked as if he had a crush on (Name). Marcus didn’t like that, he could feel himself tighten his grip on his drumsticks.

“Maybe he knows how to manage himself… unlike someone…”

“Say that to my face you beanstalk!”

“Alright boys, break time is over!!” Coach Pattinson yelled. “Back to the field!!” He blew his whistle before glancing over to see Mister Yang’s ass once more.

Yeah, he wasn’t hiding it.

Marcus thought hard about what Thing 1 & 2 talked about. Damn, did he not give off top vibes like the thought? Shit—what could he do to show it off?

Well it wasn’t that he really cared what those little shits said but he didn’t like that his looks somehow determined his sexual position.

Oh. Marcus smirked to himself.

He could always make it known that he is the dom in the relationship… and he knew just the way to do it.

“Dude… the fuck are you smiling about?”

Marcus glanced over to his band mate, Olivia. “Nothing important.”

Olivia didn’t look convinced but she turned her attention back to Mr. Yang. Marcus couldn’t wait to test out his plan.

ꕥ

It was the next day and Marcus didn’t have band practice today. But (Name) was at soccer practice. He hardly joined him because he mainly wanted to go straight home after school. Any minute he stayed longer at this cursed school was a damage to his mental health.

(Name) was sitting down on the bench, drinking water when he spotted his boyfriend. He waved, a large grin on his lips. If he was an animal, many would say he would be a golden retriever. So happy to be with people.

“Marc! Something happened?”

“I can’t just see my boyfriend?” Marcus grinned, his blonde locs pulled into a ponytail. He wore a ridiculously large jacket with a red tee with black pants. (Name) always wondered why Marcus always complained about being hot when he chose to wear such clothing during summer.

(Name) simply hummed and pursed his lips, closing his eyes. He titled his head up earning a laugh from Marcus. Marcus would usually just give him a light kiss. He wasn’t one for PDA.

But this time, he grabbed (Name)’s chin and held him in place as he kissed him. (Name)’s eyes widen as Marcus immediately bit his lip, causing him to automatically part them. The innocent kiss (Name) wanted was quickly turned into a full on make out with tongue.

(Name) whimpered into the kiss, wondering if any of his teammates were looking at him. Marcus pulled away from the kiss—a small trail of saliva connecting their lips—as he glanced back to see if anyone saw that. It seemed at least a few did—with the embarrassed looks on a few of the boys face.

The coach didn’t seem to have saw it though by the fact she was paying attention to another player. Good. He just wanted the other players to see.

“What…?” (Name) muttered. He didn’t hate it. No he loved it but he would’ve loved a warning first.

“Trying something new. Like it?” Marcus said, wiping away a stray line of drool on (Name)’s chin.

“I like whatever you do. But I thought you didn’t like public stuff.”

“I still don’t.” Marcus simply said and sat down on the bench.

(Name) didn’t understand Marcus sometimes.

Marcus fanned at himself, starting to complain about the sun cooking him alive.

“I’m lucky I can’t get any darker ‘cause what the fuck, man…” he complained.

“Take your jacket off.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’ll mess up my style. I had this whole outfit planned and everything. I mean, look at my shoes—it matches the jacket!”

It did.

(Name) simply laughed. “Alright. Enjoy the sun, Mikey.” He said as he got up to return back to practice.

“Ay! It’s because of you those other jocks are calling me Mikey or Mickey! I’m not a mouse!”

“Sorry! I didn’t think anyone else would call you that!”

Marcus simply huffed. He mainly couldn’t wait until he could enact his plan. The kiss was simply to just get it started for later.

Ah he couldn’t wait.

ꕥ

(Name) knew Marcus liked to try new things. Y’know, only live once and all that jazz. But he didn’t know that he’d be into something so… scandalous?

So risky.

“Isn’t this nice?”

(Name) simply huffed, not able to say anything due to the cock in his mouth. They were behind the bleachers—not too far from door that leads to the locker room. When (Name)’s coach called for a thirty minute break, Marcus saw that as his cue to go ahead with his plan.

He had pulled (Name) to the back of the bleachers were no one could see them and forced him to his knees. But the spot they were in was hardly hidden. Someone could just walk up to the locker room door and get a clear view of them.

(Name) was kneeling down on the balls of his feet, forced to keep his balance this way. It wasn’t a good position to try and suck dick at, especially when Marcus was only 5’7 to his 5’10. (Name) wasn’t immediately at face with his cock.

He had to bend a little. Suffice to say, he was uncomfortable sucking dick right now. But he loved Marcus telling him what to do so who was he to stop him.

“Did I tell you that some guys said that you were topping me?” Marcus laughed.

(Name) hummed, pulling away from his cock. “Is that why you’re doing this?”

“Maybe.” Marcus tapped two fingers on (Name)’s lips. (Name) eagerly took them into his mouth—sucking them to lather it up. His cock twitched in his gym shorts as he thought about someone seeing him in this position.

Kneeling down in front of someone physically weaker than him.

“So I thought… maybe I should prove them wrong, y’know? But then it hit me… if they think like that—than everyone else must think like that.”

(Name) wasn’t sure if he believed that. No one could be that weird to care about his sex life.

Marcus hummed as he forced his fingers down deeper (Name)’s throat, enjoying the panicked choke he got from his boyfriend. He dragged them out of (Name)’s mouth. (Name) took a few shuttered breaths as Marcus motioned for him to lay down.

“Pants off.”

(Name) slipped off his pants and boxers as he moved to lay down on the grass. It felt dirty to do so but he didn’t care at the moment. Marcus hummed, deep in thought before he tapped (Name)’s waist.

“Doggy.”

(Name) flushed. He always felt embarrassed during doggy. Marcus always got full view of his ass at this position. It also didn’t help that doggy was the quickest way for Marcus’ cock to reach his prostate.

With a little hesitation, (Name) moved into the doggy position. Just as he was about to try and not think about the fact someone could see him in such position, Marcus slapped his ass.

“Hey, you forgot your move.”

(Name) blushed in full embarrassment as he leaned down more so his ass was in the air and shyly shook his ass. He hated doing it. The first time he ever did it was by accident. He didn’t think Marcus would’ve wanted him to do it everything for doggy.

Marcus had said it reminded him of a cat getting ready to pounce. It was the only time (Name) was ever said to resemble a cat.

“Good boy.” Marcus shoved in his two fingers, gaining a scream from (Name). “Hey, do you want them to hear you?”

(Name) shook his head.

“Your pussy says otherwise. It tightened as soon as I mentioned it.” Marcus laughed, dragging his fingers against (Name)’s wet walls before grazing his prostate.

Marcus loved to call (Name)’s features with feminine terms. Boobs, tits, pussy, cunt. You name it. He didn’t use it all the time. Sometimes he was nice to called them pecs or asshole.

(Name) liked both. But there was something different about his ass being called a pussy. He wasn’t sure what it was.

“I’m surprised they haven’t wondered where you are…. Do you often use these breaks to jerk off? Play with your clit?” He grinned, enjoying the whimper he earned.

(Name) shook his head, gripping at the dirt beneath him. His hole clenched down on Marcus’ fingers. He had never done that but he did usually use the break time to sit in the locker room with the air conditioner.

Marcus pressed against his prostate, teasing it as (Name)’s ass twitched upwards. He loved it whenever (Name) tried to chase the relief. His ass was a sight to see as it bounced at every sudden movement he made.

Maybe Thing 1 was right about his ass… it could rival Mr. Yang’s…

“You think you’re ready?” Marcus asked, continuing his grazes against (Name)’s prostate.

(Name) simply whined, too dumbed out to say anything. He honestly didn’t trust himself to open his mouth without moaning anyway.

Marcus took that as a yes as he slipped out his fingers and grabbed his cock. It was a good size, six inches. But the best part about it was how thick it was. Imagine a soda can.

He slowly pushed inside, moving one hand to grip (Name)’s waist. It took everything in (Name)’s body to not cry out. He bit his lip harshly—digging his fingers into the dirt.

Marcus was antagonistically slow. Dragging his cock in and out of (Name)’s hole. He wouldn’t go fully in—set to just tease his prostate before pulling out. (Name) was going to die if he continued this way.

“You always take me so well. But that’s just cuz you were made for me.” Marcus muttered, pushing down (Name)’s shirt to press soft kisses on his back. His back is sweating, from playing or sex? Marcus hoped it was sex.

(Name) huffed as he began to thrust backwards, hoping that Marcus’ cock will reach in deeper. Marcus simply laughed to himself as he stopped his thrusting—allowing (Name) to continue his lackluster performance.

“Mikey…”

“Yes, baby?”

“C’mon… we don’t have all day… please…”

(Name) was right. They had thirty minutes. It could’ve been thirty minutes already for all they knew. If he didn’t want to play soccer with a raging boner—he needed to cum now.

Marcus frowned. He hoped he could drag this out longer but knew it wasn’t fair to (Name).

“I’ll get you off. We’ll worry about me when your practice is finished,” Marcus said, grasping (Name)’s waist and holding him still as he began to thrust harshly inside of him.

He purposefully aimed for his prostate, enjoying the panicked hiccups (Name) accidentally slipped out. (Name) was struggling to keep his voice down. He could hear his coach saying they had a minute left.

Could he really cum in under a minute?!

Marcus was going to make sure he did though. He didn’t let up with his constant thrusts, reaching down to jerk (Name)’s leaking clock as well.

It doesn’t take too long for (Name) to cum. Before he could scream, Marcus quickly shoved (Name)’s own shirt into his mouth. It muffled it a little but he could still hear someone ask if they heard something.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

Marcus pulls out despite his cock twitching for his own release and pulled his boxers and pants on. (Name) stayed on the ground, trying to catch his breathe before slowly moving to put on his pants.

(Name) looked numbed. He certainly looked as if he could fall asleep any minute. Marcus helped him to his feet (with a little struggle but he would never admit that).

“Go back to practice. I’ll be waiting for you,” Marcus said, patting (Name)’s ass. (Name) glared at him before limping away to his teammates.

If anyone asked why he was limping, he’d just say he hurt his leg while playing earlier. Though he was sure a few of his teammates didn’t believe that.

And unlucky for him, it was the few who loved to tell everyone what they knew. At least Marcus plan worked. Everyone was going to know who was truly the top in the relationship.

After practice, when almost everyone had already left, (Name) was changing into his clothes after taking a shower when Marcus walked into the locker room.

A small smirk on his lips.

“It’s time to worry about me.”

A limp walk wasn’t going to be the only thing (Name) went home with. A nice creampie would accompany it~

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＥＮＤ

My comeback! Marcus is so fun to write, I hope you guys like him!! If you guys want, I can do a little fic of how he started dating you 🤭 lemme know!

Tag list: @mello-life69 @the-ultimate-librarian @nakedtoasterr @chill-guy-but-cooler @kiiyoooo

Number 1 fan: @elegantcecile

#bottom male reader #x male reader #oc x reader #original character

[happyhauntt]

famous last words — james potter

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: you and james are sworn enemies. you quite like it that way.

─── pairing: james potter x quidditch player!reader.

─── warnings: fluff, banter, swearing. if you're a reader of my cedric series oh, captain! then you might find this familiar, it's a reworked version of chapter three. this was so much fun honestly i love sassy stuff like this.

─── word count: 2.1k.

     BY THE TIME THE TRAIN WHISTLES ITS ARRIVAL AT HOGSMEADE STATION, all you really want to do is go to bed. The golden glow of warmth has suffused your bones completely, lulling you into a delightfully sleepy state. You're curled up against the window when your friend Beth jostles you awake and practically carries you off the train, where you are utterly unsurprised to learn that the weather is terrible.

     The downpour does a spectacular job at waking you up. Droplets of freezing rain slip past the collar of your shirt and down your spine before you manage to pull your cardigan up over your head. A disgruntled scowl tugs at your lips as you race ahead of Beth to get a space on one of the carriages. Once you are safely situated in the dry, you look out into the rain, expecting to see Beth scarpering up the platform right behind you. Instead, she's sauntering towards the carriage, a wide smirk on her face, happy and dry beneath one of the big black umbrellas Hagrid is handing out on the platform.

     You frown, folding your arms over your chest, feeling distinctly soggy. Beth climbs into the carriage, giggling as she sits down beside you. You merely stick your tongue out at her.

     "Hey," Beth says, folding the umbrella back up before raising her hands in defence, accidentally splashing you both with rainwater, "you're the one who ran away. Don't blame me for being more observant."

     "I reject that," you reply indignantly. Beth offers up a hair tie from her wrist and you take it, still scowling, to tie your damp hair into a messy ponytail. "I am absolutely observant. Just not... all the time." Which basically means where sports isn't involved. Teachers have noted in their reports that you're easily distracted in class, with a mind that tends to wander rather than focus on the task at hand. Your mother used to call it butterfly brain. Thoughts light as air, settling down on one flower for a few moments until a prettier, more interesting flower comes into view. She didn't mean to make you feel bad about that, but it doesn't help when all your teachers are saying the same thing.

     The prettier flower is usually Quidditch. With a muggle upbringing, you hadn't been exposed to the brilliance of magic until a mysterious letter appeared on your eleventh birthday (delivered, you recall, stern-faced woman in peculiar emerald robes. If you'd known then that Professor McGonagall's first impression of you would be a wide-eyed child whose front tooth had just been knocked loose by a rogue cricket bat, well, you probably would've died of embarrassment. Now she's your Head of House. And most unfortunately, that's not the only time she's seen you missing a few teeth.) When you got to Hogwarts and saw students playing Quidditch for the first time, whizzing like arrows through the air on actual broomsticks— You'd been in love with the sport ever since.

     Almost every corner of your brain is taken up by Quidditch. A hundred different game plans and plays running on repeat. So Beth is totally wrong; you are very observant., and you are never more observant than when your eye is on the prize.

     This time, though, the prize was shelter. Skittering off through the downpour to get to the carriage without properly checking your surroundings wasn't the smartest route, but it worked. Sort of.

     Your pride hurts a little bit.

     Beth's just about done laughing at you when a knock on the carriage exterior catches your attention. A familiar face appears at the door. "Is there any room in here?" James Potter's smile is crooked, and his dark hair is damp and floppy from the rain, water dripping from the strands into his face. Bright eyes dart back forth between you and Beth, and suddenly you remember that only almost every corner of your brain is occupied by Quidditch.

     There's a stubborn little spot right in the middle, little more than a speck, really — but it's filled with nothing else but James fucking Potter.

     "There was a mass exodus from the train as soon as it arrived," he continues as his glasses start to fog up, "and the only other carriage left is full of second-years."

     Oh, you feel that one in your soul. Second-years are okay, sometimes, but usually they're excitable, too ready for the start of another year at magic school, and thus only bearable in small doses. By third year, the excitement is all about getting to choose which classes you take, and you understand this to a degree (you chose Divination, which sounded cool at the time but was an absolute fucking mistake, because you might enjoy the spooky muggle stuff but predicting the deaths of all your friends is not fucking fun, no matter how good your end-of-year grade was for it ) but the novelty quickly wears off.

     You suppose that's why James has chosen to risk his life by sitting in a confined space with you, instead. The three of you are well-seasoned veterans of Hogwarts and its bullshit by this point and, as a result, are appropriate company.

     The fact that both of you are his teammates is probably a nice bonus, too.

     You, however, offer a merciless smirk. James Potter is, without doubt, your worst enemy, and it fills you up with glee to inconvenience him at any opportunity. "You snooze, you lose, Potter. Off to the second-years you go!" You even make a shooing motion, just for good measure.

