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andypantsx3 · 2 months

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𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother, steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 5.7k | chapter 1 of 4

Then

It was a freezing day in spring the first time you set foot in the Todoroki house.

You had shared a class with Touya for years now, and in that time you’d become something of his best friend. You’d bonded early over a mutual hatred of fish and your status as the two best tree climbers on the playground—two integral friendship quality bars if ever you’d met them—and your entente had strengthened over the following months.

After enough time together Touya had even seemed to like you, seeking out your opinion, deploying you like a shield between himself and the other kids. He wanted to be paired with you for group projects constantly, as he seemed to disdain the ability of the other kids in your class.

He eventually acquiesced to two other friends—Rumi and Keigo—as Keigo was a really fast runner, and Rumi could kick a kid almost clear across a playground. But the two of you remained particularly close, and a few years in, Touya had seemed to want to check the final box of your friendship.

That was the day he’d haughtily informed you that you were coming home with him.

You’d phoned your mother from the school office to obtain permission, and then pulled your jacket on to follow Touya out into the cold, his skinny legs beating a quick path through the streets.

You’d half-expected that Touya lived in a box behind a shop, with the way he descended ravenously on his lunches (as well as yours, and Rumi’s, when he could occasionally get them—though notably not Keigo’s, something that had only retroactively made sense to you as an adult). But the house Touya steered you to was enormous—easily the biggest house you’d ever seen—a stately pile at the end of a fancy neighborhood.

You’d later learn this was because his father was the mayor, and the Todorokis were neck-deep in generational wealth. At the time you’d been mildly annoyed, because what had you let him eat part of your lunches for if he lived in a house like this?

“I’m home,” Touya had called into the echoey foyer, grand but strangely barren. He’d kicked off his coat and shoes, discarding them carelessly—perhaps purposefully—on the floor, then gestured for you to follow him into the kitchen as a warm voice called out to him. “Welcome home, Touya.”

“I brought Y/N,” he announced grandly as he prowled into the room. To you he said, “This is my mother, Rei.”

The voice you’d heard resolved itself into a woman, tall, with beautiful long white hair and a small, but unmistakably fond smile on her mouth. You startled, immediately floored by her beauty. She looked just like Touya, the same delicate prettiness to her mouth, the shape of her eyes—but even lovelier. She looked simultaneously like she belonged on the cover of a magazine, and would be embarrassed by one saying so.

She also smelled like an omega—sweet, but a little wilder than you were used to. Like spring flowers blooming on a cold day.

“Hello Y/N,” she said warmly, turning to you. You gave a shy wave back, suddenly nervous in front of her.

As she turned you finally noticed the child on her hip—a small, round, pudgy little thing with half red and half white hair, and two mismatched grey and blue eyes that pinned on you immediately. It was wearing a horrendous polkadot onesie, and you felt your eyebrows raise without your permission.

“That’s Shouto,” Touya informed you, and the pieces slotted together in your brain. Ah, so that was the face to the name.

Shouto was the little brother Touya complained about incessantly—the one that was his father’s favorite, the one that stared too much and wanted to play with all of Touya’s toys even though he was too little for them, the one Touya was saddled with babysitting constantly. He’d made Shouto out to be this sort of tiny harbinger of evil—but Shouto did not look very evil, perched there on his mother’s hip.

He blinked at you, a flutter of surprisingly long eyelashes, for a baby. You had the thought that actually he was kind of cute. Most probably not a harbinger of evil, and actually very sweet-looking, if weirdly round.

“I need to be excused from Shouto duty,” Touya said, the question posed more like a statement.

Rei shook her head, a somber little smile playing about her mouth. “I have to make dinner before Fuyumi and Natsuo get back from their playdates and your father gets home. Why don’t you take Shouto to play with you and Y/N?”

Touya rolled his eyes in the long-suffering manner of a man who’d endured it all. Shouto didn’t seem to notice, however, his mismatched gaze barely detaching from your face. You noticed Shouto’s left eye was the exact vivid blue of Touya’s, and his other eye the same silver as his mother’s.

“He’s staring like a weirdo,” Touya complained, but collected Shouto from Rei anyway. Shouto let himself be passed over as placidly as a bag of potatoes, still watching you.

“Y/N is a new face for him, he’s just curious, Touya,” Rei said, smoothing Shouto’s hair down as Touya hefted him in his arms. Shouto reached out a hand towards you, fat fingers flexing.

“What, you think I’m some taxi service who’s gonna bring you wherever you want to go?” Touya demanded. Shouto ignored him, his little chubby arm wavering.

Strangely, something compelled you to step closer, reaching out a hand in return. Shouto seized it in his pudgy little fist, staring up at you with solemn eyes. His other hand reached out to you, too, twisting in Touya’s grip, and Touya let out an annoyed scoff.

“Y/N didn’t come here to hang out with you,” he said. But Shouto ignored him, his little hand fisting in your tee shirt. He seemed to be trying to lever himself up out of Touya’s arms and into yours.

You were startled, never having held a baby before, and Shouto was kind of a big one. But Touya showed you how to hold him under his butt and across his back, and you heard the rustle of his diaper as he was handed off to you.

“Hi Shouto,” you said, watching him watch you.

His eyebrows raised, some small happiness lighting up his expression, and he gave a little kick that wiggled his whole body in your arms.

“He likes you,” Rei said over the counter top, as she settled a cutting board and a pile of vegetables across it.

You looked back at Shouto, feeling weirdly pleased. Maybe babies weren’t that bad.

Touya made an annoyed sort of grunt, stomping past you. “We’re going to play in the living room,” he announced imperiously. You glanced at Rei to make sure that was okay, then followed Touya, Shouto heavy in your arms.

By the time you arrived, Shouto had settled a hand on either of your cheeks and seemed to be trying to stare directly into your soul, and Touya patted him firmly on the back, clucking. “Stop being such a little freak.”

“He’s fine,” you said, bemused. No one had told you really little kids were this intense and weird. But Shouto’s little round face was kind of sweet, and it was hard to be annoyed at a baby staring up at you, that clearly enamored.

“Actually he’s being way nicer to me than you,” you told Touya.

Touya rolled his eyes and busied himself pulling out a horde of action figures, legos, puzzles, and games, as well as a turtle with multi-colored blocks set into it that appeared to be for Shouto.

“Oi, it’s turtle time, weirdo,” he told Shouto.

That seemed to break the baby’s singular focus on you, and he peered around, lighting up nearly the same way when he saw his blocks as he had when he’d seen you. You laughed, and helped him settle on the floor next to you, watching his clumsy, chubby grip fumble on the blocks as he carefully removed them one-by-one from the plastic turtle.

Touya set up the legos around you, an older parallel of his brother, though you thought he would kill you for saying so.

A block appeared in your lap, carefully and deliberately placed by a fat-fingered hand. You smiled down at Shouto, picking it up and gesturing grandly. “For me?”

A grey-and-blue gaze attached itself solemnly to your face, as if awaiting your judgment, and an instant fondness swept over you. Who knew babies could be this cute—when they weren’t screaming and crying and generally being small and annoying near you. Touya had massively undersold his little brother, who was the sweetest baby you’d ever encountered.

You bowed your head, clutching your gifted block close to you. “Thank you, Shouto. It’s very nice.”

Shouto stared up at you, smiling a shy little almost-smile, clearly pleased. You couldn’t help but reach up and ruffle that distinct tuft of hair, taken with him already. Yep, definitely a good little kid.

And you decided then and there that you liked Todoroki Shouto—though for now he was a child—you both were children—and he could only mean so much to you.

You wouldn’t realize how much he’d actually come to mean to you, until many, many years later.

Now

Touya’s white mess of hair was the first thing you spotted as you stumbled into the restaurant.

Outside it was unseasonably cold, an icy wind tearing through you as you’d rushed all the way from your mother’s house. The inside of the restaurant was blessedly warm, and slightly smoky from the meat and vegetables grilling away on each table top. Touya was on the far side, and you could see Rumi’s white hair beyond him, Keigo’s blonde riot of waves peeking over the top of the booth next to him.

Rumi faced the door so she spotted you first, a mouth-splitting grin overtaking her face as she waved you down.

You hurried your way over, letting out a surprised hrrk! when Rumi drew you down into a rib-crushing hug, her alpha strength barely contained. You fell into the seat at an awkward angle, your joints screaming.

“Well look what the cat dragged in! You don’t look a bit changed, you little beta cuck,” she crowed, making you choke on a laugh as you almost inhaled a mouthful of her hair.

“Rumi—!” you sputtered, half-pleased and half-scandalized that she clearly hadn’t changed in the years since you’d seen her last. She crushed you to her harder, and you could feel your eyeballs all but bulging like a rubber doll.

“If you plan to crush her to death you could at least wait until I clear the scene,” came Touya’s disaffected drawl from the other side of the table. “The last thing I need is police on my case again.”

That was so typical of him, too, after all this time.

“Good to see you too, Touya,” you said, even though you couldn’t get a look at him through Rumi’s hair. She ground her knuckles into the top of your head for good measure before releasing you, and you came up for air gratefully, watching the two men on the other side of the table grin at you.

Keigo looked exactly as you’d left him, a little bit more filled out than the skinny teen he’d been, the same wiry facial scruff growing in, those golden eyes alight with typical playfulness. Touya looked like he’d aged the most, his scars—fresher when you’d graduated—now deepened to the color of dark bruises. His features were still achingly familiar under them, however, the fine-boned prettiness of his mother shining through, his father’s blazing cerulean eyes the only nod to the other half of his parentage.

“So you really obeyed mommy dearest huh,” Touya said, pinning you with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes at him. As your closest childhood friend, he still knew all your weak spots, your mother the biggest of them. Growing up she’d been lonely and overworked, and you’d tried to care for her and please her the best you could. You still called her several times a week and sent back your wages to help pay for the house, and pay down the pile of debt your father had left her in when he’d died.

The concession of returning home for a few days to attend the annual mating run, as pointless as it was going to be, was the least you could do for her.

“You know as well as I do that no one is going to run down a beta,” you said, settling yourself in next to Rumi and shedding your coat and hat. “Especially not now that I’m well past newly-presented. It’ll be like a vacation.”

“You never know,” Keigo said, raising his fluffy eyebrows at you, his grin wicked. You flung the pile of your things across the table at him, but he intercepted easily, all alpha reflex. He stuffed your jacket down next to him, laughing at you.

“I do know,” you said emphatically. “And I’m not fussed about it. I don’t know who she thinks is going to pay her bills if I’m off getting dicked down by some knothead idiot.”

Touya made a dismissive noise and you looked around the table for something to fling at him too. He’d never had to worry about money, his future shored up with the Todoroki family fortune, built over generations and then basically quadrupled by his father. Since coming out of the correctional facility for a string of petty crimes, Touya had been skating by on family generosity, and you knew he wasn’t about to stop.

“Just burn her house down like mine,” he said, an unholy grin overtaking his face as he leaned forward. There was a light behind his eyes like he wasn’t entirely kidding. No one had ever been able to determine if the Todoroki family fire had been an accident or not, although Touya claimed it had been.

But you’d known Touya your whole life and you had your suspicions. Touya had hated his father for nearly all of your living memory—and the Todoroki men had an almost disturbing single-mindedness about them. You had long wondered if Touya’s fixation on his break with Enji had ever played into the fire that ravaged their house during your middle school years.

The one exception to the Todoroki single-mindedness was sweet little Shouto, who you’d last seen at your high school graduation. He was several years younger than you and had still been round-faced and chubby-cheeked then, all wide solemn eyes and pouty little mouth, just like when he was a baby.

You hadn’t seen him since, but couldn’t imagine Shouto turning out anything like Touya.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” you said to Touya, not liking how his grin widened.

Purportedly he’d come out of the correctional facility for good behavior, his record squeaky clean.

Purportedly.

“So why even agree to the run?” Rumi asked. “If you’re not looking to actually take anyone home?”

You helped yourself to the water that had been laid out before answering. “It’s just easier to appease my mother. She gets what she wants—some indication I’m open to my life mate-–and I get what I want, which is to be able to use this as an excuse next year.”

“Aww you won’t come back to see little old us?” Keigo asked. His tone was wheedling but his eyes tracked your expression carefully, always observing.

You smiled at him. You did miss your old friends, and you liked how easy it felt to sink right back into them after so many years away. You wanted to see them outside of the confines of a group chat or the rare facetime.

And you missed a lot about the town you’d grown up in. You liked the tiny storefronts of the downtown shops and the easy access to the coast and miles of hiking trails. You’d had a dream of opening up a little bookstore in one of the lovely brick buildings downtown when you were younger—but that was back before the staggering number of dollar signs on your mother’s bills had made themselves known to you and the romance of your daydream had begun to seem more like foolishness.

The bigger cities offered the bigger jobs, the bigger wages to send home. Even if it meant you could only see your friends every few years and mostly kept in touch via group chat.

“How about you guys come to me?” you asked. “There’s a chicken place I think Keigo will want to make the trip for.”

Keigo’s grin widened and he leaned in, interested. “Say no more,” he drawled.

On the table top, Touya’s phone vibrated. He peered at it, dismissing the notification with a swipe. “Rei wants to see you,” he reported, the usual blend of disrespect and unwilling fondness for his own mother layered in his voice. “She says you should come by the house.”

You smiled, pleased to be remembered. “I’d love that. Who’s living there now?”

Touya stretched, his back brushing the booth. “I do. And she does. Enji visits sometimes—” his tone was pointedly colorless “—and Fuyumi and Natsuo come by a couple times a week. Shouto is there almost daily for dinner when he’s not on shift, because his own cooking is absolute shit.”

You blinked, struggling to reconcile the idea of sweet-faced little Shouto with an adult who lived on his own now. “On shift?” you asked.

“He’s a fireman,” Touya rolled his eyes. “Little fucking do gooder. Ever since the house fire he’s wanted to.”

Your eyelashes fluttered again, your brain floating with the images of skinny, round-faced Shouto struggling to haul people out of a burning building. You struggled not to voice this disbelief.

“Wow, good for him,” you said.

“Not for me,” Touya complained. “Ever since he’s presented he’s been eating us out of house and home. Can’t find a fucking thing in the cabinets after he’s been through—”

And that shocked you, too, the idea that Shouto was already grown enough to have presented.

Objectively you knew he had to be into his early twenties at this point, but hearing the changes life had wrought on him was almost too much to contemplate. You wondered what he had presented as, and whether he’d be subject to the run this week as well. You’d always sort of suspected he’d be an omega, with that wide-eyed, beautiful face—almost a carbon copy of his mother’s, the same delicate prettiness in it as Touya.

And he’d been so sweet, too. When you’d been much, much younger—before Touya had become too cool and too emo for it—you remembered playing house together, remembered how often you’d dragged Shouto in to play the part of your son. He’d always sat there, a chubby-faced toddler, smashing blocks together and staring up at you with big eyes as you and Touya made plastic food and Touya unrolled a days-old newspaper collected from his father, bossing you around from his armchair.

Even when Shouto had gotten older and started to get as fresh with Touya as Touya was with him, he’d always been nice to you, always watched you with those same wide, mismatched eyes.

Yeah. He was most probably an omega.

“Well I’d love to see Rei, and Natsuo and Fuyumi and Shouto,” you said.

Touya stretched in the booth, not minding Keigo and thumping him right across the chest. Keigo squawked in annoyance.

“I’ll tell Rei you’re coming for dinner,” Touya said.

You smiled, pleased. You knew what a huge deal it was for both Touya and Rei to be in the same house again—both in recovery, both sharing the same space again.

When you’d left, Rei had been hospitalized and Touya had already been knee deep in petty crimes and utterly disinterested in any sort of overtures of help. For them to both be together again, getting regular help, with Enji out of the house and a rotating string of their family members checking in on them—you were happy to see them healing.

