#One of my other best friends is going to find out about this from this post so

[hyunjiisa]

jealous jealous jealous , boy ‧₊ .ᐟ

skz ! members when they’re jealous of another guy at a party

incl. ot8 !

chan! who watches you from across the room

his eye twitches when you tell him that you’re going to your best friends party with one of yalls mutual friends and it turns out to be a man

doesn’t say anything about it because he understands you can have friends but hates how painfully oblivious you are to his wandering eyes

convinces minho to go with him even though they both know why he wants to go

stands in the corner like a loser with his drink (non alcoholic because he wants to drive you home) and watches you interact with everyone

jaw clenches at the way he sees your worried face when your guy friend start to feel you up

snaps out of it for a second when you lock eyes and your face lights up

he finds nothing but joy in the way he watches your friend back up when he starts to walk over

“ hi baby , who’s this ..? ” 

smiles at him and throws his arm around your shoulder

kisses allll up on your neck barely listening to what you say like “mhm.. mhm..” while you ask about why he’s here

your friend runs away and he just coos at you like “you’re so pretty” when you’re all confused as to why

sticks to you like glue for the rest of the night

flips off your guy friend when you aren’t looking

carries you out of the party when you wanna go home (totally isn’t showing off how strong he is)

hyunjin! who tells him to straight up go away

does go to the party with you, but he leaves you with your girl friend to go get you a drink

comes back just to see an ugly man all up on you asking you questions and his head quirks

giggles in his face and you’re so embarrassed

after a while of you guys talking he’s just like

“ hey , can you like go away ? ”

you slap him on the arm and he just shrugs

the other guy picks a fight all like “what’s your problem bro”

“my problem is your stank ass breath on my girl”

keeps sticking his tongue out at the guy from across the room after that

teases you cause you’re mad at him, “don’t you like when i’m protective??”

really just adores you

walks out of the party hand in hand with you

“yea, i was jealous.. but you didn’t know that”

felix! whos so sickly sweet it scares the guy off

was just fine when you being with your friends at a party, he was going with his friends anyway

after a while of catching up with his friends he starts missing you

walks around like a lost dog till he finds you

immediately comes and wraps his arms around once waist once he finds you

notices one of your friends boyfriends checking you out and decides to mess with him

“ hi !! im felix ! ”

reaches his hand out for him to shake and he takes it with a shaky hand (he flexed his muscles to try and intimidate him. it worked)

drills him with questions, asks how he knows you, if you guys are close, if he notices how pretty you look tonight

when he doesn’t give up trying to get at you, he just flat out says “eyes up here, actually where is your girlfriend..”

just smiles and starts getting handsy with you when he notices him getting agitated

“what? i was just being nice..”

brings you over to say hi to his friends instead

convinces you to go home early because he misses you close to him

jeongin! who guards you like a dog

you guys go to the party together, and when you leave to go to the bathroom he follows you with his eyes the whole way

watches as some guy follows you on your way out, tapping your shoulder and asking you something

his eyebrow quirks up right away, slowly inching closer to you both

you only stop mid politely declining his offer when he stares in back of you like there’s a dinosaur

spoiler: not a dinosaur. it’s jeongin glaring at the guy like he killed someone from not even a foot behind you

when you look behind yourself and see him, he snaps out of it and asks if you’re okay

you giggle and tell him you’re fine and take his hand

random sleaze shouts that you “shouldn’t ignore him”

“ take a hint , ugly ”

tightens his grip around your waist and walks you to another area of the place

starts kissing you along your jawline while he makes eye contact with the guy and can’t contain his smile

“come on baby, let’s leave. i miss you.”

drags you home with the promise of chinese takeout

jisung! who pulls you away from him

at first he wanted you to go to the party with your friends because he convinced himself he was too clingy and wanted you to have some fun

when you convince him you want him there with you and he can bring his friends so yall can all hang out he says okay

y’all are all hanging out together at the party in a big group, and some guy asks you to dance

he notices him waving you towards the dance floor and comes over and literally grabs your waist and takes you to dance with him instead while the guy stands there like ??

“ dance with me , im better anyway ”

you can tell he’s jealous by the way he follows you around after that

tells you you’re pretty like 20 times as if he didn’t already worship the ground you walk on

“ugh why does everyone else have to find you so attractive”

still wants you to have fun with your friends so just checks on you every once in a while with a kiss and goes back to his friends

sees the guy he turned down for you glaring at him and makes a peeing motion with his imaginary penis

only ends up going home when YOU want to. (your feet get tired and he gives you his crocs he keeps in the car because he knows you)

minho! who’s incapable of hiding his jealousy

ik yall are tired of the basic party scenario but it adds to the plot okay

barely even wants to go to the party and tries convincing you to stay home but he always wants you to get your way so he agrees to get dressed up and go with you

knows you wanna have fun so he’s your personal butler for the night

getting you drinks, holding your purse for you, letting you sit on one of his thighs on some random couch while you yell over the music to your friends

immediately turns his head when some guy sits next to the both of you and starts flirting

doesn’t even try to hide the way he’s absolutely mean mugging him. glaring, face disgruntled, tongue poking at his cheek from the inside

eventually the guy notices and he’s bold enough to say some dumb shit like “is your guard dog okay??”

“ yea , i’ll be okay when you stop speaking to my woman . ”

pulls you down to sit in his lap instead and rests his head on your shoulder with his arms around your waist, lipstick stained cup in his hands

only cheers up a little when you giggle at him and tell him he’s silly for being jealous

tells you you’re too nice and you need to start pepper spraying men for looking at you, rolls his eyes when you tell him that’s what your guard dog is for

you only go home after all your friends leave and he’s thanking god silently

bonus: scares the guy from earlier by driving to close to him in his car and feels better immediately

seungmin! who makes you jealous right back

doesn’t take much convincing for him to wanna go with you, he likes a party once in a while

only is slightly jealous when he sees you talking with a guy but it really gets him when he hears you laugh with him like you laugh with him

is so distracted with watching you interact he doesn’t even really catch on that this random girl that started talking to him is flirting (doesn’t even really notice he’s responding till she laughs a super high pitched annoying laugh)

whenever you look back at him (you’re trying to get out of it) you’re confused as to why some girl is yapping at him

only catches on when you look upset because he hates seeing a pout on your pretty face

walks away from her and over to you leaving her offended while you laugh at her face

“ hi baby !! ”

drags you away from him and makes you dance

you go home right after that to bully little kids on roblox ( @cosmicalily ref )

changbin! who texts you to get away from him

comes with you no questions asked because he adores you

coos at the way you say hi to everyone excitedly and how pretty you look in your dress

you end up having small talk with one of your friends boyfriends when she goes to get something from her car

you get a notification from him after like 15 seconds

“ come here , hes ugly ”

you smile at your phone and excuse yourself as your friend walks through the door

he’s pouting at you from across the room where he’s leaning against the wall

you wrap your arms around him and explain and he feels dumb but says he can be jealous cause he loves you

you cling to each other the whole night so just end up going home after being told to get a room 20 different times

ends up taking you for a drive and hot chocolate because it’s getting cold

carries you inside (pretend he’s the hulk)

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

a/n: req done ! @furioussheepluminary ,, remember to follow my other accounts and feel free to req ✦

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [11] - Blast

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Every break up has an aftermath.