     Beth smacks your arm and rolls her eyes, offering James a pleasant smile. "There's loads of room, ignore them," she says, and while you're busy dramatically rubbing your arm and muttering expletives, James takes a seat on the bench opposite you. Rain hammers against the roof, somehow louder than it was a moment ago, and a self-satisfied grin creeps onto his face as the carriage begins its journey to the castle.

     "Where are the rest of the merry morons, then?" You ask, quirking a brow at him. You're pretty sure you can count on one hand the number of times you've seen James without at least one of his comrades in mischief. Frankly, it's rarer than spotting a unicorn in the wild. You wonder if you should take a picture to commemorate the occasion.

     He looks sheepish as he pulls his glasses off to wipe away the condensation. "Lost a bet."

     He doesn't elaborate, and you don't care enough to ask him to. You've been at school with them long enough to know that, honestly, it's probably best not to know.

     Beth reaches out and plucks a stray leaf from your hair. She waves it in your face, tickling your nose gently before letting it flutter to the ground. You slip your hand into hers, linking your fingers together. Beth is soft and sweet when she wants to be, and you're certain there's not a soul in the world who knows you this well. She has wormed her way into your heart, and you'd have to carve it out of your chest to be rid of her now.

     "Does anyone know who our captain is yet?" You ask aloud, after a few seconds of silence have passed. You're tired enough to curl up on the floor of the carriage and fall asleep right then and there, lulled by its gentle rocking and pitter-patter of the rain, but you should probably be conversational. There's very little worse than awkward silence, especially with James sitting there, staring at you with that dopey half-smirk on his face.

     You want to smack him. You want him to think you're extraordinary. You're not quite sure how to cope with such emotional extremes, but there they are, coexisting at the front of your mind. They war with each other, an itch you can't scratch because if you, you'll keep going until there's blood.

     His, preferably.

     It's not even that you hate James. Not really. You used to, only a year or so ago, because he made it so easy. With his smug little smile and the skip in his step, with his quips and jokes and way his hair curls over his brow, you'd fucking despised him. He'd set himself up as your rival back in second year, when you made the Gryffindor team at the same time. With the blurred stretch of years between then and now, you can't remember quite how it began, or what he did precisely that sparked this eternal grudge, but what followed is years of goading one another, pushing and pushing and pushing to outdo one another.

     The rivalry has made you so much better than you ever could have dreamed. Quidditch is your life and honestly, without James Potter, you're not sure where you'd be with it. Still good, perhaps. But maybe not very nearly the best.

     (You'll die before you tell him that, though. Or he will. You're not that picky and he does seem to have a death wish.)

     The carriage jolts as one of the wheels dips into a pothole. The thought of skipping the feast entirely sneaking past Professor McGonagall to go straight to your dorm is a tempting prospect. You know Beth won't let you do it, because if she has to sit through Dumbledore's speech then she'll drag you down with her, but it might be worth a shot.

     The silence persists for a few more seconds, growing steadily more awkward. When no one responds to your question, you press on. "We should've heard by now, right? Team captains get picked in the summer, and we need a new one because Hilary graduated last year." Do you sound a little bit agitated by your teammates' lack of urgency? Yes. Just a touch. But the look on Beth's face is fucking suspicious, and James... Well. He looks like he'd rather die.

     You narrow your eyes. "What are you not telling me? Spit it out, the pair of you."

     James coughs once, raising a hand to cover his mouth as he does so. For once the typical arrogance is gone, washed away with the rain. He looks dreadfully uncomfortable, turning bright red as he bashfully says, "Well. Uh. I am, I suppose. The new captain, that is." He has the good sense to look frightened.

     You hope, suddenly, that his cough means he caught pneumonia or something. Nothing fatal, obviously, but just enough to put him out of commission for a little while. You don't really mean it (you're not quite as horrible as some people would like to think) because James is one of the best on the team. Sometimes, you'll begrudgingly admit that he's even the best on the team   ━   but only if you get to be second best, obviously.

     Which is why you're a little shocked, of course, but not surprised. Not surprised at all, because he is good. Even as you sit there, pondering the many ways you could kill him and make it look like an accident, you know he's good. Too fucking good.

     Which is why you say, "Tell me you're kidding."

     James furrows his brows. "I'm not kidding?"

     You can feel Beth's shoulders shaking beside you, trying desperately to smother her amused cackles. James' expression softens a little as he realises this is a joke, sort of, and he begins to grin.

     "No, really," you say, this time the hint of a smile forming on your own lips, "tell me you're kidding. I'm begrudgingly proud and all that, because it had to be one of us," you wave your free hand at him, you'll have the captaincy one day, "but also, like, tell me it's a joke."

     "Why?"

     "Because I'm genuinely considering pushing you out of this carriage."

     James shrugs his shoulders, as if to say 'yeah, that's fair.' He gets it, he really does. You love that someone gets it. "It's not a joke, I'm afraid. Better luck next time, though!" He says it in a jolly tone of voice, and oh, you hate him.

     That's the thing with the two of you. You're sworn enemies, right, but you make each other better. He tries harder because you light a fire under his arse and bloody hell, you're itching for a chance to burn him, and vice versa.

      So you smirk, now. Square your shoulders. You've baited him into a competition, and you are absolutely ready to deliver. "Famous last words, Potter. Famous last words."

#the marauders #marauders era fic #james potter x reader #marauders era fanfiction #james potter #james potter fanfiction #marauders imagine #james potter imagine #* chapter update.

[chaosology]

invisible strings

Sam Kerr x reader

uses this+this request

warnings: underage drinking, gay pining, not proof read so u can call me out on grammar and i wont get my feelings hurt.

masterlist

September, 2003 - Perth, Australia

"Mum, it's so obvious she doesn't want me there!" You whined. Your mother was haphazardly chucking a soccer ball in a birthday bag, arranging the blue paper around it so it was semi-presentable. Bless her, but you knew Sam wouldn't care for the wrapping.

She had awkwardly handed you a party invitation after school that day as you plucked your bags off the racks.

"My mum said I had to invite a girl to come, sorry. There's good cake, though. It's ice cream."

She ran off almost as fast as she appeared, leaving you outside your Year 4 class alone. Why you? You weren't sporty at all, she could've at least invited one of the netball girls - they were always picking Sam for their teams, too. You were the anti-Sam, spending lunch with a small group of girls playing hopscotch and batting your eyes for the teacher's approval.

Black marker in your hand, you scribbled down a messy "happy birthday, Sammy K" in one of the white spaces on the ball. Your mum had taken you to Big W to choose one after school immediately after, given the late notice. You held it back, admiring your work. Would a heart be appropriate?

Yes.

You only turn 10 once, right? You added it front and centre on the ball, writing your name in the middle so she knew who it was from (though, she could probably tell a tween boy didn't make such an effort).

The party was, as expected, all boys. Sam's mother had greeted you warmly at the door, ushering you in with a comforting (and almost apologetic smile). Sam ran over excitedly to grab the gift bag off you, grabbing your arm to pull you over to the snacks table. You were introduced to all the other boys there, most of whom you knew from school.

You smiled shyly at all of them, spending most of the time sitting on the folded chairs outside while nibbling on some fairy bread and praying your mum would come get you. Sam ran around with the boys all afternoon, leaving you all alone with your thoughts. As it turned out, you had gotten the wrong type of football for Sam. You felt guilty for rushing at the shops, but Sam had hid the disappointment well, even complimenting your handwriting.

As the day came to an end, you were joined by Isaac. He was a friend of Sam's from an outside sports league, but had forgotten his asthma puffer and had to call it after two hours of straight footy. You talked most of the afternoon, complaining about your random 10 year old problems. You couldn't help noticing the way Sam came to talk to you more when she noticed Isaac there.

She probably just felt bad, you thought.

October, 2007 - Perth, Australia

Things had blossomed with Isaac. You remained friends for a few years, which eventually grew into something more romantic. He was your first boyfriend, and unfortunately your first love.

You were both invited to a party up in the hills. He had begged you to go, having become engrossed in the rumours of cruisers and beers being supplied by who-fucking-care's older brother. You had little interest, but his incessant nagging was beginning to piss you off, so you agreed.

Unfortunately as you both matured, Isaac changed. He was egotistical and big-headed, busy with AFL and making crude comments when he thought you weren't listening. It was hard not to see him in a different light, but sometimes you were offered a small glimpse at the small, sweet boy who sat out of breath next to you at the party.

You tugged on the hem of the sort black dress you were wearing, trying desperately hard to pull it further down your thigh. Isaac suggested "something sexy" for the party, much to your disagreement. You relented, and were now regretting it as you faced the chilly atmosphere of Perth's spring. He showed little interest in you while you sat next to him in on the couch, only passing you a beer and whispering "don't be lame" in your ear. Safe to say, the party kinda sucked.

You considered telling him you were going out front for air, but the way he was basically eye-fucking Karen Davies made you think twice. You wandered outside with teary eyes, Corona bottle in your hand as you breezed through the crowd of sweaty teenagers.

"Y/N?"

You turned, face to face with... Sam? She was older now, with slightly longer hair down to her shoulders and dressed in an oversized hoodie. Why was she giving you butterflies?

"Hey Sam," your voice came, "Sorry, just getting some air."

"Mind if I join?"

You motioned wordlessly for her to follow, her hand placed lightly on the small of your back as you navigated the halls to the front yard. God, you were so glad she couldn't see the red hot blush that painted your cheeks.

The two of you found yourselves sitting on the curb, legs stretched lazily out into the street.

"So Isaac's a dick now, 'ey?"

It was so nonchalant that it barely seemed hostile, Sam just took another swig from her bottle, grumbling when she noticed it was empty.

"You also don't have to drink the rest of that, you know? Doesn't make you lame or whatever."

You silently passed her the bottle, expecting for her to just chuck in a bin when she passed one next. However, she downed it in one go.

"Dickhead! I thought you were gonna throw it out! What if I wanted that later?" You laughed, playfully attempting to shove her off the curb. She only giggled in response, lightly shoving you back.

"Hey, I never got to say thanks for that soccer ball all those years ago," she started, "I actually play now. Mum 'n dad made me stop AFL, all the guys are bigger than me. But I actually really like soccer, your ball was the one I first used." She looked almost embarrassed confessing it, a small blush spreading across her face.

"Oh god, I remember that. Sorry, I think I scribbled all over it."

"Nah, it's cute- It's cool, sorry. It's cool, I liked it." She stammered, getting what looked like progressively more and more red.

"What are you up to now?" She said, awkwardly trying to change the subject.

"Oh I dunno, not much. Studying a lot, really. Isaac's been so odd lately so it's usually just me... It'd be cool to be a doctor, I think."

She looked up, eyebrows raised.

"No way! I always knew you'd do something like that, you were such a teacher's pet in primary school... The smartest, most nerdiest one there." She was back to her playful teasing now, and you found yourself slightly wishing that she'd flirt like this more.

What about Isaac? Were you a bad person? Why was Sam making you feel like this? Your head was starting to spin aggressively, the alcohol taking it's toll on your slight, 15 year old self. Sam grabbed your arm, rushing to hold back your hair as you crawled over to a bush, puking all over it. You felt too sick to be embarrassed.

Most of what you remember was her putting you in a taxi and slipping her phone number in your pocket. The next morning, you made sure to find the little note and stick it to your wall, staring longingly at the message written on it.

"Let's be friends - Sammy K"

You also broke up with Isaac.

April, 2014 - Perth / New York City

Y/N Y/L/N: haha sorry, is this the right Sam?? :D

Samantha Kerr: no way, yeah! how r u

Y/N Y/L/N: good! i'm so sorry i never messaged u after that party :( my mum never let me get a phone

↳ i wanted facebook to find u

Samantha Kerr: heheh no worries, what time is it for u rn?

Y/N Y/L/N: it's 9pm LOL aren't u here??

Samantha Kerr: nopeee :p i'm in new york

↳ i play soccer here! well for a bit cos i have to go back and forth

Y/N Y/L/N: no way, that's so sick... i'm jelly. stuck studying rn

Samantha Kerr: u haven't changed

Y/N Y/L/N: didn't u call me "teacher's pet" >:)

↳ med is super fun tho... come see me for sport injuries

Samantha Kerr: ...

Samantha Kerr: how's Isaac?

Y/N Y/L/N: omg Isaac haha, long gone... not my type

Samantha Kerr: ur type... not dickheads i'm guessing?

Y/N Y/L/N: *men

Samantha Kerr: LOL hahahaha same

↳ welcome to the better side

Y/N Y/L/N: ^_^

↳ how's things for u???

Samantha Kerr: heh yea good, the team here is super sick. NY is cool, lots of weird stuff... and christmas is so cold. my gf from here tho so she always makes fun of my accent :DDD

Y/N Y/L/N: ohh cool srry didn't know u had a gf... met thru soccer??

Samantha Kerr: yeh, we play for the same team. she's awesome

↳ someone @ home for u?

Y/N Y/L/N: haha no :/ someone but i don't think it'll work out

Samantha Kerr: aw that sucks,,, don't give up tho

↳ we should hang when i'm back next!

Y/N Y/L/N: that would be cool. i'd like that!

December, 2016 - Perth, Australia

She was always on your mind, but could she say the same of you? You and Sam had gotten so much closer over the years, texting 24/7 when either of you had the chance. She was returning back for Christmas and you were on your way to pick her up from the airport, helping to surprise to her family.

You hadn't been able to date properly since that conversation with Sam on the curb. Nobody else made your heart skip a beat like she did, and you found yourself yearning to feel her touch once again, even if it was brief. You didn't care. You comforted her when she went through her first serious break up, and she would stay on call for hours while you broke down about the pressures of med school. It felt like there was something pulling the two of you together, and god, you hoped she felt it too.

Standing at the International Arrivals gate was nerve-racking. Every flurry of passengers sent your nerves flying, eyes anxiously darting from person to person as you picked at your nails in anticipation. You were so nervous, you almost missed her.

She was finally here.

Her short hair was tied back, and the dark rings under her eyes proved how drained she was from the flight. She lugged a large, black suitcase with her, looking around until her eyes met yours.

You both rushed forward. She engulfed you in a warm hug that felt like... home?

No words were shared as you stood there in each other's embrace.

The car ride to Sam's house was comfortably silent, but you couldn't help but notice how Sam's hand had come to rest on your leg as you drove. It felt like it was on fire, but she didn't acknowledge it, sunglasses over her eyes as she looked tiredly out her window.

You were probably just reading into things, Sam admitted once that she's a really touchy person. You didn't want to lead yourself on.

Sam's family had invited you inside for the celebrations, surrounding you with all sorts of questions about schooling and your life. In a quiet moment, it was just you and her mother alone on the couch. Her siblings and dad were outside chatting at the barbecue, with the two of you remaining inside to escape the heat.

"She loves you, you know," her mother said matter-of-factly, "you love her too."

"Excuse me? I swear I-"

"Oh, don't be silly." She replied, leaning to hold your hand.

"That girl looks at you like you hung the stars. I get so many calls of Y/N this... Y/N that... She's besotted."

"I- I don't know what to say," you said, holding back the tears that threatened to spill, "was it that obvious?"

"Oh, no no. Don't worry. Us mother's have a way with things. Don't think yours doesn't see it too."

You laughed, raising your head to meet your eye. She released your hands, patting you on the knee as she walked off at the same time Sam conveniently entered. Nice one, Roxy.

"God... do you remember that birthday party I had?" She laughed, coming to sit next to you. She stretched her arms over the top of the couch, her fingertips only inches from where you were currently resting.

"How could I forget? Hey guys, this is Y/N that doesn't play footy - isn't that how you introduced me?"

She just laughed at your mock offence, small apologies leaving her mouth as she reminisced.

"I mean, it wasn't a lie."