The buoyant feeling lasted all the way through lunch and too many drinks, until Touya shepherded you out of the restaurant, blazing a familiar path towards his family home. You followed, gratified when you saw that the Todoroki house was just as you remembered it, even the rebuilt pieces nostalgic.

Its grandness had been a shock to you as a child—not only in comparison to the tiny, squashed little two bed you’d grown up in—but that Touya had grown up there, in so vast and elegant a space. Touya who you dug in the dirt with. Touya who picked bugs out of the mud and put them on you. Touya who turned his nose up at dolls and ate things right out of your lunch box without asking, like he was a starving child without any access to food.

The house said otherwise.

Touya treated the Todoroki mansion with the same pointed lack of care he had as a teenager, kicking in the door as he led you inside, throwing his things in a pile in the entry. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, fondly nostalgic over his shithead behavior.

“You missed a spot—I think there’s a bare patch of floor over there,” you said.

Touya gave you a narrow-eyed gaze over his shoulder as he uttered a string of objects you might suck.

You raised your eyebrows at him, smiling and unbothered. He’d always said it was your beta nature that left you unfussed with his various attitudes, taking everything in stride. You didn’t know if that was true—you’d always sort of suspected it was the strange, inherent connection you felt to him, and to the Todoroki family at large that kept you fond of him, even as he descended into teenage fury.

You didn’t know what it was, as you’d not ever felt it with your other friends’ families who you’d spent nearly as much time with. But if it netted you a lifelong friend, you weren’t about to question it.

Rei was in the kitchen like she had been that first day Touya brought you home, an enormous expanse of marble counter and vaulted ceiling that made her look unfathomably small. Her snow white hair had been cropped short into a page boy cut and made her look younger than her years, especially when she glanced up at you with the very same smile she had when you were a child.

“Welcome back, Y/N,” she said. You bowed respectfully, Touya scoffing and grabbing the back of the collar to haul you up.

“She’s not the fucking prime minister,” he grunted.

“And you’re not the boss of me,” you sniped, the drinks you’d both shared at lunch making you a little looser tongued in front of Rei than you’d have liked.

“Shouto will be by in just a few minutes as well, and he’ll be so happy to see you,” Rei said, smiling gently.

“Shouto lives on his own?” you asked, curious. Aside from picturing him as the skinny preteen you’d last seen him as, you also had trouble imagining kind, sweet little Shouto leaving his mother on her own—and with Touya definitely counted as on her own, for all the help he was. Shouto seemed devoted, familial.

“He’s wanted his own space since he presented,” Rei said lightly, clearly unbothered.

It was rare for omegas to peel off from their family units before finding a mate, and the strangeness of striking out on his own struck you even further. Maybe he wanted a nest to bring someone back to, after finding the right person?

You wondered if he was going to be participating in this year’s mating run, and made a mental note to try and find out if he wanted help avoiding any undesirable alphas. If he was an omega, your beta scent would help disguise some of his tracks, you’d just have to follow in his footsteps far enough away from the main track that a ranging alpha wouldn’t accidentally stumble upon it.

That thought was cut short, however, by the sound of the door creaking open in the foyer you’d just come in from. There was the sound of rustling fabric, like someone shedding their coat, and then footsteps padded through the hall. A hint of a scent met your nose, slightly sweet and smoky, with an undercurrent of something fresh—like a campfire burning on a cold, clear day. Your brow furrowed, the frostiness an almost-familiar dimension, like Rei's cold widlflower scent. Who was—?

Then a tall, unfamiliar alpha poked his head through the door, fluffy red and white strands of hair tangling across his forehead. He was an arresting sight—easily the most beautiful person you had ever seen, every single one of his features so perfectly and evenly placed, like he'd been put together deliberately. He looked startlingly like Rei, if Rei were a man, except for the fiery blue of his left eye, the shock of scarlet hair above it.

You stared at this new interloper, confused, until you were seized with a sudden memory of that scar, that same mop of hair bent over a turtle-shaped block puzzle.

No. No fucking way.

Rei smiled, opening her arms, and you gaped after him as Todoroki Shouto prowled across the kitchen to her, enveloping her in a hug. Where Touya was taller than his mother, his baby brother almost dwarfed her, easily clearing six feet, his shoulders broad and his frame packed with dense muscle. He'd always had the same elegant, sweetly beautiful set to his features that his mother and Touya did, but there was something sharper about them now, a slightly more alpha edge to him.

An enormous bicep shifted against the sleeve of his t-shirt as Shouto held Rei, and suddenly it was very clear how Shouto had managed to become a firefighter.

Something pinched your arm, hard, and you whipped around to stare at Touya accusingly. “Ouch!”

He smirked. “Don’t fucking stare like he does.”

You scowled at him, and opened your mouth to say something unsavory, until two mismatched eyes turned on you, pinning you in place.

“Y/N,” Shouto said. His voice was deep as midnight—so much lower than you had remembered—careful and smooth. The sound of it slithered up your spine like a shiver.

“Shouto?” you answered, stepping closer. “You’re Shouto? Are you sure?”

Shouto released his mother, only the tiniest corner of his mouth twitching. And that was confirmation enough. Shouto had always been a little serious, watching you carefully and intently. He was most like his mother that way—withdrawn, a little bit solemn.

“As far as I am aware,” he said. His tone was flat but you heard the tease in it, regardless. And that was so like him too, couching his inner little shit under the most serious tone, under those earnest heterochromatic eyes.

“Wish he wasn’t,” Touya muttered.

“Oh my god, Shouto. You’ve grown up so much,” you said, a strange thrill zinging up your spine as he stepped closer. That scent like campfire on a cold day washed over you, making you a little dizzy.

Shouto’s eyes got a little bit round at the edges, and something pulled at the corner of his mouth again, an expression you didn’t recognize. His tone was soft as he observed, “You are exactly the same as I remember.”

You could tell he meant it kindly, so you chose not to be offended with his obvious tact. You were well aware you were not a fresh-faced high school graduate anymore.

“I’m definitely older than you remember,” you said, resisting the urge to poke him in the chest. Your hand felt magnetized toward it for some reason. “Don’t be surprised if you hear my bones creaking all the way from the preserve during the run.”

Something sudden and strange passed over Shouto’s face, those mismatched eyes narrowing in on you.

“You’re running,” he said, his tone suddenly flat. “This year.”

“Yeah I’m back in town for it,” you said, ignoring Touya’s scoff at your side. “Gotta appease my mother. She doesn’t get that betas aren’t the target crowd for this, nevermind ancient ones. That, and I plan to disappear up a tree if someone so much as sniffs in my direction.”

“Up a tree,” Shouto repeated, sounding contemplative.

You wondered if he was internalizing how weird you were. He probably wouldn’t have remembered you being weird, considering how younger kids never thought to question their older peers. Maybe he’d even thought you cool when you were growing up together—you’d quickly disabuse him of that notion.

You nodded. “I’ve only been followed by alphas twice and both times I lost them up that big willow overlooking the bay, if you take the seaside path out two miles?”

Shouto’s eyes tracked you closely, like he was committing every word to memory. “I know it.”

You smiled. “The sea breeze is just enough to hide a beta’s scent, once you’re out of sight up there. I hope the city life hasn’t gotten me too out of shape to get up the trunk. Though to be frank I’m not too worried about it this year. Are you running?”

“Yes,” Shouto said, so quickly that it looked like he’d startled himself.

Touya’s head whipped around to stare at him, and Rei’s eyelashes fluttered momentarily, a weird stillness overcoming her—until a sort of look of understanding came over her features. You thought you caught a hint of a smile as she ducked her head to return to her dinner preparations.

“Thought you said you weren’t interested,” Touya said, his tone accusing. “You’ve never run before.”

Shouto looked deeply unfussed by his older brother’s sudden consternation. “Perhaps I have changed my mind.”

“The hell you did,” Touya said snottily. “You said you knew you wouldn’t find your life mate there.”

“Perhaps that has changed too,” Shouto said, his tone so dry that you could tell he was purposefully needling Touya. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Brothers.

Touya’s scoff overlaid the thump of Rei’s knife as she returned to chopping, and you realized how rude it looked for the three of you to be standing there arguing while she was working.

You hurriedly stepped around Touya and Shouto, peering over Rei’s shoulder. For some reason you were hyperaware of Shouto as you passed him, a thought you shoved right back out of your mind as you approached Rei. “Is there anything I can help with? I feel like I have years of free dinners to pay you back for.”

��I am almost done, but thank you, Y/N,” Rei said, as Touya said something in a haughty tone of voice, and Shouto’s low baritone answered. Rei’s mouth quirked softly at this—and you realized it was the same way Shouto smiled, small and private.

“—Not bringing home some weird fucking omega,” Touya was saying when you turned back to the boys. You startled when you realized Shouto had shifted to face you instead of his brother, and his body language looked like he was mostly ignoring him.

You channeled your sudden laugh into a fake cough. Touya eyed you sourly, long used to your tricks.

“Well if you want any help on the run, let me know,” you told Shouto, cutting into their argument with the practice of a beta used to diffusing things, especially between Touya and others. Shouto’s mouth twitched again like he knew what you were doing, and you watched his eyes pick over you speculatively.

You marveled at how far back you had to tilt your head if you wanted to look him directly in the eye now. He was so big, and so unexpectedly handsome—he really had grown up well. Some omega was going to be very, very pleased at the end of this week, provided he really did go after someone.

“If it’s your first you probably won’t know all the best hiding spots,” you told him.

Not that they were really hiding spots, considering most omegas wanted to be found. And there was no one on this earth who wouldn’t want to be found by an alpha who looked like Shouto did now. But he’d probably want to make sure he got to his intended first, before any other alpha found them.

Shouto nodded, leaning forward conspiratorially. “I will take you up on that,” his tone was low, intimate.

You smiled up at him, though something weird twinged in your chest. “Lunch sometime this week then? I’ll walk you through everything.”

Touya made a noise of disgust, and you shushed him. Shouto’s smile pulled into a quarter-moon sliver, sweet and beautiful. “I would like that.”

A strange little thrill zinged down your spine. You very pointedly did not think about it, instead shooting Shouto a thumbs up. And then, seized by a sudden need to get away, you marched forward to grab Touya by his collar, dragging him out into the dining room.

“Do you have to make your mother do everything? Let’s set the table,” you ordered him, shoving him at the cabinets. Touya swore at you, trying to twist his lanky body out of your hands, spitting like a wet cat.

But your mind was already elsewhere, occupied by this strange new turn of events. It really had been a long time away from your hometown, and much more had changed than you realized. You’d missed seeing Touya start to recover his life, you’d missed Rei returning to herself, you’d missed Shouto growing up into a man—and an alpha. You were suddenly overcome by the feeling that you did not want to miss any more, did not want to leave again—though of course that was foolishness.

The run was less than a week away, and you had train tickets back into the city just after.

And you had your mom to provide for, much as she wanted you to settle down with the first rando who got handsy with you in the woods. An alpha would have to bring more than an interest in you to your coupling in order to win you—and that was not going to happen, especially not to a beta, and especially not to you.

You laid the dishes out, resolving yourself. You’d enjoy this week, but never lose sight of the fact that you’d still have to leave at the end of it.

After all, it wasn’t like some miraculous twist of fate was lurking just around the corner of the Todoroki kitchen, ready to change your life.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #shouto x you #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki x y/n #shouto x y/n #todoroki shouto imagine #bnha x reader #andie's writing #character: todoroki shouto

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sailing-through-hawkins · 4 months

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✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧

When Eddie sees her, sitting on the picnic table, her feet shuffling back and forth on the bench like that one dancing scene from The Breakfast Club (so what if he went to go see it? It's a good flick!), he almost runs back the way he came.

Because here's the thing about Robin Buckley.

While Eddie's status at the bottom of the social ladder is guaranteed, what with his hobbies and his music and his ability to irritate even the most patient of individuals (bar Uncle Wayne, blessed be the man), he doesn't fuck with Robin Buckley.

She was never anything to write home or gossip over coffee about, not when Eddie started his first senior year or even before that, when he was just starting up Hellfire and went to band to see if he could recruit any lonesome souls. Robin wasn't interested then, more keen to avoid his eye and fumble with her uniform, so he chalked her up as another lost to the masses.

Then all the shit with the Zombie Boy (a killer moniker, wouldn't that make for an awesome song title?! But he doesn't know if it'd be like, copyright infringement or whatever) went down and he got a little more protective of his circle, cloaking them from the unmerciful eyes of the Hawkins mob, pushing back when shit hit the fan and that mob tried impeding on his people.

And it worked! Nobody messed with him or his, not enough to be met with more than a snort - hell, even that asshole Hargrove stayed away after Eddie pulled a knife on him in the school parking lot. He wonders if all that wild anger the dick had to choke down went into the fight he had with -

Anyways.

Point is that Eddie knows his place, and thanks to a little intimidation and a lot of false-turned-true-confidence, nobody messes with him.

The thing is - he still doesn't mess with Robin Buckley.

Like he said, she was always another one of the masses to him, and he never expected any different.

But then something happened to her.

Some people say that she got trapped in the mall fire and it burned half her face off, she's just wearing enough makeup to cover it up, but it messed with her head.

Other people say she was always a little - uh, airheaded, he'll say, to be polite - and the Starcourt fire just made it more obvious, burned through the façade she'd wear in public.

One or two voices whisper that she's being haunted, that when she laughs to herself in the silence of the classroom, it's because of the spirits of Starcourt's casualties that lurk in her shadow.

(That last one was Jeff actually, and Eddie has to hand it to him for the poetic imagery.)

Any way he hears it, Eddie's instincts go red alert, telling him to give Robin a wide berth in the hallways, to avoid eye contact for longer than a single moment, to ignore her quiet snickers every time he ties his hair up.

So yeah, when he's about to head to his favourite picnic table and finds wacky Robin Buckley laughing to herself as the leaves around the table kick up without a hint of wind in the air, he almost turns around and shoves himself back into his van. Eddie Munson may be a freak but he's no -

"Oh, you're here."

He freezes in his steps, glancing back to see Robin smiling thinly at him, one legged crossed over the other as she leans back. Her eyes glaze over for a second before she barks out a laugh, making Eddie jump in place.

"Didn't expect you, to be honest." She tilts her head.

Eddie's throat is too dry. He starts a sentence, backtracking when the leaves stop kicking up and it's just his shaky voice in the silence between the trees. "Well, it is my spot, Buckley."

Her eyes glint and she uncrosses her legs just to spread them, leaning in and staring at Eddie with an untethered expression stretching across her face. "Is it?" Her raspy voice asks.

Blood roars in Eddie's ears. His fingers twitch, and he's ready to run.

"Don't." She orders and he freezes. "We need to talk."

He hates it when people say that. It's always, always bad news and it's just too cliché.

"And what, pray tell," he says, raising his arms out with a confidence he doesn't feel. "Is it that you could ask of me?"

The leaves kick up behind him. He resolutely ignores it.

Sighing, Robin crosses her legs, shuffling back on the table (and they call Eddie a heathen, jeez). She looks to the right, where the leaves are swirling in a mini tornado. Her smile is small, and a little sad.

"We need your help."

Eddie gasps as the leaves kick up ferociously, the wind bites at his fingertips and Robin glares at him, at the chaos around them with eyes like nothing he's ever seen.

"Stop it."

"Wh -"

"I said stop," She glares at him and his jaw clicks shut. "We agreed - yeah, yeah, we did! Stop it, you're scaring him!"

"I -"

"I'd say the grown-ups are talking," Robin cuts him off with an eye-roll. "But someone's being a big baby."

"Look, Buckley -"

"I swear to god," Robin waves a hand towards Eddie. "Either you play nice, or we're never figuring this out! Do you wanna be invisible to everyone forever?!"

There's a heavy silence at that.

No leaves rustling, no wind, no nothing.

It's like the entire forest just went...dead.

Then Eddie feels a brush of something down his hand and he screams.

