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libraincarnate · 2 months

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astrology notes: 16 ☁️

quick note: i'm absolutely not an astrologer. these are just a collection of some observations, thoughts, theories, and personal experiences based on astrology. with that being said, i'm still learning along the way & i may come back to edit this post to make corrections. above all this is just for fun. lastly, keep in mind that i’m not reading your birth chart and i know nothing about you. these are just some possibilities that may or may not apply to you. enjoy!

🐚 neptune–venus aspects: you probably get compliments on your appearance a lot. you may have been told that you look a model or a celebrity. there's some sort of star quality to you.

if your neptune is square/opposite your venus, you might struggle to see the same beauty that others see in you. it’s not that you think you’re ugly but you might not think you’re as attractive to the extent that others do, so it makes you wonder what other people are seeing. you might think they’re lying or exaggerating. compliments could also be hard for you to accept. the attention you get can make you a little uncomfortable.

🐚 i used to think that virgo venuses were too nonchalant when it comes to love but this placement will give you that real princess or prince treatment that goes beyond money and materialistic items - that kind of princess/prince treatment may apply more to taurus and sag, but with virgo they give the kind of treatment that considers their partner’s entire well-being and not just their monetary needs and desires. they really care about their partners and want to put their life at ease, they truly care if you ate and aren’t just asking that just to ask. if you haven’t eaten they won’t just say, “oh, damn” or “oh no, eat something :/” but they’re the type to create time to make you something or buy you something to eat and even bring it to you. if they can make your life less stressful in any way, they’ll try to do that. if you’re sick, they’ll take on some of your responsibilities like tidying up your house for you since you aren’t able to do so. there can be times where they won’t even let you lift a finger. the types to say, “i’ll take care of that for you” even if you can do it yourself.

they’re reliable so if they say they’ll do something, you can expect them to do it. but this placement may often find themselves in a position where they’re always being the care taker so they want someone who takes care of them too. these individuals are often anxious and may be quite paranoid when it comes to romantic relationships so they desire someone who will put their mind and life at ease. they can be picky and difficult to impress because of their high standards and because they’re quick to get the ick, but once they love you they’ll really go above and beyond.

🐚 sun opposite rising: your looks may not match your personality and you might even think so yourself. for example, you might look innocent or younger than you are, but really, you’re quite mature and there’s a dark, wild, or unexpected side of you. your looks are deceiving.

🐚 capricorn rising/in the 1st house: you are someone who had ambition and big plans from a young age. money could be a big part of your identity. the ones making “money moves” fr. you could have a lot of work experience. you’ve been working/touching money since your pre-teen or teenage years.

if your cap rising aspects your mercury then subjects related to money/finance could be something that is always on your mind and it frequently comes up in your conversations as well.

or if it aspects your lilith, then you may be the type to get money by any means necessary, meaning you might be willing to do illegal/immoral things to obtain it. but in your mind, you probably think you have a good reason to do it. something made it worth the risk because capricorns are too rational, prudent, and judicious to just do anything without good reason.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ𓇼 ˖°

🐚 lilith in pisces: might deal w/ sleep related issues such as insomnia, sleep apnea, sleepwalking, etc.

🐚 sun conjunct mercury (natal): your father may be someone you hold in high regard and therefore someone you speak highly of most of the time. it’s possible that you tend to reflect on the memories you share with him, your similarities/differences, and the influence he has had in your life.

🐚 jupiter in the 7th house: you bring abundance into the relationships you have. this can be a friendship, business partnership, romantic relationship, etc. your loved ones are lucky to have you in their life. you’re generous and you’re the type to spoil & splurge on those closest to you. you bring encouragement and goodness into the lives of others, even if you haven’t known them for long. you’re a blessing. you could have qualities that make you the perfect wife/husband & you could also be blessed with your perfect spouse in return. unless you’re a jerk, you may be someone that people regret losing, especially your ex.

🐚 aquarius: reminds me of The Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37) in a way, the ones to step up and help a stranger. they have this innate desire to help people, to help the world, even if it’s done in a small way or even if nobody else sees it.

isn’t it ironic how the sign that’s about humanity and togetherness is the one that feels like an outcast or has been ostracized from some group in some way? whether it be by their family (aquarius in the 4th house), friends (11th house), classmates (3rd house), or co-workers (6th house).

as an air sign, they can talk for hours. but out of the 3 air signs, aquarius is the most socially selective. this can be one of the reasons why they’re often described as cold and distant.

they may not be all sunshine & rainbows but they’re actually kind-hearted individuals. it’s just that they may not always express it in the most warm, affectionate, lovey-dovey way. i wouldn’t describe them as the most emotional individuals but they are still empathetic and they dislike inhumane behavior.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ𓇼 ˖°

🐚 sag experiences life to fullest by going everywhere, seeing everything, learning about it all in the process and then reflecting on what they’ve seen & learned.

taurus experiences life to the fullest by really being present in their physical body. they’ll take in the different sounds of a song and dance to the beat, they'll distinguish the different notes or aromas of a particular smell and then buy similar scents to fill their home with it or to wear as perfume/cologne. when eating, they'll really taste food and explore the different flavors/ingredients, then maybe they’ll try to cook it for themselves. they’re in tune with their senses and therefore the world around them. it’s such a beautiful way to experience life, but this can also mean that they are quite sensitive to their environments. with that being said they may feel a strong connection to nature/the earth.

🐚 cancer in the 10th house: may be perceived as compassionate & loyal, shy, or a sweetheart by the general public. could be sensitive about their reputation and any criticism they receive. they spend time nurturing their career, and their career may even relate to nurturing children, caretaking, or healing. they rely on their intuition or heart to carve out their path and navigate their career. they’re good listeners and as a cardinal sign they also possess that leadership quality. the types to provide their close friends and family with opportunities to help them reach their own success. a desire to take care of their family and their needs once they make it. people within the same industry as them may see them as a motherly mentor.

🐚 scorpio in the 2nd house: they can have deep and/or raspy voices. it’s music to my ears, but especially if it’s a woman with this placement. that’s because women typically have higher pitched voices, and so naturally, these women stand out when they speak. if they can sing well, they can probably reach deeper notes than most women typically can. but in the same breath, it may be hard for them to reach high notes. this applies to both the natal chart & the mercury persona chart.

🐚 saturn rules the teeth and so people with saturn in retrograde in the 1st house, or saturn opposite/square pluto, lilith, mars or the ascendant may have a chipped tooth due to a certain event such as getting hit in the mouth or biting on something hard. or they may have a gap between their front teeth, the type you inherit genetically or from your parents. this doesn’t mean they have ugly teeth or an ugly smile. however, whether they feel like they have an ugly smile or not, they may have a tendency to smile without showing their teeth or they cover their mouth when smiling/laughing in attempt to hide their teeth. either way, there’s a sense of self-consciousness here.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ𓇼 ˖°

🐚 4th house synastry: potential for a strong/solid foundation, they're your comfort place, having a strong desire to live together, moving in together can make the relationship feel more satisfying, fulfilling, or complete. you miss them when they’re not home/around, hate having to say goodbye, long distance could make you both feel miserable or like something is missing. possible separation anxiety. emotional vulnerability, healing, and attachment. taking care of each other. wanting to start a family. this house also creates an environment for a deep connection just like the other houses ruled by water signs.

🐚 if i could communicate with animals i would tell pets to choose owners who have scorpio in the 6th house. these people will loveee their pets to death. their pets would probably be obsessed with them (it would be mutual though) because of the amount of love and attention they would receive from their owners. there’s definitely a strong emotional attachment. but in general, having a water sign in the 6th house indicates a strong emotional connection or bond with pets/animals.

air signs in the 6th house would talk to their pets a lot and they’d be besties lol, they obviously don't speak the same language but they'd understand each other nonetheless. possible animal whisperers here.

earth signs in the 6th house would give their pets the best of the best but i also think this dynamic would bring a mutually grounding effect that could be therapeutic, bringing a sense of calm and peace to the pet and the owner’s life.

fire signs in the 6th house would spoil their pets and they’d have a lot fun doing things together like taking them outdoors and going on adventures.

🐚 1st house ruler in the 2nd house: the themes of the 1st house includes one’s appearance and the themes of the 2nd house includes one’s physical body and beauty, being that is ruled by venus. while this still applies to libra because it is also ruled by venus and it has the reputation of being beautiful and having physical symmetry, this doesn’t apply to the 7th house, which libra rules, because that house is more related to romance and relationships.

so, since the physical body is part of one’s appearance, if your 1st house is ruled by the 2nd house, not only can this show another layer of your appearance but it can also mean you have a very attractive appearance and body. bonus points if taurus is in the 2nd house since that is the house it rules and it is also ruled by venus.

with that being said, even if you don’t have a libra rising or libra in the 1st house, if it’s in your 2nd house and it rules your first house you may have libra physical traits like freckles or dimples. if aries or leo is in your 2nd house then you may have a lot of hair, red hair (naturally or dyed), or a pronounced face/head.

the planets in your 2nd house may also have an impact, so if you have mercury there your body may be quite slim. having venus in the 2nd house is also a bonus because again, beauty. jupiter too since it represents blessings so you may be blessed with great looks and this may indicate a thicker or curvier body type as well. i’d also add asteroid aphrodite (1388) as well, being that it represents attraction, & beauty, but planets will have a greater influence.

lastly, people may like the way you dress and think you have a good sense of style.

^ even if the house that rules your 1st house doesn’t relate to one’s appearance or body, it can still have an influence on your presence. for example, if your 8th house rules your 1st house you probably have sex appeal without even trying to be sexy, people may think you’re secretive, and you might look and feel best when you’re wearing dark colored clothing. but remember, signs matter and can reinforce this or bring out the opposite.

🐚 asteroid juno (3) at a gemini degree (3°, 15°, 27°): can indicate a marriage filled with laughter, lots of conversation, and possibly good communication between you & your spouse, or these are things you desire or must have in a committed romantic partnership.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ𓇼 ˖°

🐚 pluto represents things that are hidden. those with pluto in the 1st house may hide or gatekeep their personality or their true self, so many people don’t know the real them. they’re naturally mysterious with deep layers.

in the 6th house they may hide any health issues they have or how hard their life may be on a daily basis, the types to feel like they’re on the verge of death but no one would know.

in the 3rd house they may not be quick to reveal their thoughts or what’s on their mind, they try to think before they speak. reminds me of the person who chooses to sit in the back of the class and doesn’t participate much, but they have profound ideas and also a dark mind. their siblings may also feel like they don’t know them very well even if they grew up together and were raised in the same home. furthermore, your sibling’s friends may be surprised to learn that they have a sister/brother (the person with pluto in the 3rd house), because they’ve never seen or heard of them.

🐚 lilith represents the things we reject. in the 1st house, lilith may reject parts of themselves because they find those parts difficult to accept, they might create a new version of themselves but it’s not really authentic since they’re rejecting their true self. they may reject their personal boundaries and can potentially be a push over or they care too much about what others think. this may result in a lack of self-esteem and confidence. they could reject their appearance and do things to constantly change how they look whether that be dyeing their hair, dressing up in ways that are drastically different, or possibly getting cosmetic surgery.

in the 10th house, lilith may reject commands from their superiors, their boss/supervisor may tell them to do something a certain way but they do it their own way, may have a tendency of disobeying their father or they were rejected by their father. they may reject leadership roles and prefer to work alone. they don’t take the “traditional” path to success and may choose a career that their father is against. they could also reject fame or attention from the general public even though that’s something they naturally attract.

in the 12th house they may reject their dreams, meaning that they think nothing of them, they’re “just dreams” and have no deeper meaning. they might reject the darker parts of themselves and prefer to focus on the parts that aren’t so dark and heavy. because of this there could be painful experiences that they haven’t healed from because they refuse to pay any attention to them. if they are spiritual, then they may have surface level knowledge and aren’t interested in delving into deeper waters. or they could disregard or hate the reality of life on this planet and so they have a tendency of fantasizing about death, the end of the world, or a different/better world. also, they may not be the most generous or charitable people.

🐚 empty houses: some people might think that the empty houses in their chart are insignificant but they still have relevance in your life because a there’s still a sign that falls into that house and that empty house also has a house ruler. for example, if you have an empty 3rd house with leo or sag there, you may still be one of the popular kids in school even if you have no planets in that house.

and let’s say your 3rd house is ruled by the 7th house (meaning your sun or jupiter is in the 7th house), your popularity may stem from your relationships. you may be known because you’ve dated the popular boy/girl at school or you both are popular making you the popular couple at school. perhaps you’ve had several relationships throughout your school years and maybe you’re that person who is always in a relationship which could create some gossip whether it be for good or bad. or maybe you have a lot of people pursuing you and wanting to date you, perhaps you have multiple people wanting to take you to prom or you might be a sophomore and yet you end up going to prom with a senior.

so, empty houses will still play a role in your life, but it will most likely be less active or less prominent compared to the houses that do have planets.

🐚 the 5th house: this is definitely one of my favorite houses. people with multiple placements in the 5th house typically have so much personality. they’re so fun, a joy to be around, truly a burst of sunshine with vibrant energy and they’re also really talented. definitely the life of the party, bringing everyone together with excitement and entertainment. the type to start dancing with or talking to a stranger or that person standing in the corner, making them feel both welcomed and included. they also have this youthful quality to them, which may be one of the reasons why children love them or get along with them well.

if you read this until the end i hope you enjoyed it & thank you so much for reading. ♥︎♥︎♥︎, those hearts are for you.

#astrology #astro notes #astrology notes #astro observations #astrology observations #libraincarnate

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magicfootballstuff · 7 months

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Best Mate (georgia stanway x reader)

Summary: Georgia is your entire world, the love of your life. But you’re probably never going to be more than just her best mate.

(aka 12k words of angst and pining)

———

You’ve known Georgia since you were eleven.

Thirteen years in which you’ve been the closest of friends, through ups and downs. Thirteen years of playing for the same football teams, of carpooling to training and movie nights after matches and sharing rooms on away trips. Thirteen years, basically, in which you could have fallen in love with each other.

There’s a strange kind of irony, a punishment from the fates, that the first time you start to think of Georgia as anything more than your best mate is about three weeks before she moves to Germany.

You blame the Euros, naturally. That’s where you start to catch feelings. A long pre-Euro preparation camp, followed by weeks of heightened emotions as the Lionesses progress further and further into the tournament. It’s been a bonding experience for you all and you’re far closer to all the girls than you were a couple of months ago, but there’s been a shift in your relationship with Georgia specifically that you can’t quite explain.

It’s after the game against Spain that you first notice it. After coming back from behind, Georgia is the one who scores the winner to send you through to the semi finals and it might be the best goal you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing live. It’s not just the goal - you’ve seen Georgia score screamers from outside the box on countless other occasions in your thirteen years of friendship - but the significance too.

It’s after this game that you actually start to believe you can win the whole tournament, that nothing is going to stop you until you get your hands on the silverware. And that belief starts with Georgia’s goal.

“I fucking love you, G!” you tell her in the dressing room after the game, still riding the euphoric high of beating Spain in such dramatic fashion.

Georgia grins at you.

“I love you too.”

Her words make you feel warm inside but you put it down to being happy about the result.

It’s not until later, lying alone in your bed back at the team hotel, unable to sleep because you’re still so pumped up from one hundred and twenty minutes of difficult football, that you hear Georgia’s words over and over again in your head and realise what it means.

I love you too.

Shit. You’re falling in love with Georgia Stanway. Your best mate.

What a cliche.

But you’ve spent thirteen years of friendship not being in love with Georgia. It should be pretty easy to brush any hypothetical feelings aside. Right?

———

It’s not.

Actually, it turns out that acknowledging you have feelings for Georgia only makes them grow more.

You sit next to her on the coach on the way back from Bramall Lane after beating Sweden in the semi final. Around you, the whole team is jubilant, but all you can think about is how you can smell Georgia’s shampoo and feel the warmth of her thigh pressing into yours.

Shit, you’ve got it bad.

“We’re going to Wembley,” Georgia says. “Can you believe it?”

“Stuff of dreams, right?” you grin at her.

“And I get to do it with my best mate.”

The words ‘best mate’, while true, are like a knife to your heart and you’re reminded that you’ll only ever be Georgia’s best mate.

You try to shake yourself out of it. You’ve been Georgia’s friend for over a decade, you can keep being her friend, no problems at all. Because surely it’s better to be her friend than to risk messing things up and being nothing at all?

Except that she moves to Munich in two weeks. What if she loves it there, what if she prefers her new teammates to the old ones, what if she has such a good time there that she completely forgets about her old life in Manchester?

And you hate yourself for even thinking that. Georgia deserves to be happy. You know how excited she is to move abroad, how much she’s looking forward to the challenge of playing for a new team in a new league after spending so long at Manchester City. As her friend, you want the best for her, you want her to thrive in the new environment and be happy with her Bayern teammates as she settles into life in Munich.

You just hope that she doesn’t forget about you in the process.

“You’re quiet,” Georgia says, drawing you out of your own thoughts. “Wanna talk about it?”

You shrug, then give a half truth.

“Just trying to soak this moment in,” you tell her. “This feels special. No matter what happens in the final, I don’t want to forget the feeling of being part of this team.”

“I’m never gonna forget this,” Georgia says, sinking into your side and when she lets her head fall against your shoulder, you allow yourself just the briefest moment to imagine that she’s talking about this exact moment on the bus with you, not the summer of incredible football. “Would be pretty cool to win the damn thing though, right? One more trophy together before I leave.”

You never want this summer to end. Because as soon as it ends, Georgia leaves and you lose your best mate. You lose the person you’re in love with.

You have a feeling that this moment is going to be one that you come back to over and over again when you’re missing her, and you try even harder to commit every detail to memory.

———

Inevitably, the tournament does come to an end, but in the blur of playing an intense final at Wembley, winning said final, and the celebrations that continue long into the night, you almost forget that this is one of your last nights together with Georgia before she leaves for Germany.

Eventually, you and Georgia find your way back to each other, as you always seem to do. You have no idea what time it is, no idea how many drinks you’ve had, but it’s the early hours of the morning and most friends and family have either left or gone to bed, leaving just the players to continue their celebrations. You can still hear distant music and the occasional shout from downstairs, but you end up on the carpeted floor of a deserted hallway, side by side with Georgia. You’re sitting so close that the thighs of your outstretched legs are touching, and Georgia leans her head on your shoulder. You're holding hands too, though you don’t know who initiates that. Maybe it just happened because it felt right.

“I’m so proud of you, G,” you tell her, tracing your thumb across the back of her hand. “For everything - for today, for everything you did at City, for choosing to take a leap in your career.”

Georgia has hardly spoken about her impending transfer since it was announced, not while she’s been so focused on the tournament, and other than a couple of jokes this evening hoping that her new teammates will still welcome her after beating so many of them today, it’s been easy to pretend that she’s not about to move to another country. But now that the tournament is over, you have to face up to the reality sooner or later that your best friend is about to spread her wings and embark on a new journey that doesn’t involve you.

“Stop it, you’re gonna make me cry. And we’re supposed to be happy right now. We’re supposed to be celebrating.”

“I’m gonna miss you though. Bayern are lucky to have you.”

Your hand is still in Georgia’s, fingers linked together, though you don’t remember how it happened, whether it was you who took her hand or her who took yours. But her skin is so soft, especially on the back of her hand where you trace mindless patterns with your thumb.

“You’re still gonna be my favourite though, you know that right?” Georgia promises you.

“I am?” you ask, turning your head to look at her.

“Yeah, you’re my day one. Even when we live in different countries. I’m still gonna be talking to you every day.”

“I’m gonna be thinking about you every day,” you confess. “Every second, even.”

It’s only after the words slip from your lips that you realise you might have said too much, that you’re getting dangerously close to telling Georgia about the feelings that you promised yourself that you were going to keep secret.

“Yeah?” Georgia asks, her voice barely more audible than a whisper.

And just like the hand-holding, you have no idea who initiates what comes next, you’re just aware that your lips are on Georgia’s, or maybe hers are on yours, but who the fuck cares who leant in first when it feels this damn good.

Her lips are as soft as her hands, softer maybe, and she tastes like a combination of the free beer you’ve been drinking all night and something else, maybe optimism, if such a thing has a taste. But you’re very quickly unable to process much at all, senses overwhelmed, because Georgia is kissing you. Georgia, who you’ve been friends with since you were awkward teenagers with spotty faces and bruised knees, whose kisses are like a drug that you’re surely going to get addicted to because how could you not want to do this forever?

Just when you’re considering the logistics of pulling Georgia into your lap to continue this further, she pulls away from you, giggling as she wipes at her lips with captivating fingers.

“Shit, I’ve had way too much to drink,” Georgia says. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

She leans her head back against the wall behind you both, her eyes closed, and you try to keep yourself together, though your heart feels like a fragile sheet of glass that could shatter under even the tiniest amount of pressure.

“It’s fine,” you tell her, even though your lips still burn from her kiss. Even though you’re probably never going to be the same again. “We’re both drunk.”

———

The next morning, Georgia is wearing the most ridiculous pair of sunglasses you’ve ever seen, so huge that they mask half her entire face, but maybe that’s the intention because when she sits down next to you on the coach that’s supposed to take you to Trafalgar Square, she lets out a groan and says, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungover in my life.”

“I think I’m still drunk,” you admit. Your head isn’t pounding, it’s just swimming, the alcohol not yet worn off out of your system. It’ll hit you at some point today, you’re sure of that, and it’ll be torture.