Word Count: 4244

CW: Explicit language, angst, adult themes MDNI

Series Masterlist

The month after your brutal breakup hadn’t been so easy.

When Theo was around, you made sure he didn’t notice anything. His happiness was the most important thing for you, it had been that way ever since he was born, so you weren’t going to ruin it. Every weekend, you pretended you were incredibly happy and that nothing was wrong at all, despite the heartbreak you were going through.

Your friends were the only people who knew just how sad you were, and they had formed a very united front to change that.

“We have found the one.”

You pulled your brows together as you filled Jamie’s cup while Nik gave you a proud smile and Julie sat up straighter, repressing a squeal.

“You two are dating, so you’ve already found ‘the one’” you used air quotes, making Nik roll his eyes.

“Not for us!”

“And Julie would’ve told me if she found the one.”

“I’d also be shouting it from the rooftops, but this isn’t about me.”

You threw your head back. “I’m not gonna go on a blind date.”

“Hear me out,” Jamie said, fishing his phone out of his pocket. “This guy has been approved in the group chat.”

“What group chat?”

“Our group chat.”

Your jaw dropped. “You guys have a group chat without me?”

“Yes because it’s being used purely to find you your Mr. Right.”

“And we know it’s been only a month since you and Logan broke up but fuck Logan,” Julie added. “I’ve been carrying a magnet in my purse ever since you told me about your break up, just in case I run into him.”

Nik turned to look at her better. “You’re joking.”

Julie grabbed her purse and took out a small horseshoe magnet, making your eyes widen.

“I don’t play about my threats,” she told Nik. “That motherfucker broke my best friend’s heart, so I’ll point this magnet at his—”

“Where did you even get a magnet like that?” you cut her off and she shrugged.

“I googled it.”

“I’ve only seen these in cartoons,” Nik mused, reaching out to get the magnet from Julie before Jamie cleared his throat.

“Our point is,” he said. “You’re better off without Logan, and I think you’d really like this guy.”

You heaved a sigh, resting your elbows on the counter.

“Guys I really appreciate all the effort,” you said and stole a look at Julie. “And the magnet but—seriously, you know how much I hate blind dates.”

“Well does it count as a blind date if we show you his picture?” Nik asked, getting the phone from Jamie before turning the screen so that you could see the picture.

Even you had to admit, he looked cute. It was as if Jamie had decided to find you someone the complete opposite of Logan; he seemed younger than him -around Jamie’s age if you weren’t mistaken-, he had dirty blonde hair, and just from the picture alone, you could tell he was the type of person who liked to smile, a lot. Judging by his white coat, he worked in the same hospital Jamie worked in, and you stole a look at him.

“Your coworker?”

“He works in ER,” Jamie said. “Saved a kid’s life the other day.”

“And I’ve met him,” Nik said. “He’s like a cute puppy but also a badass.”

“And he is very handsome, you like handsome,” Julie sang tauntingly and you ran a hand over your face.

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not over Logan yet.”

“The best way to get over someone is good sex,” Julie pointed out. “We’re not telling you to move in with the guy. We’re just telling you to just…go on a date and see where things go.”

“And it could help,” Nik said softly. “You know, distracting yourself from your ex.”

You bit inside your cheek, then clicked your tongue.

“Ugh, fine,” you muttered, making them grin. “But if I don’t like him, I’ll leave and you guys will delete that group chat. Alright?”

“Deal.”

                                                 *

 One of the things you hated about blind dates was that you always got incredibly nervous right before. The urge to text them and stay in instead would always get the best of you—now to think of it, the only person you didn’t get that urge with was Logan.

Well.

Logan was out of the picture, and you had to deal with that.

But if anything, at least Jamie knew this guy and was friends with him, so the odds of him being an ass was pretty low.

You pulled over in front of the restaurant before checking your phone to see whether it was in fact the right place, then slipped a little in the seat. This was by no means your first rodeo but…

You really wanted to just go home and get under covers and listen to Julie’s break up playlist.

“Worst case scenario, you’ll just have one drink and go back home,” you muttered to yourself. “Come on soldier.”

You checked your makeup in the rear mirror, then got out of the car and locked it before you smoothed out your dress and made your way to the restaurant. The hostess greeted you and after you gave her your name, you followed her into the restaurant.

Oh, he was already there.

If Logan wasn’t at the back of your mind, you were sure that you would’ve been excited. He really was a good looking guy, the smile that appeared on his face upon seeing you looked very genuine, and the fact that he jumped on his feet to greet you was a great sign.

However—

Okay no, you were not going to think about Logan tonight, not at all.

“Hi!” he said and you smiled back.

“Hi,” you said and you extended your hand but he went for a hug before he paused and made a move to shake your hand but this time you were the one who went for a hug, so you gave him a curt hug before pulling back.

“Jesus—sorry, that was awkward,” he said and you tried to control your giggle at the look of slight regret on his face.

“No worries,” you assured him and he gave you a tentative smile.

“I’m Hayes.”

You introduced yourself as well before the waiter pulled your chair for you and you thanked him, then sat down. Hayes followed you suit, then motioned at his wine glass and the appetizers.

“I hope you don’t mind.”

“No no, not at all,” you said and looked up at the waiter who put the menu in front of you. “Can I get the same as well? Thank you.”

Waiter nodded and walked away from your table, and you turned to Hayes.

“Uh, hi again.”

“Hey,” he said with a chuckle. “So uh…blind but not so blind date?”

“Sounds about right,” you said. “I mean I saw your picture.”

“So have I.”

“Jamie showed it to you?”

“Technically no.”

You blinked a couple of times. “How’s that?”

“Jamie has a picture of you and your whole friend group on his desk,” he admitted as the waiter brought your wine and you thanked him. “I saw your pic there and I asked about you in a way that was very subtle in my opinion but Jamie disagrees.”

You raised your brows, smiling slightly. “You’re not serious.”

“It was kind of like Jamie was an app and I was fervently trying to swipe.”

A small laugh escaped from your lips and you covered your mouth. “Oh my God…”

“Am I giving off serial killer vibes?” he asked to no one in particular. “Because I swear I save people for a living, that’s not—it’s just that you are very pretty and I’m very rusty when it comes to all this.”

You lowered your hands to give him a bright smile.

“You’re very sweet,” you said. “I didn’t think you were rusty.”

“No?” he asked and let out a breath. “Thank God.”

“It’s been a while?” you asked him after a moment of hesitation and he hummed.

“Listen, rusty or not I know talking about previous relationships is a red flag.”

“I don’t mind,” you said. “Let me guess, you had a long relationship and…?”