"Awesome!" Eddie jumps when Robin grabs his arm (when did she leave the table?!), staring at her smile as foul terror quakes his bones. "Don't be afraid, Eddie. We won't hurt you."

A rustle of leaves smack his shin and he shrieks, unable to jump (or run) thanks to Robin's steel grip.

"Well, not physically."

"Buckley, I have never messed with you before," Eddie whispers as the something trails down his hand, shoulders and face. He's frozen in the wake of the touch. "Fellow freaks of Hawkins and all, but -"

Whatever it is, it grips Eddie by the shoulders and his jaw clicks shut. Robin's grasp on his arm tightens and she nods, staring into space.

"Okay, so could you do it?"

Silence. Eddie's heartbeat races.

"Like what?"

The something ghosts over his fingers and he almost whimpers.

"Oh, like this!"

With that, Robin grabs Eddie's hand and takes off one of his rings. Before he can sputter or shout or cry, she replaces it with one of her own.

And then, like he was always there, Steve Harrington appears before his eyes.

A bloodied, ghastly Steve Harrington who's staring right into him.

"Holy shit," Eddie whispers and the spectre grins a sharp, toothy grin.

"Hey Munson," Steve croons. "Miss me?"

#steddie #stobin #<- my target audiences for this #writing #ficlet #au content: ghosts #sailing queues #the dinguses (affectionate)#sailor✧writes

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felikatze · 6 months

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ISAT and Ludonarrative Harmony: Combat is a Storytelling Tool

Or: How Siffrin is stuck in the endgame grind, forever

Please Note: This is primarily aimed at an audience that already played In Stars and Time, because I am bad at explaining things, and it's good to already know what the fuck I'm talking about. I tend to only bring up game elements as I want to talk about them.

Spoilers for.... all of ISAT! Especially Act 5!

(image to show how i feel posting this and as an attention grabber over my wall of text)

To pull a definition of ludonarrative harmony out of a hat, game writer Lauryn Ash defines it as follows:

Ludonarrative harmony is when gameplay and story work together to create a meaningful and immersive experience. From a design implementation perspective, it is the synchronized interactions between in-game actions (mechanics) and in-world context (story).

It is, generally speaking, how well game mechanics work hand in hand with the story. I, personally, think ISAT is an absolute masterclass of it, so I want to take a look at how ISAT specifically uses its battle system to emphasize Siffrin's character arc and create organic story moments. I want you to keep this in mind when I talk here.

So, skills, right? If you've played any turn-based RPG, you know your Fire spells, your "BACKSLASH! AIRSLASH! BACKSLASH!" and the many ways to style those.

Well, what does casting "Fire" say about your character? Not all that much, does it? Perhaps you'll have typical divisions. The smart one is the mage, the big brawny one is your tank, the petite one's the healer. And that's the barebones of ISAT's main party, but it's much more than that.

Every character's style of combat tells you something about them. Odile, the Researcher, is the most well-travelled and knowledgable of the bunch. She's the one with the expertise to keep a cool head and analyze the enemy, yet also able to use all three of the Rock-Paper-Scissors craft types.

To reflect her analytical view of things, all her skill names are just descriptive, the closest to your most bog-standard RPG. "Slow IV" or "Paper III" serve well to describe their purpose. The high number of the skills gives the impression there were three other Slow skills beforehand - fitting, considering the party starts at level 45, about to head into the final dungeon. She's also the oldest, so she's the slowest of the bunch.

Isabea, the Fighter, has all his skills in exclamation points. "YOUR TURN!!!" "SO WEAK!!!" "SMASH!!!" they're straightforward, but excited. He's a purposefully cheerfull guy, so his skills revolve around cheering on his allies. He's absolutely pumped to be here, and you see that from his skill names alone.

Mirabelle, the Housemaiden, is an interesting case. She's by all means the true protagonist of this tale - She's the one "Chosen by the Change God," the only one who survived the King's first attack, the only one immune to his ability to freeze time, the only dual-craft type of the game - just a lot of things. And her skill names reflect that facade she puts on herself - she can do this, she can win! She has to believe it, or else she starts doubting. This is how you get "Jolly Round Rondo" and "Mega Sparkle Heal" or "Adorable Moving Cure." She's styled every bit a sailor scout shojo heroine, and her moveset replicates the naming conventions of "In the name of the moon, I'll punish you!"

Even Bonnie, the Kid, who can't be controlled in combat, has named craft skills. And they very much reflect that Bonnie is, well, a kid. "Wolf Speed Technique" or "Thousand Blows Technique" are very much the phrasings of a child who learned one complicated word and now wants to use it in everything to seem cooler than they are, which is none, because they're twelve.

Siffrin's skills are all puns.

You have an IMMEDIATE feel for personality here. Between "Knife to Meet You!" and "Too Cleaver by Half," you know Siffrin's the type to always crack a joke no matter the situation, slinging witticisms around to put Sonic the Hedgehog to shame. It's just such a clever way to establish character using a game mechanic as old as the entire history of RPGs.

This is only the baseline of the way the combat system feeds into the story, though.

The timeloop, of course, feeds into it. Siffrin is the only character who retains experience upon looping, whereas all other characters are reset to their base level and skills. And it sucks (affectionate).

You're extremely likely to battle more often the earlier in the game you are - after all, you need the experience (for now.) Every party member contributes, and Siffrin isn't all that strong on their own, since they focus on raw scissor type damage with the addition of one speed buff. (Of course it's a speed buff. They're a speedy fucker. Just look at him).

At first, the difference in level between Siffrin and the rest of the group is rather negligible. Just a level or two. Just a bit more speed and attack. And then Siffrin grows further and further apart. Siffrin keeps learning new skills. He gets a healing skill that doubles as an attack boost, taking away from both Mirabelle's and Isabeau's usefullness. He gets Craft skills of every type that even give you two jackpot points instead of one - thus obliterating Odile's niche. Siffrin turns into a one-person army capable of clearing most encounters all on their own.

Siffrin's combat progression is an exact mirror of story progression - as their experience inside the loops grows, they also grow further and further away from their party. The party seems... weaker, slower, clumsier. Always back at their starting point, just as all of their character arcs are reset each loop. Never advancing, always stagnant. And you have Siffrin as the comparison post right next to them.

I also want to point out here a change from Act 2 to Act 3 - Siffrin's battle portrait. He stops smiling.

Battles keep getting easier. This is true both for the reason that Siffrin keeps growing stronger even when all enemies stay the same, but also for the reason that you, the player, learn more about the battle system and the various encounters, until you've learned perfect boss clear strategies just from repetition. Have you ever watched a speedrunner play Pokemon? They've played this game so many times, they could do it blindfolded and sleeping. Your own knowledge and Siffrin's new strength work in tandem to trivialize the game's entire combat system as the game progresses.

(Is it still fun? Playing it over, and over, and over again? Is it?)

You and Siffrin are in sync, your experience making everything trivial.

As time goes on, Siffrin grows to care less and less about performing right for their party and more and more about going fast. A huge moment in his character is marked by the end of Act 3; because of story events I won't delve too deeply into, Siffrin has grown afraid of trying something new. And his options of escape are closing in. They need an answer, and they need it fast. He doesn't have the time or patience to dumb himself down, so you unlock one new skill.

It doesn't occur with level up, or with a quest, or anything at all. At the start of Act 4, it simply appears in Siffrin's Craft skills.

(Just attack.)

No pun. No joke. Just attack. Once you notice, the effect is immediate - here you have it, a clear sign of how jaded Siffrin has become, right at every encounter. And it's a damn good attack, too! The only available attack in the game that deals "massive" damage against all enemies. Because it doesn't add any jackpot points (at least, it's not supposed to), you set up a combo with everybody else, but Siffrin simply tears away at the enemy with wild abandon. Seperated from the rest of the party by the virtue of no longer needing to contribute to team attacks (most of the time. It's still useful if they do, though).

Once again, an aspect of the battle system enhances the degree of separation between Siffrin and the static characters of his play. You're incentivized to separate him, even.

Additionally, there are two more skills to learn. They're the only skills that replace previous skills. You only get them at extremely high levels, the latter of which I didn't even reach on both of my playthroughs.

The first, somewhere in the level 70 range, Rose Printed Glasses, a paper type craft skill, is replaced by Tear You Apart. It's still a pun about paper, but remarkedly more vicious.

The second is even more on the nose. At level 80, In A While, Rockodile!, a rock type craft skill, is replaced by the more powerful Rock Bottom.

I didn't get to level 80. If you do, you pretty much have to do it on purpose. You have to keep going much longer than necessary, as Siffrin is just done. And the last skill he learns is literally called Rock Bottom.

What do I even need to say, really.

Your party doesn't stay static forever, though.

By doing their hangout quests, side quests throughout the loops that result in Siffrin and the character having a heart to heart, all of them unlock what I'd call an "ultimate" skill. You know the type - the character achieved self-fulfillment, hit rank 10 on their confidant, maxed out their skill tree, and received a reward for their trouble.

These skills are massively useful. My favorite is Odile's - it makes one enemy weak to all Craft types for several turns, which basically allows you to invalidate the first and third boss, as well as just clown on the King, especially once Siffrin starts racking up damage.

But the thing is. In Act 3, when you first get them, yeah, they're useful. But... do you need them? After all, they're such a hassle to get. You need to do the whole character quest again, you can't loop forward in the House or you'll lose them. If you want to take these skills to the King, you need to commit. Go the full nine-yards and be nice to your friends and not die and not skip forward or skip back. Which is annoying, right?

Well, I sure did think so during Act 4. After all, a base level party can still defeat the King, just with a few more tricky pieces involved. Siffrin can oneshot almost all basic enemies by the time of Act 4. It's this exact evalutation that you, the player, go through everytime you return to Dormont. Do I want this skill, still? Would it not be faster to go on without it? I'm repeating myself, but that's the thing! That's what Siffrin is thinking, too!

I also want to take a quick moment to note, here - all skills gained from hangouts have art associated with them, which no other skills do. This feature, the nifty art, hammers home these as "special" skills, besides just how they're unlocked.

Siffrin also has one skill with associated art.

Yeah, you guessed it, it's (Just attack.)

At first, helping the characters is tied to a hefty in-game reward, but that reward loses its value, and in return devalues helping Siffrin's friends every loop. It's too tedious for a skill that'll make a boss go by one turn faster. You, the player, grow jaded with the battle system. Grinding experience isn't worth it, everybody's highest levels are already recorded. Fighting bosses isn't worth it, it's much faster to loop forward.

Isn't this what all endgame in video games looks like? You already beat the final boss, and now... what challenge is left? Is there a point to keep playing? Most games will have some post-game content. A superboss to test your skills against, but ISAT doesn't have any of that. You're forever left chasing to the post-game. That's the whole point - to escape the game.

As most games get more difficult as time passes, ISAT only gets easier. The game becomes disinterested in expanding its own mechanics just as I ran out of new things to fight after 100%-ing Kingdom Hearts 3. Every encounter becomes a simple game of "press button to win."

The final boss just takes that one up a notch.

Spoilers for Act 5 ahead boys!

In Act 5, Siffrin utterly loses it. His last possible hope for escape failed him, told him there's nothing she can do, and Siffrin is trapped for eternity. So of course, they go insane and run up the entire House without their party.

This just proves what you already knew - you dont need the party to proceed. Siffrin alone is strong enough. And here, Siffrin has entirely shed the facade of the jokester they used to be. Every single skill now follows the (Just attack.) naming conventions. Your skills are: (Paper.) (Rock.) (Scissors.) (Breathe.)

To the point. Not a moment wasted, because Siffrin can't take a moment longer of any of this. Additionally, his level is set to 99 and his equipment becomes fixed. You can't even pick up items anymore! Not that you needed them at this point anyway, right? Honestly, I never used any items besides the Salty Broth since Act 2, so I stopped picking items up a long time ago. Now you just literally can't.

Something I've not talked about until now - one of the main equipment types in this game are Memories, gained for completing subquests or specific interactions and events. They all by and large have little effects - make Odile's tonics heal more, or have Mirabelle cast a shield at the start of combat. For the hangout events, you also gain an associated memory that boosts the characters' stats by 30. It lets them keep up with Siffrin again! A fresh wind! Finally, your party members feel on par with you again!

...For a time. And just like that, they're irrelevant again, just as helping them gave Siffrin a brief moment of hope that the power of friendship could fix everything.

In Act 5, your memory is set to "Memory of Emptiness." It allows you to loop back in the middle of combat. You literally can't die anymore. Not that Siffrin could've died by this point in the first place, unless you forgot about the King's instant-kill attack. This one memory takes away the false pretense that combat ever had any stakes. Siffrin's level being set to 99 means even the scant exp you get is completely wasted on them. All stakes and benefits from combat have been removed. It has become utterly pointless.

Frustrating, right? It's an artistic frustration, though. It traps you right here in Siffrin's shoes, because he hates that all these blinding Sadnesses are still walking around just as much. It all inspires just a tiny fraction of that deep rolling anger Siffrin experiences here in the player.

And listen, it was cathartic, that one time Siffrin snapped and stabbed the tutorial Sadness, wasn't it? Because who enjoys sitting through the tutorial that often? Siffrin doesn't. I don't, either.

So, since combat is an useless obstacle now meant to inspire frustration, what do you do for a boss? You can't well make it a gameplay challenge now, no. The bosses of Act 5 are an emotional challenge: a painful wait.

First, Siffrin fights the King, alone. This is already nervewracking because of one factor - in every other run, you need Mirabelle's shield skill, or else you're scripted to die. You're actually forced to fight the King multiple times in Act 3, and have to do it at least once in Act 4, though you'll likely do it more. Point is: you know how this fight works.

You know Siffrin's fight is doomed from the outset, but all you can do is keep slinging attacks. Siffrin is enough of a powerhouse to take the King's HP down, what with the healing and buff skills they have now, not to even mention you can just go all in on damage and then loop back.

(And no matter which way you play it, whether you just loop or use strategically, it reflects on Siffrin, too. Has he grown callous enough not even death will stop their mission? Or does he still avoid pain, as much as he can?)

This fight still allows you the artifice of even that much choice, not that it matters. The other shoe drops eventually - Siffrin becomes slower, and slower. Unsettling, considering this game works on an Action Gauge system. You barely get turns anymore. The screen gets darker, and darker. Until Siffrin is frozen in time, just as you knew he had to be, because you know how this encounter works, know it can't be cleared without Mirabelle.

And, then, a void.

Siffrin awakens to nothingness. The only way to tell you've hit a wall is if Siffrin has no walking animation to match your button inputs. You walk, and walk, until you're approached by.... you. The next enemy encounter of the game, and Siffrin's absolute lowest point: Mal Du Pays.

Or, "Homesickness," in english. If you know the game, you know why it's named this, but that's not the point at the moment.

Thing is, where you could damage the King and are damaged in turn, giving you at least a proper combat experience, even if its doomed to fail, Mal Du Pays has no such thing.

You can attack. You can defend. But it is immune to all attacks. And in return, it does nothing. It's common, at least, for undefeatable enemies to be a "survive" challenge, but nope. The entire fight is "press button and wait." Except, remember the previous fight against the King? The entire time, you were waiting for the big instant death attack to drop. That feeling, at least for me, carried forward. I was incredibly on edge just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And, as is a pattern, Siffrin is, too. As Siffrin's attacks fail to connect, they start talking to Mal Du Pays.

But he gets no response, as you get no attacks to strategize around. The wait for anything to happen is utterly agonizing. You and Siffrin are both waiting for something to happen. This isn't a fight. It just pretends to be. It's an utter rugpull, because Siffrin was so undefeatable for most of Act 4 and all of Act 5 so far. It's kind of terrifying!

and it does. It finally does something. Ma Du Pays speaks, in the voice of Siffrin's friends, listing out their deepest fears. I think it's honestly fantastic. You're forced to just sit here and listen to Siffrin's deepest doubts, things you know the characters could not say because it references the timeloops they're all utterly unaware of. This is all Siffrin, talking to himself. And all you, all Siffrin, can do, is keep wailing away on the enemy to no effect whatsoever.