“Did I kiss you last night?” Georgia asks, pushing the sunglasses up onto the top of her head and frowning quizzically at you.

The way she asks, it’s almost like she doesn’t quite remember, and that stings a little. It’s pretty much the only thing you’ve thought about in the five drunken hours since it happened.

“Oh,” you say, trying to sound just as casual about it as Georgia does. “Yeah. I’d forgotten about that until you mentioned it.”

The lie is easy because there’s no way that you’re going to admit how affected you are by something as simple as the memory of her lips on yours.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Georgia grimaces. “Emotional day, and all that. We’re still cool, aren’t we?”

“Course we are,” you answer, and it’s mostly the truth - Georgia could commit a serious crime and you’d still think she was the best person on earth.

She’s got no reason to know the depth of your feelings for her, no reason to understand that kissing you might have done more damage than if you’d never got the chance to feel Georgia’s lips against yours at all.

———

You decide to confide in Keira.

“I think I’m in love with Georgia,” you confess, during pre-season, still ignoring the rumours that Keira might be moving abroad soon too.

“Our Georgia?” she asks for clarification, as if the idea is so ridiculous that she can’t quite believe what you’re telling her. “Georgia Stanway?”

You nod, and Keira presses on with her next question.

“Have you told her?” she asks.

“Why would I do that?” you scoff.

“Why wouldn’t you? What have you got to lose?”

“Only thirteen years of friendship,” you point out.

“Obviously it’s your decision, but worst case scenario she doesn’t feel the same and things carry on as normal.”

“Worst case scenario I lose one of the longest friendships I’ve got,” you interject to correct Keira.

“G’s not like that though,” Keira dismisses your worries with a wave of her hand. “She wouldn’t just cast you aside because of something like this. Anyway, she’s in a different country now. By the time you next see each other she’ll have forgotten all about it and things will be back to normal.”

“I’ll think about it.”

———

You do think about it. In fact, it’s pretty much all you think about.

One international break passes, then another, without you saying anything to Georgia about how you feel. You’re practically glued to her side for the whole of both camps, or maybe she’s glued to yours, because you somehow seem to end up alongside her even when you’re making an effort to not seem like you’re obsessed with her.

That plan clearly isn’t working, because on the penultimate night of the second international break, Keira brings it up when the two of you are alone.

“You’re not being subtle,” she tells you.

“Huh?”

“About G,” she explains. “If you think it’s not obvious you have feelings for her, you’re wrong.”

“Yeah but I’ve told you,” you point out, in a half-hearted attempt to justify the way you’ve probably been staring at Georgia with huge puppy dog eyes for the last week. “You know what you’re looking for.”

“Have you told Leah?” Keira asks, arching an eyebrow. “Because she asked me yesterday if you and Georgia were closer than usual so she’s noticed something too.”

“What did you say?” you demand, your eyes widening in panic.

“Don’t worry, I told her you used to be inseparable at City and that you probably just missed seeing each other every day. I think she bought it.”

You relax, or at least you try to, because if Keira says it’s obvious and even Leah has noticed your heart-eyes, then it can’t be long before Georgia herself realises, and then she’ll surely want to distance herself from you.

“Just talk to her,” Keira pleads with you. “You’re one of my best mates too and I hate seeing you like this. Even if nothing happens between you and Georgia, at least you’ll get closure by talking to her.”

You know that Keira is right. You’ve known Georgia for so long that you’d like to hope she won’t make things weird if you tell her how you feel and she doesn’t feel the same. You need an answer, so you can get over your feelings if nothing is ever going to happen.

And you fully intend to talk to her on the last night of camp. But you have a game tomorrow so you decide not to say anything for the risk of somehow upsetting the equilibrium of the team, and then before you know it Georgia is on a plane back to Munich while you return to Manchester and still nothing has been said.

Another time.

In the meantime, your heart continues to ache for something you’ll probably never get to have.

———

You’ll tell her when she comes home for Christmas, that’s what you decide. No England camp, no training or matches to use as an excuse for not telling her how you feel. Just two old friends catching up on what’s been going on in their lives - and so what if one of the most important thing that’s going on in yours is the depth of the feelings you currently have for your best friend?

You’re nervous for two full days before you see Georgia, your heart pounding each time you think of the enormity of the conversation you need to have with her. Telling her how you feel could change everything for better or for worse and even right up to the moment when you’re on your way to meet her, you’re still not sure if you have the courage to actually tell her.

You meet Georgia for lunch at Jill’s coffee shop, because Georgia’s only in Manchester for a few days before she jets off to Barcelona to see Keira and she wants to see as many people as she can while she’s back, but once you’ve both shared a bit of playful banter with Jill when she brings you your food and drinks, the two of you are left alone in a quiet corner of the shop.

“I’ve been dying to tell you something,” Georgia says, almost as soon as Jill leaves you alone. “I was gonna text you but I really wanted to tell you in person.”

She loves you too. That’s the first conclusion that your brain jumps to, because you can’t think of anything else she might have to tell you that’s important enough to be said face-to-face rather than over the phone.

She loves you too. She loves you t-

“I’m seeing someone,” Georgia announces.

And just like that, your heart shatters into a million tiny pieces.

She doesn’t love you.

“You are?” you ask, trying not to let the pain show on your face - this is supposed to be your best friend telling you that she’s found somebody, after all, and if you weren’t hopelessly in love with Georgia yourself, you’d surely be happy about this development in her life.

“Yeah, a guy back in Germany. His name’s Nico - he’s one of Syd’s mates so I met him through her. It’s still really new, like he’s not my boyfriend or anything, but we’ve been on a couple of dates and I think it’s going pretty well.”

“Cool,” you say, and then immediately kick yourself, because what kind of heartless idiot says cool when their best friend announces they’re dating someone, which is why you add, “I’m so happy for you.”

There’s a degree of truth to your words. Though on a selfish level you want Georgia to reciprocate your feelings and be happy with you, that’s not very likely to happen when you’re too much of a coward to tell her how you feel and obviously the most important thing is that Georgia is happy with whoever she chooses. You just hope that if it can’t be with you, that this Nico guy at least treats her well and gives her the happiness she deserves.

“Anyway, what’s going on with you?” Georgia asks, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. “Any big life updates?”

If there was ever a moment to tell Georgia that you’re in love with her, it would be now, when she’s inviting you to open up about what’s been going on in your life. But Georgia is clearly excited about this guy that she’s dating, or else she wouldn’t have waited until she saw you in person before making it the first thing she brought up, and what kind of friend would you be if you tried to ruin that for your own selfish reasons?

“Nothing much,” you answer with a shrug. “Nothing as exciting as your news. Anyway, tell me about Munich. Are the German lessons still kicking your arse?”

———

Keira calls you a few days later, when you know that Georgia is in Barcelona too, probably sharing the same news about her dating life with Keira that she told you the other day.

“You’ve seen G, then?” she asks, once you’ve caught up on your own lives.

“Yeah, we had lunch together a few days ago.”

“Did she tell you…?”

“About her new boyfriend?” you interject, completing Keira’s question. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Keira asks.

You can practically hear the pity in her voice and it cuts you almost as much as Georgia’s news about her dating life.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you try to dismiss it quickly, before you end up getting upset, or angry, or both. “She’s happy, that’s all that matters. I missed my chance.”

“Did you ever tell her?”

Keira doesn’t need to elaborate on exactly what she’s asking about and for that you’re grateful.

“No,” you answer. “But it’s too late now anyway.”

“I don’t think it is,” Keira counters. “It doesn’t sound very serious yet with this German guy.”

“Keira, if there was any chance she felt the same she’d have told me.”

“You mean like you’ve told her how you feel?” Keira asks.

Though you can’t actually see Keira’s face, you can picture it, one eyebrow arched at you and mouth twitching at the corners as she calls you out.

“It’s different,” you try to argue. “She wouldn’t be dating someone else if she had feelings for me.”

“Well if you aren’t ever going to tell her, maybe you should think about dating someone else. You know, a couple of the Barca girls are single. If you don’t mind the distance, I could put in a good word for you.”

There’s only one person you’d be willing to put in the effort required for a successful long distance relationship, and it’s Georgia. Besides, while Keira’s right that you’ll have to think about dating someone else eventually, it doesn’t feel fair to mess with somebody else’s feelings before you’ve at least tried to put your feelings for Georgia behind you.

“I’m good, thanks Ke,” you promise Keira.

“Well if you change your mind…”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”

———

You don’t change your mind. Not about being willing for Keira to set you up with one of her club teammates, at least. You do, however, reconsider your decision not to tell Georgia about how you feel.

What can the harm be? If anything, the German boyfriend is a safety net because you have less optimism that Georgia feels the same, fully prepared for her to let you down.

You phone Georgia when she’s back in Germany in January, entering the conversation with your heart already wrapped in bubble-wrap, in theory protected from being broken.

“Hey G, are you busy?”

“I’m never too busy to talk to you,” Georgia replies.

Your heart soars, giving you the courage to say, “Cool, well there’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Go on, I’m listening.”

“I was gonna say something when you were back in England but then you … well, you had your news and I didn’t want to ruin that.”

You pause and take a deep breath, glad that you’re doing this over the phone so that Georgia can’t see the sheer physical anguish you’re going through to psych yourself up to tell her this.

“I love you.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then Georgia speaks.

“Aw, you big softie,” she teases you. “Love you too.”

You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose. Part of you wants to leave it there, the idea of having to correct Georgia’s misunderstanding somehow even worse than having to admit you love her in the first place, but you can hear Keira’s voice in your head telling you to grow a pair and tell Georgia how you really feel.

“No, I … I mean that I love you,” you clarify. “Not just as a friend. Like, I’m properly in love with you.”

“Oh,” Georgia says. There’s silence on the other end of the line as she processes what you’ve told her, before she eventually repeats, “Oh. Shit, okay.”

It’s not exactly the reaction you were hoping for and though you’d prepared yourself for probable rejection, you couldn’t actually have prepared for the punch in the gut that is the pure surprise from Georgia, as if the idea of there being anything more than friendship between the two of you is so far-removed that she’s never once even considered the possibility.

“Forget I said anything,” you say quickly, eager to put this torturous ordeal behind you. “I’m just being stupid. It’s nothing I can’t get over.”

“No, wait!” Georgia blurts out. “It’s not stupid. It’s just … unexpected, I guess. You’ve surprised me, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

“No, don’t apologise! I’m glad you told me. The thing is, I do love you too. Just as a friend.”

And despite all the preparation you did beforehand to try to protect yourself from the pain of inevitable rejection, hearing Georgia confirm aloud what you already knew still causes your heart to splinter into tiny pieces.

“Okay,” you say, trying to swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat. “That’s what I needed to hear. Now I can move on. And I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me-”

“Are you kidding?” Georgia interrupts you. “This doesn’t change anything. It takes courage to tell someone how you feel. I’m not gonna punish you for that. Anyway, you’ll always be super important to me. So unless you need a bit of space…?”

“No,” you’re quick to say. “I don’t need space.”

“Then you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon,” Georgia reassures you.

A single tear spills from your eye and you wipe it away quickly, even though Georgia can’t see you, because you’re worried that if you let it trickle the whole way down your cheek, it’ll be followed by a flood. The only thing that could make this more embarrassing that it already is would be if you burst into tears and Georgia heard you crying.

“Thanks, G.”

———

“I hate to admit it, but you were right,” you tell Keira, as you make your way out to the training pitch at St George’s Park on the first morning of the February international break, a few weeks on from telling Georgia how you feel - how you felt. “I just needed closure.”

“From Georgia?” Keira asks for clarification.

“Yeah. It turns out that finding out she doesn’t feel the same was a really quick way to shut down whatever stupid feelings I thought I had for her.”

“I think you’re being hard on yourself. It’s not stupid to catch feelings, especially for someone like G.”

“It was just emotion from the Euros,” you try to explain. “Then the distance. I was missing her. I got a bit carried away, that’s all. Anyway, she’s got her German guy now.”

“Not anymore,” Keira tells you. “That fizzled out a while ago.”

“It did?” you ask, your head jerking up in surprise when you hear the news. “She never told me that.”

“Yeah, well…” Keira trails off with a grimace, and you don’t need her to finish her sentence to understand what she’s saying.

“Right.”

You probably sacrificed your right to hear about Georgia’s personal life when you attempted to insert yourself into it by confessing your feelings for her. And if you’re completely honest, though you still talk to Georgia pretty often, there has been a slight shift in what you talk about, more superficial football chat and fewer deep conversations about all the other stuff going on in your lives.

Not for the first time since telling Georgia how you felt, you wonder if admitting your feelings was the wrong decision after all.

You hear footsteps behind you, the telltale sound of studs against concrete, and you turn to see Georgia, who inserts herself between you and Keira and drapes an arm around each of your shoulders.

“Hey guys, whatcha talking about?”

“The weather,” Keira is quick to save you the turmoil of having to come up with a lie yourself. “Thought it was cold in Barcelona at this time of year but I’d forgotten how much worse it is in England.”

“This?” Georgia scoffs, gesturing at the bleak grey sky above. “It’s tanning weather. I don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

“You’re mad,” Keira says, shaking her head as she eyes up Georgia’s bare arms.

“Not mad,” Georgia counters with a grin. “Just happy to be back in England with my best mates.”

You don’t know how it makes you feel, hearing Georgia refer to you as a “best mate” again. She’s clearly making an effort to make sure you know that nothing has changed, that your sudden confession of feelings a few weeks ago hasn’t made Georgia think any differently of you than she thinks of Keira. But it still stings a little, all those hours spent wondering what if and picturing a hypothetical parallel universe in which Georgia returns your affection coming to nothing.

In the back of your mind, it registers that a public friendzoning shouldn’t hurt if you were as over your feelings for Georgia as you claimed to Keira that you were, but you push that thought down for now.

———

You don’t actually speak to Georgia alone until later, hanging out in one of the communal recreation areas during the free time you get between a gym session and dinner.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Georgia says. “It’s good to be back together again. And we haven’t seen each other in person since…”

Georgia trails off, leaving you to fill in the rest yourself.

Deciding that the best way to get past the slight awkwardness is just to acknowledge exactly what happened and laugh it off, you say, “Since I told you I liked you?”

Georgia’s eyes widen, slightly surprised that you’re so blasé about the situation, but she passes it off quickly and says, “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry if I put you in a weird position,” you apologise. “I just needed to say something, even if you didn’t feel the same way, for peace of mind, you know? Just feelings that had been brewing under the surface since the emotion of the Euros…”

“Since the Euros?” Georgia interjects, surprised once again.

“Yeah, but I don’t feel that way anymore,” you continue, fully aware of the fact that your cheeks are starting to heat up with embarrassment. “I got closure and I moved on. I hope things can go back to normal between us.”

Georgia hesitates for a second, like she’s still trying to process everything, before her face splits open into a huge grin.

“Yeah, of course. Nothing’s changed at all.”

You try to remember what normal friends who haven’t admitted feelings for each other talk about, and your mind immediately wanders to the guy she told you about when she was last home. The guy that, if Keira is to be believed, is no longer in the picture.

“How’s it going with that guy you’re dating?” you ask, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from Georgia too.

“Nico? I’m not seeing him anymore. Like he was nice, but he was … I don’t know, he was just nice. There was no real spark, or nothing.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

It’s partially true. If you can’t have Georgia yourself, you want her to be happy with somebody, though you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t done some social media stalking after she told you about him and he didn’t seem like anybody particularly remarkable. In a way, it’s a relief to hear that confirmed by Georgia herself.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Georgia says, dismissing your words with a casual wave of her hand. “It wasn’t serious anyway. And I wanted to tell you it was over but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want you to think I was messing with your feelings, or anything.”

“I get it,” you assure Georgia. “But you don’t have to worry about that. There aren’t any feelings to mess with anymore. That’s all behind me.”

Georgia narrows her eyes just slightly, like she’s not quite sure she believes you, but it passes so quickly that you might have imagined it.

“Cool,” Georgia says. “Anyway, did you see that worldie I scored in training earlier?”

And so the conversation moves on, back to normal with your best friend.

———

It does go back to how it was before, for which you’re relieved. Your biggest worry about admitting your feelings for Georgia was that it would ruin your friendship if she didn’t reciprocate, so you’re glad that you’re still just as close as you were before Christmas.

The problem is that now you’re back to talking to Georgia all the time, whether that’s messaging each other, ganging up together on Leah in the group chat, or FaceTiming to have a general catch up about life, you’re starting to realise that maybe you’re not over your feelings for her after all.

Can you really be blamed? Georgia is like a human ray of sunshine, lighting up your world with her silly jokes and beautiful smile, even from another country.

Surely everybody who meets Georgia falls a little bit in love with her?

Still, Georgia has made it pretty clear that your relationship is never going to move beyond friends, and you’re content to have her in your life in whatever way she’ll allow you, even if you’re still harbouring feelings for her.

You don’t tell Keira either. She asks you about Georgia a couple of times, just casual questions in passing which you respond to with reassurances that you’re getting along like old friends again, that her rejection was enough to extinguish your feelings. If there’s one thing that’s more humiliating than admitting to your best friend that you’re in love with her only to be turned down, it’s having to deal with the constant pity of another friend concerned about a possible broken heart. So you tell Keira that everything is fine and she seems to believe you.

It is fine. You are fine.

(And if you tell yourself that enough times, one day it’ll eventually become true.)

———

You have a plan.

And it’s not a plan that you’re making because you’re in love with Georgia. It’s a plan for your best mate who lives abroad and you miss dearly.

So when Georgia’s Bayern Munich team draws Arsenal in the quarter final of the Champions League, you go straight to the airport from training on the day of the match and catch the next flight to Munich to watch her play.

As you sit next to Georgia’s mum in the stadium, who makes a comment about how nice it is that her daughter’s best friend has flown all the way from Manchester just to support her in one game, you try telling yourself that you’re not just here for Georgia, that you know Leah and Lotte and several of the other Arsenal girls and you’ve come to watch them too, but as the game progresses you’re only really watching one person.

You’ve always known that Georgia is good - you’ve played alongside her for more than a decade at England age groups and then at City, watched her put in tackles that others wouldn’t dare to try and score goals from outside the box that would make anybody drool. But there’s a big difference between seeing Georgia play in training or when you’re on the same team as her, and actually watching her play. It’s an exciting match, a close match, with good performances from players on both sides, but you watch Georgia far more than any other players, your eyes tracking her even when she’s off the ball.

Bayern come away with the win, though only just, and you’re already trying to figure out whether you can make it down to London and back in a single night next week for the second leg that promises to be as exciting as the first. For the quality of football, you tell yourself, not just for another chance to see the best friend that you miss terribly.

You watch as Georgia greets the fans, smiling for pictures and signing shirts in the process, slowly making her way along the edge of the pitch until she reaches the area where you are. Her eyes search the crowd, no doubt looking for her mum, but she does a double take when she spots you and you carefully manoeuvre your way forward until you’re close enough to talk to her.

“What are you doing here?” Georgia asks, disbelief in her eyes.

“I’m here to see Leah,” you joke.

“Oh, I’ll just go and fetch her for you then, shall I?” Georgia grins at you. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“Have you never heard of a surprise?”

Georgia just rolls her eyes.

“How long are you here for?” she asks.

“Just tonight,” you answer. “I managed to convince Gareth to let me have tomorrow off training so I fly back first thing. I wish I could stay longer, but we’ve got a league game at the weekend.”

“Are you coming next week?” Georgia asks. “To the second leg? At the Emirates?”

“Do you want me to come?”

Georgia nods enthusiastically and says, “Yeah, course I do.” She pauses, then adds, “Only if you want to, though. I know it’s a long way to travel.”

“I’ll be there,” you promise. A wicked smile spreads across your face as you add, “To see Leah again, of course.”

Georgia rolls her eyes and says, “Dickhead.”

“Be nice, Georgia,” Georgia’s mum interjects. “She’s come all this way to see you.”

“Relax, mum, it’s just banter,” Georgia protests. “She knows I love her really.”

Love. That word again. Because Georgia does love you, of that you’re certain, but not in the way you want her to.

But as you look down at your best friend over the barrier that separates the players from the fans, her brown eyes alight and a smile on her face as she stares back at you, you realise that you’ll take Georgia’s love, however much of it there is and in whatever form it comes in, just to see her smile like this.

———

The weather is terrible. Unrelenting rain turns the four hour drive from Manchester to London into a five and a half hour drive with limited visibility on the motorways. The prospect of spending an evening in this torrential downpour for at least the two hours of the match, possibly longer if the game goes to extra time and penalties, is brightened only with the knowledge that you get to see your best friend again just a week after you last saw her.

Unfortunately the game doesn’t go Bayern’s way. Despite bringing in a one goal lead from the first leg, that hard work is quickly undone by two Arsenal goals in quick succession in the first half. You’re largely neutral to the outcome of this game, except that you aren’t because you want to see Georgia succeed, and she seems to double her efforts when Bayern go behind, putting even more into every challenge, every pass, determined not to lose.

You’re kidding yourself if you think you’re a neutral fan in this game because when the final whistle goes and the Arsenal fans start celebrating a hard-fought victory, your heart aches for Georgia and what could’ve been. But Georgia is a ray of sunshine, even in defeat, and still makes time for all the fans.