“And walked in on her and my best friend.”

“Ouch.”

“Former best friend.”

“Still ouch,” you said with a grimace. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I mean—I changed cities but it has to be for a good cause. At least that’s what I’m choosing to believe.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

“How about you? I find it hard to believe you go on blind dates if I’m honest.”

“Oh I’ve gone on blind dates,” you assured him. “And uh—my friends have made it their life mission to matchmake me, they apparently have a group chat where they approve people.”

Hayes pulled his brows together. “Holy shit, I’ve been approved in the group chat?”

“Yes you have,” you said. “Congratulations.”

“I feel very validated,” he mused, making you giggle. “No seriously, knowing Jamie, this is the same as passing a very difficult exam with a jury.”

“Yeah he’s very protective, especially after—” you stopped yourself and Hayes shot you a lighthearted look.

“Hey, I talked about my ex.”

“Well, I got dumped,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “And Jamie never approved of him, so now he’s like extra careful.”

Hayes hummed and lifted his wine glass slightly.

“Well, on behalf of all men in this city, we’re all very glad that your ex is an idiot.”

You scoffed a laugh and lifted your glass as well.

“Yeah well,” you trailed off, trying your hardest to not let your thoughts drift to Logan. “So you’re an E.R. doctor?”

“I am,” he said. “And you?”

“Oh I…I’m just a waitress,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders, that feeling of inadequacy hitting you out of nowhere once again. “Nothing too exciting.”

“Do you like where you work?”

“Yeah, I’m friends with everyone there except my boss,” you said. “It’s pretty nice. And you? I heard you saved a kid’s life the other day.”

A bright smile appeared on his face. “Yeah, that’s why I like working in the E.R. I can actually make a difference in just seconds, you know? It makes me feel alive, like I’m doing something right with my life.”

You nodded your head. “I can imagine. Sounds wonderful, really.”

He sipped his wine.

“So tell me more about you,” he said. “Jamie says you have a son?”

“Yeah!” you said, your eyes lighting up at the mention of Theo. “Yeah I do. Theo. He’s the cutest kid in the world, and I’m very objective about it.”

That made him laugh. “At first I thought Jamie was a father, with all the drawings in his office…”

“Oh he still keeps those?”

“With all due respect, it’s like a shrine in his office.”

“You should see his and Nik’s fridge, they have like one picture there and the rest is Theo’s artwork.”

“Really?”

“He had his artist phase, now he’s—” you started but were cut off when your phone started buzzing. You gave him an apologetic look.

“Excuse me,” you said as you grabbed it out of your purse, but as soon as you saw the name flashing on the screen, your heart dropped.

Logan.

A part of you -the petulant part of you- wanted to reject the call but you took a deep breath, then licked your lips and then answered.

“Hello?”

There was a second of hesitation on the other line before he cleared his throat.

“Theo is fine,” he said. “But he needs you here.”

Your head shot up. “What? What happened?”

“There was a small accident—”

“What accident?” you asked, your heart leaping to your throat as fear crashed down on you. “What—is he—”

“Like I said, he’s completely fine, I promise,” he said, his deep voice soothing your fear as always. “He had a nightmare, his powers took over and he blew up the wall in his room accidentally but he’s fine and so is everyone else. He locked himself in the basement though, and refuses to come out.”

You could feel your throat tightening but you took a shaky breath, then nodded as if he could see you.

“I’m on my way,” you said and hung up before turning to Hayes.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, pushing your phone into your purse. “Theo is…he’s in a boarding school in the city but he—he had a nightmare and he locked himself in the basement.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Hayes said, frowning. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah,” you said despite the anxiety churning your stomach, then stood up. “But I need to go, he must be terrified.”

“Of course,” Hayes stood up with you. “Would you like me to drive you there?”

“No no, I can drive,” you said. “I really appreciate it though, thank you.”

“Oh it’s nothing, really,” he said. “I hope he’s feels better.”

“Sorry, again.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said. “Is it okay if I get your number from Jamie?”

“Sure!” you said. “I’ll—I’ll see you around I guess?”

“Have a nice night,” he said and you gave him a curt smile, then made your way out of the restaurant, your heart beating in your ears.

                                                 *

If it were any other time, you would’ve been nervous to see Logan after a month, for the first time after your break up but you were so worried about Theo that it didn’t even cross your mind that Logan would be the one to greet you.

Which, of course he was the one to greet you by the door. He probably took your scent the moment you drove through the gates.

He looked almost frozen the moment you stepped out of your car but he recovered very fast.

“Hey—”

“Where is he?” you asked without so much as glance in his direction as you walked past him into the mansion and Logan easily caught up with you.

“In the basement,” he said. “Follow me.”

When you two got to the basement, Storm and Jean were already there.

“Hey, he’s totally fine,” Jean assured you the moment she saw you and Storm nodded her head.

 “We could’ve opened the door but we didn’t want to scare him any more than he already is,” she assured you. “He only said he wants you, and now he’s not talking to us.”

“But he’s not hurt in any way,” Logan added. “I don’t smell any blood or pain, and Jean already checked his mind.”

You raised your brows, then took a deep breath.

“Thanks,” you said and smiled at Storm and Jean. “Really, thank you so much. I can take it from here.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” you said and swallowed thickly. “It’s not the first time this happens.”

Storm and Jean exchanged glances before Storm turned to you.

“I’ll just go and check the other students then.”

“And I’ll fill Charles in,” Jean said, squeezing your arm in a reassuring manner before they both walked away and you ran a hand over your face, then walked to the door of the basement and knocked softly.

“Bean?”

The only answer you got was a sniffle, breaking your heart to smithereens. You could feel your own eyes burning but you frowned, forcing yourself to focus.

“Bean, are you there?”

“…Yes,” his small voice reached you and you took a deep breath.

“You think you can open the door?”

“I had a bad dream.”

“I know,” you said, nodding fervently. “Everyone has bad dreams, it’s completely normal. And what do we do when we have bad dreams?”

“We have hot chocolate because that makes them go away.”

“Exactly,” you said. “So can you open the door please?”

“People will be angry at me.”

“What? No!” you said. “No one will be angry at you, I promise.”

“Mommy, it was an accident,” he said, a hiccup escaping him and you rested your forehead against the door, squeezing your eyes before swallowing the lump in your throat.

“I know,” you said. “And so does everyone. No one is angry at you—Logan, is anyone angry at Theo?”

Logan came closer to the door so that Theo could hear him better.

“Not at all,” he said. “If anything I’m a little jealous. Blasting walls is so badass, I’d love to be able to do that.”

“You hear that, bean?”

“Really?” Theo’s hopeful voice reached you and Logan smiled slightly.

“Sure bub. And hey, turns out we’ll have to decide on your superhero costume sooner than you think.”

“There you go,” you said. “Superhero costume sounds fun—”

A meow cut you off, making you tilt your head.

“Bean, is there a cat in there with you?”

“…No.”