So of course this ends with Siffrin giving up. What else can you do?

And then Siffrin's friends show up and unfreeze them and it's all very cool yay. The pure narrative scenes aren't really the main focus but I want to point out here:

A) Mirabelle is in the first party slot here, referencing how she's the de facto protagonist, and Bonnie fills in the fourth slot left empty, which shows all characters uniting to save Siffrin

B) this is the only instance of the other party members having act specific battle icons: they're all smiling brightly, further pushed by the upbeat music

C) the reflecting shield Mirabelle uses to freeze the King uses a variation of her hangout skill cut in, marking it as her true "final" skill and giving the whole fight a more climatic feeling.

It's also a short gameplay sequence with Siffrin utterly uninvolved in the battle. You can't even see them onscreen. But... it feels warm, doesn't it? Everybody coming together. Siffrin doesn't have to fight anymore.

At last, the King is defeated. Siffrin and co. make for the Head Housemaiden, to have her look at Siffrin's sudden illness. Siffrin is utterly exhausted, famished, running a fever. And this isn't unexpected - after all, their skills in Act 5 had no cooldown. For context, instead of featuring any sort of MP system, all skills work on a cooldown basis, where a character can't use it for a certain number of turns. The lowest cooldown is actually Siffrin's Knife to Meet You, which has a cooldown of 1. In universe, this is reasoned as the characters needing a break from spamming craft in order to not exhaust themselves.

Siffrin's skills in Act 5 having no cooldown/being infinitely spammable isn't a sign of their strength - it's a sign that he refuses to let himself rest in order to rush through as fast as possible.

Moving on, Siffrin panics when seeing the Head Housemaiden, because seeing her means one thing: the end. Prior to this in the game, every single time you beat the King, the loop ends when you talk to the Head Housemaiden.

Reality breaks down, the whole shebang. It's here that Siffrin realizes - they don't want the loops to end, because the end of their journey means their family will leave, and he'll be alone again. The happiest time of his life will be over.

Siffrin goes totally ballistic, to say the least.

As it turns out (and was heavily foreshadowed narratively), Siffrin has been using Wish Craft to subconciously cause the timeloop because of their abandonment issues. It's rather predictable if you paid attention to literally anything, but it's extremely notable how heavily Siffrin is paralleled to the King, the antagonist they swore to kill by themself at the start of Act 5. The King wants to freeze Vaugarde in time because it is, in his mind, "perfect," for accepting him after he lost his home - a backstory he shares with Siffrin.

Siffrin has become the exact antagonist he swore to kill, and it's shown by how the next fight utterly flips everything on its head.

Siffrin is the final boss.

In a towering form made of stars, Siffrin looks down at their friends. His face is terrified, because of his internal conflict; he can't hurt his friends, but he can't let them go, either. The combat prompt is simply changed to "END IT!"

This fight is similar to the previous, in that you just need to wait a certain number of turns until its over. However, this time, it's not dreadful suspense. It's... confusion, and hesitance.

You have two options for combat: Attack your friends, or attack yourself.

And... you don't really want to do either, I think. I certainly don't. But what else can you do? It's Siffrin's desires clashing in full force. Attack your friends, and force them to stay? Or attack yourself, and let them go safely without you?

Worth noting, here - when you attack Siffrin's friends, you can't harm them. Isabeau will shield all attacks. And when you attack yourself, Mirabelle will heal you back to full. And the friends don't... do anything, either. How could they? Occasionally, Mirabelle heals you and Isabeau shouts words of motivation, but the main thing is...

(Your friends don't know what to do.)

None of them want to harm Siffrin. Both sides simply stare at each other, resolute in their conviction but unwilling to end it with violence. It's of note that this loop, the last one, is the only loop where the King isn't killed. Just frozen. And now here is Siffrin, clamoring for the same eternity the King was. Of course everything ends in a tearfilled conversation as Siffrin sees their friends won't leave him, even after the journey ends, but I still have to appreciate this moment.

Siffrin is directly put in the position with their friends as his enemies, forced to physically reckon that keeping them in this loop is an act of violence, against both their friends, and against himself.

It's a happy ending. But... what does it mean?

Of course, ISAT is obviously about the fear of change. Siffrin is afraid of the journey ending, and of being alone. However, ISAT is also a game about games. Siffrin is playing the same game, over and over, because it's comforting. It's familiar. It's nice, to know exactly what happens next. These characters might just be predictable lines of dialogue, but... they feel like friends. Have you ever played a game, loved it, put countless hours into it, but you never finished it? Because you just couldn't bear to see it end? For the characters to leave your life, for there to be a void in your heart where the game used to be?

After all, maybe it became part of your routine! You play the game every day, slowly chipping away at it for weeks at a time. For me, I beat ISAT in four days. It utterly consumed me during this time. I had 36 hours of playtime by the end. Yeah, in that week, I did not do much more than play ISAT.

And once i beat it, i beat it, again. I restarted the game to see the few scenes I missed, most specifically the secret boss I won't talk about here. I... couldn't let go of the game yet. I wanted to see every scrap I could. I still do. I'm writing this, in part because I still do. It's scary to let go.

Ever heard the joke term of "Postgame Depression?" It's when you just beat a game, and you're suddenly sad. Maybe because the ending affected you emotionally and you need to process the feelings it invoked, or you search for something that can now fill your time with it gone.

The game ends, for real this time, the last time you talk to the Head Housemaiden. But Siffrin gets... scared. What if everything loops back again? And so, his family offers to hold his hand. They face the end, together.

For all loops, including the ending, you never see what happens after. After they leave the loop for good. Because the loop is the game itself. It's asking you to trust that life goes on for these characters, and it holds your hand as it asks you to let go. There's a reason for Siffrin's theater metaphors. He is the actor, and the director, asking everyone to do it over one more time. He's a character within the game, and its player.

There's a reason I talked about endgame content. This, the way it all repeats, there's nothing new, difficulty and stakes bleed away as you snap the game over your knee - it's my copy of White 2 with two hundred hours in it. It's me playing Fire Emblem Awakening in under 3 hours while skipping every cutscene. Are you playing for the sake of play, for the sake of indulging in your memories, because you're afraid of the hole it'll leave when you stop?

Of note: the narrative never condemns Siffrin for unwittingly causing their own suffering. He's a victim of circumstance. It's seen as endearing, even, that Siffrin loves their friends to the point of rather seeing the world destroyed than them gone. But Siffrin is also told: we'll stay with you for now, but we'll part ways eventually. And one day, you'll have to be okay with it.

Stop draining the things you love of every ounce of enjoyment just because you're afraid of what happens next. I'm not saying to never play your favorite games again. Playing ISAT a second time, I still had a lot of fun! I saw so many new things I didn't before, and I enjoyed myself immensely, reading the same dialogue over and over. But... it makes me look at other games I love and still play, and makes me ask... is this still fun? Do I still need to play this game to enjoy it? Even writing this is an afterimage of my enjoyment, but it's a new way to interact with the game, to analyze it through this lens. Fuck, man, I write fanfiction. Look at me.

All of this, fanart, fanfic, analysis, is a way to prolong that enjoyment without making yourself suffer for it. Without just going through the motions of enjoyment without actually experiencing any. But one day, the thing you love won't be fun to talk and write and draw about. And it's okay. You'll have new things to love. I promise.

In the end.... I'm certain I'll replay ISAT one day. Between great writing, art, puzzles and unresolved mysteries, it's my shoe-in for game of the year.

But I won't replay it for quite some time. I've had enough, for now, so I let my love take other forms.

Siffrin is never condemned, because love is no evil. Be it love for another person, or for a game. And please, if you're overempathetic - it's still a game, at the end of the day. The great thing about games is that you can always boot them up again, no matter how long its been.

A circle within a circle indeed.

To summarize:

The repetitiveness of ISAT's combat, lack of new enemies, and Siffrin's ever increasing strength eventually allows you to snap the combat over your knee, rendering it irrelevant and boring. Though this may seem counterproductive at first, it perfectly mirrors how Siffrin has also grown bored with these repeated encounters and views them only as an obstacle to get past. The reflection of Siffrin's own tiredness with the player's annoyance increases the compassion the player has for Siffrin as a character.

Additionally, the endgame state of the combat system serves as commentary on the state of a favorite game played too often, much like how Siffrin has unwittingly trapped themself in the loop. Despite the game having no more challenge or content left to over, a player might return to their favorite game anyway, solely to try and recreate the early experience of actually having fun with it. This ties into ISAT's metanarrative about the fear of change and refusal to let go of comfort even when the object (here, your favorite video game) offering that comfort has become utterly bereft of any substance to actually engage with. Playing for the sake of playing, with no actual investment to keep going besides your own memories.

Later on, stripping away even the pretense of strategy for a "press button and wait" format of final bosses highlights the lack of options at Siffrin's disposal and truly forces the player into their shoes. Truly, the only way to win is to stop playing.

#feli speaks #in stars and time #isat #isat spoilers #lays down on floor. it's done. it's done #i actually narrowed down in scope to just focus on the combat by the way. and this is like. several thousand words

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ddarker-dreams · 6 months

Note

How much do you think it takes to fluster the husband rotation???

it doesn't take much?? not most people's definition of 'much', at least.

for chrollo, overhearing you talk about him (whether it be on the phone or you haven't noticed him standing there yet) gives him pause. it's in instances like these that people reveal their true colors. he's confident in his ability to read you, sure, but hearing your unfiltered thoughts out loud? that's an opportunity he'd kill for. metaphorically and literally. he waits with bated breath, almost embarrassed by his anticipation. you'd think he was a school girl eavesdropping on her crush. and when he hears you not only call him handsome, but emphasize just how much you enjoy your discussions with him? those very discussions that he cherishes dearly? he smiles without realizing it. faced with death, his heart remains steady. faced with anything related to you, it can't slow down.

gojo is, to the surprise of no one, kinda weird. you could huskily whisper the naughtiest line into his ear — he'd just grin and flirt back. he gets so caught up in outdoing you that he forgets to feel embarrassed. want to leave him speechless and knock the air from his lungs? it's surprisingly simple. steal one of his shirts, wear it as your PJs, then doze off waiting for him to return home. he secretly feels bad that his work hours are so erratic. he'll tell you not to stay up for him, but that doesn't mean he isn't touched when you try. the idea of you sitting there, fighting to stay awake because you want to spend time with him? cupid's arrow couldn't compare to the emotions that makes him experience. this, along with the added bonus of his too large shirt engulfing your form does him in. gojo takes enough pictures to necessitate buying additional cloud storage.

for scaramouche..................... just be nice to him without ulterior motives. that's it. no, really. he can't comprehend kindness. he understands transactions, where anything done for the sake of another is still ultimately for one's own benefit. this cynicism has helped him navigate fatui politics yet impedes any personal growth. brew him his favorite bitter tea, organize his belongings, gift him a homemade trinket; he'll flitter through multiple emotions. suspicion, confusion, then, finally, this warm sensation in his supposedly hollow chest that he can't find a word for. this little act haunts him. he can't stop obsessing over it. he wants to find proof that you're like every other wretched, self-serving creature in this world — (or does he?) — but his investigation proves unsuccessful. confronted by this undeniable reality, he's left to wrestle with the implications. you're genuinely thoughtful (ew) and most egregious of all, he likes it (ew x2). this is going to be his undoing, isn't it...?

blade is similarly simple. you needn't jump through hoops of fire to get his obstinate heart pounding. as for what does him in most effectively — your greetings. it's why he shows up unannounced. you'll freeze, giving him a once over, eyebrows cutely scrunching together as your brain puts two and two together. then stars twinkle in your eyes. you glow with the radiance of a thousand suns, running at him, your arms outstretched and legs keen on jumping. he catches you with ease. he's grateful that your face is buried into his chest. otherwise, you'd spot how the tip of his ears go red. what has he ever done to deserve such an enthusiastic welcome? nothing, as far as he's concerned. he doesn't deserve it, doesn't deserve you, yet here you are, excitedly rambling in his arms over his return. he'll say he just happened to be in the star system and decided to stop by. don't believe him. he traveled across the universe for you.

#crying irl..............#they need help so bad #i could fix them (except for gojo he's beyond my abilities)#chrollo x reader #scaramouche x reader #gojo x reader #blade x reader #chrollo brainrot #gojo brainrot #scaramouche brainrot #blade brainrot #concepts #answered #Anonymous

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stellar-skyy · 1 month

Text

♡ - LOST & FOUND - Platonic Arlecchino & reader

i. SUMMARY: Hell hath no fury like a parent whose child has been taken from them. ii. CWS & NOTES: description of blood and injury (mildly graphic but not gory), violence, mentions of kidnapping, swearing (like once), implied murder. PLATONIC arlecchino & gn!reader. house of the hearth!reader. angst & slight hurt/comfort. 2.5k words. iv. A/N: i am... so normal about parental arlecchino... so normal... i hope you enjoy because i loved writing this!! i have a little written for an epilogue featuring the lyntwins + freminet reuniting, so stay tuned for that ♡

It had been fifty-eight hours, and twenty-seven minutes since [Name] had vanished.

Freminet sat curled up in a velvet armchair that dwarfed his small frame, with Pers on his lap and his brother and sister flanking each side. They had both refused Father’s offer of a seat, which showed the severity of the situation more than words ever could.

No one ever refused Father. Even she had raised an eyebrow at their sudden rebellion.

“Lyney, Lynette. Defiance will not make [Name] come home faster. Take a seat.” Father sipped her tea, poised as ever. Even with that impassive mask, Freminet still noticed the tension in her shoulders.

He always noticed.

“There’s no need,” Lyney said shortly, adding on a respectful “Father.” as an afterthought.

“What my brother means—” Lynette cut in smoothly. “—Is that we do not want to draw this conversation out any longer than necessary. We only came to get permission to postpone our current assignment and search for [Name]. I’m sure you can see the circumstances are dire enough to warrant such action.”

“I’m afraid I do not, Lynette.” Father placed her cup down and folded her hands over her lap. “They are a very skilled agent, and this mission was hardly out of their ability. No need to compromise your current—and very important, I might add—mission, for trivial matters.”

“It isn’t trivial, it’s our sibling!” Lyney burst out, causing Freminet to flinch. He reached out a hand blindly to settle on Freminet’s shoulder, squeezing it quickly in both a comfort and apology for startling him.

“I would be mindful of your place within this household, Lyney.” Father said mildly, the warning clear. “I have given you a direct order, and you will follow it. Do not stray from your assigned mission. [Name] will be fine.” She paused for a beat. “You are dismissed.”

“That’s it?” Lyney hissed. “So, you’re going to just leave them to die?”

It sounded like less of a question and more of an accusation. Freminet winced, feeling Lynette stiffen beside him as well as they waited for the consequences of Lyney’s bluntness.

Arlecchino rose from her seat, the tension in the air thick enough to choke all three of the siblings.

“I never said that. [Name] will be home in due time.” Her gaze shifted from the left to the right side of the armchair. “Lynette, you will have tea with me later, won’t you?” Father asked, causing the girl to freeze.

She bit her lip, answering carefully. “I may. Maybe if [Name] returns, we can all have tea together.”

“A good plan,” Father agreed, ignoring the quiet angry undertone of her words. “When I see them, I shall invite them.”

“It had better be soon; it’s getting late.” Lynette countered. Freminet’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. Lynette was always better at matching Father’s games. Freminet crumbled under the weight of her gaze, and Lyney wasn’t any better at handling the pressure without his emotions causing him to crack and splinter.

“Lynette, Freminet. Let’s go.” Lyney said sharply.