"Oh fuck off, Kerr." You shoved her lightly, watching as her hand came to her chest to feign offence. You both fell quiet, meeting each other's eyes in a once again comfortable silence.

"Why me?"

Sam looked taken aback, her eyes down as she searched for an answer.

"Why not you?" She said, looking up. You could tell the mood had shifted as her eyes met yours, a hint of vulnerability across her face.

"I think... I think I always knew it was you."

"Sam-"

"No," she spoke softly, her hand coming to hold yours, "Just let me finish?"

You nodded.

"I can't really explain it, but there's just this pull. It feels like I can't stay away, you know? We always found a way back to each other, even after all these years. It's just- It's just always you"

The tears that were threatening to spill finally did as you pulled her close. You could taste the salty tears that left both your eyes as your lips met hers, a soft kiss that felt like it lasted a lifetime. Her hands came to hold the sides of your face, deepening the kiss until you were gasping for breath. Reluctantly, you pulled away and rested your forehead against hers.

"I think I love you, Y/N."

"I think I love you too, Sam."

July 14th, 2020 - London to Perth

"Have you got your comfy shoes, babe?"

A small "fuck!" echoed from your shared bedroom as your girlfriend scrambled to fish her shoes out from whatever pile she had thrown them in. Standing by the door, you watched as she stumbled forward and pulled her socks on, almost knocking over several pot plants as she did so. At 3am in the morning, she was not exactly a vision of grace and elegance.

The two of you had bounced around countries as Sam switched clubs, settling in the UK as she signed a contact with Chelsea. Your medical degree allowed a job almost anywhere and so you quickly found work at a nearby children's hospital, much to Sam's delight.

At the moment though, you were saying goodbye to your London apartment as you jetted back to your hometown. As far as you knew, there was no specific reason to be returning home, with Sam citing homesickness. You thought it suspicious as she was there only two months ago, but never bothered questioning it. You both missed Australia and eventually planned on moving back, but for now you were happy living a busy life in the UK.

Sam always had a thing about planes, as you came to learn. She was ok when they were completely in the air, always able to distract herself with some form of tv or movie (or sleeping pills), but you could tell by the way her knee was bouncing that this time would be no different.

"Hey, it's alright", you said, palm reaching across to settle her, "we'll be ok, these things are freaky safe now."

"I know. Logically I know it's fine but I just... I can't help it"

You only sighed, kissing her cheek and taking her hand in yours. The safety video played on the screens in front of you as you pulled her head to your shoulder, stroking her hair. Her body relaxed into yours as her breathing steadied, and you could feel her racing heart start finally slowing down.

She was drowsy from the early wake up and easily fell into a peaceful slumber. You prayed for no turbulence, admiring the few freckles and lines that were littered across her perfect face. She needed the rest, having been so anxious about this trip and her upcoming tournaments that the stress had almost permanently darkened under her eyes.

With her hand in yours, you soon followed her in sleep.

July 17th, 2020 - Perth, Australia

"I need to shake off the jetlag, wanna go for a walk?"

You turned suddenly as she called from the bathroom, walking out and drying her hair.

"Mum said they redid the park up the road, good field for soccer... We can practice some more if you'd like?" She asked, almost nervously. You had requested Sam start teaching you more about the game; a role she took very seriously. She was showing you all the tricks she'd learnt, even trying her hardest not to laugh when you fell flat on your ass several times in a row.

The two of you set off just before golden hour, navigating the streets of Fremantle to the park. Sam's hand was in yours the whole time, the other holding the soccer ball close to her hip - she was being so protective other the goddamn thing.

"I'll stand here, we'll just go back and forth until you get your confidence up."

She was taking several steps back away from you, positioning the ball at her feet before kicking it towards you.

"You know this is the one you gave me, right?"

You kicked it back, reciprocating.

"God, you're such a sap... Love you for it, though." She only laughed, winking as she did so. Even after 4 years, she still made you blush like you were 15.

The both of you continued, going though the motions until Sam decided to give it a forceful kick, landing it far behind you.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"Sorry, love. Rules of the game; she who missed must go fetch."

"That's not even- Oh, whatever"

You ran off as Sam followed behind you - why was she moving from her spot? That's when you noticed it.

"Hey dummy, this isn't even the ball I gave you - I used black maker on mine." You jokingly shouted back, picking it up to hold it by your side. "Got some fangirl groupies to replace me, huh? Can't believe you thought I used red marker."

She stood a few metres away from you, a small smirk on her face.

"Why don't you read it then, genius?"

You looked down, confused. What was she playing at?

Marry me?

It was written neatly in red marker, a giant heart below it - just like the one you first gifted Sam at her party all those years ago. You looked up, only to be met with the sight of Sam on one knee in front of you, a small blue box in her hands.

"Well?"

She had tears in her eyes, but her smirk remained.

You were still speechless, the red words echoing in your brain. She wanted you to marry her. She wanted you to be her wife. You sank to your knees to be level with her, gently grabbing her face to pull her in for a kiss.

You could feel her smiling against your lips, sliding the ring on your finger wordlessly as your mouth met hers.

#sam kerr x reader #sam kerr fanfic #sam kerr fanfiction #woso x reader #matildas x reader #sam kerr imagine #sam kerr requests #fanfiction #sam kerr x reader fluff #fluff #sam kerr x fem!reader #sam kerr imagines #woso fanfiction #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #matildas imagine

[soundspeachytome]

baby fever - shohei ohtani au

summary: (i don't think this needs a summary, the title says it all lol)

word count: 10,584K

tags: fluff, mentions of sex, impregnation

other notes: midnight word vomit things~ i honestly didn't think i would be able to write something so soon after the one i posted on NYE but i'm blaming that video of shohei playing with some kids on my timeline. my thoughts have secured me a seat in hell.

enjoy and cry in delusion with me.

=====================================

Shohei couldn’t help himself but beam all the way home. He had spent his entire day surrounded by a group of kids no older than twelve years old, the youngest around five, to help facilitate the annual children sports camp at the elementary school he worked at. Being the only teacher who had played baseball during his primary and secondary years in school, he was elected by default to coach a few hours’ session of baseball basics to which he did not object. Aside from that, he also helped facilitate another few hours in assisting the lead teachers during the games like scavenger hunt, capture the flag, and water balloon dodgeball. The last one being his favorite, he was just supposed to be watching and making sure none of the kids get hurt, or if ever they do, he’d play medic when the need arises. Thankfully, his first aid skills were put to the backseat and he was joined in on the fun when one of the twelve-year old campers aimed a water gun at him. He had no choice but to retaliate. With his wide hands and arm support, he grabbed a bunch of water balloons and aimed at anyone within proximity, creating an entirely new chaos between the kids and the other teachers, too.

He had ended the day soaked and sore from all the laughing and running around trying to avoid the kids aiming at him. Thankfully, you had made sure to pack him extra clothes to change into. “Just in case you get a little too fun and get soaked in sweat,” you had said, ignoring Shohei’s initial comments on not needing extra clothes since he was not technically sleeping over for the night. But proven to be always right, he made a mental note to get you something special as a way to thank you for being, well, the best.  

After he had changed into his comfy cotton pants and white shirt, he bid goodbye to everyone at camp, especially the kids he had made friends with. They hugged him and some even gave him DIY goodbye presents (one gave him a bracelet made out of plucked flowers and laced it around his wrist), a tall kid with glasses who must be around seven years old gave him his precious Snickers bar, almost melted, and the youngest girl of the bunch clung onto his leg and tried to stop him from leaving. These short but meaningful interactions touched Shohei that he almost felt bad for leaving. 

“Will you teach us again next summer camp, Teacher?” one kid had asked.

“Hmm. Maybe, we’ll see,” Shohei beamed, eyeing the other teachers in response. If not for the lead teachers and school principal, he would not have been able to cross the schoolgate and reach his car. He waved one last goodbye to the kids who stood behind the gates and then drove away. 

He couldn’t wait to go home to you and tell you about his day. 

You were in the kitchen when you heard Shohei’s Corolla park in the garage. You continued tending to the Tsuyu broth and soba noodles that you were saving up for a warm day like this. 

While Shohei was out for camp duties the entire day, you were able to finish the flower embroidery design you had been challenged with for over a week now. Being new to the craft, you had a slightly difficult time understanding the patterns in the first place, but once you got the hang of it, you were on a roll and without realizing it, you were already done. You regretted buying only one design thinking it would take you longer to complete it, and also considering that you were the type to abandon something when you feel overwhelmed or had just simply lost the fixation, just like the few hundred other abandoned projects you started this year. This time, however, you were so accomplished that you couldn’t wait for Shohei to come home and brag. 

Upon his arrival, Shohei sees you busy in the kitchen, humming to Adele. He put his bag on the countertop and went straight to you, your back facing him. He embraced you from behind, leaning his chin on your shoulder and slightly shifted his weight against your body. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi.” You angled your face upwards to meet him and he planted a kiss straight to your lips. When you went back to what you were doing, he left kisses on the small spots on your neck and shoulder. 

“Hmm, I love soba. I was craving for this.” He murmured against your skin. He still had his arms wrapped around, waiting for you to finish and give him your full attention.

“Really? Didn’t I tell you that I’m a mind-reader?” you joked and turned the stove off and faced Shohei. 

“Yes and you are the best.” He did not waste another second and kissed you tastefully on the mouth. As soon as he got your attention, he made sure your tongue was preoccupied with his. 

You stayed like that for a few seconds. A slow summer day deserves an equally slow and hot makeout session like this. Shohei put both his hands behind your back and you had no choice but to push your body closer to him while you coiled your hands behind the nape of his neck, tugging a few strands of his thick hair.

“What’s gotten you so worked up today, love?” you asked when you separated. 

He pulled back, catching his breath and looked seriously at you. 

“Let’s start doing it, love.”

“Do what?”

“Kids. Babies. I want to put a baby on you right now.” He massaged your lower back and showered your neck with more kisses.

“So sudden?” You looked at Shohei with bewilderment. You weren’t angry or anything, just a little surprised that he had suddenly brought it up. You had always known to use oral and physical contraception ever since you started dating and like an unspoken promise, you made sure that your relationship would not bear anything both of you didn’t feel like committing to yet. But this was definitely something new. 

“I was just thinking… At camp, the kids loved playing with me… some even clung to me–like this–” he hugged you tightly in demonstration. “--and I almost choked up when I was driving away.”

“And…?”

“I played with kids the whole day, I realized that I really, really want to have kids.” He pouted.

In a way, Shohei had always been great with kids. You saw how he used to fawn over your neighbors’ kids and their tiny steps, how he’d wave to babies in strollers whenever you’d pass by them, smiling extra wide. 

“Like, I really, really, really do. We’ve been married for three years now. Don’t you think it’s time for us to get pregnant?”

You were silent the whole time, looking straight into Shohei’s face, and trying to see any hint of him joshing around but he was nothing but serious with his dead set eyes and determination.

“What are you thinking, love?” He asked, getting fidgety after seeing you were quiet for a while. 

“Are we even ready for kids? There are a lot of newer parents that get divorced after babies are born…” you trailed off. Shohei noticed your worry and decided to change the topic.

“I’m sorry, I won’t force it if you’re not comfortable.” he kissed your nose and pulled you into a tight hug. “The noodles look amazing! So much about my day, they can wait… What did you do all day without me?”

Dinner ensued and the pregnancy topic was never brought up again, much to your relief. Shohei was quite understanding and never the pushy type. He always made sure that when you both decide on anything, you were both in it, just like when he moved in with you after a year of dating, when you decided to get married a few months after, and then buying a house.

You felt no pressure whatsoever about creating a family with Shohei because he never pressured you or his family. You don’t know if you wanted kids at all. When you were single, you thought there was not a single good man left on earth but meeting Shohei had changed your mind. Maybe, with the right kind of man, it’d be possible to love and still be loved properly while having kids. So yes, maybe. Maybe one day, you’d want Shohei’s children but were waiting for the right time. You hoped maybe someday, bearing kids will not just be a reluctant maybe, but a definite, sure and unwavering yes. 

Not until Shohei’s sister came to town to visit a few days later and brought their two year old daughter in tow. Shohei was ecstatic. He had fallen in love with his niece the moment he met her. He’d carry her as much as he could when they visited, buying her presents for every occasion, sometimes even when there’s really nothing to celebrate at all.

This time, when Shohei had picked up his niece, Nora, from her trolley and into his arms, kissing her lightly on the cheek, cooing and swinging her back and forth along with their boisterous laughter ringing around the house, you felt something shifted. 

You felt the anxiety on your shoulders lift and leave your body, leaving you with an immense sensation of love and happiness. You sat at the dinner table watching Shohei play peekaboo with Nora while she sits on his lap, and couldn’t help but imagine Shohei carrying a baby–your offspring–while feeding her, or humming it to sleep. It sounds like a beautiful dream, doesn’t it? 

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

After they had left and the house was silent again, you cornered Shohei in the kitchen, who was loading the dishes in the dishwasher. He was humming a Cocomelon nursery rhyme which you assumed was the same song he had played on his ipad with Nora. 

“Shohei.” You tugged his arm and looked at him straight in the eyes.

“Yes, love?” 

“Let’s do it.” 

“Do what now?” He said mindlessly, pulling his sleeves down and shrugged off the kitchen apron.

“Fuck a baby into me, I said.” You raised your voice, unsure where to look.

It took him a few seconds to understand but when it finally dawned on him, he wasted no time and carried you into his arms bridal style. 

When he pushed you onto the bed, kissing you hungrily, both of you still half-undressed, he suddenly pulled back and asked, “Wait, is this your new kink now? Seeing me with kids?”

“What, no.” Your hands busied on the buckle of Shohei’s belt and when that ordeal was done, had pulled his boxers down to touch him. Like a knee jerk reaction, his hips jerked forward to your hand. 

Definitely.

“Hmm, this is going to be a long night,” he whispered, biting at the garter of your underwear and pulling it down with his teeth. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

Absolutely.

“I’ve never been so sure.” 

You pushed yourself up on your elbows and met Shohei’s lips, while he slowly entered you, both of you adjusting to the size and feeling. He started thrusting in and out of you hungrily, as if on a mission, determined to fill you to the brim. And you, on the brink of pleasure and chasing your high, you couldn’t help but moan Shohei’s name and said, yes, yes, yes, over and over. Like an assurance statement, like a promise.

This is my yes, unquestionably, a hundred times over.