Another meow reached you and you raised your brows.

“Theo.”

“I found him here and we’re friends now.”

“Okay,” you muttered more to yourself. “Theo—”

“His name is Sir Bartholomeow,” Theo added as if it was imperative that you knew that information and you heaved a sigh.

“Very creative bean, but can you please open the door? So that we can drink hot cocoa and I can meet your friend?”

There was a momentary hesitation and another sniffle before you heard the lock turning and you took a step back so that you could see him better. Theo was still in his pajamas, his glasses slightly crooked over his face as if he had put them on in a hurry, his wide teary eyes looking up at you. In his arms, he was holding probably the grumpiest looking cat you had ever seen in your entire life so tight that it was a wonder why the cat wasn’t trying to escape. A breath of relief left you and you crouched down to get to his level.

“Hi bean,” you said gently. “How about we give your friend to Logan so that they can be friends and I can make sure you’re okay?”

Logan stepped closer. “Yeah bub, I can take the cat—”

“Sir Bartholomeow,” you and Theo said at the same time and Logan cleared his throat.

“Yeah, him.”

Theo sniffled again before tentatively handing Sir Bartholomeow to Logan, and you checked whether he was hurt anywhere before pulling him into a bone crushing hug. Theo was still shaking like a leaf and he mumbled ‘mommy’ before burying his face to your chest while you stood up with him in your arms.

“I’m here,” you said softly, still holding him tight. “I’m here, it’s fine. I swear everything is gonna be fine.”

                                                  *

Theo never liked being away from you and that turned into a whole different level whenever he had a nightmare. You would be lying if you said you weren’t relieved to have him in your sight so after he drank his hot chocolate, you had carried him to bed and stayed with him until he fell asleep, humming the lullaby he used to love when he was a baby.

There it was again.

Times like these, you always remembered just how utterly alone and clueless you were in this whole thing.

You could feel the tears pricking your eyes as you looked down at him, then leaned in to kiss his head and pulled the covers over him, and walked out of the room as quiet as a mouse.

 The mansion was mostly quiet, and even though you could still hear the voices coming from the kitchen, you desperately needed to be alone in case you burst into tears, so you walked through the hallway to step outside, the cold wind hitting your face. Heaving a sigh, you made your way to the stairs to sit down, and wiped at your eyes furiously before wrapping your arms around your knees, fixing your gaze on the stars glimmering in the sky.

You heard the front door open before the familiar footsteps came closer and you felt him drop his jacket over your shoulders before he sat down as well.

“Hi Logan,” you rasped out, sniffling and he offered you a hesitant smile.

“Hey,” he said, putting the bottle of whiskey between you two before he made a face. “Shit, I forgot to bring glasses.”

You scoffed a laugh. “We’ve done worse things than drinking from the same bottle.”

“Right,” he said after a beat and you grabbed the bottle to take a swig, grimacing at the burn before putting it down again.

“How’s your arm?” he asked and you took a shaky breath, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Healed,” you said and turned to look at him better. “I don’t even think about it anymore.”

He was too smart to miss the double meaning of your remark and his lips twitched for a moment.

“I’d bet,” he muttered. “Fun date then?”

You pulled your brows together in confusion and he nodded at you.

“I haven’t seen you in that dress before and you smell like someone else.”

You smelt like—

Oh. Hayes had hugged you.

“I don’t have the capacity to get into that bullshit right now,” you stated and Logan swallowed thickly, then nodded again.

“Right,” he said. “Of course.”

For a minute, the only thing you could hear were the crickets and the sound of the faint wind in the air before Logan take a deep breath.

“He’s fine, princess.”

You bit at your nail, blinking back the tears before you shook your head.

“No he’s not,” you said. “You and I both know that he’s not fine. Not really.”

“He’s too powerful,” Logan said. “Accidents like these will happen, you can’t really avoid them. What matters is that he hasn’t hurt himself or anyone else.”

You took another sip of the whiskey.

“Having you here helped a lot too,” he said. “He calms down when he sees you, that’ll be good for him.”

You clicked your tongue.

“Yeah, for now,” you muttered and Logan frowned.

“For now?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Until he grows up and hates me for everything I’m doing wrong as we speak.”

“That’s not true.”

“No no it is, I’m fucking up big time,” you said with a dry laugh. “Jesus, my mom said I had no idea what I was doing and I was too busy arguing with her that I didn’t even see it but it’s true. I have no clue.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong.”

“I’ve been doing everything wrong,” you told him, blinking back the tears. “He’s too little to see it now, but sooner or later he’ll see that everything that happened to him is my fault, even the fact that his powers showed up—”

You had to stop talking when your voice cracked and you tried to swallow the lump in your throat, sniffling again. He reached out for a second as if he wanted to wipe at the tears falling down your cheeks but then paused, pulling his hand back, his jaw clenching like he was in pain. You wiped at your eyes furiously, letting out a shaky breath.

“I’m terrible at this,” you said, nodding to yourself while Logan kept his burning gaze on you.

“I promise you, you’re not,” he said. “Theo adores you, and I think you’re the best parent I’ve ever seen in my life which in case it has escaped your notice, that’s a lot of years.”

You raised your brows, wiping at your nose before you cleared your throat and took off the jacket to place it into his lap, then stood up with Logan following you suit.

“I can drive you home,” he said and you threw your shoulders back, trying to pull yourself together.

“I had like three sips of whiskey, I can drive.”

“I can still drive you, it’s been a long night.”

“I’m fine.”

“No I want to,” he insisted and you tilted your head, giving him a questioning look. His eyes met yours before he took a deep breath.

“I just…” he trailed off. “I want to—I want to make myself useful.”

You frowned, staring at him. “Why?”

“No reason,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t ask for anything, just…like I said. I want to make myself useful. I need to make myself useful.”

Your stomach did a flip as a painful smile curled your lips.

Oh.

This. You were familiar with this.

You had been through the same. You were in fact going through the same right now, frantically looking for something to ease the pain. Your solution was to follow your friends’ advice and try to date around, ignoring the way it just felt wrong when you were still in love with him, and Logan—

Logan was dealing with it in such a Logan way that it was almost ironic how you didn’t see it coming.

“It’s not going to help,” you said, your voice a mere whisper and he gulped, his jaw clenching.

“It could,” he managed to say through his teeth and you sniffled, shaking your head.

“It won’t,” you rasped out. “I’m sorry, it won’t.”

The agony that flashed over his handsome features twisted at your heart but you managed to smile at him.

“Good night Logan,” you murmured and walked away from him, painfully aware of his eyes following you.

[book-lore]

No shade to the OP on this one because I do know some people who will do this and what I am going to bring up here might be specific to me, but I would still encourage people to be enthusiastic about their horror interests anyway.