Throughout the entire exchange, Lyney’s hand had not moved from where it was planted firmly on Freminet’s shoulder, as if he was refusing to let another of his siblings out of his grasp. Freminet might have remarked that Lynette was handling her worry better, but he noticed how her tail kept curling around his leg when they walked into Father’s office. Neither of the three was willing to part with the others for even a second; not when one of their own had gone missing by doing just that.

As he drew back his hand and moved away, Freminet caught his arm.

“Just… a moment, please. Wait outside, I’ll join you soon.” Freminet murmured, letting go. Lyney pursed his lips.

“Be quick.”

The twins vanished through the doorway, leaving Freminet alone with his Father.

“Freminet dear. You’re hesitating.” Father raised an eyebrow. “Are you waiting for something? Do you want me to give Pers a kiss on the head before I leave?”

Freminet flushed at the memories of holding the toy up to Father when he was young, insisting the penguin deserved a proper goodbye too. “Ahem. I’m not a child anymore… Father.”

“No? Then why are you still here?”

He swallowed awkwardly, forcing himself to look her in the eyes. He met her stare

“I know you’re just as worried as I am.” He said bluntly.

Father’s expression was almost impossible to read, but Freminet managed to catch a hint of surprise at his words. “I see. How did you come to that conclusion?”

It wasn’t denial, nor was it defensiveness. That was a good sign. Freminet continued, “There is a pinch between your eyebrows that you keep trying to smooth over. You’re gripping your teacup much tighter than usual. Your shoulders are tense. And you were far too quick to dismiss the twins’ concerns. You of all people would know that the situation is severe enough to allow a brief pause to their investigation, but you were swift in making sure they were kept as far away from the situation as possible.”

Arlecchino stared back at Freminet silently. She always had that unsettling way of watching him, as if she was picking apart the cogs and wheels spinning in his mind to know exactly what he was thinking.

“Observant as always, Freminet.” Freminet stood up straighter, pink touching his cheeks. “So, tell me this: what am I to do next?”

“You’re… going to find them yourself?” He asked slowly.

“That is correct. I will be.” Father agreed, and something inside him swelled. If only Lyney was still in the room, he would have collapsed with relief. “And what will you be doing?”

“Helping.” Freminet said without a thought.

“Incorrect. You are going to return to your room, go to sleep, and not say a word to your siblings.”

“But—”

“No. You are not involved here.” Arlecchino turned her back on him, looking out the window with her arms folded behind her.

“Father—”

“Do not forget that if you or your sibling’s interference costs me my mission, [Name]’s blood will be on your hands.”

Freminet recoiled sharply, as if she had struck him across the face. Arlecchino refused to lay a hand on any of them, but her words were more than enough to wound them.

“I—”

“I’m not looking for an argument, Freminet.”

Freminet shut his mouth with a click, lowering his head. He forced back the wave of emotions sweeping across him, sinking them so far into the depths of his mind that not even a champion diver like himself would be able to reach them.

“I am looking for an answer.” Father raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Father.” He said quietly.

“Good child,” She murmured, laying a gentle hand on the top of his head. “You are dismissed.”

-----

Arlecchino made her move at the stroke of sundown.

It was disgustingly easy to track them down, and the sheer incompetence only fuelled her rage until it burned brighter than the flames that curled beneath her skin. The assailants were sloppy, leaving plenty of traces for her to find, as if they were waiting for her to find them.

One of her agents had returned with a slip of paper that evening—a ransom note, crudely explaining that they had captured a House of the Hearth agent, and demanding a hefty sum in exchange for their safe return. She had chuckled at that last part. They would be lucky for her to leave them with their lives after what they have done, let alone a reward.

Their hideout was located in a quiet cave near the ocean, with an entrance half-hidden behind a curtain of vines. It was a quaint spot, a cosy place to sit back and watch the sun set over the water. She was sure the view behind her was breathtaking, but she made no move to take a glance for herself.

The vines made way for a long, narrow tunnel, ending with a wooden door. Arlecchino quietly turned the handle, scoffing under her breath when it turned without a key being inserted, and slipped through without making a single sound.

Six were scattered around the dingy room; one woman, five men. Seeming to be aged between their mid-twenties at the youngest, and early-forties at the oldest.

“Have we got a response yet?” The woman muttered impatiently, tapping her foot against the floor.

“How should I know?” One of the men grunted. “We left the note. Eventually it’s gotta make it’s way to the boss herself, and we’ll get the reward.”

“Just gotta be patient,” Another murmured. “Gotta be patient.”

Slightly past them was a wooden cage, secured with a metal lock.

They were in a heap on the floor of the cage, breathing weakly—Arlecchino quietly thanked the Tsaritsa that they were breathing at all—and looked to be passed out.

The fire inside her sang, and she could hardly breathe under the heat of it all.

“How long is this woman gonna take?” The woman rolled her eyes. “I’m tired of waiting.”

Arlecchino chuckled, causing all of the six to jump. “Oh, then allow me to assure you that you won’t have to wait much longer at all.”

Instantly they were on their feet, grabbing whatever weapon was closest. Their expressions ranged from outright fear, to an egregious amount of confidence for how weak they were in comparison to her.

“Knave,” the closest man grinned crookedly. “How kind of you to join us. I’m assuming you’re here for—” he jerked his head towards the figure still unmoving. “—that one?”

“‘That one’?” Arlecchino repeated slowly, drawing her scythe to her side. “I am here for my child.”

Two of the men—the ones closest to the cage—looked at each other nervously. Arlecchino smiled. It was a pity the rest of the group didn’t share the sense to fear her, but they would learn soon enough.

“Well you see, we’ll be happy to hand them over—” the man’s grin widened. “For a price, of course.”

“A price, you say?” She mused. “How about this. You step aside, I retrieve my child, and offer you a quick death. I would say that is more than fair, considering what you have cost me.”

The smile dropped off the man’s face. “That ain’t an option, lady.”

“Then I think you misunderstand.” She took a step towards him, then another, eyes glinting dangerously in the low light. “I wasn’t asking.”

“Boss—” one of the men tried to say.

“Shut it.” the first man hissed, bringing his shovel up in a defensive position. It was almost laughable, how he thought that would protect him.

“You made four mistakes tonight,” Arlecchino said smoothly. The tip of her scythe brushed the floor, sending a loud scraping sound across the walls. All of the people inside the room winced at the sound, but Arlecchino was unfazed as she continued prowling towards them.

“One… you failed to cover your tracks, making it remarkably easy to track you down.” In one swift motion, she lunged. The group barely had time to blink, before her scythe sliced across the chest of the closest one.

There was silence, before the man made a low gasp, bright crimson blood spilling down his shirt. He collapsed forward onto the ground with a thud, and the room erupted into chaos. A scream tore from the throat of the woman, and she dropped to her knees at his side, desperately clutching his shoulders. Arlecchino aimed a quick strike at her back, and she fell against the man heavily.

“Two, you left the door unlocked.” A pair charged towards her, hammers and shovels swinging. She knocked the weapons from their hands with one hit, and knocked them down with a second.

“Three—” One snuck up from behind, quickly tossing a string of rope over her head and around her neck, pulling harshly to cut off her breathing. An elbow in his ribs winded him enough to loosen his grip, and a knock to the head with the hilt of her scythe sent him to the floor. “You brought far too few people to last in a fight against me.”

The final man stumbled backwards until he hit the wall, shrinking against the bricks. Arlecchino walked with slow steps, stalking towards him like an animal cornering their pray. He shielded his face with his hands, in a desperate attempt to protect himself. Once she was about a foot away, she stopped, leaning in close.

“And four.” Arlecchino grasped the man by the throat, digging her nails into his skin hard enough to draw blood. “You hurt my fucking child.”

She tossed his body to the side, watching him hit the wall with a thud and collapse to the ground like a ragdoll.

“Pathetic.” She scoffed under her breath, stepping over his limp body. Her anger wasn’t nearly quelled—an inferno is not easily cooled, after all—but seeing them all lying lifelessly across the floor of their own base at least brought some vindication. She turned her back to the man, looking over at her child.

They were curled up in the cage like a trapped animal, rattling breaths ringing through the bars. Arlecchino gritted her teeth at the sight, making sure to step on the nearest captor’s fingers as she walked over. She swung her scythe against the lock, shattering it into bits of metal.

Her hands were gentle in reaching into the cage, hooking a hand under their knees and cradling their back with the other. They made a pained cry, and Arlecchino hurried to pull them out. She held them close to her chest, letting their cheek rest where her heartbeat pounded against her chest. Her face didn’t falter from that stony expression, but inside she was burning with fury.

“My child,” She murmured, more to herself than the shivering form in her arms. There was something dangerous in her tone, a note of warning to the assailants still conscious enough to hear her voice. She kissed their forehead, a tender gesture out of place among the bloodshed. “Didn’t I promise you that while you’re with me, no one can hurt you?”

“F-Father…?” A broken whisper slipped through their lips, followed by a sob, first sinking Arlecchino’s heart then shattering it into two.

“Shh… it’s okay. It’s okay, darling, I’m here.” She crooned, carrying them out of the room and through the tunnel. All throughout the journey through the tunnel and back onto the beach, she didn’t stop murmuring comforts and pressing kisses to their head in the most maternal way she’d ever remembered acting.

“I’m sorry, Father…” they mumbled, cheek pressed against her chest.

“Darling…” Arlecchino hummed, even as the smouldering ashes in her chest began to spark and flicker. “You have nothing to apologise for.”

The night was cold, but her child was a warm weight in her arms. She revelled in the warmth, a gentle reminder that they were still alive.

“We’ll be home soon,” Arlecchino promised, even though they were barely conscious enough to hear her. “Soon.”

reblogs are appreciated ♡

#✒️ — writing #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #platonic genshin impact x reader #platonic genshin x reader #platonic x reader #arlecchino x gender neutral reader #arlecchino x gn reader #arlecchino x reader #genshin arlecchino x reader #platonic arlecchino x reader #platonic arlecchino x gn reader

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bits-and-babs · 8 months

Note

Im so sorry I didn’t see this till after request were closed but so idk if you gon see this but, f!reader had her nipples pierced? I’m sorry but I feel like price would be obsessed with readers piercings like if she had a tongue piercing too? Manz would go crazy. Smut? Dw if not <33

✦ 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐄 ✦

– KINKTOBER DAY 6: NIPPLE PIERCINGS

cds!john price x recruit!reader | smut, 18+ | 1.2k words

summary: three months into your sas training course, chief directional instructor captain john price drills you on cold-water-shock survival.

cw: f!reader, cold water shock, power imbalance (recruit x directing staff), secret relationship, breast/nipple play, p in v sex, cream pie.

⇽ KINKTOBER MLIST | DAY 7: INCUBUS ⇾

It wasn’t as though there hadn’t been sufficient warning, but three years of service in the British army was nowhere near enough to prepare your body for the brutal battering that SAS selection subjected it to. Your blisters had blisters, and your body pulsed with a bone-deep ache every time you managed to crawl into bed upon dismissal.

You had been sufficiently warned… About everything except this.

Freezing cold water drips from your nose as you hoist yourself out of the pool at the base of the waterfall. Cold-Water-Shock training was a standard part of SAS selection– the ability to control your own discomfort and maintain a level head whilst also teaching the fundamentals of surviving sub-zero. January weather meant temperature levels were unsurvivable past a handful of seconds, and you could feel why.

The process was simple. Fully submerge yourself into the icy depths before raising to the surface and keeping your chin above water. Next step; breathe. Regain composure and steady your breathing to fight the effects of cold-shock. Recruitment Staff would then ask you a handful of simple questions to assess competency before heaving you out of the water.

You’d passed, you felt, with flying colours. The savagery of the otherworldly Brecon Beacons had failed to shake your resolve, answering the questions with ease. Even now, drenched to the bone and involuntarily trembling, you maintained a strong eye contact with Chief Directional Instructor Price as he eyed you with a stern expression.

It’s momentary— barely there. You’d have missed it had you blinked. Price’s thick eyelashes, made damp by the sleet that had been battering the group all morning, dipped below your face. Sapphire blue irises glint in the low light when they zero in on their target. You hadn’t worn a bra this morning given you’d been forced out of bed at the arse-crack of dawn and expected to be in the van within five minutes… They’d left you little to no choice.

Regardless of this reasonable explanation, you suddenly begin to regret your decision to forgo the cover, Staff Price gazing at the way your grey t-shirt clings to your pebbled nipples and the exposed shape of the piercing balls either side of each mound.

“That’ll be all, 16,” he says, that raspy grit to his voice warming you from the inside-out. That fever encroaches on the apples of your cheeks when you realise he’s yet to pull his eyes away.

“… Yes Staff.”

✦✦✦

“You did that on purpose.”

John’s voice, husky and full, was surprisingly even considering how tight your pussy walls clenched around his thick, veiny cock. You wail quietly at the soft breath that dances across your assaulted skin, nipples so incredibly sensitive. Sucked and nibbled and licked, the tender skin screams when Price drags the flat of his tongue over your pierced nipple with a delighted hum.

“N-No—“ you choke out, the overstimulation of your nipples sending another shockwave of bliss down your spine. You know you’re squeezing him, because John ruts up into your fluttering pussy with a far less composed groan. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to!”

“You’re not foolin’ anyone, Love,” John murmurs, gently taking your pebbled nipple between his teeth and rolling it.

You see stars— swirls of technicolour dancing behind your eyelids with how tightly you squeeze them shut against the cataclysmic pleasure that seeps between your thighs. When John jerks his hips up again, you can hear how wet you are. It’s sloppy, disgustingly soaked, and Price loves it.

“Fuckin’— Hah-“ John moans against the supple flesh of your breast, wrapping his lips around it and sucking on the hypersensitised skin. This time, when you arch your back from the bed with a wail of his name, he begins a slow and leisurely pace with his hips.

Burying your fingers into the short-crop of his hair, you brace against the ticking bomb of your orgasm as it approaches. Each long stroke of John’s hips makes another disgustingly wet sound, your cunt greedily sucking him in and creaming around his throbbing dick as he flicks his tongue back and forth across your abused nipple. His other palm, battle calloused and rough, squeezed the other breast, thumb equally torturing your second nipple.

It comes in waves; cresting, crashing tsunamis rather than soft laps of the ocean on a beach. A prickling heat that singes away the Beacon’s icy cold from your toes and creeps up the inside of your thighs. Your heart slams against John’s lips, your hands pushing into the back of his head to keep him there while you chase what could only be described as liquidation.

“Ohmygod—“ you slur, and it’s as though the edges of your vision blacken. In truth, you’re not sure what you call him as you come apart on his cock, sobbing out a hapless string of garbled noises that don’t sound anything like his name. Toes curling either side of his hips, you fail to brace against the overstimulation that rips violently through you.

“Fucken’ ‘ell—“ he groans deeply, a guttural growl that seems to vibrate the atoms in the air around you. The deliberate, methodical thrusts of his hips suddenly pitch to a sloppy, desperate gallop. John’s hands grasp the bed sheets so tight you almost hear the threads strain against the pull.

He cums, coating the inside of your cunt with a rumble of your name that sounds so foreign to your ears with the afterglow buzzing in your eardrums. John continues to fuck you through it, taking pleasure in the way you squirm and squeal and cry until his cum seeps between your legs, coating the inside of your thighs with his seed.

Sharp, heaving breaths echo in his small quarters, and you’re almost certain that his fellow DS had definitely heard you this time. But when John places his damp forehead to yours, eyes closed as he relishes in the bliss of being so close to you for just a moment longer, you struggle to find it in yourself to worry.

“You should wear a bra,” John mumbles, pressing a kiss to your lips— but missing in the haze of post-orgasm-bliss and settling for a peck on the corner of your mouth.

“Why?” You muse, still a little breathless as he works his lips down your chin and over your jaw. The gruff, burly Chief of Directing Staff was so affectionate when the door was closed. You knew that this thing you had going on was more serious than a thing when you stopped being anxious about getting caught and being kicked off the course— instead stressing about John offering his tenderness to another recruit. “If this is how you react to seeing me with a wet shirt and no bra, I’ll dunk myself in that water every damn day.”