#shohei ohtani au #shohei ohtani imagines #shohei ohtani pov #shohei ohtani #shohei ohtani smut #shohei ohtani fluff

[kimsunos]

UNIFORM ☆ SUNOO SMUT

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (18+ CONTENT)

in which you help sunoo with his little “problem”.

tags: afab!reader, sub!sunoo / dom!reader, blowjob, making out, they are both students, reader is very provocative and flirty, sunoo is kinda innocent and inexperienced, cum eating, degradation and praising (sunoo receiving)

words: 2k

a/n: this is kinda long-ish but bear with me!! also first smut here AND first time trying to write in english im very nervous im going to cry actually skjdalksjdla anyways i hope yall like it!! kisses <3

sunoo has always been a romantic, that's for sure. maybe this is due to his upbringing surrounded by good female influences. his mother taught him to always be nice to everyone and his sister kept sighing and daydreaming about love that never came, letters never sent, and movies that broke the heart. through the crack in the door, sunoo learned that true love was the one you found in someone who is your complete opposite, and that someone would be your supreme muse, the reason for all the most beautiful poems, where your hand would find shelter in the back pocket of their torn jeans and that you would love them until death do you apart.

for seeing everything through rose-colored lenses, bathed in the innocence of the love presented by his sister and mother, sunoo never, never ever, thought he would be faced with the scene in front of him: his girlfriend kneeling down, a mischievous smile pulling the corner of her plump lips upwards as she clumsily tries to unbuckle the belt of his pants.

he didn't know that things were going to end (or start) like this when he asked the teacher to go to the bathroom that morning, an almost visible discomfort in his pants causing extreme embarrassment. what could he do? in the previous class he had seen his beloved playing volleyball on the school's court and, well, sunoo is innocent, but he is still a teenager full of hormones and his girlfriend is very hot, you know what i'm getting at.

it's not like he's a pervert, you just... look very attractive in your sports shorts that perfectly outline your curves, your sweat-wet white shirt turns the fabric transparent in the most instigating areas, obscenely attracting sunoo’s and other people’s eyes.

you smelled of desire and it made him desperate. looking head to toe you made him feel so small and helpless. sunoo wondered how you could have a stare so intense and gentle at the same time. and while he thought too much about your gaze or whatever it could mean, the answer to the whole situation was on the tip of your tongue. you knew why he was so restless and anxious in your presence and knew what you had to do.

but his way of coping was to opt to speak as little as possible and run out to the classroom. he couldn't risk falling into the temptation called you, not now. his mind was barely able to comprehend this extraordinary force that drove him crazy, he didn't know exactly how to make it stop, but he knew it would have to be with you and that was what he feared.

sunoo and you, clear opposites, he, afraid of conflict, would hide. you, on the other hand, would attack. that's why, when gym class was over, you changed in the locker room, got your school supplies and, unlike the rest of the class, you didn't go in, hiding behind the cement pillar next to the boys' and girls' restrooms and patiently waiting for sunoo to arrive.

you had witnessed similar events before. like the time when you were on a video call and you, not too accidentally, chose to wear the thinnest and most revealing set of pajamas you had in your wardrobe. it was exhilarating to see the gentle boy lose himself in words and babble anxiously trying to hide his red face that he “needed to end the call right now”. or when he avoids your gaze when you're having ice cream, using all his strength not to stare like a depraved man at the way your tongue dances obscenely in the cold vanilla paste, and almost dying immediately when the sweet treat stains the corner of your mouth white.

the point is that you know what sunoo wants, and you also know that he is too innocent to ask for it with all the words. all these behaviors of yours were needed measures to make your boyfriend give in to his lust, and by the looks of it, it was working, because the boy was apprehensively running toward the men's room carrying a jacket hiding his pelvis when he spotted you, and at that moment he froze.

"why aren't you in class, sun?" you said, approaching the panting boy, putting a hand on his shoulder and frowning, feigning concern and completely ignoring the fact that you, too, were not in class.

"w-well... i..." he stammered. you had to use all your willpower to hold back your smile from taking over.

"oh, my, you're so red, do you want me to take you to the infirmary?" you continued the act, watching the boy look nervously around. he then interrupted the conversation, pulling you by the arm into the nearest bathroom and locking you both in the last stall.

"uh... sunoo? what was that?" you said, as soon as you heard the sound of the door locking.

he took a deep breath, searching for courage.

"y/n, help me." he pouted.

you couldn't help but smile a little. "ohh... what do you need help with, my love?" you said, watching the boy move awkwardly in that small space.

"aaah, y/n... please, i don’t want to say it i don’t want to say it..." he whined, incredulously, hiding his face in his hands. "that's so embarrassing.. we never done anything like that." he stood up with weeping eyes that stared anywhere but yours. you smiled, it was time to attack. and oh, there was something so rewarding about turning the polite boy into a mess.

"ooh, my love... we've never done what? i don't get it..." you said, holding the boy's cheek and tilting his face to the side so that you had room to leave lingering kisses, while with the other hand you slowly caressed his chest, stroking him.

he could only manage a whimper.

"yah, you know what it is!" he shouted low, afraid to be heard through the thin cabin doors.

you nodded no, as you held the boy's velvety face and feigned a misunderstood smile. "if you don't tell me, i won't know, and i won't be able to help you."

sunoo was in a moral dilemma. he wanted his first time with the person he loved to be as perfect as possible, not in a school bathroom with the chance of an inspector coming to check on you at any moment. but he was so desperate, the discomfort in his pants was starting to hurt, and the object of his desire was right in front of him, waiting to be enjoyed.

he made up his mind, closed his eyes and sealed your lips together. a kiss that soon became one of the hottest you two had ever had. sunoo was always a gentleman, shy little kisses on your mouth and cheek were his trademark, the boy was afraid and ashamed to go further, he didn't know what to do. but it didn't matter now, because his hands were on the back of your neck and you, now, were sure that he wanted you.

as you parted, a thin line of saliva connected the two of you. sunoo's lips were red and swollen, more appetizing than anything you had ever eaten. a naughty smile took over your expression, but it didn't last long as you had the boy seeking your lips again like a hungry man, as if you were the only thing that could save him from starving.

his hands were placed on your hips, squeezing lightly, and then on your face, and everywhere. sunoo wanted to feel your body all over his, without separations, as one. your mouth went all over the places you could access through the button-down uniform, marking his skin with red stains and bites. and sunoo, even if inexperienced, mirrored your behavior, also biting and kissing the entire length of your neck. you two were a complete mess.

the pleasure of the makeout was so great that sunoo unconsciously put his leg between yours and, desperate for friction and relief, started rubbing himself, moaning breathlessly as you moved to meet his movements.

"so... hm, you need to relieve yourself, don't you, sweetie?" you said, breathing heavily, and sunoo murmured a yes, not wanting to take his face off your neck. "i'll help you, don't worry." you finished, giving the boy a comically chaste kiss compared to the lewd act of the two of you. you then slowly lowered yourself to your knees, very close to the boy due to the small size of the booth.

"look at that..." you said, groping sunoo's member over his pants, noticing the dark spot on the fabric, indicating pre-cum. you kissed the area. sunoo could swear you were the most beautiful creature in the world. “i’m going to help you, ok?” you finished by sloppily unbuckling his leather belt, then undid the button and zipper of his pants. the sight was magnificent, making you salivate even over the fabric of his underwear. sunoo's cock was huge and you wasted no time in discarding everything that prevented you from observing the organ in all its glory.

"you're beautiful, sunoo," you said, as soon as his cock popped out, almost softly hitting your face.

in some other situation, the boy might have been feeling some kind of insecurity about his body or something, but lust had destroyed his logical reasoning, he wanted you, you, you, and just thinking about how fucked up he was made his dick twitch.

finding the situation cute, you laughed softly. your boyfriend is adorable, and will be even more adorable when he’s on the verge of tears from not being able to hold his moans. so you wasted no time and held his cock by the base, jerking slowly. you got confident and increased the pace as you saw the boy stagger with the new sensation that took over his whole body.

"ohh, y/n..."

without taking your eyes off the boy, you gave the head an experimental cat lick, watching triumphantly as he trembled. the salty flavour reached your taste buds and only stirred up the desire to have it all in your mouth, and so you did, dedicatedly sucking the pink head and then pushing as far as your throat could reach, repeating this movement several times.

"a-ahh, y-y/n, don't stop, please, it's too good..." cried sunoo, trying to keep his voice low, putting one of his hands on your hair and pulling lightly. the other was in his mouth, trying to muffle the sounds. his body was being totally controlled by pleasure.

"don't worry, honey," you pulled his cock out of your mouth, making a popping noise, choosing to jerk it sloppily with your hands. "i'm going to take care of this, okay? you're going to cum so hard for me, aren't you? i'm going to milk your cock all over." with each sentence, your rhythm increased, making lewd wet sounds.

"p-please.. don't, ahh, say such dirty things.”

"but you asked for it, sunoo, you're so dirty." the boy moaned in response, his hips unconsciously thrusting to fuck your hand. "begging me like a bitch in heat who can't wait," your hand was relentless, carefully working from the base to the head of his member. "fucking my hand and mouth like it was my pussy... i bet you're already addicted to the feeling, you'll want it every day, won't you?”

"y-yes, i've always- aah, wanted that, always wanted you to touch me, y/n."

"and you couldn't even use the right words for it, tsc tsc." you said, with your hand still working on his cock, squeezing and releasing in strategic places. "apologize, sunoo, tell me how you're going to ask for it next time, hm? like the good boy you are." you bit your lip, trying to not moan yourself with the scene in front of you.

"s-sorry, hmm, y/n... i'm going to ask you to suck me-, ohh, a-and make me cum, and do whatever you- my god, ahh, whatever you want with me." by the pulsation of his cock in your hand, you could feel that he was close.

“see? wasn’t that hard being good for me.”

that was the last straw for sunoo, who let out a white jet right in your face, staining your uniform a little. luckily you captured his cock again with your mouth and swallowed the rest of the liquid.

while sunoo was trying to catch his breath, he could swore he lost it again when he saw you scooping up his cum with your index finger and putting it inside your mouth in one movement. your tie was loose, your lips red and swollen, and the marks he made started to paint your neck. everything was making his mind foggy with lust but then you pulled him back, with a smile on your face.

"next time, love, try not to get my uniform dirty."

© kimsunos, 2023.

#sunoo smut #sunoo #sunoo fanfic #enhypen #sunoo hard thoughts #sunoo hard hours #sunoo x you #sunoo scenarios #enha #vixen's works #sunoo x reader #sunoo x y/n #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #sunoo imagines

[billthedrake]

HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS (PART THREE)

"Wow, you went all out, Coach," I said as I helped him set out the food on the table.

He gave a grin and replied, "Just my bachelor holiday dinner... thanks for sharing it with me, Russ."

"My pleasure," I said.

Ed had in his hand a bigger sized bottle of beer, which he opened. "Feel like sharing my Christmas present?"

I nodded. "Just a half glass," I said. "Gotta drive back." I wasn't a big beer guy, but I didn't want to turn down Coach S's offer. "Who's the gift from?" I asked.

"Matt Reynolds," he replied as he poured my glass half full then set to give himself some. "He and I are both into beer." Coach Reynolds was the high school's head football coach.

I held up my glass. "It makes sense, but I guess I never thought of teachers hanging out together outside of school."

He held up his glass and gave a silent toast. Then he replied with a smirk, "I'll admit get along better with some of the teachers more than others. Matt's my closest friend." Ed got a little shy as he added, "He's the only one who I've come out to, actually."

"Coach Reynolds?" I responded, incredulously.

That made Ed laugh. "Um, yeah. You surprised?"

I nodded. "The guy's a total meathead. Yeah, I'm surprised."

My former teacher shrugged. God, he was so handsome and adorable. I was glad we'd gotten the sex out of the way, so I could actually carry on a conversation with the man. "People have a way of surprising you, Russ."

"Sometimes not for the better," I said. Then realizing I might have come across as snotty or cynical, I added. "Sorry... I guess I'm still a little bitter from the way Zach Martin treated me." Zach and I had been friends since 6th grade, but he stopped talking to me when I came out.

I saw a look of real empathy on Coach S's face. "Sorry, Russ," he said. "I didn't know the full story, but I know you went through a lot."

"You do learn who your real friends are," I said, my tone less bitter than my words now. "I realize now that Zach is just crazy insecure, and I just got caught up in that."

Ed nodded. "I wouldn't be surprised if Zach is gay himself."

I don't know why that didn't occur to me. "You think?"

He nodded. "Don't take it to the bank. It's just a hunch. But I know when I was that age, I was so freaked out someone would figure out... I may have been an asshole to a few guys just so I could fit in."

"Damn, Coach," I said.

He seemed embarrassed now. "I never had a friend come out to me, and I don't know what I would have done if I had. I'd like to think I'd do the right thing, but you never know." He took a sip. "I just know I was MAJORLY fucked up about the gay thing. Playing sports didn't help." I knew Ed Stanley was opening himself up to me, maybe in a way that wasn't easy for him. "I always admired how you handled things, Russ."

That surprised me. "In what way?"

He looked at his beer glass as he reflected on my question. "I don't know. You seemed confident in yourself." He looked back up at me. "Whatever... I know being a teenager isn't easy and probably wasn't for you either. Teachers don't know all that's going on, but we have more of an idea than our students realize."

I laugh. "Probably, yeah." Then, "truth be told, being an adult isn't always easy either."

That made Ed smile. I loved his smile. "You got that right," he said. "There's one big consolation prize, though," he said. "What we did just now," Ed added with an impish grin.

"You mean the fucking?" I clarified.

His blue eyes twinkled. "Yeah, the fucking. Maybe I shouldn't admit this, but that was the hottest sex of my life."

Damn, this man knew how to push my buttons. "I'm honored," I said. "So maybe I shouldn't admit it was the hottest sex of my life, too."

"Well, here's to hot sex," Ed toasted.

I laughed and matched his toast.

We talked a little less as we dug into the food. I don't think I realized how much the sex had worked up my appetite, and Ed seemed to be in the same boat.

But as our eating pace slowed, I had to ask the question on my mind. "So, Ed..." I started. "Why did you let this happen... You know, between us?"

He seemed to anticipate my question. "I got tired of putting my life on hold. I broke things off with Jessica two years ago," he explained about his former fiancee. "It was around the holidays, actually, and I guess I realize I'm still not happy." He gave me a little wince of a smile. "Seriously, having you keep me company has made my year."

My heart pounded. "Damn, Coach. I'm having a blast. Not only the sex, but all of it."

"You know, for a college kid, you're pretty damn mature."

"Hardly," I laughed. "I know this sounds cheesy, Coach, but for me, being gay... well, I just love other guys. Love spending time with them, in whatever way clicks." I found myself the one being embarrassed. "I guess I craved the male bonding I didn't always have."

"Remind me to punch Zach Martin's lights out next time I see him," Coach said. And it took me a second to realize he was joking.

I laughed. "Please do. The fucker."

Ed pushed his chair back. "Let me clear the dishes. I have some dessert if you have room."

"I have room," I said. "But I'm helping you."

I got up and started picking up out dinner plates. As I brought them into the kitchen, I could see out the window, into Ed Stanley's back yard.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed.

"What?" Ed asked, concerned.

"It's a blizzard out there," I said. I set down the dishes by the sink and walked over to the sliding glass door.

I was exaggerating, but it was really coming down now, and several inches of white stuff lay on the ground, the reflected light making the dusk seem less dim.

I felt his presence behind me, his hand touching my waist. It was a simple gesture, and a welcome. "Jesus," he said. "Is it supposed to let up?"

I laughed. "Man, I don't know." I turned to him. "I should check in with my folks."

He patted my side before stepping back. "Yeah," he said. Maybe a little disappointment in his face that I'd be leaving, but possibly I was flattering myself.

I pulled out my phone and indeed I had a couple of worried texts from my mom. She was staying over at her friend's and was concerned I'd be driving in the winter mess. I told her I could stay over at my friend's and that I'd check in with Dad.

My father isn't a big texter, so I called him.

"Hey," he said when he answered. "Some storm, huh?" Dad could get right to the point sometimes. I think I inherited that from him.

"Yeah, Mom's freaking out about me. I told her I could stay over at Jason's tonight."

"Sounds good, Russ," Dad said. Then with a quiet tone, asked. "You're not at Jason's are you?"

I paused, a little freaked out I was caught in a lie. Though knowing Dad, he hadn't actually caught me at anything. The man just had a good sixth sense. I figured I was 21 and had no reason to lie to my parents. "No, Dad, I'm not. Sorry."

"I'll cover for you with your mom. Just be safe, OK?"

"I will," I said. "Promise. And again, Sorry." I was feeling like a heel now.

"I was 21 once," Dad said. "You need your space. If you need anything, a ride or something, just me a call."

"Will do."

I shook my head after I hung up. Coach S was right. Sometimes people can surprise you, in a good way.