I work in a library and thus I have access to EVERY. SINGLE. WEIRD AND MORBID BOOK you've heard of and so very many that you haven't. My reading list is a joke among my colleagues because while some of them are reading the newest Sally Rooney or Jennifer Colgan, I am regaling them (gently, but I'll get to that in a minute) of my favorite books that have featured some truly awful things. And yes, I've told patrons about this too, some to confusion and others who find it very useful. I get that this context is different from someone who might meet at a random social gathering, but if someone is going to meet you with suspicion about what you are reading, and they aren't going to hear you out about what makes it great, they probably won't be a lot of fun to talk to in the long run anyway. My coworkers think it's funny that I read such heavy, depressing topics because I am really friendly and upbeat at work. They also like that if they are looking for something a bit spooky but not going to plunge them into a story that they can't finish, they know I have them covered because of that whole gently telling them thing. I take into account their comfort level and when they ask me about my favorite topics, they know they can trust me not to send them into the deep end.

And maybe some random person has read all this and thought "that's fine in a library but that doesn't work in meeting people in other spaces", actually it does. One of my closest and longest enduring friendships began with someone who insisted they did not like horror stories or movies. They were not interested in the scary stuff, according to them. Over time, they realized that I wasn't going to make their life miserable by making them watch stuff beyond their comfort level and they developed their own taste in the genre, a lot of it from the media they already liked. They just thought those things didn't count. This wasn't always the case for people who I talked to, but the ones that mattered, especially with one of my best friends, it turned out that they weren't so quick to judge.

So talk about your obsessions. Talk about the things that excite you and make you happy. Maybe it won't be for everyone but it's not supposed to be and some people around you are still going to find it fun to listen.

being someone who's passionate about their interests when you're a horror fan really is a special layer of hell because every interaction you have with another person where the conversation turns to your hobbies and personal entertainments is a trial where if you show too much unrepentant glee at getting an opportunity to talk about your preferred subject you get to watch them mentally move you onto their list of untrustworthy individuals to avoid in the future in real time

[meelusinee]

WALKING IN A WINTER WONDERLAND 𖥔 M.R X READER

in which you spend christmas with mattheo and his friends (part two to lovesick!mattheo)

pairing: lovesick!mattheo riddle x reader tags: lovesick mattheo, fem reader, early christmas post i think? word count: 1.8k warnings: just fluff!

author's note: THIS IS PART TWO TO LOVESICK MATTHEO, if you want to read part one click here - now listen people, i know it’s not really christmas time BUT a lot of you guys really liked my first mattheo post, and i really really wanna write about him again. and what better way to be in love then cuddles at the fireplace??? therefore, the obvious solution is to have a christmas special!

WALKING IN A WINTER WONDERLAND | M.R X READER

It had been a long while since you and Mattheo had gotten together, a relationship full of notes and songs dedicated to you. You tried to keep everything you could in a small box, the widest smile on Mattheo’s face coming out when he saw the box for the first time.

Suffice to say that his appreciative kisses and cuddles kept you rather warm that night.

Over the course of your relationship, you had met Mattheo’s friends as well. It started indirectly, whenever they would barge into his dorm room and find you both cuddling. 

Theodore was the one you talked to the most. He was Mattheo’s best friend, and often teased him quite a bit about how much he loved you. Theo was the one who told you about the love letters that Mattheo made in the first place, which you shall forever be grateful for. 

Blaise and Draco were the friends that you often went to if you wanted to get on a cruise ship the next week, or whenever you wanted the best wine seller for a Slytherin party that weekend. And Enzo or Pansy were the friends you’d go to if you wanted all of that done illegally.

All in all, a rather good friend group.

Which led you to where you were going right now. A legal holiday adventure hosted by Draco at one of his vacation houses somewhere in the world. Mattheo and you decided to spend some time together driving to the place, which eventually led to Theo coming along. Theo invited Blaise to smoke with him. Blaise invited Draco to pay for road trip snacks. Draco invited Pansy because they were dating. And Pansy invited Enzo for reasons you still hadn’t been told yet.

That meant you had to take your family van.

You and Mattheo sat in the front, with Theo, Ezo  and Blaise in the middle. Pansy and Draco sat in the backseats, dining in on the couple time that you and Mattheo had been robbed of. Still, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Are we there yet?” Enzo whined, head leaning forward.

Maybe one change or two.

“No, we’re not.” Mattheo said, sighing softly as he continued driving forward. “I told you this five minutes ago.”

“Maybe the path changed within five minutes!” Enzo said to him. 

“Yeah, five minutes closer. Not an hour!” you said, chuckling softly as you squeezed Mattheo’s hand. 

“You two are mean.” Enzo pouted, turning to look at Blaise. “Right Blaise?”

“It’s deserved.” he said, flipping through the pages of his book. He recently got reading glasses that Draco and Enzo had teased him endlessly for. “Ow!”

“No kicking!” Pansy said, swatting Enzo’s head from the backseat.

“I say go full-in.” Theo said, which ensued an argument about the ethics of kicking someone whenever they don’t agree with your opinion. You and Mattheo turned to look at each other with soft sighs, similar to parents dealing with toddlers going to Disneyland.

“Can you all hush back there?” you said, the tiniest smirk present on your face as you started at Mattheo. “Your father is trying to drive, hey don’t hit me!”

“Hush.” he said, gently booping your nose.

“Are we there now?” Enzo asked as Mattheo pulled into the parking lot, gasping loudly at the sight of the cabin. “Woah.”

It was decorated to the most Christmas extent you could think of. Bushes covered in lights, icicle lights hanging from the roof, wreaths placed all over the place. There were bells on top of the mailbox that chimed when you passed by it, and a large and bright star at the tippy top of the roof. If you didn’t know where you were, you’d think you walked into a Christmas market hosted by Santa.

The seven of you walked out of the car, Draco walking through first as he inspected the house.

“My mother has a knack for Christmas,” he muttered, his feet making a rather large imprint in the snow. “I didn't think it was this big though.” 

“I bet the Christmas tree is so pretty.” Pansy squealed, running to the front door. “Open it!”

“Give me a moment, Pans!” he said, trying to figure out which key opened the front door from the ring his mother had given him. You and Mattheo stayed behind while the rest of them rushed forward, watching them rush inside once Draco got it open.

“It looks rather magical.” you whispered, giggling as a small snowflake fell on your nose.

“It really does.” Mattheo whispered softly, his eyes glued on you as he spoke. “The most magical thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“You’re so sappy.” you smiled.

Mattheo chuckled softly, his arms wrapping around you. There were two puffer jackets separating your skin from his, but you wouldn’t trade this moment for the world. “We should go on a walk.”

“We should!” you said, your boots making an indent on the snow as you both walked down the path. 

The path was even more magical than the house itself, you noticed, with Christmas trees lining the whole way down. It seemed that all of the trees within the field were swaddled in Christmas lights. Some were regular, some were colored, and others had ornaments or lights at the tip of them.

“This really is beautiful.” you whispered, gasping at the string lights and small candles that gently flew between the trees. How they didn’t get put out by the snow, you had no idea. “Wow.”

“You’re beautiful.” he whispered, chuckling softly as he kissed your forehead. “I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you this whole time.” 