In a moment of sobriety, John pulls back to look you in the eye. His aquamarine irises hold a heavy seriousness that makes your breath stall for a moment, afraid you’d said something out of line.

“Love, I completed that whole trainin’ session with a rock hard cock.”

A beat.

Just before peals of laughter burst from you. John rolls his eyes, turning onto his back on the mattress. Still, he’s unable to bite back the smile that pulls on his lips.

cod mwii/kinktober taglist:

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inuyashaluver · 2 months

Note

I loved Sleepy Girl so much and I somehow just came up with an angsty part two, where Y/N drives back home alone after practice and gets in a car accident and is in a coma and Leah tells her something along the lines ‘I never wanted you to wake up more now, please open those eyes’ or something like that. I WOULD DIE WITH YOUR WRITING, it would be so so perfect

sleepy girl [ part 2 ] - leah williamson

leah williamson x reader

description: in which your sleepiness that was once leah’s favourite became one of her nightmares

warnings: angsty but happy happy ending, my loves, mentions of: injuries, hospital, unconscious reader, tears, swearing, longgg

a/n: when i wreck all the softness with sadness and then give you more softness because i’m nice, my goodness - first REALLY angsty fic, i hope i did you all justice!! also you are so sweet, thank you so much, baby!

read part one here!!

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

no matter the time or place, you were still the same. you were leah’s sleepy girl.

your ability to fall asleep on your girlfriend still as prominent as ever, happening anywhere and everywhere.

—

now that leah had returned, your ‘leah training naps’ were used up to your advantage like no tomorrow. taking every opportunity to fall asleep on your girlfriend.

you were both training with arsenal, training finally finished and proving to be quite a difficult one.

important matches were approaching, so it only made sense that the intensity and demand of training was heightened.

leah had gone into the change rooms first while you were talking to alessia and kyra about a new movie you and leah had watched in cinema.

though, your words got cut short when a yawn escaped your mouth and the two girls chatting with you immediately laugh.

alessia grabs your arm while kyra pushes you from behind, teasing you as they entered the change room.

leah was already showered, dressed in sweats and a hoodie that had her looking so warm and inviting. she was scrolling on her phone waiting for you.

“delivery!” alessia grins, pushing you into the lap of your girlfriend who barely had time to put her phone down to catch you.

leah took one look at your face to realise what the cheeky grins from the younger girls were for. “do i need to sign?” leah teases, her hand holding your thigh as you buried your face into her neck. she feels the vibration of your laugh on her skin and she can’t help but smile.

“already sleepy, my girl?” leah asks fondly, her hand moving to cradle your head to her while the other rested on your thigh, her thumb brushing over the skin gently.

you hum in response, pressing a gentle kiss to where her neck met her shoulder. “you smell nice” you mumble against her skin, “you’re so cute” she coos, kissing your forehead while you quite literally melted into her.

and before you knew it, you dozed off. leah chuckled when she felt your dead weight against her.

her hand moving from the back of your head to rest under your training top, rubbing gentle circles on the skin of your back.

“like clockwork” she teases gently, sending small smiles to people that would smile at the two of you and send glares to the ones being a little too loud.

“bethany, turn around and walk the other fucking way” leah whisper shouts, already knowing what was going to happen just by the shit eating grin on the girl’s face.

“i’m not doing anything, relax” beth laughs, sitting beside leah and giving a couple smirks to the few people left in the room.

“(y/n) fire!” beth yells, getting a harsh slap on the leg from leah that had the girl wincing.

surprisingly, you didn’t wake up.

“well that’s just concerning” lia grins, leah rolls her eyes at both of them. “can you please let my girlfriend sleep peacefully for two seconds?” she pleads, still whispering, she freezes when you nuzzle into her further, letting out a heavy sigh against her skin that gave her goosebumps.

“(y/n), leah’s leaving!” alessia yells, laughing brightly as you stir awake, “good to know where her priorities are, leah’s buzzing” alessia grins, leah didn’t deny it, her cheeks did get a little pink when your confused face moved from her neck.

“you’re leaving?” you mumble sadly, wrapping your arms around her neck. leah immediately coos, you were the cutest person in the world.

“no, baby, i’m not going anywhere” she kisses all over your face, pulling you closer to her while she flips off the three teasing girls who were now dispersing from the change room.

you pull away from her slightly to face her, giving her your signature sleepy smile before placing a sweet kiss on her lips. she hums against you, your lips moving together tenderly as you drew her in closer by her neck.

“you ready to go?” she mumbles between your kisses, you only pulling away to give her a gentle nod, a couple of quick pecks pressed against her mouth making her giggle softly.

you stand up and stretch with a loud groan, “that was a good nap, babe, thanks!” you say cheekily, holding up your hand for a high five.

she chuckles, high-fiving you but interlacing your fingers together, pulling you to her by your interlocked hands and placing a kiss to the top of your knuckles.

“anytime, gorgeous” she smiles at you charmingly, grabbing both of your bags and walking out together.

—

arsenal was having a day full of media, usually one of your favourite days because they always paired you up with your girlfriend.

you both weren’t called up yet, having the time to relax before you both had to film. and of course, you took advantage of the situation, running over to her with an excited smile as she chatted with lia.

“hey, baby, i was looking for you” she smiles as you approached, bending down slightly to place a quick kiss to your lips in greeting.

“how many naps have you had today, (y/n/n)?” lia grins at you, “none yet, i’m due for one” you say cheekily, giving your girlfriend a suggestive smile.

“can i help you with something?” she chuckles, you only smile at her in response, placing your hands on her hips to pull her closer to you.

lia got called for media and she waves you both goodbye, both of you barely registering it with the way you were staring at each other.

“my gorgeous, beautiful, amazing girlfriend-” you start, “we can take a nap, babe” she laughs as you immediately perk up, grabbing her hand and running to a beanbag.

you push her down on it and lay on top of her, immediately cuddling into her as she wrapped her arms around you. and in a short time, you fell asleep. leah smiled fondly when your steady breaths grazed her skin.

you slept for about an hour before you were called up with leah, receiving numerous kisses to your forehead as you woke up slowly. “come on, baby” leah whispers, “no” you whine, refusing to move as leah tried to wake you up.

“please” leah cooed, resting her head on top of yours while her arms encircled your waist. “lee” you groan, holding yourself up to hover over her,

“you’re so pretty” leah smiles up at you, making you go slightly pink in the cheeks as she looked at you adoringly.

she pulls you down for a kiss, somehow managing to drag you off the beanbag, wrapped around her like a koala as she carried you over to a table with challenges on it for a video.

“sorry we’re late” leah grins, the media team laughing when you give them a tired smile and wave.

you both did media for around an hour and a half, about to leave together before you get asked to do an individual interview. you look at leah with a pout and she laughs,

“it’s alright, baby, take my car and i’ll go home with viv and beth” leah assures, pulling you into a little hug. “you sure?” you mumble against her.

“i don’t want you being stuck here so take the car, i’ll go home and start dinner” leah assures, her hand cradling your cheek as you look up at her sadly.

“it’s only a couple of hours” she smiles, looking right into your eyes with blown out pupils. you nod reluctantly, puckering your lips at her.

she closes the gap, placing a few soft kisses to your lips before she ushers you to get back to work.

“i love you” she whispers against your lips, “i love you too” you say back instantly, pressing your lips to hers before she waves at you.

“don’t make smileys for dinner!” you yell out after her, “no promises!” you laugh brightly as she matches your energy, sitting down to answer your interview.

—

you do your media duties, sending leah a message you were about to leave colney. you go to leah’s car and begin the drive home, you were driving in the familiar streets, relatively residential areas you passed everyday.

you were about to turn into a street, just one away from your home where leah was waiting for you.

that’s when a car came out of nowhere, you saw it coming and you couldn’t do anything about it, unable to move. the car pulled out of the junction without even stopping and swiped the front of your car.

you breathing quickened, a scream escaping your throat at how fast the car came at you, you felt your legs trapped, hitting your head harshly on the side of the car from the impact.

the airbag deployed and sent you jolting back in your seat. the seatbelt kept you safe but also grazed the side of your neck painfully.

all you could think about was leah.

from the hit to your temple, you passed out immediately and didn’t know the severity of the crash.

your car had flipped completely on its side, you were knocked out cold. witnesses immediately called for emergency services, the other car damaged as well but he was completely unscathed. (he got a hell of a law suit)

leah was worried by how long it had taken you to come home, especially without notice. she called your phone, it rang 4 times, you always picked up on 1. she paced around the front door waiting to see your dazzling smile walk through that door.

the phone picked up, “baby, where are you? are you okay?” she rushed out, barely giving who she thought was you time to respond.

“sorry, are you this girl’s partner?” a woman’s voice on the other side of the phone. “uh, sorry yes, who is this?” leah felt her heart beating out of her chest, why did this strange woman have your phone.

“i’m a paramedic, i have your girlfriend in the ambulance with me and it’s very serious, do you think you could make your way to the hospital?” leah flatlined right there.

“excuse me? what the fuck happened, what’s wrong with my girlfriend?” leah feels tears welling in her eyes, scrambling to get her shoes on and rushing out of the door.

she was so thankful your car that was barely used was here, getting details of the accident as she rushed to the hospital.

when she reaches the front desk, she’s full on sobbing at this point.

“my girlfriend’s been in an accident, can you help me find her?” she breathes out, the nurse at the front immediately knew who she was talking about.

“you must be leah, ms (y/l/n) is currently in surgery, she’s lost a lot of blood and has a few serious gashes to her head and neck” the nurse explains carefully, the tears rush down leah’s cheeks as she hears the details, internally cursing herself for not waiting for you.

“she’s also broken her wrist, i’m so sorry but you’re going to have to wait until she’s out of the operating theatre to see her” the nurse says sympathetically, directing leah to a chair outside the theatre.

leah’s leg bounced as she waited for you, sobbing as she called your family, her family, jonas. she felt so guilty, her heart completely shattered thinking about how scared you probably were. wishing she was there for you.

this wasn’t supposed to happen. you were supposed to be at home, cuddling, sleeping. not in a fucking hospital getting poked and prodded to keep you alive.

—

you finally get rolled out of the operating theatre and leah rushes up, gasping when she sees you. you have a tube in your mouth, drips attached to your arms and bandages around the head, your arms. you looked so frail. leah began to cry again.

“baby” she breathes out, holding onto the bed when they transfer you into the intensive care unit. “she’s stable” the doctor assures, “she’s going to be okay” he nods, answering her like he can read her mind.

the nurse explains you’re in a coma, and probably will be for a bit but it’s surprisingly not too serious.

they assure leah that the paramedics got to you in time, your injuries sustained were treatable and can be managed easily with time and patience. something leah had an endless amount for you.

leah sits down beside you with a heavy sigh, shakily grabbing your hand and holding it gently, her thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“my girl” she said tearfully, her forehead pressed into your thigh. she listened to the faint beeping in the room, your heartbeat steady.

—

people came in and out to see you and leah hardly ever left your side, it had been two weeks since the accident, the amount of love and support being sent your way was honestly overwhelming for leah.

she took care of you diligently, only going home when it was necessary and it was never more than an hour.

regularly rushing over from training despite the pleas of jonas and the girls telling her to take time off. but she knew you wouldn’t want that, you’d hate the fact she barely left to take care of herself.

“always been such a sleepy girl” she smiles, brushing stray hairs from your face as she sat beside you. “i miss you so much, baby” she sniffs, a tear escaping her eye as she looked at you. you didn’t require your tube anymore, only requiring an oxygen mask.

you wounds were healing well, you were recovering. slowly but leah didn’t care, wanting you to get the best care possible and she made sure of it.

“at training, beth told me laura taught myle another new trick, when you’re up, maybe we can go and see baby myle, i’m sure she misses her favourite auntie” she smiles, her finger curling and brushing your cheek gently.

“everyone sends you their love, no one more than me though, for my special baby” she chuckles, adjusting your blankets in an attempt to make you as comfortable as possible.

she lets out a heavy sigh with a pained smile, holding your hand again as she just looked at you. she knew she looked awful, having barely any sleep. but how could she, you were in bed all day while she waited for you to wake up. she wouldn’t wish it on her worst enemy.

“i don’t think i’ve ever wanted you to wake up more than right now” she says tearfully, “please just wake up, baby” she chokes out, crying into her arm on the bed while the other gripped your hand.

that’s when she felt your hand twitch slightly, her head snapped up to look at you. you went still again. “(y/n)” she breathes out, her eyebrows furrowing as she looked at you. your finger twitched again in her hold, everything went quiet.

“it’s okay, darling, i’m here, beautiful” she utters, “wake up for me, gorgeous” she pleads, your hand fully grips hers then and she freezes, you begin to stir and she yells for a nurse, she comes rushing in and immediately calls for your doctor, your eyes slowly begin to open and you’re very disoriented.

“hey, sleepy head” leah laughs with tears, in disbelief and relief you finally woke up.

the doctors rush in and check your vitals, showing good signs physically but also being able to identify your name, the year, the last thing you did.

leah cried out in relief, watching as you slowly came to your senses.

when the doctors start explaining what happened to you, everything made sense, you nodded along with them, processing everything with tears running down your cheeks.

when you start to remember everything, you gasp, suddenly screaming for leah, her eyes widen, “baby, breathe, i’m here” she asserts, smoothing down your hair and sitting on the edge of your bed directly next to you, making sure to face you.

“leah, the car” you cry, hyperventilating as you looked at her with wild eyes, “forget about the car-” leah says sternly,

“no, i fucking crashed your car, your expensive car, oh my god” you breathe out, the nurses and doctors stand their awkwardly but this was actually a good sign, showing how well you have recovered.

“baby, don’t worry about it, please, listen to the doctor” she scolds slightly, squeezing your hand but you begin to cry harder. “leah, no, the car-” you sob.

“you’ve somehow got it in your fucking head that i care about the car more than you!” leah exclaims,

“you’re the only thing i care about, so forget about the car” leah reprimands.

“we’ll give you two a minute” the doctor smiles, leah giving them a nod as they all get out of the room.

“i’m so sorry” you cry, leah tutts, pulling you to her chest, her hand cradling your head to her chest.

“there’s nothing to be sorry about, baby girl” leah says softly in your ear.

she pulls back to look you in the eyes, “the stupid car can be replaced, you, my love, cannot” she shakes her head, looking right into your eyes to tell you she was serious.

she kisses your forehead softly, hugging you gently as if you were the most fragile thing in the universe.

—

you stayed in the hospital for another week, doing check ups and tests, groaning every time you had to do one and gaining a very icy glare from leah.

she took a week off when you were discharged, taking care of you like you did with her acl injury. barely any breaks. focusing on the other’s health rather than your own. you truly were perfect for each other.

“lee, i don’t want another cup of tea, I want you!” you plead, pawing at her to sit down with you for just two minutes without her scrambling to do something else.

she was incredibly strict with you, barely letting you do anything for yourself despite your assurance you were fine.

—

leah was flat on the couch as you lay on top of her, sleeping against her gently as she rubbed her hands over your back.

she’s never missed something so much, so simple, although, whenever you were sleeping she couldn’t help but watch you.

she would watch to make sure you were breathing normally, making sure you would wriggle in her embrace when it got tight knowing you were actually alive. you didn’t know about this. but you knew leah cared about you. you felt it everywhere.

the way this girl would just stare at you in astonishment more than usual was heartstopping. leah had a lot of respect for you but even more knowing you’ve been fighting for your life for the past couple of weeks.

she treated you like a fragile flower, afraid to see you break again under her fingertips. you were so incredibly grateful for leah, thanking her profusely with sweet kisses every time she did something for you.

you both confided in each other, telling the other side of the story and gaining that closure you both needed. you were both handling it so healthily, it was beautiful to see.

leah made you laugh, she held you when you cried and assured you everything would be alright. and you felt like it truly was, because you had leah. your leah.