When you finally get to see her, inside the stadium after she’s showered and changed out of her wet kit, you’re actually more disappointed than she is about the outcome of the game.

“That’s football, isn’t it?” Georgia says with a shrug, after you’ve exchanged a long hug and offered her your commiserations. “Thanks for coming down though. It’s good to see you again. I missed you.”

Her words make your heart flutter and you play it off the only way you know how - with humour.

“It’s only been a week, G,” you remind her, rolling your eyes.

“A week is a long time when we used to see each other every day,” she points out.

“And whose fault is that?” you tease her.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Georgia rolls her eyes at you. “What are you doing now?”

It’s already late and the drive back to Manchester will be a long one so as much as you want to hang around and cherish every moment with Georgia, you know you need to get on the road soon.

“Gotta drive back home soon,” you tell her.

“To Manchester?” Georgia asks her eyes wide. “Nah, no way I’m letting you drive back through the night, especially not in this weather.”

“But…”

“No buts,” Georgia interrupts you. “I’ll text you the address of our hotel and you can stay with me. Drive back in the morning.”

You’re supposed to have training in the morning and you don’t want to imagine the trouble you’ll get yourself into if you don’t show up. But this is Georgia, and is a bit of a telling off from the coaches not worth spending a bit of extra time with her? Besides, can you not just set an early alarm and drive back home straight to the training ground in the morning? You’re not needed until ten anyway…

“Fine,” you nod, trying to pretend that the decision was harder than it actually was, pretending that you wouldn’t jump off a cliff for Georgia with very little hesitation if she asked you nicely enough.

———

Georgia meets you in the lobby of her hotel just over thirty minutes later, already dressed in pyjamas with a battered pair of sliders on her feet. She grins when she sees you and reaches straight for your hand, not even bothering with a proper greeting.

“Come on,” Georgia says, dragging you into the lift and pressing the button for the fifth floor. “Before anyone sees you.”

The lift doors rattle shut and it starts to rise. You turn to Georgia and ask, “Is this gonna get you in trouble?”

Georgia grins at you, then replies, “Only if we get caught.”

Your heart is pounding in your chest, so loud that Georgia must be able to hear it echoing around the confined elevator too, and you’re not sure if it’s racing from the thrill of trying not to get caught or because Georgia’s hand is still in yours, her warm palm pressed against yours and your fingers tangled together.

Does Georgia even realise that she’s still holding your hand, or the effect that it’s having on you? Because it’s pretty much all you can think about as the lift ascends, your heart hammering away until the rush of blood in your ears is so strong that you might faint.

The lift can’t reach Georgia’s floor soon enough, but eventually it does arrive and the doors slide open with a soft ping, and then Georgia is dragging you along the carpeted hallway until she reaches the door to her room.

“Shhh,” Georgia hisses as she unlocks the door, ushering you inside as she finally lets go of your hand. “In you go.”

You enter Georgia’s hotel room and she closes the door behind the two of you. It’s a pretty standard room, a large double bed in the middle, a tv screen hanging from the wall beside a door that leads to the adjoining bathroom. Georgia’s suitcase is open on the floor, a few clothes strewn across the floor and the chair in the corner.

“Do you want a shower to warm up?” Georgia asks you. “I can lend you some spare clothes to sleep in.”

“Yeah, sounds nice,” you nod, shivering as you’re reminded that you’re still wearing your rain-soaked clothes from earlier.

Georgia kneels beside her suitcase and rummages around in it until she pulls out a spare pair of shorts with the Bayern logo on them and an oversized t-shirt, which she passes to you as she stands up again.

“Spare towel is on the rail in the bathroom,” she explains. “Pass us your wet clothes when you’ve taken them off and I’ll hang them up to dry.”

You smile your thanks and wander into the bathroom, turning on the hot water of the shower before stripping out of your wet clothes. Wrapping a towel around yourself for warmth and modesty, you open the door just wide enough to pass your clothes through to Georgia, who promises to hang them up by the radiator to dry overnight, before shutting yourself in the bathroom and stepping into the shower to warm up.

You spend longer than you probably need to in the shower but the warm water cascading over your head is more than welcome and it gives you time to think. To think about the fact that you’re here in Georgia’s hotel room, about to spend the night in her bed, wearing her spare clothes, when you should really be halfway up the motorway back to Manchester right now.

For some reason, your conscience warning you against this appears in the form of Keira’s voice.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Keira’s voice asks you in your head. “You’re still trying to get over her. Is this really going to help?”

“It’s fine,” you whisper aloud into the empty bathroom, your words masked by the sound of water hitting the tiles. “We’re just friends and that’s fine.”

It’s far from the first sleepover you’ve had with Georgia. You’ve known each other for well over a decade and spent your teenage years sleeping over at each other’s houses gossiping and giggling well into the night until a parent came in to hush you and urge you to get some sleep. You’ve shared rooms on countless camps before, during tournaments with England or on away trips with Manchester City. And since growing up and getting your own places, there have been movie nights that ended late where it was easier for one of you to stay over instead of driving back late.

In short, you’ve shared a bed with Georgia many times before.

You haven’t shared a bed since you realised you had feelings for her last summer, and definitely not since you admitted those feelings a couple of months ago.

But if Georgia’s comfortable with it, then you shouldn’t have a problem either.

You finally get out of the shower, when you’re completely warmed through and your fingertips are starting to shrivel from being under the water for so long. You dry off and change into the clothes borrowed from Georgia, then spend a bit of time drying your hair with a towel and brushing your teeth using the spare hotel-issued brush still in its plastic wrapper, before you eventually unlock the bathroom door and return to the bedroom.

Georgia is sitting upright in bed looking down at the screen of her phone, bathed in the yellow glow of the bedside lamp. She glances up when she hears the bathroom door open and smiles, whether at the sight of you in her clothes or some other reason, you’re not quite sure.

“You still like to sleep furthest from the door, right?” she asks, shuffling across to leave plenty of room for you in the bed beside her.

“You gonna protect me from intruders?” you tease her, as you clamber into the empty side of the bed.

Georgia is a few inches shorter than you, but you’ve seen the way she tackles on a football pitch and you have no doubt that she’d do better in a fight than you.

“Course I will,” Georgia grins back at you. “Ready for bed? Can I turn the light off?”

You nod and settle yourself down, adjusting the pillow and pulling the covers up over your shoulders as you roll onto your side. Georgia flicks off the light, then there’s some shuffling on her side of the bed, before you both fall still.

With your eyes not yet adjusted to the darkness, you can’t actually see Georgia more than just a shadow on her side of the bed, but you’re pretty sure she’s lying on her side facing you.

And that’s when it truly hits you. You’re sharing a bed with Georgia, close enough to touch her, close enough to be able to hear her breathing, but knowing that you can’t do anything about the ache in your chest.

You have no idea how you’re going to calm your mind or your heart enough to be able to fall asleep tonight.

You shiver - whether that’s because you’re still cold or for some other reason like Georgia’s proximity - but it’s enough that she notices.

“Shit, are you still cold?” Georgia whispers into the darkness.

“No, it’s fine,” you say, but your body betrays you again with another shiver.

“Come here,” Georgia says, though it’s her, not you, that closes the gap between you, shuffling her body closer until she can wrap her arms around you and pull your body against hers. Your feet intertwine at the bottom of the bed, hers warmer than yours, though she makes no complaint. “Nothing warms you up like a little cuddle.”

It’s not just a little cuddle though. This is a cuddle with your best friend who you’re more than a little bit in love with, who is kind enough to let you stay here despite the fact she could get in trouble, who has lent you her clothes and let you use her shower and now offers her arms to keep you warm. Your best friend who can surely now feel as well as hear the pounding of your heart as you nestle your body against hers beneath the covers.

Your eyes have started adjusting to the darkness and now you can see how close her face is to yours, your foreheads separated by barely an inch, and she’s staring right back at you, her warm breath hitting your face with each exhale.

“G…”

You breathe her name into the space between your lips, ready to tell her that you can’t do this, ready to admit that you still have feelings for her and that you need to leave, drive back to Manchester even though it’s the middle of the night and you’ve got no dry clothes, because otherwise you might do something that you regret.

But you don’t get the chance to say anything, because suddenly Georgia’s warm lips are on yours, soft and unmoving and so incredibly tentative, but also so right.

She lingers for a few seconds, then pulls back, her chest rising and falling more deeply than before with each breath, as she asks, “Sorry, I … was that okay?”

“You shouldn’t kiss me if you don’t mean it,” you say, just about ready to combust into tears, such is the intensity of the feelings overwhelming your entire body for the other girl.

You don’t know what to expect from Georgia, but it’s definitely not what she says next.

“And what if I do mean it?”

Her voice is quiet, her words cautious. You’re so used to Georgia being her usual loud and effervescent self that you barely recognise the tone of her voice, but she sounds almost vulnerable.

“I’m so far gone on you, G,” you admit. “I thought I could get over you but I can’t. I need you to know that you could shatter my heart and stamp on all the tiny pieces and I’d still want to be yours. And if there’s even the smallest part of you that doesn’t mean it, then we should forget that ever happened and…”

You don’t get to finish your sentence because Georgia’s mouth is on yours again, hotter and more insistent this time. You gasp as she kisses you and her mouth opens too, her hand coming up to cup your jaw as her tongue swipes past your lips. The sound you let out is involuntary and you would be embarrassed, if not for the fact that you can’t think of anything except Georgia - her lips on yours, her body wrapped around you, her hands burning your skin.

Eventually, breathing becomes a necessity and Georgia must agree because she pulls back, though only far enough to lean her forehead against yours as she says, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“You think?” you ask, needing Georgia to be absolutely certain before you let yourself hope.

“I’m pretty sure,” Georgia corrects herself. “I’m still figuring it out but I’ve been thinking about it ever since you told me you liked me, and then when you showed up in Munich last week to surprise me … nobody’s ever done something like that for me before. And I can’t imagine anyone else making me feel the way that you do. You’re so much more to me than just a best mate. You’re … you’re everything to me.”

“Do you really mean it?”

Georgia nods.

“Whatever I have to do to convince you I mean it…”

“Just hold me,” you tell her, pushing your body further into hers and nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck.

“Just hold you?” Georgia asks, her hand squeezing your hip, and though you can’t see her face, you can picture the smirk on her face anyway.

You lift your head and use the element of surprise to roll Georgia onto her back, trapping her against the mattress with one of your legs framed on each side of her hips.

“You’ve got other suggestions, have you?” you ask her, raising your eyebrows at her as you sweep your damp hair out of your face.

Her hands settle on your hip tentatively, like she knows what she wants but isn’t quite sure yet whether it’s okay.

“I’ve got some ideas,” Georgia admits, fighting off a mischievous smile.

“Yeah?”

You lean down, still hardly able to believe that this is Georgia telling you that she loves you, that she wants you in the same way that you want her, as you press your lips to hers again. You hope that you’ll never get tired of kissing her because each time feels more magical than the last, as you slowly get used to the way that her lips move, to the things that make her breath catch in her throat as she kisses you back, and you know that there’s a whole other side of your oldest friend that’s now open for you to get to know and explore.

It would be so easy to get carried away, especially when Georgia’s hands, already dangerously low on your hips, start to slide lower, but there will be plenty of time for that, you hope. You’ve waited long enough, thirteen long years, for this to happen. You can wait a little longer.

You reluctantly detach your lips from Georgia’s and settle back against her side, one of your legs slung over her hips and her hands coming up to wrap around your back as you lie half on top of her.

“Another time,” you tell her, as you let your eyes flicker shut, knowing that sleep will be easy to come by with Georgia’s arms around you.

“That’d better be a promise,” Georgia murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You don’t say anything, just laugh softly, and snuggle into her until sleep takes you both.

———

You wake in a different position, spooning Georgia from behind, but no less content than you were when you fell asleep. Georgia is still fast asleep, body rising and falling with each deep breath, and you manage to carefully extract your arms from around her so that you can reach for your phone on the bedside table to check the time.

You let out a soft groan when you see the time because you’re supposed to be at training in Manchester in less than two hours, and as perfect as last night was, finally getting an admission from Georgia that she feels the same, you now have to deal with the consequences of staying overnight in London instead of driving back home last night after the match.

You slip out of bed as quietly as you can, intending to go into the bathroom to call Gareth and give him some kind of made up excuse about why you’re not going to be at training. Something that doesn’t involve having to admit that you prioritised a girl over your career, even though Georgia is so much more than just a girl and last night will hopefully be the first of many that you get to experience falling asleep in her embrace, but you’re not so sure that your manager will understand or approve.

But before you can make it as far as the bathroom, you hear a sleepy voice from behind you.

“You’re not sneaking out on me, are you?”

You turn to the most adorable sight, a sleepy Georgia rubbing at her bleary eyes as she pushes herself up onto one elbow, her hair sticking up at an awkward angle on the side she slept on.

“No, of course not,” you promise her. You hold up your phone and explain, “I just need to make a call. I’ve got training today and obviously I’m not going to make it.”

“Come back to bed,” Georgia pleads with you.

“One sec,” you say, calling Gareth and lifting your phone to your ear as you sit down on the edge of the bed.

When it rings through to voicemail, you’re a little relieved that you don’t actually have to talk to him in person, and you wait for the tone before leaving your message.

“Hi Gareth,” you say, deliberately rasping your voice as you try to sound as sick as you possibly can. “I’m really sorry but I don’t think I’m going to make it into training today. I’m not feeling well and I’ve already been sick once this morning. Sorry again. I’ll catch up with you soon when I’m feeling better. Bye.”

You hang up and toss your phone aside, ignoring the amused look on Georgia’s face as you get back under the covers.

“Pulling a sickie, eh?” she teases you.

“Shut up,” you grumble, though you still cuddle back into Georgia’s side, tangling your legs together beneath the covers once more.

From this close, you’re taken aback by just how pretty she is. Not that it’s the first time you’ve thought that, but seeing her like this, still slightly heavy-eyed from just waking up, looking back at you with adoration mirrored in her dark eyes, and being able to take it all in without having to worry about whether you get caught staring at her, is brand new. And with whatever limited time you have left before you inevitably have to get up and leave the blissful sanctuary of Georgia’s bed, you just want to kiss her, to feel her body against yours so that you have something tangible to remember this by when she has to go back to Munich.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask.

“You don’t have to ask.”

“I do,” you insist. “Because I can’t believe that last night actually happened. I’m still kinda waiting for you to tell me it’s just a prank.”

Georgia presses forward and her lips meet yours. It’s slower than the kisses you exchanged last night before bed, but you sigh happily into the kiss and bring your hand up to cup Georgia’s cheek. She lets out a little noise that you capture with your own mouth as your fingertips brush against a sensitive spot just below her ear and you make a mental note to revisit the spot later, perhaps with your lips and teeth instead, and vow to find every other spot that makes her whimper and melt into putty.

You make out for a while, a lazy exploration of each other’s mouths without any real destination. Having spent at least the last eight months dreaming of getting to spend quiet mornings in bed with Georgia, kissing until it’s hard to tell where you end and she begins, you’d be quite happy to keep doing this for the rest of eternity, but she eventually pulls back.

“I wish I didn’t have to go back to Germany,” Georgia says, echoing your own thoughts.

“But you love it there,” you remind her, trying to be the voice of reason, even though you wish you could both just exist in the cocoon of this hotel room for the rest of time.

“I love it here too.”

“Here being…?”

“With you,” Georgia clarifies, and your face cracks open into a big grin.

“Didn’t know you were so soppy, G,” you tease her.

“Neither did I. I guess you bring it out in me.”

“Charmer,” you say, snuggling into her shoulder and sliding your hand under the hem of her t-shirt so that your fingertips can brush across the skin of her hip bone.

“We should really get up,” Georgia says, though she makes no move to do so.

“Five more minutes?” you ask, nuzzling your face into Georgia’s neck and pressing your lips to her pulse point.

“Go on then. Five more minutes.”

———

It’s another twenty minutes before you eventually drag yourselves out of bed, which means you have to rush to get ready and any chance you might have had to slip out of the hotel before any of Georgia’s teammates see you is ruined when you hear a knock on the door.

You’ve redressed in last night’s clothes, now mostly dry, and grab the last of your things as Georgia opens the door, revealing three of her teammates standing out in the hallway.

“Breakfast?” they ask her, before three pairs of eyes look past Georgia and fall on you, slipping your feet into your trainers.

“I should go,” you say, checking your coat pocket for your car keys and wandering over to where Georgia stands at the door once you’re satisfied you’ve got everything. “Text me when your flight lands.”

“I’ll text you before then,” Georgia says, her hand coming up to rest on your waist as she tilts her head up to press a sweet kiss to your lips. It’s far more chaste than the ones you shared last night and this morning but it’s still enough to draw some sniggers out of her teammates.

“Bye,” you whisper against her lips as you pull away.

“Love you,” she says.

“Love you too.”

As you leave the room and walk down the hall, you can hear Georgia’s teammates starting to tease her loudly behind you, and you enter the lift fighting off a smile that has everything to do with the development of your relationship in the last ten hours.

———

Luckily you don’t have to wait long to see Georgia again because just a few days after the Champions League match, she returns to England for another Lionesses camp as you prepare for the Finalissima against Brazil.

Naturally, you smuggle Georgia into your room almost as soon as she arrives on camp and spend the night trying really hard to keep your hands to yourself, because you’ve waited so long for Georgia to be yours that you’re determined to wait a little longer so that your first time together isn’t at St George’s Park while your teammates are trying to sleep in the rooms on either side of yours. But you settle for kissing her heatedly well into the night and waking up with her head resting on your chest and one of her arms draped around your waist.

You’re in such a good mood when you go down to breakfast on the first morning of camp, that you completely forget that nobody else knows about the new development in your relationship with Georgia. Specifically, you forget that Keira, who knows pretty much every other up and down of the last few months, doesn’t yet know that Georgia reciprocates your feelings.

You sit at your usual table for breakfast, Keira opposite you and Georgia setting her tray down next to yours.

“I’m just gonna get some juice,” Georgia says. “Do you want some?”

“No thanks,” you reply, taking a sip from your mug of coffee.

You watch as Georgia wanders over to the jugs of juice, your gaze following the swish of her ponytail before dropping to appreciate her legs and the shape of her butt in her training shorts. It’s only when Keira kicks you under the table, hard enough to surely leave a bruise on your shin, that you snap out of your trance.

“What?”

“You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?” Keira hisses across the table.

You pause for a second, glancing between Keira and Georgia, who is on her way back to the table with a glass of orange juice, and then you laugh. You can’t help the way that it spills from your throat because Keira is looking at you like being in love with Georgia is the worst thing in the world, and while it might have been painful a week ago, you don’t know how to begin to explain that in the space of just a few days it’s become the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

“What did I miss?” Georgia asks, as she returns to the table and sits down beside you. “What’s so funny?”

“Keira thinks I’m in love with you,” you explain.

Keira’s eyes widen, and now that you’ve got over the initial surprise of her question, you start to wonder if you can have a bit of fun before actually telling her the truth.

Georgia is clearly thinking the same, because she nudges your thigh with hers and says, “Aw, you love me? That’s lame.”

Keira looks even more panicked - understandable given that she’d probably expect Georgia to be a little more considerate towards your feelings if she didn’t reciprocate.

“Can we talk after breakfast?” Keira asks. “Because I’m worried about you. I thought you’d…” Keira’s eyes flit across to Georgia, then back to you, giving you a deliberate look as she says, “… you know.”

“You thought she’d moved on?” Georgia fills in the gap. She puts down her fork, then reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together and resting them on the table where Keira, and anybody else, can see. “Fat chance of that. She’s obsessed with me.”

Keira looks more confused than ever, and you realise that you probably owe her an explanation.

“G’s my …” You pause, realising that while you’ve both admitted you love each other and there seems to be an understanding that you’re together now, you haven’t actually had a conversation to put an official label on what you are. You turn to Georgia and ask, “Are you my girlfriend?”

“If that’s your way of asking me, it’s not very romantic, is it?” Georgia teases you.

Rolling your eyes, you turn back to Keira and say, “She’s my girlfriend. We’re dating.”

To emphasise your point, you bring your joined hands to your lips and press a kiss to the back of Georgia’s fingers.

Keira’s eyes look like they might pop out of her head at any second.

Leah sits down in the empty seat beside Keira, taking one look at your joined hands, before she says, without a hint of surprise in her voice, “You two have finally got your shit together, then? About bloody time.”

“How are you not more surprised by this?” Keira asks Leah, apparently exasperated by the new development. “I’ve spent months listening to this one,” she jabs an accusatory finger in your direction, “whine on and on about how much she loves Georgia and how Georgia is never going to love her back to the point where I’ve genuinely had sleepless nights worrying about it, only for them to hard launch their apparent relationship by rocking up to breakfast and just holding hands like it’s completely normal!”

Keira is usually so cool and composed, even when under stress, that it’s weird to see her have an outburst like this, but she’s the only one who knows the extent of how much your feelings for Georgia not being reciprocated until now has really affected you over the last few months, and for that she deserves an explanation.

Georgia leans closer to you and whispers, “Babe, I think we broke Keira.”

You’ll have time to process the way that Georgia’s use of the pet name babe makes your heart do an actual somersault in your chest, eager to revisit the subject later, but you probably owe Keira an explanation before she actually combusts.