“Well, you better start.” you pouted, turning to him. “The trees are really pretty.”

Mattheo nodded, laughing as you grabbed his chin to direct him where to look. His eyes took in the snowed over area first, the lights on the trees after that. There was red, green, and blue lights bouncing together, along with the regularly colored lights that shined bright on the glittery ornaments.

“They are rather pretty, yes.” he whispered. “Though I feel like it’s quite a lot of color rather than just one.” 

“What really is Christmas if not to turn you blind with bright lights?” you asked, smiling as the both of you walked further down the path. 

“Okay everyone, gather around!” Mattheo said, a bass guitar in hand. The night was rising as the sun was setting, the firepit that Blaise and Enzo had made cracking through the burning wood.

“What are we doing?” Pansy asked, sitting down on one of the wooden logs. Mattheo sat down next to you as Draco sat down next to Pansy. Theo sat next to Mattheo purely to annoy him, while Blaise and Enzo sat on the other log.

“We’re going to sing the Jingle Bell Rock.” Mattheo said, setting the bass guitar on his knees as he began testing it. “Found this in the attic.”

“What on Earth are you doing in my attic?” Draco asked, a cup of wine in his hands.

“Hey, it was open!” Theo said, having assisted with the raid of the Christmas attic. “And we found a bunch of very interesting things.”

“Like what?” Enzo leaned forward with a smirk, before Blaise whacked him in the head. “Ow!”

“They’re just messing with Draco.” Blaise said. “There was only old cobwebs and his parents’ Hogwarts uniforms, nothing scandalous.”

“A shame though.” Theo muttered, lighting a joint before turning to Mattheo. “You gonna play?”

“Yup.” Mattheo said, his fingers running against the strings as he played the opening to the Jingle Bell Rock. 

You and Pansy giggled as the boys all joined together to sing the song, all completely out of tune. Pansy shared a glance with you as you both began to sing the back up vocals, all of you swaying in tune with the music. 

You went from the Jingle Bell Rock to Rockin Around the Christmas Tree. Mattheo and you sang Baby it’s Cold Outside while Theo and Enzo gagged, and Draco dramatically sang Frosty the Snowman with tears in his eyes. Enzo stood up dramatically, pausing the guitar as he began to sing a song about a grandma being run over by a reindeer.

“Okay, that’s enough weed for you,” Draco said, sitting Enzo back down. “We are not running grandmas over with reindeer.”

“Says you!” Theo cackled, crossing his legs. “I for one find the idea rather pleasant.” 

“Pleasant?” Pansy asked incredulously, shaking her head as she very quickly snatched Theo’s joint out of his hand. “That’s it, we’re cutting you off too.”

“My joint!” Theo yipped.

“Mattheo?” you called out, poking your head out of the door as you saw him sitting by the firepit.

“Yeah?” he asked, head lifting at the sound of your voice. You felt your face heating up at the smile that spread on his face, feeling it enough to heat you better than any fire could. “Hi there my love.”

“Everyone’s inside making hot chocolate before they go to bed.” you whispered, walking closer to him. Your hands found their way to the sides of his face, kissing the tip of his nose before you sat down next to him on the log. “Do you want some?”

“No, I’m good.” he whispered, kissing your forehead before wrapping his arm around you.

“You sure?” you whispered, wrapping both of your arms around his waist. “You feel rather cold out here. Your face is all red.”

“That’s because I’m staring at a really pretty girl.” he chuckled softly, kissing your lips ever so gently.

You giggled softly, placing your head on his shoulder as you looked up at him with the cutest expression he could ever think of. For him, you felt like epitome of Christmas. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” you said, nuzzling your nose against his playfully.

“No, I love you more.” he smiled softly at you.

“Not true.” you pouted, kissing his nose. “Because I love you so much more.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, chuckling softly. “Well I wrote you songs. So obviously, I love you more.”

“Yeah, well I saved them!” you pouted.

“You did save them.” he reasoned, nodding his head as he looked at the firepit. He put on a serious expression, pretending to truly ponder whether you loved him more or he loved you more. “Still think I love you more though.”

“That’s not fair.” you grumbled, burying your face against the crook of his neck. “It’s cold.”

“Why don’t we go inside then?” he asked gently, his fingertips caressing your shoulder. “You didn’t come out with your jacket, you must be freezing.”

“I am.” you whispered, standing up as he did. “Hot chocolate?”

Mattheo chuckled softly at your insistence, kissing your forehead once more before putting out the fire. “Anything for you.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE

ITS HEREEEEE!!! i wanted to do a second part for mattheo and i thought that i might as well do christmas-themed since it's already blasting on the radio. i'm tryingggg to heal my christmas spirit that i have lost over the years, esp because i always thought it was just about that one mariah carey song since my sister would play it every. single. day. even during my birthday (i was born in june.)

BUT, as always, please like, comment, and reblog! it really helps out, and i really appreciate everyone who does! if you guys have any requests or something you can request in the ask box!

have a good day everyone!

[sunkissedchld]

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝒘𝒉𝒚 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔

take your time to use your intuition to choose the pile that will best resonate with you. lastly, please don't be afraid to say if the message resonated or not; it helps me in determining if my interpretations are correct or not, and i appreciate any sort of feedback - even if it's "bad".

good luck to you, reader ✨

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈

𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 ⟢

“Telepathy” by BTS “Not My Nigga” by KenTheMan “Sparks Will Fly” by J. Cole (feat. Jhene Aiko)

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 ⟢⟢

The Wheel of Fortune ⤸, Seven of Coins ⤸, Page of Wands, Six of Coins, Justice ⤸, Queen of Coins, King of Coins ⤸, Queen of Cups

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟢⟢

Those connected to pile one could find it hard to connect with others because it could feel as if no matter how hard you try you always end up being “let down”. You might be described as what’s called a “late bloomer” when it comes to things related to socialization. Some of you may have experienced literal delays in development in that you may have had a speech impediment or been nonverbal for a length of time, but clothes of you - the vast majority of you - may have just felt like you were delayed when it came to figuring out how to make friends or how to start dating. You might’ve tried your hardest to do so the way you knew how, but it’s like somehow for some reason nothing ever took off, and you never felt like you had the type of relationships “depicted in the movies”. 

There’s a strong need to acknowledge that those connected to this pile did (and do) try their hardest when it comes to trying to form connections. You had a period of time (or you may still be in that time) where your mindset was to try to be as excited about making friends and forming relationships as possible. You might’ve gone into things with an open heart ready to show everyone how good of a friend you can be and how willing you are to discuss things with people and to give of yourself not only emotionally but also materially for some of you, but in being so excited (and in some instances blindly naïve) it’s like only wolves saw your want for friendship and, in turn, took advantage of that excitement only to leave you feeling worse off than you did before. 