—

about a year later, you made your return to the pitch. leah cried when you ran out on the field, hastily wiping her tears as you passed her, blowing her a kiss as you took your position in an arsenal game.

the roar of the crowd was deafening at a sold out emirates, only getting louder when you scored a goal, getting hoisted up on leah’s waist while she kissed your cheek repeatedly.

you cradle her face in between your hands, pressing a tender kiss to her lips as she let you slip from her waist to the ground. you both shared a knowing look, all the hard work had been worth it for this moment. having each other at your weakest points proving to be everything and more.

when you both made it to the change room, you collapsed onto leah’s lap, falling asleep quickly and having the girl smiling affectionately.

all the girls smile as they walked passed, happy to see the sight of you and leah in your little bubble. everyone was so grateful you were back.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill, just pretend it’s you xx ily beffy

liked by alessia and 44,232 others

leahwilliamsonn: 387 days, 4 months and 23 days, the strongest person i know is back and better than ever, i love you more than life, welcome home, my sleepy girl❤️🤍

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yourname: the strongest person I KNOW, i love you so more

↳ leahwilliamsonn: impossible

↳ yourname: extremely possible

bethmead_: never thought i’d miss seeing your little sloth sleeping on you in my life but i did

↳ alessia: me too

↳ leahwilliamsonn: me too

↳ yourname: me too, i was deprived of my leah naps

↳ leahwilliamsonn: let’s make up for lost time

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader

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diejager · 4 months

Note

I know this kinda sounds stupid- but can you do a feral deer reader who was found by the task force? The reader has some magical healing abilities, so she ended up captured and hired as a medic. Since the reader never really communicated with humans/ other hybrids and was mostly by herself, she doesn't understand social stuff. For example, she can be convinced that getting groped is a greeting, and she'll agree since she never interacted with other hybrids before. So she's pretty much oblivious.

If possible- make her a bit fluffy? 👉👈

I’m going to make this the continuation to Doe because I can!! Muhahahahahah!!!!!! ψ(｀∇´)ψ

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, non-con touching, magic, hybrid, groping, tell me if I missed any.

You were introduced to Laswell after the mission, dressed in better clothing than the tattered dress you wore, antlers cleaned from all the leaves and officially claimed by the Task Force, you found a place in their group. Going through a few rough patches and scuffles to get you out of your home, they watched you tend to your wounds, your hands glowing over the scrapes and tongue lapping at your bleeding fingers. Your… ability was the driving nail that forced Laswell to bend to their words, she’d been hounding them to get a medic or someone with better medical knowledge than the four of them combined.

After all the paperwork and sweat, Price had the honour of locking the pretty collar they team bought you around your neck, the insignia gleaming under the office light was the final step to bind you to them as your handlers, a poor and fragile, little deer they saved from the freezing Canadian wilderness. But in all honesty, all they did was separate you from your herd, the warmer spring announcing the end of your antlers and the growth of a new set, it made frolicking and dancing easier than winter did. You were plucked from everything you knew, ripped from your lush forest and livelihood where you watched over the fauna and little critters that came to you for healing, and forcefully placed in a dead and unfeeling world where grey buildings towered over the forests and life restrained to small patches of dying soil. It made you uncomfortable, but the binding words the four men - human men - and the nice but stoic lady (she looked so tired, it made your hands itch to soothe her aches) shared with you made it seem like it was impossible for you to return to your home.

“This is your new home, sweetheart,” the bear-like man said, his gruff voice and imposing figure had you shuddering in your seat, much more than the energetic man with electric, blue eyes that you then learned was Soap.

You wanted to argue, but your voice died in your throat when they all stared at you with dark and expectant eyes, seemingly anticipating submission and obedience from you as a deer. How could you fight when they held such an oppressive air around them, but perhaps it was just their broad and muscular bodies that made your nerves bristle; perhaps they were nicer than they looked, gentler and tender like the way that man with brown eyes held you in the metal bird, whispering sweet and comforting words; or perhaps they were truly mean and dominating, like some pack of wolves that shared your home. You hoped they were as nice as the Gaz, who made you call him by his… real name? You were confused, but you did as he asked, calling him Kyle unlike the other men.

You gave Price a muted nod, eyes cast down and fingers scratching and pulling at your restrictive clothes, feeling too covered and your skin too sensitive by all the irritating fabrics and silks. It hadn’t taken them much time to intergrate you in their schedule, finding you a place in their group to stare at and work despite your clear confusion about the social norms and your sudden duty. The human world was a stranger to you, foreign acts and alien words that you needed help with: you could read some words while others were completely incomprehensible for your feral mind, or your confusion about the use for phones and anything too advanced had you fumbling with your words.

It’s good that you had them to help you, no?

Price made you attend classes with him and Ghost, being taught the alphabet and complicated words after the training drills and morning rituals, sometimes seated between them, squeezed so tightly between their broad shoulders, and other times seated on their laps, their shadow looming over you when they bent over to show you something. They touched you a lot, Ghost having less restraint than his Captain, his rough, gloveless fingers sliding beneath your shirt and groping the softness of your stomach and kneading your breasts, feeling its weight and perky nipples. You squirmed on his lap, whined out your discomfort, used to physical interaction in your herd, but never something so forward, but Ghost had reassured you that this was a normal human behaviour towards someone they cared deeply for.

Price kept his to your stomach and ass, feeling the fat of your cheeks and occasionally standing a hit, drinking in your yelps and whimpers from his touches. He, alike Ghost did, assured you that it was normal that he hooked his arm around your hip and holding you flushed to his side, his musky scent wafting around you like a thick cloud of smoke. He ruffled your hair once your antlers fell, petting you like he would a dog, carding through your washed locks and chuckling when your ears twitched from being handled. He would often call you to his office at random times, allegedly wanting you to train healing them since humans were slightly different than hybrids and having you lick his paper cut with your pink tongue. He liked shoving two fingers down your throat and pumping until you gagged and choked, drooling down his wrist while he breathed heavily and palmed himself.

Gaz and Soap helped you with other things: understanding human behaviour, training you mind and body and helping you around the base when you were lost and disoriented. Both men were enthused to be your chaperone, excited to take part in your schooling in other ways. Gaz lead you around the base hand in hand, his fingers intertwined with yours in a strong and unmoving grip while he pulled you forward, your tail flicking anxiously when people gazed your way, their eyes probing your uniform-clad figure. He was more upfront than the older men, pulling you to his chest and cuddling you in public areas, the bigger rec room, the mess hall or the gym, nuzzling the crook of your neck, lips drawling pretty words on your throat and shoulder and hair tickling your skin, mumbling the sweetest praises despite your obvious stiffness.

Soap, not unlike Gaz, had you call him Johnny (Ghost called him that too, you quickly found out) and was the touchiest of the four, always placing a hand on you even in awkward and weird situations. Soap was more animalistic than the others, panting and huffing when he spent too long around you, rutting your thigh like a wolf in rut or another reindeer deep in the season, you were quite sure this one wasn’t that much of a norm, seeing people avert their eyes or Ghost scruffing Soap and hissing degrading words. He especially loved sparring with you, pinning you on the mat, hand wrapped around your nap and putting his weight on your struggling body. He’d grind his hard bulge against your ass, ignoring your cries and whines, happily huffing and groaning in your ear while Gaz and Ghost watched on, admiring the sight, a pretty and vulnerable deer with little stubs and flickering ears, writhing under the mutt of the Task Force.

Even if your initial use was for healing wounds and supporting the team, they found a secondary task for you in all the chaos and caution, to help you open up to them faster and easier. It’d only take a few kisses, cuddling and sessions until you grow attune and accept your new home.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts

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peachypede · 5 months

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Au: What if humans had pokemon types?

The idea struck me after seeing some of @bluebellowl ‘s art of Ingo and Emmet wielding flames and electricity and I was thinking ooo what if humans had typings.

Then I made an au with a bunch of headcanons…

More below the cut

(Almost forgot to add that I took some inspo from @critterbitter ‘s Elesa hairstyle because I love how they draw her hair in the back all spiky, electricy like in some of their drawing just yes)

- most humans are purely 1 type, but a rare person may have a dual typing. (Ingo and Emmet are dual types that cover their least publicly liked typing with their more favorable type)

- Some types are more stigmatized and feared than others for have abilities/features that are frightening: Bug, Ghost, Psychic, Poison and Dark types are the 5 most stigmatized groups.

- Most humans have very small or weak abilities, but some are capable of amazing feats.

- Humans tend to favor pokemon partners that share their typings since it’s easier to connect and communicate but some people do like opposite or different typings.

- When babies are born, they’re given a test to see what type they are so their parents will know how to handle their abilities.

- Each types abilities include:

Normal - Sadly, this typing doesn’t get much special abilities. They’re normal humans. A very, very rare normal type can send a hyper beam out of their mouth.

Fire - Can control small flames and are fire resistant. They can warm their bodies up to feverish temperatures without being sick. Some can breathe fire and have flame like hair. Fire types often have irrational fears of water.

Water - They can control small amounts of water. Their skin gets dried out easily and they have to take showers frequently or have humidifiers in their homes. A few individuals have gills that allows them to breathe fully underwater.

Grass - They can breathe life into plants and cause flowers to bloom. If they have a garden, they’ll produce giant and delicious fruit. Some can make plants move on their own, but this is a rare ability. When happy, a lot of grass-type people will sprout plants on their heads. Some even have plant like hair.

Electric - Able to cause small electric shocks and store bits of electricity. Can turn off and on appliances without touching them. Those who take time to learn can communicate with electric Pokémon using the electrical language all electric types know. They can also talk to humans in electric language who are electric types as well.

Ice - Freezing to the touch and tolerant to below zero temps. They can freeze the surface of water by touching their hand to it. They’re a rare type that hardly leave frosty mountain cities and towns because they’re prone to overheating in warmer weather.

Fighting - Stronger than other humans, but few reach true inhumane strength. Rare individuals have an extra set of arms like Machamp. Most take pride in their strength and hone their skills their entire lives.

Poison - Immune to poisons, some even have poisonous breath or saliva. Most of them have to wear masks around people who aren’t fellow poison types. Some individuals have multicolored skin, like frogs warning others that they’re dangerous. People of this type like steel types, because they can remove their masks for once around these people who are immune to them.

Ground - Can feel vibrations in the ground and if they learn, can properly use this as another sense of sight and see things underground. Rare individuals can make the ground shake and have long claws for digging. Some families are known for living underground where they feel more at ease.

Flying - they have a very keen eye for long distance sight. Lots of people with this type have wings. Not all can fly, since one needs large wings and hollow bones to do so, but some can. Most however are gliders. Some have feathers instead of body hair.

Psychic - People with this type usually have one “talent” ability, such as levitating objects or seeing the future. It’s rare for an individual to have more than one of these talents but it has happened before. They’re seen as power houses amongst the other types for their special abilities and usually are seen offering their services in exchange for coin.

Bug - They can attract a lot of bug type pokemon to them via pheromones and with practice, they can even control them. Like ants, bug types can talk through pheromones like alerting to danger, creating trails, or even just generally talking like electric types do (its not all just attracting mates although bugs are more likely to be attracted to other bug people) Grass types dislike the smell of bug types, whereas flying types get hungry around them. Rumor has it that bugs can control others through their pheromones but its just a rumor. Pheromones make it easy to persuade, but can’t truly control people.

Rock - They have skin as tough as rocks and most can dig through rock itself. Rare people look like a cluster of rocks themselves. They dislike water since it erodes away their skin, so they take mud baths and showers instead.

Ghost- Many can float above the ground and go through walls. Similar to ice types, They are cold to the touch. They can see ghost type pokemon even if they are invisible. Rare abilities are being able to see and commune with human spirits. (And only once a century is there an individual who has truly open eyes and can see the entire world of the dead walking amongst the living) People who fear this type spread rumors that ghost types are evil and can raise the dead to do their bidding, but these are only rumors.

Dragon - Noble types that are descended from long blood lines. A lot of individuals have scales and wings and claws. Rare ones can breathe fire. Once in every 100 years there will be a dragon-type who can communicate and wield their type’s pokemon with high efficiency, even mighty legendaries. Families of dragons can be very prideful and look down on other types. Noble families don’t like their children mingling or marrying other types.

Dark - A stigmatized group to the point that their typing is labeled as the “evil” type in some languages. Many have a bad luck effect on the people around them and some can sense disasters before they happen. Dark types often are lonely because of their bad luck charm abilities make other people wary of them.

Steel - Most in this group have skin that shines like a type of metal and are able to bend metals in their hands. They’re immune to poison and bug types abilities, and often are friends with these stigmatized types because of this.

Fairy - This group have small magical abilities and unluck the dark type, they have a lucky effect around them. Some individuals have wings, some have unnaturally colored hair. Fairies have a high social standings with other types because they’re thought to do nothing wrong, when fairies actually often have trouble makers in the midst of them taking advantage of this.

#au: human types #submas #subway boss ingo #subway boss emmet #gym leader elesa #peachy draws #its been a bit since an au has made me this excited but ye!

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woso-dreamzzz · 4 months

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World Cup V

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your first World Cup

Everyone dreams of scoring a goal in the World Cup final. Hell, everyone dreams of scoring in even the qualifying rounds for the World Cup.

But, to you, it was almost certainly going to be a dream.

You were goalkeeper. You didn't score goals. You stopped them.

It was your whole job.

Your first World Cup was an honour. You were still young but it had been timed perfectly. When you were first called up to join Sweden's team, it was as the third keeper.

The two keepers before you had retired just before the selection for the World Cup squad. Two new keepers for the squad (both older than you) had been selected but you were the number one - a combination of your talent, training and just how many more international caps you had over your counterparts.

Coach Emma had been wary about putting you as the first choice but your performances at Arsenal spoke for themselves. There wasn't much she could do. No one else seemed to quite fit the bill like you did.

It had been a hard won road with two rounds of penalties in the knockout stage that you refused to be cowed by.

It all came down to this.

Sweden vs England.

You recognised a few of the girls from playing in the WSL and you gave them each a tense smile as you run through warmups. You sit in your cubby during the last team talk where Emma speaks about the game plan and how much work this will be and how much everyone needs to give it their all. You put on Zećira's old World Cup gloves. You flex your hands before clenching.

You replace her's with your own and roll your shoulders.

You walk out to the cheers of the crowd and take your position.

England are out with a vengeance and you make a few daring saves in the first half but it's mainly Sweden who dominate possession.

You're deadlocked in nil-nil throughout the first half and then the second half.

You leak into nine minutes of injury when one of your midfielders is dispossessed. You can hear Coach Emma yelling something at your defenders but you don't look to see the disarray of your backline. An England kit comes streaking up your left wing. She shoots but you're not worried because you already know that she has a tendency to shoot wide.

You collect the ball for a goal kick and one of England's finest starts a run towards you, to put on the pressure.

You could think of nothing but making sure this forward didn't get anywhere near your box or your ball.

You booted it up the pitch.

To be honest, it was an accident.

It hadn't been you trying anything. All you could think about was making sure England didn't even have a chance to score a goal.

You assumed one of your forwards would pick it up - some of them had this uncanny ability to know what you would do before you did.

Either way, you watched the ball sail over everyone's head...

The keeper was about as far off her line as she could be.

It sailed over her head, bounced and rolled into the bottom right corner.

You freeze in shock.

You hadn't meant to do that.

The crowd behind you screamed and you didn't have time to think before you were completely dogpiled by your teammates.

"Get off!" You laugh, trying to shake them off.

"There's no chance now!" Someone says.

"Keep them away from my goal and then there will be no chance," You reply, still completely trapped.

"Which goals is yours again?" Someone else teases," Because I think you've staked a thorough claim on England's too."

Your cheeks flush red and you bat her away. "Shut up."