He was just finishing cleaning up when I walked back in. "Everything OK?" he asked.

"Yep," I said. "If I'm not imposing too much, Coach, could I crash here tonight? I can sleep on the couch or whatever." I didn't want to make it seem like I was just trying to be clingy with him. "My parents just don't want me driving."

He laughed. "I damn well hope you're not taking the couch, buddy," he said. Then with a worried hesitation, he added, "I mean if you do, I'll respect that... but I wouldn't mind a little bonus time with you."

"I wouldn't mind either, Coach."

That made him smile. He set down his towel and faced me fully. "You know, I never was your coach."

"You prefer Mr. Stanley?" I teased.

"No, not really," he laughed. He stepped up and wrapped up his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him. "You know, I didn't ever think I'd enjoy being with a taller guy," he said.

"Yeah?" I asked. I'd spent my teen years self conscious about my height but now enjoyed it. Ed Stanley was bigger and hunkier than me, but I was able to look down some at him as we stood toe to toe.

He nodded. "Guess I liked being the man."

"Ed, that's about the dumbest thing I've ever heard," I said with a laugh.

"Yeah, it is. Guess I got some hang ups. But I like this," he said. "You're a tall drink of water, Russ." He now ran his hands up my back, over the fabric of my T-shirt. "When did you bulk up?"

"Started hitting the weights freshman year," I explained. "Guess I had hangups of my own, you know, about my body...."

"You got a porn body, stud," Stanley said with a sexy grin.

"Look who's talking," I said.

We kissed. It was gentle and magical. Just a hint of tongue and I could sense our breath was synching up.

"Hmmm, I like snow days," the man said in a low voice.

"I'm liking them now," I replied.

I felt his hands come around my friend, openly feeling up my chest. I was so into his ex-jock build that I was enjoying seeing him clearly turned on by me. His hands traveling lower until his left knuckle grazed the crotch of my jeans.

"You're hard," he said, as he looked up into my eyes.

"Pretty much. Yeah," I nodded.

We kissed again, and now I took the occasion to feel up Ed's body. I undid a couple of his shirt buttons and felt him moan into my mouth.

The man seemed to be keeping his self-control as he stepped back. I could tell he had a boner in his sweats now, and I was proud I'd given that to him. "OK if we just enjoy a little time in the living room before hitting the bedroom? We got all night, Russ."

"Sounds good."

"I'll light a fire in the fireplace," he said. "Sometimes it doesn't seem worth the bother just for myself."

"I wish I'd brought something more comfortable to wear," I said. Even in his button-down, Ed looked relaxed with his sweats on.

"Feel free to dig through my drawers to see if something will fit you." His eyes swept up my body. "Not sure if there will be."

"Thanks," I said. I went back to his bedroom and looked through his casual clothes, all folded neatly in his drawers. Indeed his sweatpants and pajama bottoms were way too short, but I decided on a pair of gym shorts with a drawstring that helped them hold to a waist that was two inches smaller than his size. I could have stuck with my T-shirt, but I saw an old shirt with a baseball team logo. Something about wearing Ed Stanley's clothes excited me, so I grabbed the shirt, too. I slipped the shorts on without anything on underneath, then tried on the shirt. It was loose, but it came down below my waist, which was good.

He was done fiddling with the fire when I walked in.

"You found my old team shirt," he observed, walking over to join me on the couch.

"The Captains?" I asked, referencing the logo.

"Yep, my minor league team. Played with them for two years before I called it quits." He seemed nostalgic.

"Is that when you decided to go into teaching?" I asked. I didn't really know how any of this worked.

"No, I got my Ed degree in college. I knew the majors was a long shot."

"Well, you're a great teacher," I said, then blushed as soon as I did. "I guess this is weird to talk about, huh?"

"A little," he admitted. "But you're really hot, Russ... you've become a really hot young man. So if I have to deal with the weirdness, it's worth it."

He placed his arm around my shoulder again, and I leaned into his warm build some. I knew if he started something sexual, I'd be ready for it, but our session earlier that afternoon had taken away the urgency.

"I know this isn't my place to say, Ed, but you deserve to be happy." I couldn't look at him as I said this, but after seeing a certain loneliness in the guy, I felt I had to speak to it.

"Thanks, Russ," he replied softly. Almost sadly. "Are you happy?"

"More or less," I said.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"I dunno," I said. I realized no one but Ed Stanley had ever asked me that question. "I mean, I'm enjoying college, and I guess I've dated a couple of guys. But like, I don't know, part of me wants a real relationship, something serious, to see what that's like. I mean, I'm not gonna rush it or anything, you know?"

His hand squeezed my shoulder. "Yeah, I know, Russ," he said.

I turned to him and his eyes were on me. Coach Stanley wanted another kiss. I wanted to kiss him. This time, I did my best to copy the man's soft approach. Something about our connection made me rock hard now as I kiss him and he kissed me back.

We made out some, a lot even. But we weren't rushing anything. It was around 7 and it was Christmas and the snow was coming down. We could enjoy this.

"What about you, Ed?" I finally asked as we parted, goofy expression on our face. "Any boyfriends?"

He shook his head. "I've tried the app thing. And this may sound old fashioned, Russ, but... I don't know, I think I need some other connection than coming in and taking off my clothes."

I nodded. "In all fairness Ed, you look REALLY fucking good without your clothes on."

He smirked. "Thanks. But you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do," I said. "I've done the hookup thing some, and I've enjoyed it. But... I don't know, earlier..."

I stopped mid sentence. Stanley picked up on it. "What?" he asked.

I gulped. "I'm afraid of saying something real stupid, Ed."

He put his hand beneath my chin and turned me toward him. "I want you to trust me, Russ. I may not agree with what you say but I'm not going to judge you. Promise."

I nodded. My body shook a little, which made me embarrassed because I knew Stanley could tell. "When you were in me earlier...."

"Yeah...?" he prompted.

"It felt incredible. It was incredible."

"It was incredible for me, too," he said.

"Yeah, but... I guess what I'm trying to say is that I think for me half of it was I wanted to make you happy. Like, I wanted to give that experience to you."

"Oh buddy," he muttered, his eyes a little moist.

"Maybe you think that's fucked up, but I think that's what made the fuck so good for me."

He took a deep breath, like he was trying to choose his words carefully. "That's what sex is, giving as well as receiving pleasure."

"It's not always," I corrected. I thought back to some of my hookups. "At least not emotionally."

"Yeah, not always," he agreed.

We kissed again. A little more eagerly this time. Part of me wanted to talk more with Ed, but this felt better. Being held by him, him pull me down on top of him as we reclined on the couch. He was warm, and the fireplace was heating up the room, too. Maybe this wasn't too different from time with my boyfriends of the past, but Ed Stanley brought a seriousness that wore down my defenses.

Slowly we humped on the couch and explored each other's bodies as we made out. He had me take off his minor league T-shirt and I unbuttoned his dress shirt once more. Ed Stanley was hard once more, I could feel his boner against mine, even if we hadn't stripped from the waist down.

But as we kissed Ed ran his hands down my back and under the waist of my shorts, which were his shorts really. His broad palms felt nice and warm against my bare buns.

He grunted into my mouth as I pulled up.

"Think I could press my luck, Russ?" he asked, horny as he could be.

"I'd say I'm the lucky one, Coach... are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

He looked into my eyes, his blue eyes clearly hungry. "I'd love to fuck you again, buddy." He put a slight emphasis on the "fuck" making it sound more naughty. "Maybe try some different positions."

I grinned. "You liked the barebacking, didn't you?"

He bit his lips and nodded. "And how. But if you're not up for it..."

"Oh, I'm up for it," I assured him. "I should be a little more relaxed from earlier."

"Is that how it works?" Ed asked, his fingers now dipping deeper into my crack.

"Can't speak for other guys, but a good fuck stretches me open a little. It's a nice feeling actually."

His nostrils flared as he took that in. "Bedroom?" he asked hoarsely.

"Lead the way, Coach," I said, then slid up off his body before standing in his living room, an erection evident in the shorts, matching his own clear boner.

Things felt smoother and slower now that we were working up for our second round. Yet our eyes ate each other up as we stripped down completely and got in on opposite sides of Ed's bed.

"Damn," he hissed as I moved in to nestle up against his naked furry build. "I'm glad you're staying over, Russ."

I could feel his hard dick against mine. "Funny... all of this happened because I ran into you."

"Glad I got that Christmas tree," he said. "I almost didn't."

"Glad I had the guts to hit on you," I replied.

He smirked. "I knew you wanted to."

"Yeah, I know," I said.

We kissed again. I was starting to worry about whisker burn or chapped lips, but it was like neither of us could get enough. The more we did, the more Ed seemed to get worked up. I was, too, sure, but I think my normal MO was to be a horndog when I was with a guy, so it was like I was waiting for the signal from him to amp things up.

I now used the element of surprise to push him on his back while I got up on top. His hands were greedily gripping my ass muscle as we got into it.

"Damn, you have a great ass," Ed said in a soft low voice.

"I realized at some point tall guys have to hit leg day twice as hard," I said, joking but not entirely.

He laughed. "I hope you don't mind me focusing only on your body... you know I think more of you, Russ."

I didn't know what Coach thought of me, actually, beyond this strange chemistry that had erupted between this week. I leaned up, flexing my bod a little and showing off for the man, even as my own hands were on his strong pecs. "I'll let you in on a secret, Coach. It's kind of a kick when you treat me like a piece of meat. I didn't think that would ever happen."

"Noted, buddy," he said, his own hands coming up to touch my smoother build.

I reached over to where the lube was still out.

"You, um... ?" Coach started to ask.

I nodded, reaching back to slick up his boner. Ed Stanley was rock hard now and I enjoyed the broad grin on his face as I slicked him up then leaned back against his cock.

"Twice in one day... fuck," he muttered.

I misunderstood what he meant. "You want it, right?"

"God, yeah," he muttered. His eyes were on my body some but mostly watched my face as I sank back onto him. The penetration indeed was easier this time. I was horny and Ed's prior fuck had loosened me just enough.

"Amazing," my ex teacher grunted.

I sat further down in his lap. I felt full in a good way, but it was the psychological part of this mating that got me going. "I didn't ask... what's your favorite position?"

"I gotta choose?" he chuckled.

"No," I replied. "Just curious."

His hands now openly caressed my front, his eyes clearly excited. "I love it all. But maybe doggy."

I nodded. "Hot. But let me ride you like this, and you can pick the positions you wanna try."

"Sounds amazing, buddy," Ed grunted. I could tell he was still in thrall with the feeling of condom-less sex. "Only it should be good for you, too."

"It will be," I assured him. "Maybe let me cum missionary," I added. "Last time was crazy hot."

"Will do."

Ed watched me work up and down in his lap, his hands now gently gripping my waist to guide me. Then not so gently he held me steady while he pumped up into me. "Feel good, buddy?" he asked.

It wasn't a question, though. Stanley could read the pleasure in my face. "Fuck me, Ed."

He got an almost serious scowl on his face as he got into fuck mode, thrusting up deeper into me. "All right..." he finally urged. "Climb off."

I didn't know what he had in store, but as I knelt on the mattress, Coach S's thick body scrambled out from beneath me and moved to come from behind. I felt his hand on the middle of my back, pushing me forward. "All fours, buddy," he urged, a new horniness in his voice.

I felt his lube-slick prick nudge back into place and once again his hands gripped my waist to almost pull me back on to him.

The thrusts were urgent and hard now. Not rough, but I was being nailed by a very horny and very athletic man. "Tell me if it gets too rough," he instructed.

"Feels amazing," I replied. It did, too. I wouldn't say Ed Stanley was making me any less vers in my sexual inclination, but he was revealing to me that when I did bottom, I wanted a top like this. That girthy cock of his was riding hard and heavy over my prostate. I braced myself on the bed and felt my prick drip onto his bedsheets while my former teacher used my hole.

"Goddamn... my last load is frothing up on my cock," he said excitedly. Like he was living out some nasty porn video. Which in a way I guess we both were. "Fuuuuck!" His thursts jackhammered into me in rapid succession, until I felt them pause.

The hands on my waist now let go and ran up and down my sweaty back. "Don't wanna cum just yet," he said softly. Then he pulled out and gave my ass a light smack. "Why don't you lie on your stomach and pull one leg up."

I did as asked, turning back to look at his hungry eyes and sweaty body as I did. "You've been thinking a lot about this, haven't you."

His wet dick pulsed. "I have," he grunted. "I watch a hell of a lot of porn, and now I have my own Corbin Fisher guy in bed with me."

I pulled my left leg up toward my chest, feeling my ass crack and hole exposed to his gaze. "Just remember I'm not actually a professional at this, Coach."

He had an apologetic look on his face. "Got it," he said, then scooshed forward to line up his prick to my now-wet ring.

I was half turned on my side, half face down, in a scissor position. The entry was easier this time, aided by the limits the angle put on Coach's thrusts. He was taking it slow, too. Only I got to feel the extra depth of penetration as his cock bore deeper. All the while, those blue eyes were on me. Watching.

"I love seeing your hardon while I fuck you," he muttered.

"I told you, Coach... it's good for me, too."

It was like my words made him focus on me, and the pleasure I was getting from my insides. Slowly, he sawed in and out, eyes locked on me the whole time.

"I feel like I could come any minute," he said after a few minutes.

"Why don't you?" I asked. I was so turned on but also knew my relatively inexperienced ass would probably tire out within a couple more minutes of this.

"Don't want it to end," he said simply.

"You know I'm gonna let you fuck me again, Coach," I replied. "That is, if you want."

"Yeah?" he said a real sense of hope in his voice.

I nodded.

"Fuck... I'm so close, buddy," he said, now very slowly working in and out of me. "Ok if we try this on your stomach?"

I didn't reply. I just moved my legs down and stretched out on the bed. Coach Stanley stretched out on top of me, covering my back closely with his hairy bulk and his beard tickling the back of my neck. Already he was thrusting into me, not fast but hard, while his hands felt up my arms.

"This OK, Russ?" he asked.

"Feels great, Ed," I grunted. It did, too. I'd tried this with a couple of guys before, including my frat boy boyfriend, but Ed Stanley was bigger and furrier and meatier in his build. I loved the full contact and the weight of him on me. And I loved the thickness of his dick plowing me steadily. "You can go harder if you want."

I swear he growled, let out a real bear growl, when I said that. His hands now held my arms down and he just went for it. Hard deep shoves into my ass as he eagerly went for his nut.

"Oh my fuck..." he grunted. Then I heard a deep series of whimpers as the man came, deep in my ass for a second time, his body twitching and jerking on top of me. I didn't think I could come in this position, but I felt a pressure in my prostate that made me feel the urgent need. I reached down and touched my prick. I had enough lube left in my right palm to make it work. Just two strokes back and forth and I was entering my own deep orgasm.

"Oh shit," I hissed as I regained some consciousness. I'd never had a bottoming orgasm quite like that. My first with Coach Stanley had been about fantasy buttons and the way he pressed every one. This second nut was more purely physical, the way Coach's topping practically fucked the cum out of me.

Ed was already rolling off me and lying down to get face to face as I turned on my side. "I guess that was good for you, too, huh, Russ?" he asked.

"Jesus, Ed. I can barely think right now," I muttered, still catching my breath. "But yeah...."

His own chest was rising and falling and I could even sense his heart beat as he smiled at me. "I think you telling me I could do it again sometime... that was the trigger for me."

I looked down on the bedsheets, where my cum had soaked the fabric. "I'm afraid I left a big wet spot."

He smiled. "Well you gotta sleep in it... just kidding. We'll change the sheets," he said. "But I'm glad you liked that, because... goddamn...."