“I love her,” you tell Keira and Leah. “And it turns out G loves me too, it just took her a while to figure it out. But we’re serious about giving this a go. It’s brand new, which is scary and exciting, but…” You turn to Georgia now, almost forgetting that the others are here too as you get caught in the adoration in Georgia’s eyes. “But she’s my girlfriend, my best mate, the only person I’ve ever felt like this about. So yeah, I’ve been a bit of a mess over the last few months trying to get my head around what I felt for her. But she’s worth it. You’re worth it, Georgia. And I’m lucky I get to call you mine.”

Your words come from the heart and it feels for just a second like the two of you are caught in your own little bubble of blossoming romance.

That is, until Leah bursts it by sarcastically saying, “Well thanks guys, I really didn’t want to keep my breakfast down this morning.”

It doesn’t matter if Leah ruins the moment. You’ve waited for Georgia for far too long to care. And as the news of your relationship filters through camp until the rest of the team knows, met with some surprise, some cries of “I knew it!”, and plenty of teasing, the only thing that matters is Georgia and the fact that you finally get to call yourself hers.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #georgia stanway x reader #georgia stanway imagine #angst

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mikkomacko · 1 year

Text

Jersey Leeds

Nico Hischier x Reader

Summary: Nico's balancing the playoffs and his pregnant wife who's due any day now.

A/n: This one got away from me and is now way longer than I intended. But it's so cute so I hope you all love it.

Typically, you're a very calm and easy going person. You don't go out of your way to make life difficult or feel the need to voice your every thought and opinion. Not that there's anything wrong with it, it's just not who you are.

Which is why you went along with the rule Nico had established after the regular season closed out. Your due date was growing closer and closer, a month turned to 3 weeks, and then 2 weeks, and then Nico was pulling his hair out trying to keep calm. He was about to captain his way through the post season for the first time all while trying to be a father for the first time?

At the recommendation of your doctor (and some online advice), Nico had kindly begged you to stay home for the playoff games in New Jersey. He didn't want you in such a wild and stressful environment, didn't want to risk you being around a crowd of fans that have been deprived of playoff hockey for years. It's their first season back in the post season after the rebuild, he'd told you, and he didn't know what to expect. The last thing he wanted to worry about was you and the baby somewhere in the stands while he was on the ice. Especially for a rivalry round against the Rangers. Things get out of control, he also said, what if something happened to you?

So you agreed. You spent the entirety of the first round in your apartment, eyes glued to the TV and hands on the overinflated balloon that was your belly as you watched Nico fight to keep his team in. He played well, enough to keep you from going stir crazy in the living room, but you knew he was thinking about you and the baby at home. Those 2 weeks turned to one, and it was evident in his struggle to find the back of the net that Nico was holding that due date on his shoulders, right on top of the weight of a tight series. If you being at home was going to ease that weight somehow, you'd do it.

But when game 7 found its way back to New Jersey, you couldn't do it.

"Nico you can't confine me to our home!" You argue, folding the white onesie in your hands "I'm pregnant, not imprisoned. If I want to be there I get to be there." You stack it in the laundry basket, picking up the next freshly washed and dried one.

He's set aside his iPad where he had been watching film from last night's game, the screen now dark as he turns his attention to you.

"Love," he sighs, running a hand through his overgrown hair "you know how much I want you to be there. I always want you there, but this is a whole different game now. You don't know what the fans are like and I can't just let you walk into somewhere you might not be safe."

Safe. Lately everything has come down to you being safe. It wasn't any concern before now. You'd gone to every Rangers game, every Flyers game, and every high tense game before that. The organization and the fans know you, they respect you because at the end of the night you're the one taking their captain home just to send him back the next morning. You'd never felt unsafe or unwelcomed at the Rock before.

"I'm just as safe there as here," you respond, still plucking your way through the pile of baby clothes "I've been there before, I'm known there. That's my home just as much as it's yours."

Nico sits up from the headboard, pushing his iPad even further away as he too grabs a couple of bibs and socks from the pile of clothes. He's silent for a moment and you look over at him to see that he's simply holding a pair of baby socks in his large hands, lips pursed in thought. You know he's picturing the tiny feet that'll wear those socks, thinking about how they kick at his hands when he holds you and talks too loud, when he presses his own stomach into yours so he can kiss you and the butterflies that rush through your body tickle at the baby too. You know he's worried, it's his thing. He's always footed too much responsibility, even when he doesn't have to.

"I know it is," he looks up at you, brown eyes gentle and warm but tinged with fear "and it'll be her home too. But it's not yet, and it definitely won't feel like home when hundreds of blue shirts pack in there tomorrow night. You know how these games are normally baby, and while our fans take care of you, I can't promise anything else for the others."

He folds the socks together, tossing them towards the basket with a half-hearted flick of his hand. You pick the pair up and set them in with the rest, handing him the little tee-shirt in your hands. Jack had gifted it to you a week after you told the team about the pregnancy.

"Don't you think the captain should have his family there?" You prod, softly as you watch his lips twitch into a smile at the shirt. It's got the smallest little Devils logo on the front, a C stamped on the shoulder and when he flips it over to look at the 13 and name on the back you notice the way his bottom lip rattles with emotion.

"We'll get there early and stay in the box the whole time. The other girls will be there, I'll stay towards the back and I won't leave until you or someone from the team comes to get me afterwards." You promise, and while that may sound a little dramatic, you don't mind. In fact nothing sounds better than sitting in those plush chairs watching him play while the caterers bring you food and drinks. The only time you'll have to put your swollen feet to work is to go to the bathroom.

Nico runs his thumb over the white letters spelling out Baby Hischier, and you know he's given in by the slow flutter of his eyelashes as he blinks, the smallest bit of hesitance as he thinks this might be the wrong decision but what the hell?

He folds the shirt, pushing himself up from the mess of sheets and you bite back a grin as he rounds the bed to you. A smile has fought it's way onto his face, crinkling at his eyes and sinking dimples into his cheeks. God you hope the baby has that smile of his.

You reach out for him, hands finding his chest before running up to wrap around his neck. He grips the sides of your belly, drawing you closer to him until your belly button is brushing against his abdomen.

"You don't go anywhere without security," he murmurs, right hand coming up to push a strand of hair away from your face. "no dropping into the store during intermission because you wanted something last minute for the baby. And absolutely no trash talking. These fans are fist happy and I don't need you pissing them off even if you're just defending me."

You can't help but laugh. It wouldn't be the first time you'd passionately defended him in the crowd or taunted a fan after he's scored. He knows you so well. You'd never do that now, you know to keep a low profile but it's sweet that he thinks he needs to remind you.

"I promise baby," you swear, sealing it with a kiss and he cups your face to bring you in even closer. "I just want to be there for you. We want to be there for you."

His inhale is uneven, a small tremor of fear or maybe anxiety or even excitement. Maybe all three but it does nothing to wipe away the smile on his face and so you kiss him again, laughing when you feel little hands and feet nudging against his palm on your stomach. Nico keeps kissing you, trailing his lips over your cheeks and nose as you giggle again, and he presses his hand even further into your stomach.

"Yes," he huffs playfully, looking down at your belly "you girls won, I know. I'll get used to it."

You stayed as low-key as possible. Simple all black clothes, casual and comfy shoes, minimal makeup and tucked your hair up into a Devils hat and hair clip. Nico appreciated it, slipping his bracelets onto your wrists before he left and giving you a kiss after he reminded you of the rules and precautions and emergency numbers for people at the arena.

The other girls had been notified of your playoff debut and swore up and down that they'd have your back, just as you'd always had theirs. You rode in the party bus with them, hands over your belly as you laughed and caught up with everyone. You missed them lately, and a part of you was heartbroken that you didn't get the first full playoff experience with them. Even the jackets, which you'd ordered and distributed to everyone, were a jab in your emotional heart because you didn't think to get yourself one. At the time you knew you'd be staying home for the games and it didn't seem worth it. Seeing it hang in your room knowing you'd never wear it would be just awful so you didn't bother.

A part of you now wishes you had, and you could almost cry about it if you weren't so excited for the game. But when the bus rolled up to the arena and the lights came up, your happiness at being back was nothing compared to the wave of emotion that took over when the girls pulled out a giant gift bag.

It was red and sparkly, your name written on the tag in a very familiar font. You pushed aside the black tissue paper, eyes welling with tears as you pulled out the black leather jacket. The name Nico had given you last summer and his number, surrounded by bright flames. You unfolded the jacket, swiping at the tears on your cheeks while the girls laughed and cheered. A white card had fallen into your lap, the message simple and sweet.

Knew you'd need it eventually

You didn't need a signature to know who gifted you this. The writing itself was clear but the special signature on the sleeve topped with a heart instead of a 13, said it all. Nico only signed with a heart when it was addressed to you. From that first receipt at the bar you met at after he bought your drinks, to the flowers he'd had delivered to you a few weeks ago just because, that same signature always topped it off.

That's what comes to mind when he takes the ice, finding his spot on the blue line for the national anthem and you holler with the rest of the fans, tucked into the jacket he got specifically for you. The Rock is electric, every fan on their feet and every towel in the air. You keep up for as long as you possibly can but your feet quickly grow sore and tired, so you settle into a seat with a plate of food. At least until you get too into the game and jump back up to cheer with the rest of the girls.

Intermission is spent taking pictures for Instagram, showing off the jackets once again and thanking the artist. You answer texts from family and friends wishing you and Nico good luck tonight, letting you know they're tuning in to watch. An ice cream helmet and a churro are delivered to you courtesy of the security guard Nico has requested follow you at all times, and you enjoy the snack for the entirety of the second period.

With the Devils up 2-0 you feel pretty good. Nico was right, you didn't know what a playoff crowd was like and while it's overwhelming, it's also heartwarming. You can't help but think of how happy Nico must be, how much he deserves this. He's done his best all season to carry the weight of being captain of a team that's constantly left behind and forgotten. The Devils are always the underdogs, and at the front of the pack is your boyfriend, trying his best to build them up into contenders. His first point of the night is a step in the right direction, and you hope he's pulling himself out of the rut he's been in. Maybe you're just superstitious but you convince yourself it's because you're at the game.

As the minutes tick by, you grow even more happy about attending tonight's game. If you're lucky it'll even relax Nico into letting you attend round 2, and hopefully more rounds after that. But you're getting ahead of yourself.

In fact, you don't really have time to think about the next round at all because the baby's begun kicking around in your belly. At first you're amused, making a mental note to tell Nico that he's going to have a hard time keeping his daughter from the rink. But as the girls take turns feeling her kick, the sudden sharp pain in your spine and release of pressure between your legs makes you freeze.

The game grows forgotten, the food and laughs and pictures given up on. There's nothing else to think about except the fact that you are going into labor and your husband is unattainable on the ice below you.

Nico has just stepped down the tunnel when he's stopped by personnel, not even around the corner and to the locker room yet. Someone's holding a phone out to him, urging him to take it and he feels his heart drop to his stomach. Why are they looking at him like that? With those hesitant smiles and nervous eyes. He knows it's about you, it has to be and the fact that you're not down here yet let's him know something's wrong.

He rips off his helmet, holding the phone up to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hi my love!" You greet, a little breathless but cheerful. Nico doesn't care whose phone he's got, he takes it with him towards the locker room. Why are you calling him?

"Hey darling, what are you doing?" He ignores the other boys, sitting down in his locker and untying his skates. You're not giving him any reason to be nervous but he has a feeling he should be. "Are you down here yet?"

He can hear someone else talking with you, their voice muddled through the phone but he imagines it's one of the girls. "No I'm not going down to the locker room." You carefully say "I actually already left the arena."

It's then that he recognizes the sound of a car radio and the rumble of the highway. He can feel the others looking at him, wondering why he's on the phone and already stripping out of his gear instead of celebrating with them.

"What do you mean you left?" He asks, toweling through his sweaty hair. "I told you to come down here."

Someone honks on the other line. "I know I know, but I need you to stay calm when I say this Nico."

He freezes, heart pounding in his chest but trying his best to not let it rattle in his voice. "What happened? Are you ok?"

By now Jack has picked up on the call, slowly inching towards Nico's stall with questioning eyes. "I'm fine. The baby is fine. We had a great time. So much fun that she kinda decided she wanted to watch it in person."

Nico's head spins. "What? What do you mean?"

"My water broke," you say and Nico's tossing the phone to Jack, ripping off his jersey and pads.

"Ask her how long ago." He instructs, and he hears Jack greet you before asking the question. You must talk to him for a bit because he's mouthing things and holding up fingers as you go. Nico continues to tear through his gear, half-heartedly wiping sweat off as he goes so he can get dressed.

"Five minutes left in the third," Jack recites back to him. "She took the bus here with the girls so Clare is driving her and they're about 2 minutes from the hospital."

Nico tugs on a pair of shorts and shoves his feet into the sneakers he left in his locker this morning. "She's asking that you please shower before coming here because she knows you smell awful."

He wants to laugh, knows she's teasing him to try and calm him down. It doesn't work. All he can think about is how you're in labor, that your water broke and he wasn't there to help you to the car or drive you to the hospital. He throws on a shirt, taking the phone back from Jack.

"Already dressed, I'm not showering." He's shoving things into his duffle, unsure of what he even needs or should take with him. He at least has the right sense to grab deodorant and cologne from his stall.

"Nico it's not that bad yet." You say on the other end of the phone. "Really you have the time to shower and do media-"

"Media?" He interrupts, "You're not fucking serious? I'm going to the hospital so I can be with you, not talking to the press."

He digs his keys and phone out of the side pocket of his bag, tossing it over his shoulder. He's still got the phone to his ear when he turns back to Jack. "You're on media tonight. Don't say a word about this and call me afterwards."

Jack salutes him, eyes shiny and smile wide. It's then that Nico realizes the whole room is watching him excitedly. Biting back a laugh he address you again.

"I'll be there in 5 minutes. Text me if you get into a room ok?"

"Ok Nico."

"I'll see you soon love," he says quietly, wanting to keep the sweet moment between you two. You return the sentiment, wincing slightly afterwards and he knows you're starting to feel those contractions.

"Hey," he calls before you can hang up. "Don't have that baby until I'm there."

"You got it Cap."

He hangs up, not knowing what to do with the random phone he's been given until the employee that handed it to him is shoving into the room. He quickly gives it back, double checking his pockets for everything just as reporters begin to pour into the room.

"Well boys," he finally addresses the team, looking around at their expectant faces. "We fought hard, we came out on top. And we can do it again later but for now..." Jack has found his way to Nico's side, gripping his shoulder and shaking him excitedly. "I gotta go have a baby."

Hoots and hollers bust out, Jack kisses his cheek and shoves him towards the door. He receives more taps and shoves as he goes, everyone wishing him luck as he prepares for the biggest moment of his life.

Nico's fully aware that he looks like a mess. Disheveled, sweaty, gnawing at his bottom lip as he rushes into the labor and delivery lobby. A man in scrubs spots him before he can reach the counter, obviously recognizing him.

"Hischier?" He asks anyway and Nico nods, unsure if he answers around the trembles of his breath. "Right this way, don't worry you haven't missed a thing."

That eases him a bit, enough that he's not breathing down the man's back as they disappear down a long hallway, one left turn, two right turns. Nico finds the room number you'd given him earlier immediately, almost shoving the man out of the way to get to the door. He thinks he apologizes or maybe says excuse me but the only thing running through his mind is seeing you, being there with you.

You're pacing the room when he walks in, one hand on your lower back and the other rubbing circles over your belly. Clare is standing by the side of the bed, watching you like a hawk and Nico feels better knowing she was there. His entrance draws your attention from the TV in the corner of the room, eyes meeting his and your face immediately lights up. He moves to you before you can even take a step towards him, hands reaching up to hold your flush face.

"Why are you up? Are you ok?"

He searches your face, looks for hint of agony or worry but only finds your beautiful eyes and swollen lips. You place a hand over his, laughing softly.

"I'm ok. Still dilating but it feels better to walk." You say. "I sit down for big contractions, I promise."

Nico trusts you, backing away to thank Clare for taking care of you while you continue to move about the room. She leaves to go meet Ryan, promising to check in on you in a couple hours before disappearing out of the room. He perches on the end of the bed, watching you on the edge of his seat in case he needs to get up. The TV is showing highlights of the game tonight before cutting to the locker room just in time to see Nico give his goodbye speech to the team.

Eyebrows raised, you look at him expectantly.

"What?" He asks, defensive.

"You most definitely had time to shower." You say, waddling towards him. His hands find your hips, chin tilting up to look at you just in time to see you dramatically scrunch your nose at him.

"Not a good first impression on your daughter Nico, she's going to think you're stinky all the time."

He laughs, reaching up to move a piece of hair that's stuck to the sweat on your neck. "I have clothes in the baby bag, I'll change my love."

The relief he expected to see on your face is instead one of panic. Eyes wide, mouth dropping open and you squeeze his shoulders.

"I forgot the baby bag!" You wail, throwing your head back in frustration. Nico jumps to his feet when your whine turns to a wince, your hand dropping to your stomach. He carefully turns you until you're sitting on the bed instead, one hand crushing his as you breathe through a contraction.

He waits for it to pass before digging his phone out. "It'll be fine, I'll have Jack stop and get it. The car seats already in my car, nursery set up." Nico brushes your hair back in again, inhaling and exhaling calmly with you. "We're ready for this."

You take another deep breath, eyes not leaving his and he's tries his best to look reassuring.

"We're ready," you repeat quietly "we're having a baby and we're ready."

Two hours later, after countless swear words over tearful cheeks, her hand squeezing the life out of Nico's, and a little bit of wooziness on his part, Nico's met his daughter.

She's a tiny little thing, only 6 pounds and 9 ounces. Her fingers and toes scrunched, eyes pinched shut under blonde eyebrows but after only a couple cries, she lays on your chest with a smile. And when he leans in to kiss you, blubbering something about how much he loves you and how precious she is, her little nose scrunches in distaste. Maybe he should've showered. It ends up not mattering though because she still recognizes his voice, especially when he says sweet things in German to her, and her little head tilts towards him, hands wiggling around like she's trying to find him.

As soon as she's swaddled he's taking her, cradling her to his chest in the gentlest but safest way he can. Nico's never thought of himself as impossibly strong but she's so light and so small he's afraid of holding her too tight and hurting her.

You watch him fawn over her while you get cleaned up, brushing out your hair and sponging away the sweat and blood and goop. Nico presses his nose to the top of her head, right where little strands of blonde hair have dried, and takes in the smell of her. Her faces scrunches at him again and he wants to go change and wash up so she'll stop looking at him like that but he can't bare to put her down. Even after you've settled back in the bed and the nurses have cleared out, Nico knows you want to hold her but he still takes his sweet time handing her over.

You look so sweet, so motherly when you hold her to your chest and softly stroke over her cheek. His chest alights with warmth, spreading throughout his veins and his eyes sting with happy tears. He wants to remember this forever. He fumbles for his phone, fingers shaky as he snaps a picture of you smiling widely at her. You look up at him, eyes wet with tears but so unfathomably happy and you say, "she has your nose Neeks."

She does, he realizes, taking in the sharpness of it. Your nose doesn't look like that and while his is a bit different after breaking it, hers is so similar to his. And her blonde hair, just like him. Before he'd grown up, he too had pin straight blonde hair. He imagines her with his eyes too, big and brown, seeping off warmth everywhere they look. He thinks she's so beautiful and he hopes she has your smile because that has to be his favorite thing in the world.

Perfect, his baby girl is perfect.

Nico leaves you two alone, fishing out his clothes and the baby wipes from the bag before disappearing into the bathroom. He does his best to wipe down his body with them, wanting to hurry back to his girls but in the end decides he should just rinse off in the shower there. He forgoes the hospital body wash and conditioner, simply washing his matted hair because he wants her to know what he usually smells like, not some cheap unmarked bottle stuff. He should've asked Jack to grab his bathroom stuff but it's too late now.

Toweling off and redressing in sweats and a t-shirt, Nico combs his fingers through his wet hair and let's it air dry. He put on more deodorant, forgetting the cologne because what if she doesn't like it or has some kind of reaction to it? No he'd rather her think he smells bad.

You let him hold her again when he comes back, moving over so he can squish on the bed next to you and this time when he presses her to his chest, she leans into him, lips smacking quietly as she settles in comfortably. He laughs, shaking his head because she's unable to utter a word but he already knows she's got your same little attitude.

"Nurse came by, said the boys are about to break down the doors to get in here." You say quietly. Nico laughs again, decides he should probably go get whoever's gathered out there so he hands her back to you.

"Wait," you stop him before he can get to the door, "hand me the baby bag please."

He fishes it out from the little storage closet, setting it on the end of the bed and helping you dig through it because he knows you're tired and sore. You pull out a little black beanie with a glittery Devils logo on the front, removing the pink one they put on her head and sliding the new one on. Nico tucks everything away again, taking just a second to look at you and her. You beam at him.

"She's very proud of her dad."

Nico kisses you, a real kiss this time instead of those mushy pecks he gave you earlier. Then he presses a flittering kiss to her head, promising to be back soon before he leaves to gather Jack and the others.

The lobby is packed with hockey players, squished onto the couches, hugging their knees on the floor as they chatter quietly. Nico overhears Jack talking about seeing them earlier, poking fun at how nervous Nico looked. He sneaks up behind him, grabs him by the shoulders and Jack jumps, whirling around to look at him. Nico laughs, not even getting a chance to say anything before his friend is jumping at him. He wraps his arms around him, beaming as the others rise to their feet and join in on the hug. They're all shaking him and patting his head.