"Never!" Someone declares," I'm pretty sure our goalkeeper just won us the game! You're never hearing the end of this!"

"Go away," You laugh," Go on. We've still got a few more minutes to play. Keep them off my goal and I'll let you talk about it all you want."

And they do keep England off your goal.

You sink to your knees in shock as you're dogpiled again. Swedish is flowing easily into your ears but you can't understand any of it. You slowly get to your feet and walk strangely calmly over to the stands.

You pass Coach Emma on the way. She's smiling, clapping you on the back. You think she says something too but you're too busy listening to the roaring of blood in your ears.

You hop the barrier and move into Momma's arms.

She holds you nice and tight as you still stare in shock. You think you're crying but you're numb to most things.

Momma's talking but her words are just static in your ears as you're moved from her to Morsa to moster Frido and then finally to Zećira.

You come back into the present when you see her. Shakily, you remove your gloves and hold them out to her.

She smiles and takes them. "I'm so proud of you. Best keeper in the world."

More tears slip down your cheeks. Your voice breaks. "Thank you."

"So proud of you," Morsa says as she and Momma appear over your shoulders," Clearly you're just like your Momma. Scoring goals."

"Is was an accident," You say softly.

"And it was a perfect accident," Momma says," I couldn't have done it better myself."

You laugh a little wetly. "Well," You say," I must have picked it up from all those times you kicked at me in the garden."

"Champion of the world!" Moster Frido declares, clapping you on the back and planting a kiss on your head," World Champion! Best keeper in the world!"

"Well," Momma says," This keeper needs to head back down to receive her medal. Go on, off you go." She pushes you away lightly.

You hop the barrier again and line up with the others.

There's a sense of pride as you walk across the stage, receive your medal and kiss the trophy.

You feel a little shaky as the trophy is lifted and you celebrate, screaming out your victory for the whole world to see.

You jump around with your teammates, each of them strongarming you into taking a picture with you and the trophy.

By the time you manage to get away, you're jogging over to the England side. You strip your shirt and hold it up into the crowd.

A hand reaches down to take it.

You look up.

Leah stares down at you. She leans over the railing.

"I should be mad at you," She says," But that was the best goal I've seen in a while. I'm very proud of you. Are you sure I can't convince you to stay?"

You look down bashfully and confess," I think Arsenal's getting a bit too small for me."

Leah laughs. "Yeah, I reckon that too." She pulls your shirt over her head. "You'll come back and visit?"

You bump your fist against hers. "Well, North London is red."

She grins at you. "Go on, World Cup winner. Off you go. I'll see you around."

"Bye, Leah."

You jog towards the Sweden side of the crowd again, pumping up your fist as people scream your name.

You skid to a stop in front of Morsa. You drop your medal over her neck.

"For you," You say," For all the World Cup medals you gave me."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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reminiscingtonight · 4 months

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Three's Not A Crowd

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

[WOSO Masterlist]

It was an accident.

If confronted about it Ingrid will vehemently deny snooping.

Because she wasn’t. In any way.

It all began with a simple tidying up. No matter how many times Ingrid reminded Mapi not to leave her various books and bags around the house the Spaniard just never took it to heart.

So doing what she does best, Ingrid puts them away for her girlfriend.

Opening the hallway closet, she starts the daunting task of hauling the heavy bag onto one of the higher shelves. It’s there, when the bag is halfway over her head that something falls out, the zipper not having been fully shut.

A couple curse words are grumbled out when the object smacks her square on the top of her head. Sighing, Ingrid crouches to grab at what she realizes is Mapi’s sketchbook… only to pause when she sees the page the book has fallen open onto.

Mapi’s artistic abilities have always been magnificent. When not busy with football or taking Ingrid out on dates, the Spaniard can always be found sketching away in some corner of their house. Ingrid’s always the first to point out how wonderful she finds her girlfriend’s pieces of art but these particular sketches, they’re nothing if not breathtaking.

Ingrid picks up the book, fingers lightly tracing the unfamiliar face staring back at her. Whoever Mapi’s captured down on the paper is nothing if not beautiful. Your eyes look kind, mouth curled up into the gentlest of smiles.

Surprisingly it isn’t jealousy Ingrid feels at the sight of someone else captured so perfectly by Mapi. It’s curiosity that causes her to flip through page after page of Mapi’s sketchbook, each one containing a different picture of you through what’s clearly multiple different days. In some of them you’re staring right at Ingrid through the pages of the pad, in others it’s only your side profile that’s been captured.

The more Ingrid looks, the more her curiosity grows. And it’s this same curiosity that has Ingrid knocking on their shared bedroom a couple minutes later, book still in hand.

“Who is this?” It’s not an accusation, words coming out soft and curious as Ingrid gently places Mapi’s sketchbook down next to the defender.

Mapi’s body all but freezes when she sees what Ingrid is referring to, eyes growing comically wide. “That’s uh, she’s um-- I just… she caught my eye-- and I… I--”

Mapi’s clearly at a loss of words, and Ingrid is quick to put her out of her misery.

Ingrid puts a light hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Mapi, don’t worry about it. I know you’re loyal. This isn’t me asking if you’re cheating on me. You love me too much to ever think about breaking my heart.”

The blonde’s quiet for a moment, looking down at her fingers. Ingrid waits patiently, as the Spaniard gathers her thoughts.

“She works at the cafe next to the park.”

Ingrid listens, if not with a little too much investment, as Mapi details the first trip that took her across your path. Something about you had Mapi returning time and time again, if just to hear your voice or get some work done in your presence.

Mapi finishes her story and they put away the sketchbook and their day goes on as normal.The conversation really should have put an end to the thoughts swirling around her head, but something keeps tickling at the back of Ingrid’s mind.

She should let it go.

Ingrid knows she should let it go.

But everyone says curiosity kills the cat and that’s exactly what happens.

Ingrid goes to see you.

Well she actually goes to the cafe at which you work at, but it’s definitely with the intention to see you in action.

And see you in action she does.

Right from the get-go Ingrid can understand why Mapi’s been so drawn to you.

You’re soft spoken, eyes sparkling as you take her order. When Ingrid hesitantly pauses over unfamiliar Spanish words you don’t make a big deal out of her sudden switch to heavy-accented English. Instead, your smile grows wider, happy to converse in your native tongue. You converse in light English. Ingrid only stumbles over her words every here and there but you don’t comment, nodding along to everything she says as if they’re the most interesting thing in the world.

You’re just so nice and just so sweet and…

Ingrid finds herself coming back to see you again. And again. And again.

She grows used to the way your face would light up when you catch sight of her walking through the doors. You’re always quick to nudge your coworker out of the way just so you can take her order.

Ingrid doesn’t expect to feel things.

She’s in love with Mapi, she knows that. The two of them are supposedly going to get married in the future, live the happiest of lives together.

But something about you is just so alluring. And it isn’t like Mapi isn’t attracted to you either. Although her girlfriend has never said it out loud, Ingrid knows her fascination with you is due in part to how beautiful she finds you.

It’s after practice that Ingrid makes up her mind.

There’s really nothing to lose either way. Either it works out, and she can make Mapi happy as well. Or it doesn’t. Worse case scenario the two of them will just have to get their caffeine fix somewhere else.

Ticket clutched in hand, Ingrid walks up to the counter.

---

Working at a cafe was never in your plans.

But neither was uprooting your entire life and moving across the ocean to Spain.

A year ago you had a really nice job, a loving girlfriend, a life you were sure was set to last you until the end. Walking in on your girlfriend in bed with “the friend you didn’t need to worry about” really turned everything on its head.

When your job’s contract ended there wasn’t really anything keeping you tied down to the city you really only moved to for your ex-girlfriend for. So with nothing but a suitcase and plane ticket in hand, you made the rash decision to go to the ever sunny Barcelona.

You’ve only been here for a couple months, but you’re already in love with the city and the culture.

You get used to the everyday buzz of your routine. Wake up, go for a jog, head to work, make some coffee for some pretty girls, go home, rinse and repeat. Really not too much to focus on so it’s no surprise you noticed her right away.

Bleach-blonde hair, reserved but beautiful smile, yeah, how could you miss someone like her?

She always ordered the same thing whenever she came in, one hand clutched around a small book and pencil. You’ve only ever heard her say her drink order, her name, and a polite thank you when you’d bring her drink, but beyond that, she was a mystery to you.

During lulls in your shift you’d often find your eyes drifting to where she sat, head buried in her book as her pencil made its way across the page. Her ink was magnetic, so many tattoos everywhere, her arms, hands, neck.

You come to look forward to the days Mapi would come in. Every Monday like clockwork.

And while Mondays were for Mapi, Thursdays were for Ingrid.

Ingrid was another one of the girls you’ve come to look forward to seeing.

Unlike your Spanish crush, your Norwegian crush grew out of fondness.

At first you thought it was funny, having feelings for someone not from Spain in Spain. But Ingrid would always do whatever she could to make you laugh when she came in. She’s funny and attentive and just so caring, it’s no surprise you find your crush growing with each day.

So yeah, maybe you’re crushing on two women in Barcelona, but it’s not like the other knew about your feelings for them or the other woman, so you feel vindicated to continue pining over Mapi on Mondays and Ingrid on Thursdays.

When Ingrid asked you to accompany her to a Barcelona match your first instinct is to say no.

First off, you never expected her to actually ask you out.

Secondly, and more importantly, your best friend from home was always trying to get you to go to a soccer game with her but you never found much interest in people kicking balls around for ninety minutes. But to squander some alone time with a beautiful girl away from your place of work? Well that sounded pretty appealing.

The closer the match day gets the more excited you become. The day of the game you find yourself trying on at least half of your closet before calling your friend for help. All you really got was a bunch of teasing remarks, but with only a few minutes to spare you make it out the door to the game.

You send a text off to Ingrid when you get to your seat. Everyone around you is already joyous, spanish chattering going off everywhere around you.

But then the minutes tick by and your text is still left unread and Ingrid is still nowhere to be seen. It’s already passed the time Ingrid said for you to get to the game, but you can’t seem to get ahold of her nor can you spot her anywhere.

You frown. Maybe something came up and Ingrid’s just running a little (a lot) behind?

Or perhaps you were just the fool to ever believe a gorgeous woman like Ingrid would ever be into someone like you.

Your heart sinks at the prospect of being stood up.

Suddenly your mood drops, no longer as excited at watching the game as you were earlier. The longer you sit here without seeing any hint of Ingrid, the more you find yourself wishing you never accepted the ticket in the first place.

You’re broken out of your thoughts when the crowd around you starts cheering, the first of players starting to jog out onto the field for warm-ups.

Blinking away what you know would be tears of frustration, you let your eyes rake over the unfamiliar players. Mapi’s the last thing on your mind as you wonder where Ingrid can be, which is why you almost do a double take when you see someone who looks a bit like her jog right past you.

Wait.

Your head whips to the side to track the player.

Mapi’s dressed in Barcelona colors as she lightly pushes one of her teammates on the field. She’s now on the other side of the pitch, but you can still see the way she’s laughing and joking around with her teammates.

Before you can really make sense of what you’re seeing, you feel your heart stuttering to a stop for the second time in seconds.

There’s a familiar tall figure running up to Mapi’s side, throwing an arm around her shoulder. You would know that dazzling smile from anywhere.

Ingrid is on the field.

Ingrid is on the field next to Mapi.

Ingrid didn’t ask you to go to today’s game with her. She was asking you to watch her play in today’s game.

And watching Ingrid play soccer apparently meant also watching Mapi play soccer too.

Although you’re here for Ingrid you can’t help but drool over how good Mapi looks streaking down the field.

She seems to dance with the ball, effortlessly launching it right into the path of her teammates.

You’re standing up and cheering when her assist turns into a goal.

She’s celebrating with her teammates when you see Ingrid tug on Mapi’s sleeve. And then they’re both looking at you. You flush red at the gigantic smile on Ingrid’s face and the confused yet still slightly pleased look on Mapi’s.

When the final whistle blows you’re not quite sure what the proper etiquette is.

You’re still debating whether or not you should head out and text Ingrid later when you notice her heading in your direction.

It’s automatic, the way your lips curl up into a smile.

Until you realize she’s got one hand on Mapi’s forearm.

It’s obvious that the two of them are arguing about something. Mapi’s eyebrows are drawn together, hand’s waving in front of her as she rapidly says something to the Norwegian. They’re still too far away for you to hear them but you can still make out the way Ingrid fondly rolls her eyes at the other woman.

As soon as they come within earshot of you though, Mapi falls silent. She’s looking a bit shy and bashful, not at all as confident as when she was playing earlier, but Ingrid still drags her to a stop in front of you.

“You could’ve told me you were playing in the game when you asked me to come, Ingrid.”

Ingrid grins. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You let her pull you into a sweaty hug, laughing when she shakes you side to side before letting go. Ingrid gives Mapi a slight nudge before the shorter woman gives you a subdued hello.

She looks nervous. For what you’re not quite sure. If anything, you should be the nervous one. What’s your luck that the two women you’re crushing on know each other?

It almost seems natural, the way Mapi leans into Ingrid, and the way Ingrid so readily slots a hand on Mapi’s waist.

It takes a moment but your heart drops when it clicks.

“Oh, are you guys… you’re together?”

What. The. Fuck.

No, you’re not crushing on two women who know each other. You’re crushing on two women who happen to be together!

“Si,” Mapi confirms, looking a bit uncomfortable at the way Ingrid keeps manhandling her towards your body.

“Anyways, how did you like the game?” Ingrid butts in, eyelashes batting at you.

Your eyes keep darting between hers and Mapi’s. “It was… it was a nice game. I can’t really say I have much experience to compare the match to, but you guys definitely tore up the field.”

Ingrid hums. “Well we’re just going to have to change that, won’t we.”

You don’t really understand what she means so you stay quiet, giving her a polite nod in response. If you were embarrassed thinking Ingrid stood you up earlier, there’s no words that can describe the way you’re feeling now. All you want to do is go home and curl into a ball. You’re going to need a couple days of wallowing about to get over these two stupid little crushes of yours.

“The girls are planning on going out, if you want to come.”

Nervously scratching the back of your head, you try to swallow the lump in your throat. You’re not quite sure why Ingrid looks so hopeful when Mapi’s literally held in her arms right in front of you.

“I don’t know…”

It’s the sight of both Mapi and Ingrid’s faces falling that instantly makes you start doubting your decision.

“Please?” Mapi rasps, hand lightly falling upon your arm.

Mapi hasn’t really said much this entire time, but your eyes drop to where she’s touching you, face instantly heating up at the simple feel of her hand on your skin.

“I--” You make the mistake of raising your eyes, making direct eye contact with Mapi. The Spaniard’s eyes are soft and it feels a bit as if she’s staring right into your soul. Her fingers absentmindedly dance their way down to your arm as you try to say anything other than how much you’ve been thinking about what exactly her hands can do.

“Well I suppose an hour or two out won’t hurt.” It comes out of your mouth without you really intending it to.

But your heart feels a bit lighter at the way Mapi instantly looks like you’ve just made her day. Ingrid’s sporting a similar smile, chin resting upon Mapi’s shoulder. As gently as she can, Ingrid shuffles Mapi out of the way. You don’t have any time to react before she’s leaning in to press a kiss against your cheek. You’re sure your face is flaming red when she pulls back, but then Mapi’s leaning in next, kissing you just as softly as Ingrid did. She lingers for a beat, pausing to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind your ear.

“Wait outside the corridor for us, yeah? We’ll let security know to let you through.”

Still dumbstruck you nod, not able to get rid of the tingling warmth from your skin.

The two of them bid their goodbyes before disappearing down the tunnel towards the locker room. There’s nothing you can do but stare after their departing figures, hand coming up to touch your cheek as if you can’t believe what’s just happened.

Because now that you’re really thinking about it, what did just happen?

#mapi leon x reader #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon imagine #ingrid engen imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

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