"Yeah," I agreed. I slid off the bed. "Can I get some water?" I asked.

"Help yourself in the kitchen," he replied.

I slid Ed's shorts back on and made my way to rehydrate. When I returned, he'd stripped the sheets and was putting on a new set. I helped him. He was bare chested in his sweat pants. If I hadn't just had two rounds of intensely incredible sex, I would have boned up just looking at him. As I watched him tuck one side in, he looked up, catching me staring. He winked, which made me blush.

He picked up the bundle of soiled sheets and turned back to. "Don't worry, Russ, I'm in the same boat," he said. "Like I said, it's like when I wanted to play with my new toy all Christmas day."

I laughed. "You mean I can't play with mine tomorrow morning?" I joked.

He smirked. "I didn't say that, buddy," he said. "I'll throw these in the wash. You feel like having another beer in front of the fire place? I have some scotch too, if that sounds better."

I'd never had scotch but I figured what the hell. This evening was about new experiences and getting to know Ed Stanley. "Scotch sounds good."

He nodded. "Put another log on the fire, if there's still embers. I'll tend to it in a minute."

"Yep," I said.

Coach S wasn't making a move to put a shirt on, so I didn't either. Maybe we'd need to fire to keep warm, but I enjoyed the half nakedness together.

Coach offered me a small glass filled with the brown liquor and went to get the fireplace roaring again. He settled back on the couch next to me. It was my turn to place my arm over his bare shoulder, feeling the hardness and the heat of his body.

He had a quiet content look on his face. "You know, Russ, I don't want this day to end."

My heart pounded. "It doesn't have to, Ed," I said. "Well, it does, but you know what I mean."

He nodded. "You're a special young man, Russ. You know that?"

I ran my fingers along his delt muscle. "You give me too much credit, Coach, but thanks." I tried to calm my breathing. It was just the sound of the fire and the snow had made everything outside dead quiet. "A while ago, you said I could say anything and you wouldn't just me." It was a question as much as a statement.

"I meant it, Russ."

I squeezed his shoulder. "I guess I'm pretty young still... but I've never felt things click with another guy like they have with you."

"Not even with your boyfriends?" Ed asked quietly.

"Not even with my boyfriends," I said. "Listen, I know that probably came off weird and clingy and..."

"Russ..." Ed interrupted me. "Will you go on a date with me?" I could hear the tension and anxiety in his voice and when he turned to me I could see it in his eyes, too. "Sometime this week, before you go back..."

"I don't want to get you in trouble, Ed," I said. "You know, with your job or anything."

"We'll figure that out," he said. "But you didn't answer my question."

I realized I'd been afraid not of my answer but how much I wanted to give it. "Yes, I'd love that, Ed."

"Good," he said, patting my leg.

We kissed, softly. I pushed my tongue into his mouth first this time.

When we parted we had goofy grins on our faces.

"You know..." Coach S said as he traced his hand up my pectoral muscle and over my neck. "Even if people do find out or there's any gossip... it'll be so fucking worth it."

I laughed, only to have Coach cut me off with another kiss, guiding me back down to a reclining position on his couch.

THE END?

#drakestories

[lazycats-stuff]

Bruce Wayne x male!reader

Another teacher oneshot! I want to write more, maybe about how the press found out.

Summary: Bruce and (Y/N) are together for a year now, without the press finding out. But one day that changes and press get the wind of it.

Warnings: Press being invasive, people saying that (Y/N) is cute, Bruce being protective.

(Y/N) smiled as he sat at the back of the manor, the side where there was just a clearing. watching boys running around, playing football. (Y/N) was wrapped in a blanket, due to the wind that was blowing, with a cup of hot chocolate in his hands. He wasn't a person to play sports, but he was more than happy to cheer them on.

He took a sip of his warm drink and looked at Alfred who sat down next to him.

" Do you need another blanket master (Y/N)? "

" No, Alfred thank you. And please just call me (Y/N), the title of a master makes me feel rich. "

Alfred simply nodded, but (Y/N) knew that Alfred would refer to him with the 'master' title. He shook his head in amusement and went back to look at his boyfriend. Bruce was wearing a grey shirt, that clung to him because of the sweat, but what made his mouth water were Bruce's muscles. Sure, it seems superficial, but he loved them. He felt safe wrapped in those arms, especially when Bruce got back from patrol.

" How about a break gentlemen? " Alfred yelled out, seeing how they were getting tired.

" Sure Alfred. " Bruce said, jogging towards his beloved. (Y/N) knew what Bruce's intention were.

" Bruce, I love you, but no kisses while you are sweaty. "

Bruce actually pouted, but complied. He took a sip of water, then glanced back at his boyfriend.

" Bruce, no. Shower first then you can kiss me. No ifs or buts. "

Bruce pouted once more, looking like a kicked puppy. The boys snickered at their father's reaction.

" Fine, you win. Guys, eat something. You wait here hun. "

Bruce left and the boys couldn't help but comment.

" You know (Y/N), I have never seen Bruce so whipped for somebody. And I have been with him the longest here. " Dick commented, smiling.

" I agree. Father is whipped for you. " Damian said, taking a sip of his water.

" I would say a simp. " Jason said.

Tim rolled his eyes at the name. (Y/N) simply hummed, fully aware of the meaning behind that word. He wanted to keep up with his students, so he took it upon himself to learn their slang. Urban dictionary was a good help.

" Tim, Jason is not really wrong. Bruce is always ready to take his credit card and simply buy me whatever I glanced at. I looked at Stephen King's book It. A simple glance. What I found the next day, in my room, with a rose and a note saying and I quote: ' Have a good day at work my darling. Your beloved Bruce. ' "

" I remember when you hid his wallet once, you were swamped with gits. I also remember, you said something about giving something for us before the Christmas break. You said something about like something small, like some candy and what not. " Damian remembered.

" And your father got me enough candy for the entire school. I don't think any of you realize how hard it is to explain to your coworkers how you could afford it. " (Y/N) snickered at the memory.

The boys chuckled quietly at that. But that sealed (Y/N)'s spot as the favorite teacher of the school.

" But you position as the best teacher in school was solified. " Dick added, sitting down on the chair.

" Really? " (Y/N), furrowing his eyebrows, looking at the boys as if they grew a second head. he was aware that the students liked him, he was a chill professor, but still wanted their best and always helped those who needed extra help... But he didn't think he was the best teacher there.

" Yup. We would never lie to you. " Jason said, taking a bite of the sandwich.

" I mean, you help us out with our assignments and you proofread them. " Jason said, cringing at the thought of his past assignments. Jesus Christ, how did he pass all of that?

" Don't cringe at the past assignments Jason, you came a long way. "

Jason wanted to say something, but smirked, looking behind (Y/N)'s shoulder.

" Okay, I showered, now there is no escape. " Bruce said, lifting (Y/N) up to sit him in his lap. (Y/N) yelped and bushed.

" My God Bruce, you are like a golden retriever and a cat mixed all in one. "

Bruce gave (Y/N) a kiss on the cheek and squeezed him a bit tighter. (Y/N) huffed, but leaned back on Bruce. He was so warm, ready to drift off.

(Y/N) sighed as he got into the faculty room. His coworkers were all acting as if they were teenagers.

" Okay, is anybody going to tell me what is going on or do I have to turn into Sherlock Holmes? " (Y/N) asked, not having a clue.

" Oh, just this. " JJ said, opening something on his phone. He handed (Y/N) the phone and he nearly died of shock. It was from a tabloid, revealing (Y/N)'s and Bruce's relationship to the world. There were pictures from their date recently... Bastards...

" Why didn't you tell us you started dating again? " Kaylee asked him, all happy for him.

(Y/N) was numb as he gave the phone back. He took a deep breath and excused himself from the room. He took his phone out and called Bruce. He went to a closet and waited for Bruce picked up.

" Hey hun, I know, I read it too. My PR team and I are working on it. I'm sorry. " Bruce apologized, feeling awful.

He can take the heat of the press, but (Y/N) can't. He was never in the spotlight and Bruce liked it. He wasn't ashamed of his lover, he wanted to show him off, but on (Y/N)'s terms. Not in the press'.

" It's not your fault Bruce, I should have known that this day would have come. "

" No, don't say that, you and I should have gone public on your accord. I can always leave earlier from work and pick you up. Do you need me to pick me up? "

(Y/N) smiled at Bruce's proposition.

" Pick me up at 3:30 then, I am substituting today. "

" Will do. Did your coworkers say anything about... Us? "

" Only good things B. "

" Okay. Somebody tries to do something, call me. Okay? "

" Okay Bruce. I love you. " (Y/N) said, smiling like an idiot.

" I love you too hun. "

(Y/N) hanged up and went back to the faculty room. He took a deep breath before entering. Everyone looked at him and JJ looked sad, regretful even.

" JJ, it's not your fault. I'm not mad, just shocked that the news got out. "

JJ nodded.

" Is he treating you well? "Kaylee asked.

" He is. "

" Good. He better. "

(Y/N) smiled.

" And we are not judging you based on your sexuality. " Tamara, the principal said, taking a cup of coffee.

" Anyone tries to, come to us. " Kaylee added.

(Y/N) nodded, taking a cup of warm coffee from JJ.

" So... When did this start? " JJ asked.

" A year and a half ago. " (Y/N) answered, sitting at the desk in the center of the room.

Kaylee smiled and gave him a side hug.

" I am happy for you. If my work bestie is happy, then so am I. But I want to meet him. He needs to know that if he hurts you, we will come after him. " Kaylee said, a dark look going through her eyes.

" Okay, lets not go there. " (Y/N) said.

" If you say so. "

And true to his word, Bruce picked him up at 3:30 exactly. And with the press, who were there watching taking photos and trying to get their attention.

Bruce was leaning on the front of his car, ignoring the press, simply waiting for his boyfriend to come out.

And once he did, he lit up. He stood up, fixed his posture and when (Y/N) was close, he brought him into a hug. (Y/N) didn't mind at all, but they need talk about the press.

" I know, lets go home. " Bruce said, as if he read his mind, pulling away and opening the door for his boyfriend.

And once they were home, they could relax. Well, everyone expect (Y/N). He was stressed out now.

" Hun? Are you okay? " Bruce asked, gently taking him into his arms on the sofa.

" I'm just... Really stressed... And tired. " (Y/N) replied, leaning back into Bruce, tracing random patterns on his forearm.

" I know, I'm sorry. "

" Bruce, it's not your fault. It's theirs. They have no concept of privacy... Bastards. " (Y/N) muttered.

" Hey guys, I will be quick, you are trending on Twitter. Bruce for being with a man and (Y/N) for... " Dick trailed off, not knowing how to finish his sentence.

" For what Dick? " Bruce asked, anger and possessiveness clawing at his chest. He brought (Y/N) closer, nuzzling the crook of his neck.

" For his looks. People are saying that he is cute, hot, adorable... Nothing bad for now. "

Bruce hummed, a bit shocked, knowing how people are judgmental, so the positivity shocked him. Not the fact that (Y/N) is hot, adorable.

" Really? " (Y/N) asked, brows furrowing.

" Yes. Just wanted to let you know. They are saying that you two look adorable. " Dick said, leaving the room. He needs to finish his homework before patrol.

" Huh. " (Y/N) said, after a minute.

" A good huh, or... "

" A good one. "

Bruce sighed in relief. Okay. This is good.

" Would you like me to make a statement? " Bruce asked his lover, giving him a gentle kiss on the back of (Y/N)'s neck.

" Over what? "

" I don't know. Maybe post a picture of us or you, and write something. Or just write a Tweet, but that won't do any justice. "

" So Instagram? "

" I have a great picture of you. And you will be involved in writing it. I need an English major for this. "

" You got it Bruce. "

And they did just that. Bruce posted what he considered to be a beautiful photo of (Y/N), the one where he was laughing at something, on the sofa.

And in the caption:

' I have always said to the press, leave my loved ones out your headlines. That includes my children and now (Y/N). What the press did was beyond despicable, a complete invasion of privacy of someone who didn't want to be in the spotlight. And I am warning the paparazzies right now. Just like I said before, my kids and (Y/N) are off limits. I am not afraid to use force to protect the people I love. (Y/N), alongside my children are not to be followed around school. I will be dragging you and your companies to court if you do. And I'm not someone you want to get caught with in a legal battle. '

#bruce wayne x male reader #dc x male reader #dc comics #batman x male reader

[celabi]

It's your local fungi with a horny thought. We had our sports fest at school today and I played badminton for my section. I went to the bathroom after my match and was all sweaty and shit (Tennis shorts and all that wink wonk.) But also secretly wishing Scara would see me and take me in one of the stalls. That was hours ago, I spent the whole time since, trying to not lose my shit over being sexually frustrated. Expound on this please I will kiss you if you do <3

Gym class with Scummy Scaramouche! ☆彡

Blublublublub hiiii I don’t think they do pe in college but take wtv this is *bites lip seductively* mwa (it’s short$) tbh this is kinda not what you asked but it’s also similar at the same time lol sorry!!

Scaramouche used to absolutely despise P.E class. Because no matter what sport the teacher made them participate in, almost everyone tried to target him some how, y’know, cause he’s a loser and stuff. People using all their strength to peg a dodge ball at him, going out of their way to trip him over him track, being the last one picked in group activities… yeah, it was kinda rough. So naturally, as he got older, he tried to put his past behind him as much as he could— wether that be lying to the professor and saying that he had a bad knee (sometimes he’d make Ei write him a sick note to make it more believable… this is a grown man everybody), or just skipping out on the lesson entirely (by cramming himself in a bathroom stall and playing on his phone). Basically just doing anything to get out of it— but that all stopping when you came in.

Coming in with that tight gym uniform that he thinks hugs your body figure just perfectly— watching as it slightly raises when you bend down to do all those different physical activities. The way the sweat that drips off your face and down your neck made you look almost if not angelic… and if he had a jar, he’d ask to take a little sample from you jfc I’m so sorry. How your tits bounce every time you jump up the catch the ball, you’d have to literally shake him back and forth for his attention to leave them (but even then he’s looking down and watching them jiggle lawl). The small shorts that let your cute little butt peak out from under them … he quickly grabs his bag and places it in his lap to hide his boner.

Um anyways, he scrambles up from the floor and slowly walks over towards you— momentarily stopping you and your friends conversation, which you smile and they groan about. “Hi Scara, need something?” So cute, he thinks, his feet padding across the ground until he’s finally, fully in front of you, while also trying to secretly scoot your friend further away. “Yes, you…’re help with something, can you cu— come with me? Please?” You smell even better then he thought. Scaramouche hums happily when you agree, and reaches out for your hand to pull you along and away from everyone else. Your friend tries to pull you back, but he shoots them a deathly stare over his shoulder and tightens his hold on your hand, a silent head shake in warning, they roll their eyes and let you leave.

Scaramouche thinks gym class is not that bad, as he locks the door to the stall and turns around, where you’re standing there, unaware (or aware, maybe who knows) of the effect you have on him, and looking at him questionably. “You… want me to help you pee, or something?” He blinks, and lets a little, amused chuckle fall from his mouth.

“… no I— i uh. Can you turn around really quick?” A strange request, but you comply nonetheless, and turn around until you’re facing the wall. There’s a quick shuffling sound coming from behind you, as well as Scaramouche letting out a few curses under his breath— before you feel his body pressing up behind you. “Thank you… you don’t know— know what you’re doing to me, do you?” His arms wrap around your torso, hands sneakily slipping under the fabric of your shirt and landing on your bare skin— which he shamelessly prods at. And when you look down, you can just barely see something poking through the gap of your thighs… it’s the tip of his cock, it’s angry red and leaking cum already :( “you look so beautiful wearing this, so— so perfect. I hate that everyone else can see you.”