"How are we feeling captain daddy?" Wood teases, ruffling his hair. Someone pinches his cheek, comments on his puffy eyes and he shrugs it off.

"Feeling like I just had the best night of my life." He admits and they cheer again. Nico gets them all to settle down and split into to two groups. He doesn't want to overwhelm you or the baby and he doubts he can bring in 15 people. The first group calmly follows him through the hall and to the room, all of them growing quite as they lightly tread into the room in a line.

You smile at everyone as they come in, the baby still cradled to your chest and Jesper is the first to tip toe over, a bouquet of balloons and a teddy bear in his hand. He sets them on the tray next to you, looking at Nico nervously.

"You can say hi," Nico chuckles and you motion Jesper closer, instructing him on how to cradle her. She barely fusses as he holds her, eyes widening and he smiles giddily at Nico. Seeing her in his arms draws the others closer and they set up a stack of cards next to the balloons, Timo settling in the chair next to you and asking about how you're doing. Jesper slowly walks down the line, letting everyone look at her.

Dawson gets a glimpse at her before his head shoots up to look at Nico. "She looks just like you!" He exclaims, loud enough that the baby stirs in Jesper's arm and he freezes. Nico laughs, walks over and reaches in to smooth his thumb over her scrunched nose. She settles back down, but Jesper's freaked enough that he eagerly hands her off to a wide eyed Jack.

"Poor kid," Jack teases, "hopefully she gets her mom's personality or she's screwed." But tears have welled in his eyes and he's staring at her so enthralled that Nico knows Jack already loves her. In fact, they're all looking at her like she's made of precious gems.

Trusting them to be careful, Nico takes Timo's seat next to you. You reach out for his hand and he holds between both of his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

"You've got a good group there Captain," you say, looking over as Jack shows Woodsy how to hold her head. He grins, unbelievably happy and content in the moment. He hasn't even had a chance to think about the fact that he's moving on to the next round of the playoffs yet. But all that matters right now is his family. He can think about the game later.

"She's already got them whipped into shape." He murmurs, laughing when Woodsy moves a little too fast and she gurgles unhappily, halting him. Dougie scolds him, taking her from his arms with a disappointed shake of his head.

Jack comes over, squishes himself into the chair with Nico even though it means he's sitting half on his lap. You laugh when he wiggles his hand in alongside Nico's, fingers holding both of yours.

"Congrats mom and dad," Jack says, "I've been waiting for a baby sister. All I got was Luke."

"Where is Luke?"

He snickers. "I left him at home."

You gasp but laugh, releasing their hands to shove him. Nico shakes his head, knowing he's going to have to text the younger Hughes brother and let him know he can stop by whenever he wants.

Timo's the last to meet her, blowing little kisses at her and smiling. "Hey little captain," he whispers, just loud enough for Nico to hear. "hope you like it here because you just got stuck with the whole team."

You and Nico look around, notice that everyone is still squished around Timo watching her. They're like moths to a flame following her, inching closer to the bed when Timo hands her to Nico. Jack moves over, perches by your feet so Nico has room to hold her and be close to you.

"You didn't tell us her name," Dougie says, looking between you and Nico. The two of you had been stuck between two different names but now that she's here the decision is clear. Nico was hesitant of it at first, thought it'd be too cliche or something but she's decided for herself.

"It's Jersey," you say with an amused smile. What other name could you give the baby that had done summersaults in your belly during games and decided she wanted to join the world during her father's game and has the whole team smitten with her.

"Jersey Leeds Hischier." Nico adds and the boys all soak it in, tease him a bit for being so sentimental but he doesn't care. This is his home, it's given him everything, and no matter what happens next round or next year or in ten years from now, he wants to remember everything Jersey has given him.

#nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier fic #new jersey devils #new jersey devils fic #nhl fanfiction

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sluttywoozi · 2 years

Text

Let Me Part One | kmg x reader

Summary: You've been the student athletic trainer for your uni's basketball team all year, and you're pretty sure Mingyu has had a crush on you the whole time. You're not sure how much longer you can resist him.

Rating: T (this part) | Word Count: ~4.8k

Warnings: my lack of knowledge about basketball, overprotective gyu, pet names, swearing, food/eating, allusion to lack of safety on college campuses, size difference (reader thinks mingyu is large), making out

Reader Notes: no gendered pronouns or petnames used, wears a dress and bra at one point, one of their shirts is small on gyu, gets picked up briefly by gyu

They’ve already been practicing for an hour on the outdoor court when you finally let your gaze find Mingyu. Keeping your eyes off of his jumpshots and layovers was difficult, but worth it, when he looks like he does.

Fuck, he’s so hot, you think, frantically looking elsewhere when Mingyu glances over at you.

He’s cocky enough, you don’t need him knowing you can’t seem to take your eyes off of him now that you’ve finally allowed yourself to look.

He’s just so buff, and large, and now he’s glistening with sweat, and his hair is so pretty. That little bang of his drives you crazy, and you truly have no explanation as to why you’re desperate to reach over and tuck it behind his ear, but you think you just might sell your soul for the chance.

You probably wouldn’t have to though, if the way Mingyu looks at you says anything.

He’s always had a little crush on you, even before you started having feelings for him, and that’s why you stay away. It’s unfair to him, probably, to think this way, but he’s just too hot to be so kind and smart and funny too, there has to be a catch.

You know it’s not that he’s a playboy, because you’ve seen him at a million post game parties and he’s never been with anyone but the guys, never left with anyone but the designated driver.

You know he’s not a bad person, evidenced by him constantly topping the team’s volunteer hours list, and the ‘little brother’ he brings to half the games.

You know he’s respectful, waiting to see if you want to answer a question in class before he raises his hand, making sure you have a ride home after every game and won’t have to walk across campus in the dark.

And fuck, the time Mingyu found out you did walk home alone after a game…

He pulled you aside after class, his hand warm in the crook of your elbow, tighter than you were used to. The look on his face made your blood run cold; you’d never seen him like that before, fuming, disappointed, but frightened too.

You didn’t think it was that big a deal, your apartment is just off campus, and the walk home from the stadium is only about fifteen minutes, but it’s not always safe to walk alone in the dark, especially after a big game.

Mingyu told you that, and more, before grabbing your hand in his massive grip and tucking your fingers down, leaving your pinky out, linking it with his, and making you promise never to do it again. He said that no afterparty was worth you getting hurt, and that if you didn’t have a ride he’d walk you home himself.

You made sure you had a way home every game after, knowing you couldn’t risk that kind of one on one time with him.

It doesn’t help though, doesn’t stop Mingyu from narrowing his eyes at you to determine if you’re telling the truth, doesn’t keep him from reminding you of the pinky promise, doesn’t release you from the text he also made you vow to send him once you get home safely.

He’s stuck closer to you ever since then too, finding you at parties, and sitting next to you in class, and looking for you on the sidelines after making the winning basket.

You don’t really know what to do with it, just give him a wave with the red solo cup in your hand, and shift your pens over so he has more space on the desk, and shoot him a smile and a high five, which he always returns with the cutest grin on his face.

Your focus abruptly returns to practice when shouts erupt, the sound of cheers and ass smacks echoing through the court. Mingyu’s eyes swivel, like he’s looking for something, and he beams when he finds you already looking at him.

His hand reaches up, palm facing towards you, and you instinctively smile and reach your hand up too, returning his high five. He bounces on his feet, shaking hands with Wonwoo, who you assume he successfully faked out and dunked on.

You don’t mean to encourage him, but you rebuffed him once, just shot him a thumbs up, and the way his smile fell near cleaved your heart in two. After that, you simply couldn’t ignore him.

And it looks like you won’t be able to ignore him tonight either, you think, as he jogs toward you, smug at having caught you looking.

“Hey babe,” Mingyu pants excitedly, reaching down to squeeze your hand, “Can you believe that? I never score over Wonwoo!”

That’s another thing. He always calls you babe, or baby, or sweetheart, or darling, and you always try ridiculously hard not to let him see that it makes your heart skip.

You’re getting better at it, you think, grinning at Mingyu and responding, “Must be your lucky night.”

Oh shit, that was flirtier than you meant it to be.

Mingyu latches onto it though, stepping closer and asking, “If it’s my lucky night, how about we grab some ice cream after this?“

How can you tell him no this time? There’s gotta be a-

“Sure!”

Okay well. Your mouth worked before your brain did. But you can’t take it back now, Mingyu just looks too happy.

His eyes squint gleefully at you, canines pushing against his bottom lip with the force of his smile, and he reaches down to grab your other hand, swinging them from side to side.

“Mingyu, back to work!” Coach shouts from across the court, and Mingyu yells an apology from over his shoulder, giving your hands one last squeeze before letting go and jogging backward, keeping his eyes on you until he needs to turn around.

Fuck, your heart is racing.

Practice goes smoothly, Mingyu making it his mission to score over Wonwoo as much as possible, and subsequently failing that mission. He’s a bit pouty as you walk to his car, swinging the keys around his finger and letting his footsteps land a bit heavier than normal. He always does his best to make himself seem small around you, and you’re not sure why.

You love how big he is, love how he towers over everyone, how other people disappear behind him, how one of his steps is the equivalent of 2 of someone else’s. You think he does too, but not around you for some reason.

You’re still thinking about it as he opens the passenger seat door, and you thank him absentmindedly, managing somehow to climb into his SUV even with your focus miles away.

The slamming of his car door brings you out of it, and you look over to find him staring at you intently.

“Did you hear me, baby?” Mingyu asks with concern.

“Oh, um no, sorry, Gyu. What did you say?” You turn to him, feeling a bit bad for spacing out like that and giving him your full attention.

“It’s okay, darlin’, I asked if you wanted Ben and Jerry’s or Cold Stone, they’re both just off campus.”

“Ooooh, um,” you take a second to think, weighing your options and what you had last and what each one has over the other. You take ice cream very seriously.

“Cold Stone tonight, I think. I like how they smush it all together,” you respond finally, appreciating that Mingyu’s gaze never left you and he didn’t seem to get annoyed at your thinking time.

He nods seriously and with approval, shifting gears and placing his big hand on your headrest to reverse out of the parking spot. He smells so good, fresh out of the shower, and his hair is still damp, drops of water trailing down his neck to dampen the collar of his t-shirt.

You’re not used to being so close to him; he’s affectionate but you’re usually able to keep some distance. There’s nowhere for you to go now.

You chat easily, Mingyu asking how your project for your shared class is going, you asking him if he thinks they’ll make it to the championships this year, him confidently saying they will but if they don’t, you’ll have to go out with him to make him feel better. You respond that of course you will, it’s your duty as their student athletic trainer to heal his wounds, and it’s too late to backtrack when you realize you’ve just agreed to a date.

Hell, you’re already on the way to one, what’s one more?

Your possible second date turns into your possible third date when you agree to let Mingyu take you out to dinner tomorrow night.

He ate his ice cream so voraciously, yet thoughtfully, spooning out huge bites but taking his time to work through them, enjoying every add in and sprinkle. You’re not sure why it made such an impact on you, but it only got worse when he gathered up both of your empty cups and took them to the trash, returning with napkins coated in hand sanitizer to clean up any melted ice cream on the table.

You realized how careful Mingyu is with everything he does, how considerate, and you wonder if maybe you’ve been protecting yourself for nothing this whole time.

He’s always been just as careful and considerate with you, and you thought there must be something bad to balance out all the good, but now you’re not so sure.

You’re even less sure when he pulls up outside of your apartment, parking and promising to pick you up tomorrow morning and take you to class, then to get your car after.

“I just don’t want you driving and parking alone so late at night, do you mind?” he asked, and you know he would take you to your car right now if you wanted, but oddly enough, you don’t.

“No, Gyu, I don’t mind,” you smile softly at him, and let him jog around the SUV to open your door and help you step down.

He walks you all the way up to your apartment, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and thanking you for letting him take you out. You make him promise to text you when he gets home, and he beams, biting his lips to try to hide the smile at first before letting it light up his face, and you know you’re in trouble.

By the shadow under the door, you can tell he waits until you’re fully locked up to return to his car, and you’re still trying to pretend you’re not singing love songs in your head when your phone buzzes.

made it home xoxo gyu

Mingyu’s early to pick you up, so you let him hang out in your apartment while you finish getting ready.

He wanders around for a bit, checking out the knick knacks in your bookshelf, investigating your appliance situation, asking if you’ll let him cook for you tonight instead. You say yes without thinking about what exactly that entails - having Mingyu in your flat, at night, with candles probably, and wine because you know how to entertain a guest, and he’ll be cooking, in your kitchen, and he’ll likely want to wear an apron because he’s adorable and thorough like that, and you’ll be fucked.

The careful distance you’ve kept from him is narrowing, the walls you built brick by cynical brick crumbling, and you really want to say you hate it, but you don’t.

It’s easy, letting him get close to you.

It’s easy letting him buy you your favorite iced coffee before class, because of course he knows your order. It’s easy letting him carry your books, just because he wants to. It’s easy kicking him under the table when he makes under the breath jokes that threaten to disturb class.

It’s easy letting him kiss you on the cheek when he drops you off at your car, easy letting him open your door and pull you into a hug before seeing you off. Easy letting him pick the meal and do the grocery shopping for tonight, setting the date for 6 PM.

Even worse, it’s easy to let yourself be excited, to let yourself do your hair and just a little makeup, to wear a better bra than usual, to maybe try on a cute little flouncy dress that you know will break his brain, considering he’s only ever seen you in day clothes and the athletic trainer uniform.

What’s not easy is sitting there, at 5:35 PM, anxiously waiting for him to arrive. It’s funny how you used to feel better being further away from him, and now you fear you’ll never want to be away from him again.

Mingyu arrives at 5:50 on the dot, like he got here early and waited as long as he could, until it was a socially acceptable amount of early. He bounces on his toes as he bursts through the door, dropping a kiss to your forehead even with his arms full of groceries. It looks like he bought enough to feed the whole team, and you’re tempted to tease but he just looks so excited.

He explains his idea for the meal as he unloads the bags, lining everything up, telling you how much he loves cooking mise en place, and managing to not sound pretentious at all. He stutters a bit when he realizes what you’re wearing, eyes traveling up and down your legs, catching just barely on your breasts, and you smile serenely at him as he shifts behind the counter and asks where you keep your spices.

He’s adorable, in his black polo and jeans, massive form moving through your small kitchen like he’s cooked you dinner a million times, and it’s hard not to imagine him here, to want him here, every week. Or every night, your subconscious whispers.

Dinner is delicious, Mingyu is gifted in the kitchen in a way you didn’t expect, and as you wash dishes side by side, bumping hips and singing to the radio, you think maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let him love you.

You watch a movie together, nothing scary because Mingyu doesn’t like horror, and snuggle up on the couch. He’s so warm, and so large, and the perfect cuddling companion. He falls asleep halfway through, massive body tipping over, and you’d let him lay on you, you would, but he’s too fucking heavy, so you get up and gently guide him down to rest on the cushions. Tugging a blanket over him, you settle at the end of the couch, just enough space left free with Mingyu’s knees tucked to his chest as they are, and settle in.

It’s dark when you wake up, Mingyu and your TV still asleep, and you know he’ll ache tomorrow if he stays on your couch. You rub your hand up and down his arm, whispering his name, and he smiles as he blinks awake, his arms opening in a stretch and then wrapping around you. He shifts to his back, tugging you on top of him and sighing at the weight of you on his chest, “Do you think I could sleep here tonight?”

“Yeah, Gyu, I was gonna ask,” you respond softly, and he hums, his arms relaxing around you but resting heavier on your back.

“Wait, don’t fall asleep again.”

He shakes his head, blearily opening his eyes and staring at you with a confused pout.

“Come on, you can sleep with me,” you whisper, trying to crawl off of him, but he smirks, biting his lip with those canines, and you roll your eyes, “Sleep in my bed, with me.”

He giggles, “I knew what you meant, I was just teasing.”

He gets up, holding you to him and walking with your feet on top of his in the direction of your bedroom, stalling when he’s unsure of which door to open. You point, and he shuffles into your room, depositing you at the end of your bed before climbing in.

You’re still in the dress, which feels a bit uncomfy now, and your bra, which is ridiculously uncomfy now, so you grab some pajamas and head to the bathroom.

You change and wash up quickly, returning to find Mingyu standing next to the bed.

“Why’d you get up? What’s wrong?” you ask, hanging up your dress and putting your bra away, biting back a smile at how he averts his eyes from your underwear drawer.

“I just was wondering if you would mind if I slept in my boxers, these jeans aren’t really for sleeping,” he asks sheepishly, sighing in relief at your nod and unbuttoning his pants as soon as you turn your back.

“I think I have an old team shirt too, if you don’t want to sleep in the polo,” you offer, digging through your drawers and finding a shirt you think will fit him. You toss it over your shoulder, knowing he’ll catch it, and that you’re not ready to see him shirtless yet.

You turn just as he’s tugging it over his torso, and your mouth dries at the way it stretches across his chest, wrinkling over his pecs, falling slightly loose on his waist, giving just a hint of his abs.

You are not God’s strongest soldier, you know this, but you didn’t think you’d be tested in this way so soon.

Adamantly avoiding looking at his evil, luscious body, you walk around the bed and climb into your side, waiting for him to join you before turning off the lamp on your nightstand.

He scoots closer, inch by inch, until he can stretch his hand across the sheets and tuck his pinky beneath yours, and what are you supposed to do with that, except close the distance, wrap his hand up in yours, and snuggle into his arms, shoving your face in his chest.

Mingyu sighs immediately, relaxing and tugging you closer, whispering a goodnight into your hair, and promptly knocking out.

It takes you a bit longer, his body heat making you warmer than you usually like, but you wouldn’t pull away for anything, and eventually you fall asleep, cocooned in his arms.

Mingyu’s snoring when you wake up, still in the position you fell asleep in. You have to pee, and your stomach is growling, so you wiggle out of his arms, replacing your body with your pillow and sneaking to the bathroom.

You shuffle into the kitchen, quietly pulling out the waffle mix and iron, plus some bacon and eggs. You know he normally eats a lot, and with the game tonight, he needs to fill up, so you scramble eight of the eggs and fry up half the bacon.

The waffle iron is steaming when Mingyu stumbles in, rubbing his eyes and tugging the shirt down every time it rides up. He beams sleepily at you, leaning over the counter to press a kiss to your lips, and you freeze. He putters around the kitchen, putting dishes away and starting the coffee maker, and you wonder when everything got so fucking domestic.

It’d be a lie to say you mind. This is what you were scared Mingyu wouldn’t want, the type of relationship where you cook together and fall asleep early, and crawl into bed late, and wake up to cook for whoever’s still asleep.

You were scared he was just like all the other college guys you’ve tried to be with - lying about wanting the relationship part when they were only interested in sex, leaving you alone every night unless you wanted to netflix and chill.

Yet here Mingyu is, expertly navigating your kitchen, pecking you on the lips then turning to make you coffee.

He hasn’t put his hands on you without you making the first move, hasn’t tried to feel you up or anything, but you think you’d let him if he wanted to, hell, if he doesn’t ask soon you think you will.

You eat breakfast quietly, Mingyu playing with your fingers and shoveling food into his mouth. He grins at you through a mouthful of waffle, laughing at the way you cringe, and kicks your feet with his.

He has to leave soon, for a run and then practice with the team, and you dread how empty your apartment will feel without him.

“So, what changed?” Mingyu asks, startling you.

“What do you mean, Gyu?” you ask, fearing you already know, stabbing scrambled eggs with your fork and chewing slowly so you can stall.

“You’ve been pushing me away for months. But you didn’t last night, or the night before. I just was wondering… what changed?” he inquires softly, nervously, not sure he wants to know the answer.

You realize you haven’t been giving him enough credit, that he’s much more perceptive than you expected, or maybe you haven’t been as subtle as you thought.

“I was,” you take in a deep breath, preparing to be honest with him, and yourself, for once. “I was scared.”

“Of me?” he looks concerned, and you rush to reassure him.

“No, Gyu, I wasn’t scared of you, I was scared for me. I knew you liked me, and I knew I liked you, but I thought… fuck, I’m sorry, I thought there had to be something wrong with you, you’re just too hot and good and smart and kind and perfect,” you breathe out, pulling away to hide your face in your hands.

Mingyu stays quiet, tapping his fingers on the table before reaching up and gently tugging your hands away from your face. You peek your eyes open to find him smiling fondly at you, sweet eyes half lidded and nose scrunched.

“You’re so silly, baby, you’ve been scared for nothing,” he teases, squeezing your hands until you giggle sheepishly, looking away from him and then looking back when he starts to speak.

“The only thing wrong with me, that I know of at least, is how embarrassingly into you I am. I had to beg the other guys not to flirt with you, not because I thought you’d go for them but because I didn’t want to see anyone else making you laugh like I do. You know the kid who used to sit next to you in class?”

He waits for your nod, continuing, “I got him club seats for the Homecoming game in exchange for him sitting somewhere else so I could sit next to you. Fuck, is that creepy?” Mingyu panics, pulling a hand from yours to run it through his hair as his gaze shifts around the room.

It’s your turn to soothe him, as you take his hand again and press it to your cheek, smiling softly and saying, “It’s not creepy, it’s cute. And embarrassing, like you said.”

Mingyu breathes a sigh of relief, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone and gazing at you thoughtfully, “You didn’t answer my question, though.”

Shit, you’d hoped he missed that.

“What changed is… I acted on impulse and said yes before I could even think of why I could say no,” you don’t want to tell him you didn’t mean to, and this feels close enough to the truth for it to not be called a lie.

He accepts it, nodding and saying with an easy grin, “Well, I suppose I can only hope you’ll act on impulse more often then.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to hope, it’s like my brain stops working when you’re around,” you admit to his great delight.

You chat more over the rest of breakfast, cleaning up together again, and you let yourself dance closer to him now, knowing he already knows he’s got you.

It’s not clear enough, apparently, because he nervously asks, “So, can I be your boyfriend?” just after you’ve walked him to the door. Your impulses have led you well thus far, so you reply on instinct, “Yes, Mingyu. You can be my boyfriend.”

The beam that splits his face is almost blinding, the arms snaking around you crushing, the heat of him against you searing, and you know suddenly that you were right to be scared, because you just might already be in love with him.

You can afford to be a little fearful though, as long as it means Mingyu’s around to hold you like this.

The arena feels like a live wire.

The game is down to the last quarter, and your team is behind by four points. This is the qualifying match for the state championships, and you’re terrified they won’t be able to make up the difference.

This other team has matched your boys point for point, but in a much less sportsmanlike manner, riling Mingyu up all night, poking at the whole team, enough so that Cheol got into a shouting match with the other captain, nearly getting ejected from the game.

The clock is ticking, time steadily running out, and you can tell Mingyu’s starting to get a bit anxious, his mouth drawn tight and his brow furrowed, his feet hitting the polished floor hard after every leap and fakeout.

You wish you could soothe him, but there’s no time, especially not when he’s lining up a three-pointer, clenching his jaw and launching the ball, watching with bated breath as it soars through the air and swishes through the net.

You barely have time to cheer, just three minutes left on the clock, and your eyes widen when he’s passed the ball again, going immediately for a two-pointer.

It’s like time freezes, the cheer team sounding like they’re in slow motion, the crowd silent, Mingyu gracefully bounding across the court, heaving the ball and standing still as he watches it sail and slip through the net just as the buzzer goes off.

The crowd roars, the whole team gathering around Mingyu and attempting to throw him in the air before they decide he’s just too fucking large and let him down. You can see his head swiveling, his eyes flicking wildly around the arena, and when he glances your way, you shoot your hand up, grin splitting your lips when he throws his palm up, returning your smile and high five.

You can see Mingyu mouth fuck it, see the courage growing in his eyes, as he sprints over to you and hefts you into his arms, swinging you around and ignoring the way the guys all heckle him.

He just laughs, holding you tighter and getting you damp with his sweat, but you don’t care because he won, they won, and he came to you, wanted to see you first.

And now he’s setting you back on your feet, leaning in slowly, his palms hot on your face, and you meet him halfway, pressing your lips to his, breathing in the sigh he lets out.

His arms wrap around you again, hauling you closer, deepening the kiss, tracing your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, and whining when you pull away.

“Why’d you stop?” Mingyu asks breathlessly, not noticing the student reporter right next to the two of you, hoping for an interview. You tilt your head over, and Mingyu hiccups an embarrassed, oh!, finally seeing the person next to you.

“Are you… free to talk about those last two shots?” they ask tentatively, their eyes shifting from him to you and back to him. Mingyu looks at you, as if for approval, and at your nod, goes off with them to answer some questions.

You help the staff clean up from the game, stretch some of the guys out when they complain of strained muscles, and wait for Mingyu to finish up. You don’t have any set plans, but it feels wrong to leave without at least saying goodbye.

You’re picking up empty beer cups in the stands when you hear Mingyu call your name from the court.

“Wanna go home?” he asks, waving excitedly and waiting for you as you make your way down the bleachers, wet hair dripping down his neck.

Depositing the cups in the recycling bin, you walk over to him. You take too long, apparently, because he jogs over and sweeps you into another kiss, leaning closer and closer until you’re bent over his arm and clutching his hair out of fear.

You know he wouldn’t drop you, but it would hurt if he did, and you can’t stop yourself from trying to hold on. He likes it though, you think, your hands in his hair, because he moans against your lips and brings you back up so he can cup your face in his big hands and dip his tongue into your mouth.

You let your head grow fuzzy until your lungs start to burn, and you pull away to take in deep breaths as he trails kisses down your jaw. He nips at your neck, startling you into remembering you’re still in public.

“Let’s go home?” you ask breathlessly, grinning at his nod, and let him lead you from the stadium.

AN: okayyyyy so i had this almost fully written when i decided to release it in two parts, just so that part one could be smut free and both could be a bit more digestible.

Part two will come today, probably in a couple hours so you shouldn't have to wait long, and it will be fully smut! like... 4000 words of it... anyway

Part Two!

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#mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #svthub #mingyu x female reader #mingyu smut #kim mingyu smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #kpop smut #mingyu imagines #mingyu oneshot #mingyu au #seventeen x reader #svt #✨emily writes✨#mingyu fluff #seventeen fluff #svt fluff

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arthurswifetv · 22 days

Text

NSFW alphabet George Clarkey

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He will be giving you the best cuddle of your life and also probably running you a bath. Praising you so much about how well you did 'you took me so well, how about you just relax and I'll get you some food for after your bath'

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

George is an arse man for sure, or even just your thighs. The way you look in shorts or jeans, especially in a dress makes him think how lucky he is to be your boyfriend. You know this, as he makes comments about it, and will wear a dress or shorts that make you look even more beautiful just to get a reaction out of George. 'Y/N we could just stay here instead because I can think of a few things to do'

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

I think George would want to cum on your face or back. Maybe likes to see his cum on you while you lie there just breathing and recovering from an orgasm. But I feel like he would make a joke about it as well.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

George would look at pictures of you, either from his own collection or just from your instagram, when he needs you and your away or he's up too late to call you. But he won't tell you out of embarassment because he thinks it's very childish.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

George is quite experienced and will know what he needs to do and does it very well.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Probably missionary or doggy. Depends on what type of mood he's in. If he's in a goof mood then probably missionary because he just wants to see you and talk to you. When he is more of a frustrated mood then he will just want to go at a much more rougher pace. But even in this position he will still make sure that it's not too much and making sure you feel good.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Maybe a few jokes here and there but most of the time he is fairly serious as he is concentrating.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Does keep it a bit trimmed but more natural and not bald.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Very sweet if in the mood and will be more slow and sensual. Otherwise, a little bit less romantic but again still talking you through it and praising you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Does not do it often but when he does he will watch a video of you or look at a picture instead of watching porn. When he is on tour or just away on holiday, phone sex in on the cards but this is a bit of a last resort though because he wants to be certain that no one can walk in on him.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

This is a bit of a difficult one but I think that George would be into overstimulating you a little bit because he likes seeing you begging and pleading him to stop, knowing that you are actually wanting more. Not really sure with George I think he might just be a little bit vanilla.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

The bed, I think George really would not want to take any risks in public just incase he is seen. Would want to make sure that no one will walk in, so later in the relationship I feel like sex would not be very high on the list of things to do, but would take you on little holidays to get the spark back.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Just seeing you dressed up, or even in his shirts and clothes. One of the weirder things that can turn him on is going to the gym with you and just seeing you get all sweaty can really make him want you.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that actually causes you harm or anything public.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

George would go down on you not even as a chore but as something that he just thinks he should do as part of sex, plus the fact that he just enjoys it. Seeing you writhe and whine when he is eating you out is one of the most enjoyable parts of sex. He loves getting a blowjob and is quite vocal when it comes to it.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Again slow when he is in the mood and much quicker if he wants to be rougher. When he comes back from the gym and he still has the energy he will be up for trying most things and is a bit more fast paced than normal.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Would be up for one before an event, but on the whole he will want to spend time when having sex because he does not want to rush it and make it less of a good experience.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

no, i think he would be quite cautious to make sure he is not caught but might be up for taking a few risks

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Has a lot of stamina, especially because he is now into working out even more, kind of sees it as a challenge as well so will be up for a few rounds

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

I don't think that toys really appeal to him because he can just do what they do and does not really see why he would need them

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Ohhh George is such a tease, whether it is just a little touch on the way past or a grab of the hips or even just sliding his hands up a bit too far up your thighs at a date. George lives for your little reactions and trying to keep his acting of being innocent

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Quite vocal but nothing too loud, a lot of talking though because this man cannot let the room be silent. He wants to hear your moans and whines but also your praise.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Gives the sweetest kisses during and after because he just wants to remind you how much he loves you.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Good size, above average

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Quite high because he is very energetic and can go for a while. May even wake you up on the odd occasion when he wants to have sex at night and cannot sleep

#arthur frederick #george clarkey #george clarkey smut #arthur hill #uk youtubers #arthur tv #youtube #chaos crew #arthurtv

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poisonsage808 · 5 months

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♡ Bertholdt Hoover Alphabet Prompt ♡

♡ A. Admitting feelings ♡

Do they admit it first? Wait for someone else? And how do they go about it?

He’d need to hear the words come out of your mouth first. Bertholdt’s in denial of his own feelings for a plethora of reasons. Selfishly, the mission aside, he doesn’t believe you could ever feel that way about him. When you admit your feelings though, for a moment, he can’t think of anything else.

♡ B. Bad Habit ♡

What bad habits do they have?

Biting the insides of his cheeks when he wanders too deep into the darker part of his mind.

Something that would undoubtedly affect you though? White lies or half truths, believe him, all he wants is to tell you everything. Whether it’s because words fail him or the risk of danger is too high… he just can’t.

♡ C. Commitment ♡

Do they want a five-minute thing? Marriage? House and a dog?

Bertholdt is a romantic. In his mind he’ll have it all with you; the perfect life. He hangs onto that moment as he wakes up, the breathe right before reality crushes itself back on his shoulders. He chooses to forget about everything else just to have that sweet dream in his grasp a little longer.

♡ D. Damage ♡

As in ‘what’s their damage’ are they a difficult person? Been hurt before and need help healing? Won’t let people in? ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude?

There’s a lock on him from head to toe and the key is always kept just out of reach. You can tell when he wants to tell you something, his lips part but shut just as quickly and he averts his olive green eyes. It’s awful, this part of the dance where he takes two steps away from you but holds onto your hand like a lifeline.

‘I could help you,’ you want to say.

His eyes say he knows that to be true.

♡ E. Energy ♡

Would you have trouble keeping up with them? Extrovert/introvert/ambient?

Introvert! He doesn’t mind being in a large group or crowd but he might need to leave early. Being one on one with you or doesn’t drain his social battery. Reiner is a different case, as much as Bertholdt respects and appreciates him, it’s tiresome holding up a persona even for his closest friend. Everything about you is so effortless.

♡ F. First date ♡

Their ideal first date

There’s things Bertholdt’s never done himself that he would love to experience with you. What would you like most, though? Fantasies create themselves at inconvenient times; from getting ice cream and enjoying it together by a fountain, picking apples, walking along the beach and finding shells for each other, stargazing and talking deep into the night, to simply chatting with you over a game of chess.

Despite all the possibilities, he knows exactly what he’d do. He wants to cook you dinner, your favorite meal, with wine and candles— the whole nine yards! In his mind it goes perfectly, he’d be the man you deserve. He’d pull out your chair and tell you how nice you look that evening, then quickly stammer out how you look nice every day. You’d hold his hand and thank him, flash him that smile he’d die for. In actuality, it doesn’t go perfect by definition but it is perfect because you’re there.

♡ G. Gentle ♡

How gentle are they?

Agonizingly gentle. Bertholdt’s touch trembles slightly in the beginning but as he grows more comfortable with you, he relaxes. You might be frustrated at first when he touches you like your glass, then you realize that’s.. simply who he is. Gentle. His words can be firm when they need to be but he almost never raises his voice and especially not at you. There’s this unfailing softness to Bertholdt that only you get to endure.

♡ H. Honesty ♡

How open are they?

Bertholdt has secrets (obviously) but tells you as much as he can without crossing that line. The moment the bond between you two go deeper then camaraderie, he vows not to lie to you if he can help it. He progressively gets better about explaining how he feels which is an enormous leap for him to make. You make saying something as simple as “I’m not ok right now,” easier.

♡ I. I love you’s ♡

Who says it first?

It’s messy and jumbled and sickeningly sweet and absolutely Bertholdt. He’ll never forget it. You were so incredibly patient even when you knew exactly where his extremely long sentence was going. Your eyes sparkled, your smile nearly broke your face and a gentle blush dusted your cheeks. His heart hurt in a way he never thought capable then suddenly stopped as soon as the words left his lips. During the tiniest gap of silence before you responded, his sweaty palms ran over his thighs,

“I love you too,”

His heart exploded then.

♡ J. Jealous ♡

Are they jealous? How do they handle it?

Specific incidents where someone is deliberately flirting with you and Bertholdt is nearby— or dare they attempt right in front of him, mistaking his quiet nature for weakness. Insecurities bubble to the surface, his face flushed red in anger, terror grips at his heart at the thought of losing you. With a bit of gentle prying he can explain, thanks to you, how he feels and why.

Stars forbid someone made you uncomfortable or grabbed at you though. Entirely different situation that would have Bertholdt utterly livid. He handles himself gracefully, quickly and angles himself in front of you, staring down the person and silently threatening them with a furious glare. It’s rare to see that side of Bertholdt but oddly sweet to know he’d do that for you.

♡ K. Kiss ♡

What kind of kisser? Deep and passionate? Sloppy? Little pecks on the cheek?

Stars, he’s the sweetest kisser on the planet! Bertholdt asks almost every time if he can kiss you, even though he gives himself away by staring at your lips and tip toeing closer in an odd dance. His lips are soft at first but the intent, the need, the love, has electricity zapping straight to your heart every time they touch.

♡ L. Listen ♡

Do they hang off your every word or have selective hearing?

You wonder sometimes if he has a library in his mind of things you’ve said or offhandedly mentioned. Bertholdt challenges himself to remember every single word that leaves your lips, and wins. You couldn’t know this, but he wants to commit every detail of you, everything you’ve ever said to memory… in case he ever has to think about you in past tense.

♡ M. Maintenance ♡

Are they high maintenance? Low? Do they need more skincare products than you?

Shoulders down it looks like he’s in tip-top shape. His uniform is always pristine, no wrinkles in his casual clothes, no dirt on his boots at the beginning of the day. Hair? A short, unkempt, bed headed mess. You love it. Overall Bertholdt is a very clean person and always smells nice.

♡ N. Nest ♡

What does their room look like?

Similar to his appearance, his personal room would be neat and tidy. There’s personal touches, hobbies, a plethora of books but no pictures. Bertholdt always keeps his bed made and sheets washed—except for if you were to use it. Not for anything weird! He just likes the reminder you were there. Sometimes your shampoo lingers on the pillow case and brings him comfort for a little while, it makes sleeping alone easier.

♡ O. Opinion ♡

Opinions are like assholes, everyone has one. Do they listen to others’ views? Mansplain? Talk over or have a spirited debate?

Bertholdt doesn’t give his opinion without being prompted. If he thinks it will hurt someone’s feelings he’d rather not say it at all. He listens plenty and gathers information like he was trained to do. You, for whatever reason, always want to hear what he thinks even if you disagree. He doesn’t like not being on the same page as you, he feels like it’s arguing or will lead to one and will brew into resentment. It never has.

♡ P. Protection ♡

Are they overboard or level headed about protecting their loved ones?

Considering he joined the Warrior program for his father, it’s safe to say he would go through any lengths to protect his family. Annie and Reiner can take care of themselves for certain but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t worry or won’t help keep them safe, if he can. The same goes for his other, newer camrades.

You though? Bertholdt will carry out unspeakable acts if it means keeping you alive. He won’t charge in blind, definitely not in a situation where he knows you can handle yourself. But that silent promise is forever there.

♡ Q. Quirk ♡

What strange little personality quirks do they have?

You noticed it before he did and innocently pointed it out which made him so flustered he couldn’t speak the rest of the day. Bertholdt tries to make himself small. Pressing himself against walls, crouching, hugging his legs when he sits, etc. First was stunned that you paid enough attention to him to see this, then he reflected on it for longer than he’d like to admit.

♡ R. Reliable ♡

Can you count on them?

He asks himself this often. His head and gut say no but his heart and body screams yes. The only time he moves before he can think about what he’s doing is when it comes to you.

♡ S. Scent ♡

Their perfume/cologne/natural musk

Naturally he smells like cedarwood and plums. You don’t know what plums are yet, it’s a subtly sweet, fruity scent. Barely there yet clings to him. Sometimes you catch whiffs of leather.

♡ T. Temper ♡

What is their temper like? Quick to anger? Long fuse? How bad do they lose it?

Seldom have you ever seen him snap, it’s a bit frightening when it happens. Bertholdt is very restrained, he prides himself on it.

♡ U. Unwind ♡

How do they relax?

Relax? Bertholdt? He’s stressed so much it bleeds into his sleep! Jokes aside, he enjoys reading and playing chess, enjoyable and a nice distraction. If he’s too wound up to sit still for those he likes to cook, an even better distraction and dispels that extra nervous energy he may have.

Fun fact: mornings are his favorite time of day; the sun kissing the horizon in greeting before the pleasant chill gets stolen away by its heat. Bertholdt prefers to sleep in if he can but if he has a nightmare, or just happens to be awake, he likes the peacefulness of mornings.

♡ V. Value ♡

What’s their love language? What makes them feel special?

Giving and receiving, Bertholdt’s love languages are tied between words of affirmation and quality time.

♡ W. Welcoming ♡

How do they feel about PDA?

Bertholdt wants to be selfish for once in his life and keep you his secret. It’s mostly for your safety but he couldn’t say how temporary that is. He won’t hesitate to help you off the ground and let your hands linger but PDA isn’t for him.

However, you’ve both found a way around that bump with hidden affectionate acts. Sitting next to him during meals so your legs can touch, maybe even holding pinkies under the table or resting a hand on a knee.

♡ X. Xylophone ♡

What’s their song?

Iris - Goo Goo Dolls

So when everything feels like the movies

Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive

And I don't want the world to see me

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am, hey

♡ Y. Yearning ♡

How do they act when separated?

Where are you going? How long will you be gone? Are you safe? Bertholdt has worse case scenarios zipping through his head faster than Survey Corps horses can run. It’s par the course for this life, he’s often reminded bitterly. It’s not dramatic to admit he’d be more comfortable if he could see you at all times.

Also he just misses you when you’re parted. Badly. While on the outside it looks as if he’s unbothered, his eyes roam for you if he knows you’re returning soon. He’s often compared to a lost puppy, which he can’t bring himself to deny strongly enough for anyone to believe.

♡ Z. Zzz ♡

Do they sleep a lot? Not enough? Night owl or early bird? Light sleeper or heavy?

When he finally does fall asleep it can be hard to wake him up. His sleeping positions are infamous and he doesn’t wake to the laughter that go on around him. A nightmare, a loud sound or a jolting shove would do the trick but Bertholdt’s a deep sleeper.

In your arms it’s a different story. He sleps peacefully the whole night and wakes up refreshed for a change. It’s always a good day when he can open his eyes and see you there beside him.

#bertholdt hoover #aot bertholdt #bertholdt x reader #bertholdt hoover x reader #aot imagines #aot x reader #poiboidrabbles #x reader #imagine

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cerealboxlore · 10 months

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imagine, and i don’t know how or why, cap having to reveal his identity to the league, but he just says his name

whatever members immediately look up billy batson, sees he’s a kid, and assumes that marvel being there is time shenanigans and that he was keeping his identity secret to not mess up the timeline

would be funny if somewhere after this another superhero asks him if he looked up to himself as a kid and he just responds with “nah, i hated captain marvel. i mean, who the hell would willingly be so cringy” or something idk i’m tired

that just seems like it could be a lot of fun to me

THIS TOOK FOREVER FOR ME TO RESPOND TO BECAUSE MY BRAIN WASNT BRAINING AND COULDN'T READ IT RIGHT BUT I GET IT NOW AND I LOVE IT

I think this is an amazing idea!! Using time travel as an excuse to lie to the Justice League and others about his existence is just pure, high-level wizard genius. Of course, some other time traveler, like Booster Gold, might make this a difficult lie to keep up, unless...he was in on the lie from the start 👀 It would make for a cute friendship between the two heroes and make for a good bonding story about the most unexpected people who became heroes.

A scenario where I can imagine your plan happening would most likely be a funny one, and while there can absolutely be a serious event that causes this idea of yours, I am laughing out of control thinking about Captain Marvel accidentally touching the lasso of truth and saying his name when someone asks him on the Watch Tower. And then he goes silent. Cap sees the rope next to him. And then everyone goes silent. They see the rope next to him. And then he leaves without saying anything, and the entire break room bursts into PURE chaos.

I think it's an awesome idea to have people think Billy hated Captain Marvel growing up, because that's just a factor of hilarity right there. In the Captain Marvel Adventures comic run, there was an issue where Billy pretended to have a feud with Captain Marvel (himself) so that people would leave him alone (if I remember right??). It's always funny to me to see someone pretend to hate their alter ego, it brings up so many opportunities for shenanigans!

Bonus:

Superman: Hey, Captain! Sorry to bother you, but I was curious, if it's not too much to ask, may I inquire as to why you're in the past instead of, you know, back in the future?