Humming, you reach down and tease your fingers over the slit of his cock head, making him drop his head into the crook of your neck and whine pathetically— before he slowly starts to rut his hips into you. “So good, so good…” even through your clothing he can feel the way your pussy rubs against his cock.

“The lesson ends soon… we’ll have some fun, yeah?” (A threat not a question) your voice is so heavenly, he squeezes his eyes tight shut, and moans into your skin. “Yes… yes please.” He feels your hand leave his cock, and your arms raise up to pull off your shirt, and he gulps. ‘..finally.’

Err the end bye 🫡

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #scummy scara :( #scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #x female reader

[schoenht]

↳ devotion of a contrarian

character: ace trappola

a/n: shout out to natsume who is starving for ace content so i am biting her head and feeding her <3 anyways @kunikame

warnings: fem!reader implications

When was the last time he could remember seeing her smile at him in an unadulterated manner? In a way that he did not have to wonder if there was a secret message behind such a movement? Perhaps it was when they were really little, blissfully unaware of what life was going to prepare for them.

"Catch me if you can!"

"Ace, if I do, you'll act like you weren't playing. I'm faster than you."

"Oh yeah? Prove it! Let's race right now!" The best way teachers could describe him was a precocious boy. The kids around him said he was popular and the fastest runner in their grade. But he didn't care what anyone else had to say: his eyes stayed on his princess.

The princess was not someone to mess with, not because you were scary, but due to the fact that you would not hesitate to make anyone eat dust for trying to challenge you, competitive as you were. Ace could only think about that gleam in your eye, the promise he made of proposing a legitimate challenge for you to conquer.

And conquer it you did, like always. Ace didn't know what went over him, but every time, when he played tag with others, he'd win. But with you, it was different. Unless it was a class sport and they were team captains on opposite ends; that was when they'd tear each other apart in what can only be described as two shooting stars, combined and falling together.

He loved teasing you, loved seeing how you rolled your eyes and walked away from him. However, the tiny smile tugging at the corner of your lips told him that you liked the challenge. He consistently kept teasing you, the two of you poking and prodding each other to annoy the other. In reality, it was like a subtle action, one in which the two of you were at a mutual understanding for at least a couple of moments.

It was never meant to stay as such, however. You were a princess. He was nobody. He was not a lord or a prince, not a duke or even someone from the High Court. He was a lowly commoner who had gotten mercy from the princess that did not know any better. And yet, even then, he'd always receive letters at night from weary-looking birds that flapped their wings inside his room, gave him his letter, and made a beeline for the exit to sleep.

Each letter was simple at the beginning, merely stating how your day went, what they were teaching at the royal academy, the occasional sarcastic remark about him that was merely an inside joke between the two of them. He always liked these jabs at him, it made him remember that the princess was not just his princess, you were his princess.

The years went by, your letters exchanged. The writing grew more mature based on the eloquent sentences, mixed with a bit of lighthearted taunting. He hadn't told you that he was planning to try out for one of the knights, particularly your own knight. At a certain age, all royals required a knight of their own to be around for a long time and he would be that knight.

He was dedicated to the craft but if anyone asked him about it, he would deny any allegations that it was due to the princess. He only worried a bit when he realized that technically speaking, he did not know you as well anymore. They had only been linked through letters. Was it enough? Would you still cherish him?

These worries just made him train harder until he was officially elected as your knight. It was the most glorious job he could have: protecting you in public, joking with you in private. He loved it. He loved the invigorating feeling of affability that came with the presence of his princess. His princess, the same one who hung the stars in his eyes.

In the present day, he was stuck, however. The slight yearning feeling when he saw her, smiling brightly at other nobles in a way that he would never be able to have. The princess, who only shows your true self to him, but still manages to leave him astounded with the beginning of a teasing taunt on his lips. The princess, who in the gloominess of the winter skies, shows him the beauty of your summer eyes.

Ace was perched by the entrance, his scarlet eyes a mirror for those who merely moved past him. He could not care less of those royals that left the premises, they were not important to him. But he watched as his princess waltzed in the halls. Your dance was something out of a dream, and yet, you just had to be paired up with nobles who danced as if they were going to collapse if they did not move with speed belonging to a maniac. He watched painfully as these people dragged you around and you had to hide how she really felt behind a mask.

It was torture to watch you dance and him not being the one to hold you close.

"You know, you shouldn't be staring so much. You're too obvious." His fellow guard, Deuce, was a model knight, never slacking off no matter who it was for. Ace only served you, no one else so what did it matter to try and protect the others?

"No one's going to notice. For all the other royals care, we're dead to them until they need us to protect them from some stupid assassin."

"Our duty--"

"Is our duty. Jeez, Juice, do you never get tired of repeating the same line over and over again? You're sounding like Riddle."

Deuce squinted at him, crossing his arms. "Our captain is right. If it wasn't for us following the rules, we wouldn't be in the position of protecting the princess."

With his chin in his hand, Ace's eyes wandered back to the princess and how you glided across the ballroom floor. There was something hidden behind those pretty eyes of yours, clearly disdain for your dance partner. He hesitated before he decided to do the dumbest thing he could have possibly done as your knight. He carefully moved over to you, asking for permission to dance with you. "May I?"

"Of course." You said, formally solely to keep up the act of peering eyes from those who were searching for gossip. Of course, what was better gossip than the princess dancing with her own knight?

"You truly suck at dancing." Ace grinned at you as he held one of your hands in his, the other gently on your waist. The waltz he led was one that the two of you fell into so easily. It was the very same one that he had taught you in the whispers of the dark, the silence of the night. The same waltz that encouraged the yearning of a kiss, yet detained by their roles.

Even now, you could not help yourself from making a remark. "Seems like the teacher doesn't know his own course. You taught me this, remember?"

"Ah yes, but unlike you, I can actually do it well. If my waltzing was a class, you would have failed."

"You wouldn't even pass the test to become a teacher."

Your friendly bickering was the norm and if it did not happen, that would usually mean something was wrong. Ace did not remember the last time he saw your tears; nevertheless, the dreaded event happened about a month after the ball. He had been ready to serve you that day, to joke around with you. But he had seen how you isolated yourself, how cold you were. The iciness of your tone could have frozen him and yet he only felt the warmth of his adoration for you.

"What's wrong?" He sat carefully next to you, a hand on your back. He knew your subtle signs of when you were upset, and today it was more obvious. "Don't lie to me. I know when you're lying."

You looked up at your ceiling, inhaling before speaking. "I have been betrothed to someone I do not know."

Ace could feel everything around him shatter. Was it the earth shaking or was it him? Perhaps the earth was preparing to swallow him whole. No, it was worse. He saw a glimmer of your tears on your cheeks as you quickly moved to hide. Your voice held so much pain and anguish that it tore him to shreds, wanting nothing more than to help, to contribute to the joy that you should be feeling. Without your smile, no matter how sunny it was outside, he would only feel the world's darkness. "When did you find out?"

"Yesterday night."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He whispered, carefully moving beside you. His rambunctious demeanor slipped away, in place was the Ace who was always prepared to do whatever it took to see your happiness again.

You could feel your throat burn as you looked at him. "How was I supposed to say it? 'Oh, hey, Ace, by the way, I am getting married to a man I don't know and I have to choose my dress because the king says so, but hey, what's for lunch?'"

As if on cue, the king had ordered for him to go to his throne room, where he would receive a new mission. When he left you behind, his limbs went numb, unfeeling, like his own heart did. Strange. His symbol was that of a living heart that held up even through the worst times. So why was his own being crushed by a void he could never get out of?

His new mission, according to the king, was to protect your soon-to-be husband. Ace's face dropped. He would never be able to do that. His loyalty was to you, not to anyone else. To make matters worse, he would have to protect the man who stole you from him, the man who stole any possibility of him being with you.

But maybe not.

Ace knew it wasn't time for his rounds yet so he snuck into your room from the window. The rain pelted at his face, blinding him; however, he was led to you only through the notion of what he had in mind.

When you opened the window, you gasped. "Ace, what the hell are you doing? It's raining hard outside!"

He didn't waste any time grasping your hands. His were cold and so were yours. In the coldness bloomed a fervor that both individuals hid from each other. His words were rushed too. "Run away with me."

"What?!"

His voice was in his throat, but for the first time in forever, you could finally see the love he had hidden away. The love that he had for you was one you would never obtain in your arranged marriage. It was the same love that he had harbored for you since elementary school. "As a knight, I am to follow orders, no matter if I see fit or not. I am not going to protect a man who I will never respect. My loyalty is to you. It always has been."

"Ace, I--"

"No, listen to me for once. There is no me if you do not exist. Every single star in the universe could collapse, but you will always be the one that I will see. I do not care if I never see the sun, your eyes show me the sun, the moon, and the skies. Not a single flower will ever bloom if it does not have you amongst them. Princess...who am I, if I do not have you to love? I don't fear anything, except living the rest of my life without the feeling you give me. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on. Please, run away with me."

His words were the most serious and desperate they ever were with you. How much he loved you all these years came rushing to you at once. You could never be separated from him, not now, not ever. There were so many sacrifices you'd make before you would be apart from him. No other options were good enough for you, because it would always be him. It was always Ace.

There was one choice to make and it was yours.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace x mc #ace x yuu #ace x you #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola x y/n #ace trappola x mc #ace trappola x yuu #ace trappola x you

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Never Looked Back

Prologue of There’s Nothing Like This

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x fem!footballer!reader

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 1.3k

Author’s Note: the rest of the chapters will have more Jamie and more words. Shoutout to @buckychristwrites for letting me word vomit to her and to my wife @andr0medafallen for being a supportive baddie

Flying has never been your favorite thing, and as you begin your descent over London, you’re reminded of the last time you’d flown this far. You’d been seventeen, alone and anxious and on your way to Chelsea, brimming with excitement over finally reaching your dream.

Not even seven months later you were on your way home, ligaments torn and joints aching in a way you’ll never get rid of.

Now, sitting for so long makes your hips cramp and your knees lock and you can feel your ankle swell and pulsate with pain. You know your back would start cramping if you weren’t landing, so you have something small to be thankful for. Really, you’re just lucky that you have a few days to recover before training begins.

It hits you how pathetic it is that you, a professional footballer, need to recover from a plane ride. You try not to let it bother you, try not to wallow in self pity and hatred the way you did when you were 17, laying on your mother’s couch post-op and believing your life was over.

If only you could see yourself now, on your way to join the brand new AFC Richmond women’s team.

The idea of leaving the US was nerve-wracking, but you simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity to play in England again, to try one more time to achieve a dream you’d had since you were a little girl. It was so clear that everyone you talked with truly believed in creating a space for women, to support them and push the sport forward, and that starting a women’s team wasn’t simply a way to keep up with other clubs, to stay relevant.

As the plane lands, you finally allow yourself to feel excited in that same giddy way you did the last time you made this journey. You were finally one step closer to making your dreams come true, and you weren’t going to let your negative thoughts and fears ruin it for you.

The entire ride to Nelson Road, you couldn’t help but let that giddy excitement course through your veins, feeling like you’re a little kid again and on your way to your first day of school. You can’t help but wonder who’ll be in your class, who your teacher will be. The Richmond women’s team has been kept fairly quiet, and you have practically no idea what you’re getting yourself into.

Walking through the doors, your nerves start to build again, and you think your heart is going to beat right through your ribs as you make your way to the front desk. Before you start speaking, you need to take a deep breath or else you’re worried you’ll collapse, and that seems like bad luck considering you’re here to be an athlete.

“Hi, I’m here-“

“I know why you’re here,” the receptionist cuts you off and you’d be upset if she wasn’t beaming at you, “Ms. Welton is waiting for everyone in her office.”

The receptionist shows you the way, gesturing up a grand staircase that gives you plenty of time to freak out some more, your anxiety only growing the closer you get to the owner's office. As you open the door, you wonder if it’s too late to turn and run and catch a flight back to America.

All those feelings disappear when you see one of the other players talking with a gorgeously tall woman, and you can’t help but to squeal despite how unprofessional you know it makes you look.

“Mackie!” You yell out, causing the other woman to turn towards you, a grin blooming on her face when she notices you. Claire McKenzie had been one your best friends since you both debuted for the US team together at twenty years old, bonded by your age and your bench riding skills.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She asks as she pulls you into a tight embrace, completely forgetting about everyone else in the room.

“I’m here to play some fucking football!” You reply, feeling ten times lighter than you did in the hallway now that you know you have Mackie on your side.

Breaking apart from the hug, you feel everyone’s eyes on you and you’re wishing the floor could just open up and swallow you when the woman who must be Rebecca Welton smiles kindly at you.

“I’m glad to know some of you ladies are already friends,” she says, the room breaking into laughter and the weight lifting off of your chest.

After everyone had arrived, she took the time to introduce herself and the few other non-players in the room, including Keeley Jones, the true mastermind behind the Richmond women’s team. No matter how much this team means to you, to the rest of the team, to Rebecca, it means ten times more to Keeley. This was her idea, her baby, and you can already feel the pride and excitement radiating off of her at the sight of the team gathered before her.

You’re determined to win it all for her.

“This is Coach Kent, and Beard and Nathan Shelley will be your assistant coaches until we can find someone to fill those spots permanently,” Rebecca says with a smile, but you can all feel the tension coursing underneath the surface.

“So no one wanted to coach us?” A voice from the back of the room asks, and it’s like you’ve been drenched in freezing cold water now that somebody’s said it out loud.

“No one has expressed interest… yet,” Rebecca adds, trying to keep up her jovial facade as the players start to mutter to each other. It feels like you’re in gym class again, standing and hoping and praying you get picked for dodgeball but knowing you’ll be last again.

“Oi! I fucking want to coach you, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” Roy says, sounding angry but you can’t quite place what he’s truly feeling, “and these two want to fucking coach you.” Beard and Nate nod, Roy crossing his arms across his chest as your murmurs die down, placated by his statements.

“With the limited space and limited coaching staff, there will be some days where you share training with the boys, but we’re all one big family here,” Rebecca adds, and you can tell by now that the smile plastered on her face is fake, that she’s trying to convince herself as much as she’s trying to convince you.

As you wrap up in the office and head downstairs to see the dressing room, you can’t help but feel as if the entire world’s against the team, against you. All you know right now is that you’re going to need to work ten times harder than everyone else to prove yourself to the fans, to the media, to the world.

Passing by the men’s dressing room, you briefly lock eyes with someone walking towards the pitch, who smiles as you pass. It’s so quick that your brain isn’t able to process who it is, so you try to forget it and follow the rest of the team to the brand new women’s dressing room.

The players rush into the room as if the floodgates opened, everyone trying to find their kit and their name and their number. As much as you want to play it cool, want to make a good first impression on Rebecca and Keeley and the coaches, you can’t help but grin and run with the other girls, everyone giddy as they see the kits in person.

When you finally find yours, you can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes.

It’s the classic Richmond blue, with your name in bold white above a large number nine.

It’s as if everything you’ve ever wanted is right in front of you: you’re a striker on a team you care about. You know it’s going to be an uphill battle, know you’re going to need to prove yourself over and over and over, but right now, with your kit in your hand, your team laughing and smiling around you, you think you can face it.