Captain Marvel: Ah, well, that's a pretty long story there, Supes. I can't go into it too much for privacy reasons, you know how it is.

Superman: Oh, no, I get it, don't worry, I won't press into it.

Captain Marvel: Hm...I can tell you this though, if I ever come into contact with my past self, due to my magic cells and the fabric of the universe, I will self-destruct.

Superman: ....what.

Captain Marvel: Yeahhh, it's a whole thing, it's why I never bother to meet my past self, and if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you left my past self alone. Haha, wouldn't want to risk cross contamination accidentally and explode.

He then walks away whistling without a care about what he just said, leaving Superman and the rest in a confused and concerned state.

On the news next week a JL member sees Booster Gold shake hands with Billy on the Fawcett City news (Captain Marvel's city) and holds back the urge to body slam him back to the future.

Gosh, this was wonderful to answer!

#this was such a lovely ask #tysm for the ask!#Billy Batson #dc captain marvel #shazam #justice league #dc comics #Bonus points if Booster Gold and Billy have an epic magical time travel adventure but no one saw it happen #more bonus points if Aqua Man hoses down Booster Gold with a tidal wave of water out of nowhere to not risk cap exploding #cap won't explode he just couldn’t think of a good lie in time #sorry for any spelling errors!

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mysumeow · 6 months

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ꗃ LYNEY NSFW ALPHABET 2/2

warnings: afab genitalia, gn pronouns.

a/n: i sat myself down in front of my puter and told myself: im not getting up until i finish this. thats the only way i can convince myself to stop postponing everything, including stuff i want to finish (like this one lkjhasdflkjhs)

PART ONE › MASTERLIST ‹

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I can see this guy wanting kids. He wants to give them the childhood and lifestyle he wishes he had when he was one.

So, breeding is a given.

Aside from that, he shows affinity for harnesses, restraints of any kind, sensory deprivation in the form of blindfolding, and lingerie. He prefers you to be the one getting blindfolded and teased, but he’s not against the idea of being on the receiving end.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Given that he doesn’t want to cause any type of scandal, he prefers to play it safe and do it behind closed doors. The biggest risk he’s willing to handle is having you press against a window. Your front against the glass, while he pounds you from behind. Seeing your face reflected on the window until it fogs up from heavy breathing.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

The moment you show a sliver of thigh, the cogs in his mind are already turning. Otherwise, if you’re wearing fishnets, tights, high-knee socks, or just any type of leg accessory (yes, harnesses are included too), that also makes him ogle you when no one else is looking.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’s willing to try anything if it has nothing to do with certain bodily wastes.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’d be embarrassed to be on the receiving end and probably cumming within the first few minutes, so he prefers to go down on you. Skill-wise, he has limited knowledge, but he takes his time with you to make sure you enjoy it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

If the pace is all up to him, he prefers a more sensual way. It’s not difficult to ask him to go faster or rougher if you want, but he likes taking his time with you. Doing it slowly, caressing your body instead of grabbing it and jackhammering into you—he’s a romantic at heart, after all. His fingers touching and playing with your most sensitive parts. He can be quite unfair in this regard because he’s not above edging you in that way, just for the sake of making you as needy as possible.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are good if he’s in immediate need of having you and his schedule is tight. He understands there are days in which he won’t be able to spend as much time with you as he wishes he could, and therefore, quickies are an easy solution to that.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’d rather play it safe. A scandal of public obscenity is something he’d prefer to avoid. If anything, he would trace his fingers against your thigh, or grip it, when you’re sitting down next to him having dinner at a restaurant. But that’s about it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He’s a performer; he must have a nice amount of endurance for physical activity. He might do one long, consistent round or a multiple, reasonable number of rounds. It depends on his partner’s preference. He’s fine with either.

T = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I do think he has at least one, but he sees little need to keep it after he’s with someone. He shows interest in stimulating your body with some handy toy, like a bullet vibrator or something of the like. Open to suggestions from your part if you want to try a toy on him, too.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

If he’s feeling playful and teasing, he’s pretty unfair. He’ll keep tethering you to the edge of your orgasm, pulling away at the right time before working you up to that edge again. He doesn’t care if you’re obedient or not; if he wants to edge you for the next couple of minutes, he’ll do it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Man tries so hard to keep his voice down. He can manage in the beginning, but the closer he is to his orgasm, the louder he gets. He whines and moans, even crying your name if he has been edged for a while. You may try covering his mouth with yours; he’s going to moan into the kiss, and his sounds of pleasure slip through. Can’t shut up for the life of him (affectionately).

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Every time you visit him backstage, he has fantasized about having a quickie with you there, just before a show. This fantasy is not viable, because that would mean Lynette could catch you both in the act, and that wouldn’t be a fun experience. The same applies to when he imagines you visiting him in the dressing room before a show.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Fairly high. Aside from the reason being his age, it’s also due to him being an energetic individual, and he has to release said energy in some way or another.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’ll be awake if you talk to him, but the moment there’s some silence, he’s asleep.

#genshin smut #lyney smut #/ᐠ - ˕ -マ .. smut

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my-moony-and-padfoot · 3 months

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We'll be okay, I promise

TW: nothing? Please do tell if there's something I should warn about with this one

Word count: 3 100

The idea for this fic was from a post by @breakmyheartwolfstar :)

He leaned against the cold wall, closing his eyes and taking in a sharp breath. It did nothing to help the pain, it never did, and he knew that, but at least he didn’t have to look his mother in the eyes when the next hit would come. Sirius whimpered quietly when the next wave of the piercing pain hit him directly onto the chest, he clutched at it, eventually falling to the ground from the force of the tremors and pain. Walburga had laughed. High-pitched and self-satisfied, it sounded like she was enjoying the view of watching her own son suffer. Maybe she did enjoy it.

The rest of the evening was a blur, he couldn’t really tell what was happening. There were flashing lights, incoherent words that he somehow through the fog recognized being the voices of his parents, possibly Regulus too? He couldn’t be entirely sure, Sirius wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. His head was spinning, and it was difficult to keep himself upright when he finally got the chance to stand up, though he was pushed right back down. Everything hurt, there wasn’t a single part of his body that didn’t, he was sure he was bleeding too, though he couldn’t tell where the blood could be coming from.

It felt like hours, days even until it stopped, and he was left alone, or at least he thought so. The voices around him had stopped, at least for a moment it was quiet. It was the type where you acknowledge all the smallest of sounds, making you on edge at all times, scared something might happen. There was only the quiet echo of his mother's laugh ringing in his ears, but Sirius was sure it wasn’t actually there; just his mind playing tricks on him. He hadn’t yet found the strength to open his eyes to check though, so they might just as well still be there, he hoped they weren’t, though.

“Leave,” The sudden sound of her voice made him jump, and his eyes snap open, barely seeing her through the blurriness of his vision, but he could somehow make out the outline of her figure standing in front of him, hovering over him in a way that made his whole body go rigid. Even though he could barely see or move, he still followed the command, slowly standing up, his legs barely carrying his weight. He didn’t want to know what would happen if he didn’t, something would. Something always happens. “And, don’t come back.”

Sirius didn’t even look at her, he had understood the message loud and clear. He gripped on every possible surface for support as he walked, the back of a chair, the railing on the stairs, his knuckles turning white as he took a break to gather strength to continue. He leaned against the walls, swaying from side to side in the narrow hallway, when he finally made his way outside, he collapsed at the front steps, leaning against the door, breathing heavily. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, hear it in his ears, and it drove him mad. He just wanted for the noise to stop. Even for a moment. He needed to get out, he had to leave; hopefully his wand was still in his pocket. He eventually managed to get up, though he still felt like he might fall over at any point as he walked.

It was raining, it felt refreshing on his burning skin as he made his way down the street. When he got to an underpass, he leaned against the cold stone wall, trying to think what he should do. Remus lived too far away, and he wasn’t even entirely sure if he was home at the moment. Peter lived closest, but he was away on a holiday, and he didn’t want to go there anyway, he knew Peter wouldn’t understand. James didn’t live close either, he had walked there a few times, but it had been summer, and he wasn’t tripping over his feet every other step.

He could apparate there, technically. It would put him at the risk of being expelled from school, but maybe the ministry would understand? Maybe he could somehow sort it out? Though that would mean he’d have to explain everything, and more people would know, maybe he could leave that part out? He’d have time to worry about that later. James was his only option though, unless he wanted to stay outside, which he really didn’t want to do either. Euphemia and Fleamont were nice, so maybe they would understand if he showed up at their doorstep in the middle of the night.

Apparating made him feel even more dizzy, almost losing his balance when he landed at the Potter’s driveway, taking some time to gather his balance again. No lights were on, at least from what he could see, which wasn’t that much. But still, he knocked onto the door once he got there, hoping it was loud enough for somebody to hear. It took a few minutes before the door opened, he must’ve been a pathetic sight to see, if Euphemia’s expression was anything to go by.

“Sirius, dear, what happened?” She asked, ushering him inside and immediately leading him to the living room sofa, afraid he would pass out. Just that simple question said with so much care and kindness made the floodgates open, tears streaming down his face as he sobbed. He wasn’t sure what he could even respond to that. There were no words that could explain the incredible pain he was feeling, nothing that could explain what had happened well enough for someone to understand what it all meant. He wasn’t even sure himself.

“No, no, no.” He found himself saying, glancing up only to see the confusion in her expression, but nothing coherent enough left his mouth. He found himself repeating the same sentences over and over again, as if it would start to make more sense if he repeated it. “T-they know, they know. I- They know. They can’t- It’s- no.”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Euphemia whispered, interrupting his anxious rambling. “That’s not important now, you can explain later.” Sirius just nodded feverishly, burying his face into his hands. “I’m going to get something to patch you up. You don’t look too good, I’ll be right back.”

Before she could get up, though, Sirius spoke. “Jamey, where-? I-”

“Upstairs. Monty went to get him, don’t worry, Sirius. He’ll come down soon.” Sirius nodded again, looking around confusedly before his eyes focused on James standing at the doorway, giving him a sad smile as he walked over.

“Couldn’t wait until the morning, could you?” He teased, adjusting his glasses and running a hand through his hair as he sat down next to Sirius on the sofa. Sirius apologized quietly, not fully catching the playful tone of voice, wiping his eyes as he looked at James. “Y’know, that’s not what I meant. C’mere, you look like you need a hug.”

…

“Who knows?” Remus asked quietly, leaning his head into his hands as he looked at Sirius who was sitting on the bed, while he was in the armchair in the corner of the guest bedroom at the Potters. Sirius shook his head after a moment of thinking. “Who knows, Sirius?”

“Is that important?” He asked, glancing up. Remus didn’t look annoyed or angry, but rather disappointed and upset, which somehow was even worse than just being yelled at. It made him feel even worse about what had happened, about what had led to this in the first place. It was all his fault. “After w-what happened, I-. That's all you wanna know? What the hell does that matter?”

“It does.”

“How?” He whispered, picking on his fingernails, trying his best not to cry, or start an argument because he really didn't want that, but it seemed like Remus didn't care, he was so focused that it made him ignore all the signs that usually tipped him off. For once, Sirius wished he’d notice. “I don't understand.”

“I don't understand how you could let this happen.” Remus answered, making him take a sharp breath in, though he didn't notice, or care. Sirius wasn't sure. “How could you possibly be so stupid? You promised t-”

“I didn't mean to.” He said, shaking his head. “Rem, I swear I didn't mean to. It was an accident. I'd never-”

“I don't believe you. How could that happen?” Sirius nodded slightly, mouth hanging open as he looked at the ground, swallowing past the lump in his throat trying to figure out something to say, but no words would come out, they just got stuck halfway. He could feel himself starting to shake even more; it wasn’t just the aftermath of the spells used the night before, it was something else too. He didn’t understand why Remus was acting this way, maybe he had done something seriously wrong? Maybe he had deserved everything that happened, maybe it was only fair.

“M-mum and dad.” Sirius whispered, the events replaying clear as day in his mind as he thought back to it. “I-i don’t know how they- They know.” he said, reaching up to wipe his eyes on his sleeve before going back to hugging himself as tightly as he possibly could. He really wanted to be alone now. The one person he thought would make it all, at least a little better, made him want to just be alone.

“Mm, ‘cause they’re definitely the best people to know about this, aren’t they?” That felt like a stab in the heart, it hurt more than anything he had endured at the hands of his mother. It was a different kind of pain. “I guess Effie and fleamont know as well?” Sirius nodded quickly, still not daring to look at Remus. He didn’t want to be yelled at, again. Maybe he deserved it, though? “Do you realize how bad this is? Everyone’s gonna fucking know Sirius. Everyone. Does Regulus know?”

“I don’t know.” He cried, shaking his head. “I don’t- Remus, I-i really don’t know. I-” He was tripping over his words as he cried, breathing getting quicker as he tried to think. “I fucked up. I fucked up, I-i know. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to, I promise. It w-was an accident. I swear. They- they. You don’t understand. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Rem. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

Shit. “No, Sirius. I'm sorry-” He said, trying to correct his behaviour, he should've reacted in a entirely different way. He didn't mean for this to happen, of course he didn't. Sirius slowly looked up, wiping his eyes and hiccuping as more tears continued to trail down.

“I didn't mean to…” Sirius whispered weakly, shattering Remus’ heart into pieces. “I promise.”

“I know.” He said, trying to get his voice to be as soft and gentle as he could. He didn’t want to make Sirius feel even worse. “I know you didn't mean to. I'm so sorry.”

“Can I have a hug?” Sirius asked quietly after a moment of silence, taking him by surprise. After all he had said, he still wanted to be closed. He still wanted Remus, even when it was part of the reason he was feeling so horrible. “Please, moons?”

“Baby.” He whispered, slowly standing up and wrapping his arms around Sirius when he got up as well. He hid his face into Remus' chest, clinging on as if he would just disappear. “I shouldn't have gotten mad at you. Not now. That could've waited. I'm so sorry.”

“ ‘s okay.” Sirius mumbled. “I get it.”

“No. It's not okay. Don't say it is.” Sirius only nodded. “It's- Sirius something really bad happened to you and I should've been there for you- I shouldn’t have said what I did, it’s not fair to you.” He cleared his throat as tears started to burn in his eyes and a breath got caught in his throat. “I'm sorry.”

They fell silent after that, it wasn't uncomfortable, both just taking a moment to calm down. Remus swayed them gently, rubbing Sirius back to try to comfort him the best he could. Sirius just let himself be wrapped in the warm embrace, feeling like everything was okay for a moment; the tremors were gone and so was all the pain, physically and mentally. He felt better, for a moment, forgetting everything that had happened. He always felt better with Remus.

He listened to Remus' calm breathing, finding comfort in the way his hand went up and down his back slowly in the same way it always did when he was with Remus. It was calm and gentle, a ghost of a touch compared to what other people did, it was so familiar and comforting. When he felt Remus' lips press against the top of his head, that too, soft and gentle, made him feel at home. It was a simple gesture, but it meant so much more, especially now. It was a simple expression of love, but it said all the things that were left unsaid for now.

I'm sorry Remus had whispered again, but Sirius just shook his head, pressing himself even closer to him, It's okay.

It took a long while until the pair pulled apart, only to look at each other, Sirius reached up to wipe away the tears with his sleeve. Remus smiled slightly, leaning down to rest his forehead against Sirius' who let his eyes flutter closed, feeling safe with him. He finally felt safe.

“Do you want to talk?” Remus asked after a moment, kissing his forehead before looking at him, Sirius opened his eyes, looking up at him.

“I don't know.” Remus nodded. “Wanna sleep.”

“Okay. Do you-”

“Stay.” He chuckled quietly, getting a smile out of Sirius, it was small, but it was a smile. Eventually, they broke the embrace to get settled in bed, Remus sat down with his back against the headboard, Sirius sat down next to him at first, resting his head on Remus' shoulder. But eventually ended up with his head resting on his chest, curled up to him the best he could. Remus played with his hair, twirling the curls around his fingers, holding his hand with the other. Sirius closed his eyes, he wanted to sleep. He hadn't slept last night, but he couldn't find himself to fall asleep. There was still so much on his mind, and the pain was starting to break through whatever bliss he had fallen to.

“What hurts, love?” Remus asked quietly, as if reading his mind.

“Everything,” Sirius whispered, sounding defeated. “My chest hurts, and I'm all shaky.” He said, and Remus nodded, shifting so he could rub at his side gently, prompting him to continue. “My head hurts too.”

“Have you slept at all?”

“Maybe an hour.”

“Okay.” He whispered into his hair. “Can I help, baby?” Sirius shrugged, rubbing his nose onto Remus' jumper for a moment. He wasn't sure if he was just getting rid of an itch or if it was an affectionate gesture, but he didn't mind either one.

“They all know.” Sirius whispered after a while of silence. “I'm sorry, Remus. I promised it wouldn't happen.”

“It's okay, Sirius.” He said, though he wasn't sure if it would be okay, he shouldn't be mad at Sirius for that. It wasn't his fault. “It'll be okay. We'll be okay.”

“What if we won't be? It's my fault. I don't- Re, I don't want anything to happen to us.”

“Me neither.”

“I fucked up again.” Remus shook his head. “I'm so sorry.”

“Shh, it's okay, love.” He didn't answer, but a tear fell down anyway, Remus just reached to wipe it away before continuing. “You didn't fuck up, nothing will happen to us, nothing, I promise.”

“But- People?” He said. “They're not supposed to know.”

“Maybe it'll be okay. Effie and Monty won't do anything, neither will James. They're good people, Siri.” Sirius nodded. “It'll be okay.”

“Yeah.”

“I'm so sorry I got mad at you.” Remus whispered quietly. “I panicked, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have.”

“It's okay moony.” He said. “It happens.”

“It shouldn't.” Sirius just shrugged. “Do you wanna talk about it? About what happened yesterday?” He tensed up slightly, but nodded anyway, slowly calming down. “If you don't want to, we don't have to talk. We can just sleep, whatever you want.”

“It's okay.” Remus nodded, waiting patiently as Sirius took a moment before he started. “I don't know how they- they found out. I really don't know… I might've slipped it, sorry.” He whispered, starting to draw shapes into Remus' side with his finger to distract himself. “She got really angry with me, so did dad.”

“They- um they used the spell on me. It hurts so much, rem. I hate it, and they just kept on doing it. I was so scared.” his voice wavered with unshed tears and fear, but he kept on. “They a-always threaten with it… I didn't think they'd actually do it. She told me to leave, if I wouldn't, s-something bad would happen.”

“That- that's horrible, love.” Sirius just nodded. “I don't know what to say.”

“Don't have to say anything.” He said. “It just hurts.” He said, wiping his eyes before taking Remus’ hand back into his. “I always fuck up.”

“You didn't fuck up.”

“Remus?” He hummed, running his hand through Sirius' hair, waiting for him to continue. “Do you promise…? That we'll be okay.”

“I do.” Remus whispered, kissing his head. “We'll be okay, Sirius.” He nodded, a small smile flashing on his features.

“Can we talk more tomorrow? I'm tired, Rem.” Remus nodded. “Thank you.”

They were quiet again for a long while, falling into that comfortable place wheqre it was just them, only them, with no worries about what was outside. They could just be, and not care about what had happened. Remus gently nudged his forehead with his nose, a silent ask for Sirius to look at him. He did, sleepy eyes gazing up at his boyfriend, smiling slightly as he leaned up to give him a kiss. It was soft and warm, just full of love. “I love you, moony.” Sirius whispered quietly, against his lips.

“I love you too.” He whispered back, giving him another kiss before Sirius rested his head back down, tucking it underneath his chin, getting as comfortable as he could. He closed his eyes, smiling as Remus pulled the blanket over them. “Sleep, baby. I'll be here to keep you safe, yeah? Nothing to worry about.”

A/N:

Hello :)

Hopefully you enjoyed this one as much as I enjoyed writing it and that it all made sense at least somehow. Any weird things going and grammar mistakes we are blaming on writing this mostly at two am, okay? We're not blaming it on me

Also, I'm horrible at writing fighting scenes so I always try to resolve it quickly. I personally hate arguments so I avoid writing them, but I still hoped it worked out even tho it was quite short

I also have a small fic written for Remus' birthday 👀

Hopefully you're doing well :) If you aren't, I really hope it gets better soon <3. Have a good day/night/morning? Idk whatever time it is. Maybe probably see you around somewhere?

#sirius black #remus lupin #sirius orion black #remus john lupin #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #wolfstar #marauders #marauders era #fluff #angst #fluff and angst #heavy angst #fluffy ending #wolfstar angst #comfort #hurt/comfort #child abuse #fic writing

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astral-mariner · 2 months

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Sometimes I think about how scary Bulma's first half-saiyan pregnancy could have been for her. After she learned Goku was an alien, she probably investigated how humans and saiyans could have children together. And when she got pregnant with Trunks, she probably called up Chichi to ask how her pregnancy went. Obviously things went okay enough for Chichi even if she had a rough time.

Even then, though, Chichi is a lot stronger than her and is trained as a fighter. Whereas Bulma might worry that her average human strength might put her in danger, carrying a child so much stronger than herself. There are a lot of unknown risks. Bulma might not be fearful about it (she's a pretty fearless person!) but she would definitely be worried and cautious.