Tags: @andr0medafallen @buckychristwrites @benedictscanvas @whimsical-roasting @sokkigarden @scaramou @guccilongboard @onceuponaoneshot @presidential-facts @yepyeahuhhuh @loveslide @allthefandomtherapy @gibby31 @buddyjuststop @ellietartt @cancvr @rae4725 @brianandthemays @sonyume @aiyaiy @captainfrisbee @dalebo3 @theloud-yet-quietone @imsoluckyeverythingworksoutforme @rockchickrebel @legobatmans9thab @curlypeter @lostinwonderland314 @yokolesbianism @jamietarttdodo @kno-way-home @nicklet94 @fan-goddess @innocentbi-stander

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fic #jamie tartt imagine #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction

[princesssmars]

plsssss do something for michael munroe im so starved

i could change your mind

some college football player mike headcanons.

contains: fluff. some nsfw. american football gross. mike is cocky whats new. fem!reader. hair nor skin color described.

a/n: anon i lowkey miss him too so i'll do a few headcanons for you anon. sorry that my until dawn rewrite is like on hiatus I just feel like it's gonna be such a flop so my brain says it cant be bad if I don't write it ??? idk. ty for making me do this. set in college but i've decided to start a year late so if i get shit wrong sorry scholars. (heart fingers emoji I'm on desktop fml.)

idk why but the first thing that popped into my head was him loving a sport...like he gives smart but also dumbass jock to me we let's go with he did football in high school and he's at college on a scholarship.

if you're like me you don't give two shits about the sport you probably would not like twice in a football player's way, which he definitely sees as a challenge. he'll come up to you in the dining hall and try to hit on you in front of his jock friends, spouting a "whatever you say, sweetheart" when you reject him with a grimace.

to your surprise and horror he's in one of your advanced classes in your second semester, sitting with his feet up next to your seat with a smile when you walk in. you do call him troglodyte for having his shoes on the table but he says with an easy smile that he's in with the teacher who said it was alright.

great.

for the first three weeks, you try to ignore his questions and poking at all costs, but when you get paired up on an important assignment you decide to hold your disdain on pause. he invites you to "study in his dorm" which nearly gives you a migraine, until he chuckles and tells you he's joking, telling you you can meet at common ground and study in the library.

you hold your tongue instead of giving a quip about how he probably won't be able to keep his mouth shut, but once you actually get there you realize the worst thing ever: mike munroe isn't a moron. he's actually pretty smart, maybe nearly as smart as you, and shows pretty good leadership with how he takes in both your academic strengths and divides the workload based on them. its not hard to see why he's the quarterback.

after you get an a+ on your project, you start to warm up to mike. his stupid quips in class start to actually become funny, leading to numerous moments where he makes you snort in class and the professor rolls his eyes.

your friendship soon grows enough that mike has the confidence to invite you to one of his games while you're walking around campus, and if you start to say no he informs you that he will not hesitate to get on his knees and beg in front of everyone. that makes you feel a little weird so you groan and tell him fine.

the whole time you don't really know what's going on, even though ten minutes before he had to get ready he tried to cram all of the rules into your head. even though you don't know everything you can tell when something good happens, like when he makes the touchdown that wins your school the game. he celebrates with his team members and his crowd of fangirls before coming over to you, clearly waiting for you to say football is fun or something,

you don't. but the after-party definitely was. you don't know what that frat guy put in the punch but it was good, and had you nearly drunk in only two hours. nearly being a keyword, because someone who was past the point decided to do a childish game of seven minutes, and you decided to play along for fun.

but it wasn't so funny when they spun the bottle and it landed on you, then the next turn between two people to point towards the couch where mike was watching with his friends. they both burst out laughing at the horrified look on your face as you reluctantly follow him inside the closet.

for the first minute it's quiet, soft noises from the two of you adjusting your bodies in the quiet space and "sorry"'s when you bump into the other.

he takes your silence for uncomfortableness, telling you he's alright with just sitting with you. "one of my favorite things to do actually"

you don't really know why but you kiss him after that. when you pull away you can faintly see his blank face. great. you ruined everything. you're about to give some half-assed excuse before his hand is on the back of your neck and he's pulling you back into him and pressing your body into his.

things get weird after that night.

you're still friends after that night, of course. except now its...different.

you still have your movie nights laughing at people making dumb decisions in horror movies, except now you'll sometimes wind up on mike's lap with your tongue down his throat.

you still text each other stupid pictures you found on snapchat (he insists on using it, fuckboy he is. or used to be, weirdly). except now before you go to sleep he'll send you a picture of his bulge with a smiley face at the bottom. if you send a picture back he'll send a long voice message that you don't open for your own sanity.

but you aren't like. dating. and you don't know why in passing you hear his teammate nick call you "mike's girl". because you aren't. at all.

and plus its not like you've slept together or even gone on an actual date. you're just...closer than normal friends are.

and then he leaves the next december to spend a week with his old friends, and you kind of mope around campus while he's gone. he makes sure to text you constant updates until the night where he arrives at the cabin, where he leaves you delivered for two days. he did say his ex was going to be there, so that nagging voice in the back of your head is telling you the worse.

until you finally get the call from some random number in alberta. when you pick up after some initial confusion you hear mike on the other side.

"mike? what the actual hell? its been two days, thought you somehow managed to get lost in the snow."

he laughed on the other line, able to tell you're insult at his intelligence meant you cared. his voice sounds hoarse.

"yeah, yeah i know. i'm sorry. something came up and i...i've been stuck in this damn police station-"

"police station? jesus, how hard did you guys party."

he calls your name and it's serious. he only sounds like that when something important or bad has happened.

"mike? is everything ok?"

"no, no its not. josh is...he's gone. the cabins gone. we're all pretty messed up."

you don't give a response, waiting for him to elaborate if he wants to.

"i don't know what to say..i'm so sorry."

"it's alright. i'll explain more when i get back. i just wanted to hear your voice."

"now you're really scaring me."

he laughs again, the scratch of his voice returning.

"thank you."

"for what? constantly insulting you and bringing you back to reality?"

"for making me laugh. haven't done it in a while."

"yeah, well...i'll make sure your roommate hasn't completely trashed your dorm. and we can get some takeout. on me, because i'm polite."

"screw that, we're going on a date."

your heart skips.

"did you actually get a concussion because that's not funny."

"im serious. no more being a pussy. time to start getting serious. plus we're basically already dating, so."

"god, why does everyone keep saying that?"

"i'll see you soon."

the phone hangs up and you toss the phone to the side with a slight smile.

#until dawn #until dawn x reader #mike #mike munroe #mike munroe x reader #mike munroe smut #minke munroe fluff #football player!mike #college!mike

[charismaofobedience]

Hi and welcome to my professional analysis on whether the hypmic men could survive rios bootcamp. All the statements on this are facts and cannot be simply disagreed upon without proof. The assessment to each individual ranking can be found under

Rio - that's rio. easy

Ichiro - I think running around ikebukuro doing errands gives him some pretty good stamina AND strength to get through it all, could do it no problem and would possibly have fun doing it which is an added bonus for doing well

Kuko - Monk training gives him good strength and stamina to do it! Even if he couldn't do something, I feel like kuko would somehow end up doing it out of sheer spite due to others doubting him

Dice - Dice gets through so much shit I think he'd do it no problem only to die AFTER it's all done if this makes sense. Plus he does hang out with Rio so this man should have some training under his belt

Hitoya - special clause for this old man. I would put him with jakurai and rei BUT. You have to consider he deals with kuko and jyushi on basically a daily basis. Kuko alone probably gives this man strength to do it if we are being honest

Samatoki - could do it. Samatoki is pretty strong and all but I don't think this man could go through the pushups for long when we consider the state of his lungs. He has the strength but I don't think he has the proper stamina for it, however, he'd do it and just act like it's nothing

Ramuda - don't be fooled by the cute face. Ramudas high energy comes into play here and helps a lot, especially with stamina, even if the strength is lower than others. It also, however, depends highly on this thing WANTING to do the boot camp or not, which has a high chance of not wanting to unless necessary and, even if doing it, ramuda would whine throughout it.

Jiro - Ichiros brother, also doing shit around ikebukuro. The fact he's good at sports also helps a lot here! He'd do pretty well, however, even with the stamina being here, I don't think his strength is at the levels of the ones above to put him there

Hifumi - would rush through it and do it easily if only to check onto doppo who's currently dying on the floor, so it would take some small time. Gigolo would do it well but only if there are women around to impress them so it's a highly dependant case

Rosho - current maths teacher ex bad boy or whatever the shit. due to his age he has some difficulties surely BUT the strength from his past absolutely is still around. The main problem would be stamina

Jyushi - you need to scare them before and then they'd be rushing through everything to get it done quickly. Also highly dependant on if the vkei clothes are actually there or not, if they are, they're passing out almost immediately due to heat

Doppo - i don't think this man knows what an exercise is, you could easily fold him in half. Lives his life in an office and getting home just cries himself to sleep like the average office worker in Japan. F.

Gentaro - Oya do you really think I could not do this Daisu ufufu ^-^ immediately falls to the floor and passes out. Look at the way this man dresses. Another case of heatstroke in this cast. Even if he was wearing lighter clothes he's a writer and reader, does not even know what an exercise is meant to look like. Would instead pull a book out of nowhere and read while the others go through the bootcamp

Saburo - 14 years old hacker who absolutely stays up late doing tech stuff. Do I need to say more.

Sasara - he'd do one push up and a silly goofyass sound effect like point would play. It means his spine broke.

Jyuto - cop + look at the way he's built

Jakurai - he is healthy, don't get me wrong! However his old man bones aren't meant for this anymore!!!!!! Just let him rest. While the others are doing the push-ups just let him go to these public elder academy places

Rei - dies in 13 seconds max.

#hypnosis microphone #hypmic #ichiro yamada #jiro yamada #saburo yamada #samatoki aohitsugi #jyuto iruma #rio mason busujima #jakurai jinguji #hifumi yamada #doppo kannonzaka #ramuda amemura #gentaro yumeno #dice arisugawa #sasara nurude #rosho tsutsujimori #rei amayado #kuko harai #jyushi aimono #hitoya amaguni #♡𑁬࿔ chii talks #drops the mic.

[inkskinned]

Genuine question, because I don't know a lot about the topic and you're:

If someone identifies as non-binary and genderfluid, which from what I've gathered means something like "human" instead of male or female, doesn't that imply that women are not humans , like whole complete people with richer inner lives? And why is a dislike for (performative) femininity combined with a preference for things that are stereotypically associated with maleness an indicator that one is genderfluid? Does that mean a woman is only a woman if she loves to do make-up, wants to be a mother, only wears skirts, dresses and high heels, shaves daily, is always kind and never angry, has long hair, hates to get dirty and so on? Because I have never met a woman who's exactly like that in my life, but plenty who liked gaming, sports, being loud, opposed to shaving & make-up, who wore pants every day.

I do not believe this is a genuine question, but I'll answer it as if it was, just in case other people have to deal with this, and would like someone who is patient enough to give them the words. The argument you're making here is something that already stems from a deep logical fallacy in the beginning argument. You assume "If you are neither A nor B, and instead C, you think that A cannot be C."

It is a logical fallacy to say "X implies Y" when it does not do so. By this logic, I also believe men are not human. By this logic, I believe only nb people are human.

Some - but not all - rectangles are squares. Some - but not all - animals are dogs. Some humans are nb.

I have given no information about how I present, nor my interests. I am not going to give you that information, because it's irrelevant. What I need you to understand is that, again, you are making the incorrect logical assumption that "If a person dislikes X and likes Y, they must be Z." For all you know, I dislike performative masculinity and like stereotypically feminine preferences.

You then assume your own statement is correct and move forward with your logic as if I had debated you. This is not a "genuine question" about how nb people work, this is assuming being nb is based on a series of preferences.

As a teacher, I do think it's important to tell you: even if this is coming from a genuinely confused place: you are conducting bad research. You begin with an inherently flawed question, as it biased and assumes a position I must defend against - "why don't you see women as people?" Then you make logical conclusions about my personhood and experiences and ask inflammatory questions as if you were debating me, which I am not interested in doing.

If you were my student, and genuinely curious about how nb people see gender, I'd have no trouble with you asking an out nb content creator. If you're really trying to collect information, ask honestly, without personal bias. Here's some examples of what a genuine question would have looked like: - Do your preferences play into your gender identity? - How has being nb informed how you see femininity and masculinity? - What tools do you use to express your gender?

You are mistaking gender expression and gender roles as being part of my identity.

You are most crucially mistaking being nonbinary as being part of the binary and having to exist "in opposition" to other genders in order for it to "make sense". One of the most freeing things about realizing I was nb is that I don't exist in opposition to anything - and also that all gender works similarly.

Gender is a describing word, and this can be confusing for some people. In general, we tend to learn describing words in binary - short/tall, old/young, kind/mean. Therefore, there are (many) people who think - feminine/masculine must be oppositional. Gender is also a feeling word - and again, these are words that can be taught in opposition to each other. Hungry/sated, happy/sad, feminine/masculine.

But because gender is such a rare type of word - feeling and describing - it exists outside of binary. It exists more like art exists.

Green can exist in opposition to red, but it also just exists as its own color. Blue is a part of green, but it is also a part of yellow - blue is still its own color, and yellow is still its own color, and green is still its own color. One painting titled "still-life with fruit" may be a series of vague colors and boxes. Another may be a hyper-realistic singular plum. They are both how the artist expresses their personal vision of the fruit. They might even be by the same artist! And although we may compare them, they are not opposites.

One song by Hozier is not in opposition to one song by Britney Spears. They are different styles, not oppositional styles. You may choose to see them as oppositional - but that is your personal opinion, and not fact. And some people may feel and experience those songs as being actually incredibly in-line with each other.

This is why we say: gender is a spectrum. That all gender roles are made up. Personality, interests, and experiences may shape how someone sees and feels their gender, but it does not define how they see and feel their gender.

When we question gender roles and gender expression like this, it tends to make people upset. People like me tend to make people upset. So much bigotry is based on the lie that "feminine" and "masculine" are oppositional. Opposition is rigid and important - it keeps white hegemonic structures in power. I don't have time or space in this post to talk about how rigid gender roles/enforced gender expression rules are not just sexist but also racist, classist, ableist, homophobic, and bigoted; but I really recommend you do the research on how disruption of the gender binary might put the patriarchy at risk.

The thing you feel trapped by - that "being a woman" is a complicated series of rules - is exactly the kind of thing a nonbinary person would agree with you about. We have to fight hard to be recognized for what is a basic truth about our identity - of course we don't believe that gender expression is equivalent to gender identity.

And truth be told... I think you kind of knew that. I think you kind of knew all of this. I am going to hope that you are young. I'll tell you this: I was raised by someone who was a far-right extremist catholic asshole. I certainly didn't have the research/knowledge/exposure to interrogate this stuff honestly until I was probably 23.

I am so much happier now. I hope one day you get the same opportunities as I had. I hope you choose to move away from bigotry.

love u anyway. all this in kindness only.

#to be deleted #do i accidentally give my short lesson on gender here? yeah #<3 in this u can tell exactly the age that i taught for 15 years lmao #but also like. #yeah you got me.... i have never met a woman before and i totally think women are only fembots #meanwhile every person who has ever read my writing: #every 3rd week this bitch is on her bullshit about how unfair gender rules for women are #this is actually more to help other nb people whom i KNOW get questions like this #than it is to inform the anon #who like v clearly is not doing this in good faith #this is just like the 10th one i got like this #that first logical jump of - you think ur not male or female but human so therefore #women aren't people #was just SO wild .... like #yeah!!! that's totally a normal thing to assume! #do you think people who are like ''well yeah im from america #but i wouldnt consider myself to be from any particular state'' #are actually saying ''i don't think states are american'' #hell when i say #im cuban but i obvi grew up in america im just the daughter of an immigrant #nobody is like -- well. raquel. that means u think no americans live in cuba huh #anyway love u bye #okay to reblog #!! #love u