You wonder if one of the reasons Vegeta was hovering around Bulma and didn't want to leave her when she was pregnant with Bulla was because her first pregnancy had been really hard. Not just because he (most likely) hadn't been there for most of her pregnancy and the birth of his son. She told him later how scary and difficult it'd been. Especially without him there to provide any details about how pregnancies went for saiyans (if he could even provide them---it seems a lot of saiyans used incubation tanks, and he would've spent most of his life not expecting to have children anyway).

I don't often see this almost "horror" aspect of the mixed-species pregnancy played with in fics! It's really interesting too to think about why Bulma was so set on keeping such a high risk, unplanned pregnancy outside of an established relationship (which you do see discussed in fics quite a bit, and it's always interesting).

Another related headcanon I have is that, while he couldn't admit or express it, Vegeta did want to be a father. And Bulma could tell that terminating the pregnancy would hurt him even if he wasn't in touch with it. I think being able to have a child would mean a lot to Vegeta after he'd been led to believe he was the last of his kind. And while he was definitely conflicted about forming attachments or laying down roots---particularly at this time in his life where transforming was important to him above all else---part of him still really did want to have a family. A part of himself that he had stuffed and repressed all his life, of course. That he doesn't know what to do with, so he rejects and runs from it in a panic, sabotaging and harming himself instead. Only after the Cell Games and watching future Trunks die does he start to come to accept it.

#bulma #headcanons #vegebul #vegeta

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dreamofmetoday · 1 year

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‘THE IDOL’ READING

what were sam levinson's intentions with the idol?

it's definitely something very personal to him. it's his own selfish fantasy. on set or during the writing process, he was likely very difficult, stubborn and particular with everything. he also wants this to be big, he wants to outdo his previous projects and to even almost sabotage his competitors within the industry, so he's made an effort go above and beyond. he had a particular focus on the women in the show, making sure they could give want he wanted to the best of their ability (he wanted them to appear young, dumb, and wild). there's also a kinky element he was particularly fascinated with. it seems it involves little play or ddlg, or it could just be that he wanted to really show off how petite lily rose depp is. there is an emphasis again that he really wanted the project to be his ideas.

what were the weeknd's intention's with the idol?

so for the weeknd it seems he had been interested in making a tv show or movie for a while, he's probably had this somewhat planned for years. for him, this is fulfilling a dream (another achievement he can add to his career). he also feels this is brave of him, he wanted to really challenge himself and make something regardless of how people may criticise it. he wanted to prove to himself he could do something unrestrained and new. you know the sort of vibe of if you want to write a vulnerable poem but you keep watering it down and editing it because you get embarrassed, you don't want people to judge your writing or what it's about - he was pushing himself to do the exact opposite of that. he wanted it to be something people look back on and see it as timeless. however, it seems as it was finally being put into production it leaned away from this vulnerability a bit and became something different. he is hoping for a lot of social media success, he hopes to see a lot of people talking about it (he wants it to be a success amongst gen z to the extent that it sparks trends).

what does sam levinson think of the idol's outcome (how the show turned out)?

he thinks it's turned out well. he thinks he basically achieved his goal at this point. he hired attractive people, he got his way most of the time and he feels it's going to be successful. he is proud of how different he thinks it is. he feels the show has "everything". however, he sees a lot of problems with it too due to his critical nature. his feelings so far are a bit mixed and will become more settled once he sees the public's reaction.

what does lily rose depp think of the idol?

she's pretty apprehensive about it, she's worried about the reaction to it and she thinks she signed up for more than she bargained for (or than she initially wanted). she doesn't know if she should regret being in this show or not. she also feels she sacrificed a lot for this show and wishes she wasn't bossed around as easily as she was. she might have been high on set often, or is now too, and it helps her feel more chilled out about it. as for the story itself, she really isn't happy with it and thinks it's too much but she likes that she's the main character for something and likes how she looks aesthetically.

what does jennie think of the idol?

she thinks it's risky, rebellious and will get a lot of people talking. she thinks the show will be trendy and popular. she thinks the show is pretty exploitative. she believes men involved in the show "won" this one. she doesn't know if she necessarily would have joined this project if it weren’t for running the risk of ruining her connections, but she is happy her connections and relationships have remained positive (it was one of those things where you said yes and even if you wanted to contemplate backing away you just couldn't, so there’s no point even dwelling on it). she also believes her image is pretty protected and the show doesn't make her look bad. she thinks overall this was a good opportunity for her.

what does lily rose depp think of sam levinson?

she thinks sam levinson had a fixation on her and expected a lot from her. he bothered her a lot, he was obsessive in a way, constantly talking to her and asking her questions but she thought he was also "sweet" (but it’s also the vibe where a guy is being nice to you because you know he wants to sleep with you). she finds him to be persistent and hardworking but overbearing and smothering. she knew it was important to him for this project to outdo himself and his competitors, so in this sense she sees him as pretty greedy but also ambitious in a clever way. she thinks he is manipulative and guilt trips people to make them more reliant on him.

what does jennie think of sam levinson?

she thinks he's a very fake person, being unable to grasp his real personality has caused her to not really have much of an opinion of him. she wants to be careful around him and they're casually polite with each other. she doesn't know him that well but thinks he has a lot of ideas. she worries he my have a temper.

what should audiences expect from the idol?

pandering to men (both from the show in general and the storyline).

women being mean to each other, pushing each other down and competing with each other (catfighting, pick-me behaviour or women demeaning each other etc.)

a very messy story where the characters experience a lot of highs and lows.

really mean and even abusive behaviour - everyone is always hurting each other and breaking each other's trust.

exploitation of young people (not just sexually but seeing them really hurt and wounded overall).

lots of sex and sexual scenes (especially from women).

the story might also go off the rails a little bit or end in a confusing way - there's this sense of even though we don't know sam levinson's personal fantasies, you somehow watch it and can tell it's his fantasy and that it took precedence over the story itself at times.

scenes with questionable ethics and laws being broken (e.g. drug use).

a trendy aesthetic.

a witty dialogue with some quotable lines (even if used as memes).

#tarot #tarot reading #celebrity tarot #kpop #kpop tarot #jennie #blackpink jennie #lily rose depp #the weeknd #the idol #sam levinson #celebrity tarot reading #long reading

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50setsofplayif · 1 year

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You are introduced as a manager for the college basketball team, but it seems like you've transferred on a messy year.

The team's reputation is at risk after one of its new star players, is accused of cheating in an exam. Your best friend, a sister of one of the players, pleads for your help in finding the real culprit before the team is banned from playing All Star School Tournaments.

You begin to investigate and get to know the different members of the team, including the serious scholar, the charasmatic captain, the laid-back joker, and the brooding outsider. As the investigation progresses, tensions rise among the team members and secrets are revealed as you learn about how deep the rabbit hole goes.

Will you be able to clear the team's reputation before it's too late?

No Demo - Spotify - Visuals - Pinterest

Features

A customisable MC – hair, clothing style- in general, physical features.

Build and repair relationships with a cast of characters from two different schools.

Choose between five RO's to romance or befriend.

Build up your stats! You'll need them.

This game is 18+ due to the basics (swearing, drug abuse and so on) a better description will follow with chapter 1!

ROs

( The charismatic captain: Riley ) : This basketball player is the charismatic leader of the team, with a charming personality and a magnetic presence. He's confident and outgoing, but also has a vulnerable side that he doesn't show to everyone. Lately, he's been feeling the pressure of being a role model to his teammates, and struggling with the realization that he might not be able to achieve his dream of becoming a famous basketball player if his team's reputation is ruined as he's torn between wanting to pursue his dream of becoming a famous basketball player and not wanting to abandon his teammates in the dirt of these accusation towards the new teamate, who are like family to him. How will you help him navigate these difficult decisions? ♥︎

( The serious scholar: Orion ) : This basketball player takes his academics very seriously, and is under a lot of pressure to maintain his high grades from his parents, as he's been threatened to be pulled out if his grades drop, while also performing well on the court. He's struggling with being a perfectionist, and it's affecting his sleep schedule and overall health. He's also worried about the accusations of cheating, as he knows how damaging they could be to his team's reputation. Can you help the serious scholar balance his academic and athletic responsibilities, and clear his team's name? ♥︎

( The laid-back joker: Isaac ) : This basketball player is always cracking jokes and making his teammates laugh, but he's secretly struggling with anxiety and introversion. He feels like he has to put on a happy-go-lucky persona to fit in with his outgoing teammates, but he's really struggling to keep up as he's secretly an introvert with anxiety. Can you help the laid-back joker find his true voice and overcome his anxiety, and find the confidence to be himself? ♥︎

( The brooding outsider: Vincent ) : This basketball player is the team's grumpy player, with a quiet and brooding personality. He doesn't reveal much about his past, but there's a hint of something darker lurking beneath the surface. Some people on campus whisper about rumors of him being involved in bullying in the past, but he's never spoken about it. Despite his prickly exterior, he's fiercely loyal to his teammates and has a strong moral code. How will you help him open up and confront his past, while also supporting him as a valued member of the team? ♥︎

( The enigmatic transfer: Eli ) : This basketball player is the team's enigmatic transfer, with a mysterious and elusive personality. He's new to the team and the college, and doesn't reveal much about himself or his past. After his first exam, he was accused of cheating and it's tarnished his reputation on campus. He's been keeping a stoic persona to avoid any further scrutiny, but he's struggling with the weight of the accusations against him. How will you help him clear his name and find the truth behind the accusations, while also getting to know him better and unraveling the mystery of his past? ♥︎

#interactive fiction #If #Wip #Fifty sets of play IF #FSOP

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lanitalay · 3 months

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Among Flames and Starlight Chapter 10

a/n: here it is!!! thank you for being patient! this is another fun one. Hold it tight because chapter 11 will be Angsty.

Warnings: none

Word count: 2.5k

Other Chapters

After days, the rain eventually cleared up. The ground was safe for riding and Irene spent most of her time in the studio. In only a few short days the recital would take place. She convinced Lucien to build a small stage for the barn. Eris helped too. She wasn’t used to his presence so she became hyper aware of everything he did. Whenever he was around, Lucien told Jesminda it was better if she stayed away.

Irene questioned his decision and during one of their rides he explained “it’s not that I don’t trust Eris. I actually trust him the most out of all of my brothers. But Jesminda is a villager and if Beron found out-”

“Would Eris tell him?”

“He wouldn’t say anything, but Beron has ways of making us talk. So the less he knows the better.”

“Did I do wrong in telling him about the studio?”

“That's different, you are not a villager.”

“But my students are and so are their parents.”

They rode in silence for a few minutes until Lucien figured out what to say next. “Eris knows how to deal with Beron, he wouldn’t do anything that put so many fae at risk.”

“But Beron forced him to marry me, he must not be that good at dealing with him.”

They didn’t speak the rest of the ride.

Eris dreaded these meetings. Once, every thirty days, he would have to enter his father’s study and give reports. Usually, Beron asked about the tributes collected from the villages, any news from the emissaries he kept in contact with, Lucien and Mora. Recently, he began asking about Irene and her whereabouts. “Where does she ride off to? When can I expect an heir? Is she causing trouble?” None, he knew that none of those questions were to be taken at face value. He was rubbing salt in the wound. Reminding him what happened the last time he crossed his High Lord. Eris kept his answers ambiguous. “Around the house grounds. When the Mother and the Gods choose to bless us. No.”

He would never, in a million years, think to tell him how a tentative... something bloomed between them. How, he didn’t know exactly when, he stopped avoiding her. How she was doing more for the court than any of them had done in decades. Because Irene was not meant as a companion or an asset. Her sole purpose in Autumn was to remind Eris who was in charge.

The lordling did not want to think of what would happen if Beron felt she no longer served that purpose.

After giving the regular answers and finishing the reports, Eris decided he would stay away from her for a while. No willing to tempt the fates.

He went about his usual business. Collecting tributes, dealing with confidential correspondence and keeping Lucien out of Beron’s grasp. When he had a respite, he would seclude himself in the cottage he set aside for the hounds, not wanting to risk the library. But reading was difficult with the dogs running around and interrupting any level of concentration Eris might have achieved.

He didn’t like this. All his life had been spent in burdened solitude and he ached for… he did not know what exactly he ached for. Only that his heart felt hollow.

“I know he’s your husband but I’m glad he backed off, I missed these little critters way too much.” Jesminda laughed as she watched the youngest dancers rehearse in woodland creature costumes. There were two squirrels, three rabbits, four foxes and one moose who led the dance.

Irene’s first instinct was to correct her friend. She wanted to say “he’s not really my husband Jes, he’s just the male I was forced to marry.” But they were not alone and anything she said would be repeated by her students, and their families, so she offered a diplomatic answer. “He helped with the stage and the floors and windows. Did you notice? No more splinters.”

“The floors are nice, and the stage turned out great. Shame we can’t tell more people about the recital.”

“It is.” When the rehearsal was over Irene and Jesminda began decorating the stage. They were putting up a curtain that Mora made with a fine red velvet fabric and embroidered with gold thread. “It looks like flames if the light catches it just right,” the lady explained to Irene when she first saw it. It was a beautiful work clearly made by hands who had perfected the craft for centuries. Irene thought it looked out of place in the shabby barn.

Then the females began creating the rudimentary set design. They cut branches from nearby trees and created a make-shift forest inside the studio. It would be a pain to clean up later.

The night before the recital, Irene passed out in the studio. She told Lucien to take Jesminda to her house while she finished some last minute details. The curtains needed to be pleated just right, the costumes had to be labeled, the floor had to be swept and mopped, the chairs needed to be set up, the piano needed to be moved and the list seemed to go on forever. Lucien and Jesminda helped her until the sun went down and they were hungry and cranky.

“You two go eat, I’ll stay and finish up.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes! You’ve been complaining non-stop and I need to focus.”

The couple winnowed away and Lucien told Irene he would be back for her.

Irene had no desire in riding in the dark and she figured she would be back in the studio as soon as the sun came up so when it was well past midnight and Lucien did not show up, she took her cloak and threw it on some hay left behind in one of the storage compartments and willed herself to rest for a while.

“Irene?”

The witchling shot awake at the sound of the familiar voice. Her heart thundered in her chest and she clutched her throat as a sharp gasp escaped her.

“Holy gods!” Eris stood by her feet, eyebrows lifted in slight worry.

“It's only me.”

“You scared the daylights out of me.”

“Let 's go.”

“What?”

“I’m taking you back to the house.”

Irene began to stand up and put on her cloak. “Where’s Lucien?”

“He’s at the house.”

“He forgot me, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” Irene groans and holds out a hand so Eris can winnow them away. But he walks away, towards the stage. “It came together nicely.”

She follows him “it really did, the kids are very excited. Are you coming?” She regretted the question the second it slipped out. He shouldn’t come. Not with Jesminda also being there.

Thankfully, he shook his head “I have to go to the Spring Court.”

She stiffened, “why?”

“Now that Tamlin is High Lord it’s important to establish if he’ll be a… nuisance.”

“I see.” They stood like that for a moment, staring at the stage. Eris thought of all he wanted to do for his court. He thought of how the last centuries of his life had been spent in a never ending pursuit of survival. Doing everything he could to keep his mother and brothers safe, to keep himself together so the house doesn’t succumb to Beron’s fist.

“Irene?”

“Hm?”

“I’d like to build a better court.”

“Oh, well alrigh-”

“I want to do it with you.”

“What?’

He turned to face her. Irene noticed his shoulders were tense. His hands were tightly clasped at his back. “I have been thinking about our predicament and have come to the conclusion that we want similar things.”

“And what do you think I want?”

“Independence, safety, to belong. We can work together.”

“In what way?”

“You’ll be the visionary and I’ll take over the logistics.”

“Because I can’t figure out logistics?”

He rolled his eyes. “Because I would have never thought to turn an abandoned barn into a studio, because you come from a place that has life and culture and community.”

“Where does that leave Beron?”

He doesn’t answer.

“And your brothers?”

Nothing.

“Eris, this is- if anyone hears us we’re dead, you know that.”

He closes the distance between them, so close that if Irene were to take a deep breath her chest would graze his. “No one else is here.”

“Is that supposed to be reassuring?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Her words are knives and her stillness a slashing. He knew what she meant. He was still the monster in her story. The horrendous captor. And he understood why. He, more than anyone else, knew what she was feeling and thinking because he had thought and felt the same until recently. Yet, there was hurt coursing through his veins. He couldn’t help himself. The day had been long and arduous. Filled with meetings that dredged on and on. Beron was acting up again, how he got when things were quiet and he could see an opening to move pawns in his favor. Lucien was gone most days and Mora was worried. Eris was worried too. The world was collapsing his lungs and Irene, unwittingly, sat atop it.

So Eris, stoic Eris crumbled in front of the flame embroidered curtains. “Is being married to me really that bad?”

Irene was confused by the change in his energy. One second he was fine, if a bit tired and the next he had sunken. Eyes glistening with an ache she was familiar with. “What? Eris-”

“I know we got off on the wrong foot but I’ve given you space and I never question how you spend your time-”

“Where is all of this coming from?”

It was like he caught himself slipping. He straightened away from her and regained his composure. “Just consider what I said.” Then he stretched a hand and waited for her to grab it so he could winnow and call an end to the day. But Irene crossed her arms instead.

“Did something happen that I should know about?”

He sagged, the day dragged on.

“No, everything is fine. Let 's go.”

“Then why are you acting so strange? You’ve been weird for weeks.”

“I’ve only been nice to you-”

“Exactly!”

“Irene.”

“Just tell me.”

“I don’t want to fight.”

“Tell me.”

“No, you’re right. Working together would imply too much risk. Best we keep our distance.”

Something clicked for Irene. “I- you haven’t been bad. I didn’t mean to insinuate that.”

“Just forget it and let's go, please.” Something strained in her heart. He was being vulnerable.

“I think this court could become great, in the right hands.” Eris didn’t respond. “I don’t know what you are planning and I think it's best if you spare me the details but I’ll help you make Autumn better.”

“Do you really believe it could get better?” Now it was Irene that stepped forward, a gentle hand landed on his bicep then an encouraging squeeze.

“With all my heart.” That was his undoing, the unraveling of his paper thin mask. Irene grunted when Eris engulfed her in a crushing hug. He was everywhere. Pressing against her chest, filling up her nostrils, clouding her sight, breathing raggedly. Eris knew what this moment meant.

In his arms he held the future, bright and beautiful.

“Alright kids let's get into positions!” The curtain was down, the dancers were dressed and the barn was packed with excited parents. Little creatures hopped into their places and got into their starting poses. Jesminda was trying her best to help the moose with his too heavy antlers. Irene saw what was happening and rushed to see what she could do. It was mere seconds before the show was due to begin so she ripped off some of the points to reduce the weight and sent the dancer to his place.

Jesminda and Irene stayed backstage, off to the side so no one could see them and watched the show begin.

In addition to the usual piano, there was a violinist and a singer for some of the songs. The barn was dark, faelights only illuminating the stage. The kids ran through their choreography with minor slip ups. An occasional missed turn and a slight trip were the only imperfections Irene could detect. The audience was in fits of laughter and oo’s and aah’s as the recital went on. By the end, Irene stepped out, took a bow thanking the crowd and the performers for making the night unforgettable.

Eris was pacing in his rooms. He had been walking from one end of the space to the other for hours. Irene agreed to work with him. That meant that Beron had to be dealt with swiftly. He spent the last day thinking of possible solutions but each of them involved the support of another court, a third party who could justifiably eliminate Beron and clear the path for Eris and Irene. Maybe Tamlin could-

A soft, shy knock on his door beckoned him. When he swung it open Irene was there, beaming. “Can I come in?”

Eris stepped aside. He felt on edge, she had never seen his room. She practically skipped inside. Her energy was contagious but it did not mix well with the stress and anxiety he had been feeling just seconds before. She was bouncing, her eyes were smaller than usual, the smile she wore caused them to crinkle at the edges. Eris wanted to throw up.

“The recital was a total success! It would have never turned out so amazing if it weren’t for the stage and the curtains and the new floors. So I just came by to thank you.”

“I’m glad it went well.”

“I’ve- I’ve never done something like this before. You know? Back in Velaris I was relegated to random tasks and just helped out wherever I could but this little school… I think it can really be something, Eris.”

“So do I.”

She frowned. “What 's wrong?”

“Nothing you should know about.” Realization ghosted her features. “Understood.”

“Is there anything else?”

“Yes,” she said and reached into the satchel she carried and pulled out a small box wrapped in red fabric. “One of the mothers baked cakes for everyone in the crew as a thank you. She was there when you helped with the waltz and the stage. The short lady with dark brown hair? Anyways, she baked one for you and asked me to deliver it so here you go.”

“Oh, thank her for me.” He said as he accepted the gift. “Will do.” She looked at him expectantly.

“What?”

“Are you not going to open it?”

“Not right now.”

“Oh come on! The night calls for a celebration, I brought mine, look” she pulled out another identical box “and Lucien ditched me and Mora’s asleep. You’re the only friend I have that’s awake.”

Eris coughed, choking on air. Friend.

“You- We’re friends?”

“Well, yes. I wouldn’t call us acquaintances at this point.” She laughed as she spotted a table and sat down with her cake.

It was the strangest thing. For the life of him, Eris could not remember the last time someone claimed him as a friend. He wasn’t entirely sure he ever had one. Maybe his brothers were his friends at one point, but not anymore.

He followed her and opened his own box. Before they began eating, Irene raised the first bite on her fork and toasted “to brighter days.”

taglist: @sidthedollface2 @acourtofbatboydreams

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