It’s hard for you to connect with others because prior experiences have left you feeling as if everytime you even try to develop them it just ends with you being burned in the end. There’s a call for you to “keep going” and to “keep trying” even if it feels futile right now, but there’s also a call to analyze the people coming to you for friendship before accepting it. Continue approaching friendships with that excitement and want to help others as they help you, but maybe focus more on the emotional side of things as opposed to the material or even the visual. “Movies aren’t all what they’re cracked up to be” comes to mind. There’s a call to not over invest in others at the expense of yourself or in hopes of drawing people to you but to instead allow your own light and personality to shine as a way to bring true friends in. Cher Lloyd’s “Love Me for Me” comes to mind, so it could be important to listen to. 

Overall, there’s a call for you to transition from being the Queen of Coins to being the Queen of Cups. You can’t heal and invest into everyone and bring about true friendships and relationships trying to appeal to people’s senses and material drive; you have to appeal emotionally by showing who you are as a person even without “all the things money could buy”. There’s a call for you to remain open to reaching out and trying to approach people to create connections and to not fall for cutting yourself off because “there’s no point anyways” because there is a point – to allow yourself to have these emotional connections to others to improve (and prove) a part of your humanity. Humans are social creatures, and you deserve to have that pull for social interaction fulfilled.

𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⟢

11:11, “blowing bubble gum hearts”, heart shaped lollipops, glass tuning fork, the little mermaid, ring boxes, frilly pink and purple jewelry boxes, clams/oysters, tiffany blue, radishes, “glass half full”

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈

𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 ⟢

“Pretty Girl Rock” by Keri Hilson “Nightmares” by The Boyz “Harder to Breathe” by Maroon 5

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 ⟢⟢

Ten of Swords, King of Swords, Knight of Coins, Two of Coins, Seven of Swords, Four of Cups, The Sun, The Tower

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟢⟢

Those of pile two may have recently cut off a group of friends or “people” and could be feeling hurt by it. It could be that you knew it was for the right reasons, but “that didn’t make it any less hard to do”. The idea of a “beautiful tragedy” comes to mind when it comes to how you connect with others; some of you could be prone to “trauma bonding” where you end up in relationships with those who abuse you or treat you terribly. The idea that you “know better” or “know that [you] deserve better” also comes to mind, but it could feel as if you just keep slipping into these kinds of connections. You could be currently trying to figure out how to keep this cycle from continuing. You could be prone to getting into “nightmarish” relationships with people. You could find it hard to connect with people because of these past experiences. 

Those in this pile could currently be transitioning to a mindset where you believe it’s easier to stay away from connection (specifically friend groups) because every time you just end up “losing [your] mind” or “[your] sanity”. You could be trying to be more rational or attach to people who are similar in education and ways of thinking instead of connecting to people emotionally. With that, it doesn’t seem that you’re keeping away form connections completely, but you’re approaching them slowly and with caution and as a result your issue could actually be that you find it hard to figure out how to “feel safe enough” to move forward in connections past just thinking alike or thinking the connection makes sense to form. It could also be that you’re trying to figure out how to prioritize yourself in connections because you’re realizing you can’t keep hurting yourself or “setting yourself on fire” in an attempt to help others. 

Ultimately, this pile struggles with having connections with people as a result of always being the “butt of the joke” or being the target of bullying and other forms of abuse. You may have been lied to and told that you’re “boring” or “uninteresting”; some of you could’ve been in a Mean Girls or Heathers type friend group where you were always left out or planned against. With The Sun’s presence it’s important to note that you’re none of the things people told you that you were; you’re not boring or uninteresting or “too quiet” or anything like that. You are worthy of having connections just like everyone else wants, and the advice for this pile seems to be to not close yourself off as a result of bad experiences, but instead to strategize on how to approach them differently in a way that still keeps you feeling safe and protected. 

I said earlier that those who chose this pile may still be trying to form new connections, but they’re focusing more on intellectual things they have in common with others as opposed to emotional ways they connect. There’s advice to slowly but surely open up emotionally in your attempt to form new connections. “Show who you really are” and “This Is Me” from Camp Rock comes to mind. The first step in having better relationships comes from the realization you’ve had recently and the walk away from former bad groups; “it can only go up from here”. You very likely are on the right path in your new approach. It's just that “little modifications” are needed, so you can express your true self “in all its glory” and not just intellectually.

𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⟢

the number 3 and 5, coconut bras, broccoli, carrots, heart shaped ring boxes, donald/daffy/daisy duck, win, when, wen, hourglasses, butterflies, rainbows

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈𝐈

𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 ⟢

“The Way You Make Me Feel” by Michael Jackson “Big Girl (You Are Beautiful)” by Mika  “Finesse (Remix)” by Bruno Mars (feat. Cardi B)

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 ⟢⟢

Queen of Swords, The Lovers, Nine of Coins, Ten of Cups, Ten of Coins ⤸, The Star, Page of Cups, Knight of Cups, The Magician

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟢⟢

Those of pile three could be an outspoken bunch; at the very least, you are someone who stands on your own principles even if you stand alone. You could be seen as someone who is comfortable being alone or standing out solo although this doesn’t mean you have no friends at all. Queen of Swords in the deck being used is represented by Circe, the Greek goddess of illusion and necromancy, who is especially known for her tendency to turn men with bad intentions into swine. With this in mind, pile three may specifically be asking why they find it hard to connect with men - romantically and/or platonically. You could feel as if you get along with women just fine, but when it comes to men it’s like you know nothing or have no experience or you never find well intentioned men; the latter explanation is what will be most likely for most choosing this pile, and for those who have issues with developing connections with women also it could be that the attention you receive from men makes women view you a certain way that leaves them feeling “weary”. 

Although you may want to develop deep connections with people it could be that people see you as “too” high maintenance - even if you may not actually be. It could also be that people see you as someone who is on a pedestal, and as a result they get way more caught up in the idea of being in a relationship with you as opposed to actually caring about you as a person – as a human being. People could feel as if you’ve “got it made” and even believe you already have a hearty amount of people you’re friends with, so they could stay away as a result of self-doubting beliefs of “they already have a lot going on and they probably have a ton of friends, so why would they want to be friends with me?”. People could feel as if you’d be the type of person to flake on others easily because of how busy and “on your own” you are. It mainly seems to be that people’s assumptions of how you are cloud their want to actually approach you to see who you really are. 

With The Star’s presence, those of you who chose this pile are encouraged to stay hopeful when it comes to the idea of you developing relationships with others. Traditionally, The Star depicts a woman who is half in a body of water and half on land; she is shown to be nourishing the ground with the water, and you could be encouraged to be doing the same but instead of land it’s people. You could be called to make the first move when it comes to trying to develop connections. This may sound scary, but the quotes “you miss every shot you don’t take” and “the worst they can say is no” comes to mind. It is also the case that the more often you practice approaching people and talking to them, then the more confident you will become, and eventually you will develop the connections you have been looking for. Ultimately, this pile is being encouraged to take the steps to initiate the connections you want to have with others. “Stop waiting on others”.

𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⟢

333, hair in a high ponytail, the colors black, blue, pink, and green, ballet, black swan, white tutus, black pointe shoes, silver glitter, aphrodite, circe, gold, shells, swine/pigs, wicked

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐕

𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 ⟢

“Top Down” by Leikeli47 “Cabinet Battle 3 (Demo)” from the Hamilton Mixtape “Stole the Show” by Kygo (feat. Parson James)

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 ⟢⟢

Page of Coins ⤸, Six of Swords, Two of Wands, Nine of Swords, Six of Wands, Eight of Coins ⤸, Judgment, Ace of Coins, Ten of Coins, Two of Swords, The Devil, Eight of Cups

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟢⟢

Those who chose this pile may feel unmotivated when it comes to figuring out how to create new connections and maintain old ones. You could have a tendency to just let friendships and other types of relationships just “fizzle out”. You may have someone you text with everyday, and then one week you miss a day; the next week you miss two days, and before the end of the month you haven’t replied to them at all and, therefore, you just don’t talk to that person anymore. When it comes to connections you could operate as the type of person who expects everyone else to reach out to you, but you rarely reach out to others. You could have a mindset of “if people care about me, then they’ll reach out, but if they don’t, then that’s fine too”. Although this mindset may work for you sometimes, it could also unconsciously aid in making you isolated. With Six of Swords and Two of Wands, you could also be someone who is always “on the run” or “on the go”; you could have a lot of things going on in your personal life that prevent you from putting effort into connections the way others expect or want you to. 

There’s a feeling that your prioritizations may be a little “out of whack” or “out of balance”. At this current moment in time you could be hyper focused on receiving recognition in some way. It’s like you want and crave to be seen and noticed; you want to receive a lot of accolades and awards, and you want to feel materially abundant – personally and in the eyes of others, but it’s like the way you’re executing wanting these things is “falling flat” or short of what you envision (or even what you could achieve). For example, you could be working multiple types of jobs; you go to school in the morning, and then you have an internship directly after in the afternoons, but you also have a retail job on the weekends, and you have an online side hustle. Technically, you’re in a lot of areas, and you may be working hard, but your solo focus on work and attention actually hinders you from being able to produce great work and making true connections. It’s like the idea of “having too many eggs in too many baskets”. Of course, a wide array of choices is needed, but you have too much to choose from that you can’t put your best work forward in any of them. There’s a call to think about gaining these things you want in a way that includes longevity; “you can’t only think of the present”. 

Advice for this pile would include cutting down on some of your obligations if possible, or at the very least finding a more sustainable way to do everything. Working to the point you have no time for yourself or others obviously can not create an environment where you’re able to have better connections with others. There’s a need to put in the same amount of effort you have for work and related opportunities into creating and maintaining connections. You have to figure out how to not pick up someone else’s shift at the expense of missing out on another outing with friends or how to ask for help on a project which would cut down the time you need to spend on it, so you can make time to go to a social outing instead of trying to do the whole project solo and becoming a type of hermit. Additionally, there’s a call to reach out to those you already have connections with more than you do right now. Connections are a two-way street, and “the phone works both ways” comes through. Overall, there’s a need to restructure your priorities if you want to have better connections with people.

𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⟢

666, (get) out, witch’s hat, witch’s brew, wicked, summer bag(s), striped bags, honey, baklava, sail, the bahamas, yellow and turquoise flags, money, triangles, overworking

[everythingspokenfor]

Part 2

─ ・┈ ・ ── ・┈ ・ ── ・┈ ・ ─

You were in the middle of packing, taking photos off the walls and putting them away in boxes, piles of clothes littered on the floor based on whether you were taking them or donating.

"Didn't realise we weren't close enough, eh?" Bakugou said, arms crossed leaning against the wall of your room.

Startled you looked at him clutching the photos close to your chest."Knock at least Katsuki, you scared the shit out of me." You grumbled as you regained composure and turned back to the task at hand. Partially to get it done, mostly to avoid Bakugou's gaze while you had this unavoidable confrontation.

You should have told him you were moving out, it was a rational thing, you were friends infact best friends, had seen each other at worst, dealt with it too. Should have had an adult conversation about it. But what would have you said "Hey! Katsuki I am moving out because I am in love with you but you have a girlfriend and the sole thought of her makes me sick" yeah not a good argument or maybe evening worst you would just end up crying sobbing pathetically while pointing out you were there for him more but that's not how it works, you suppose. He deserves happiness, and you are glad he found it. You just wanted to find yours too.

"Haruki, your assistant, let it slip that you are moving", Bakugou snarled, nostrils flaring, fists tightening, tell-tale signs that he is not mad but disheartened.

"I was going to tell you", you defended, turning to face him.

"When? huh, when were you going to tell me?", He hissed "When everything was packed, and you had to bid farewell like some sort of formality?", He continued ,moving towards you, for the first time locking eyes and seeing the red-rimmed, swollen eyes your cheeks were sunken too. "What happened, peanut?", He questioned, pulling the photos from your hand and setting the to the side. "Did I do something? I'll fix it, fucks sake talk to me, tell what was it that made you run I'll fix it", He cupped your face and made you look at him.

"I don't think you can fix this one, Suki", you murmured, voice almost catching in your throat because you'll lose him, you'll lose his friendship. For a moment you wished you weren't in love with him, that you could be normal around him, could be a part of his life, let him be a part of yours. But, you had to fall in love with him, ruin whatever ever you had.

"This new apartment is closer to my agency, plus how long do we go about living here, Suki?", you said before woefully pulling yourself away from him, choosing to pack up remaining of things.

"You should have said something, I deserve to at least know, you know? I go to work and your assistant, fucking Haruki, is looking for couches for you.", He said bitterly,"He knew, he was informed, he was fucking involved, and I wasn't, aren't we close? is that fucker closer to you, huh tell me?" He gritted out.

"If you were any less busy with your fucking girlfriend, then maybe you would have helped me," you yelled, words almost getting clogged in your throat, anger finally taking over.

Both of you stare wide eyed at each other, truth finally out, you behaviour making sense to Bakugou, you can see the wheels turning in his head.

He moved closer to you, reaching out, but you pull away like it burns because if you were being honest it does, Bakugou winces at you withdrawal. Your anger, your distance, you silence making sense you heart finally bared open in front of him.

"If you can't tell me what I want to hear then you shouldn't say anything",you croaked, knowing that you are being selfish,"I want a confession Suki and not consolation", you finalized.

Bakugou looked at you before he left the room, perhaps you already knew his decision but that didn't make your heart hurt any less.

─ ・┈ ・ ── ・┈ ・ ── ・┈ ・ ─

[gloomwitchwrites]

i’ve only recently found ur acc and i’ve fallen in love! ur def becoming one of my inspo’s in writing my own fics!:D

now, what about t141 with an alt s/o who’s always dying their hair or piercing themselves? maybe it’s the first time they find reader doing said shenanigans, what would their reactions be? 🤔 i think soap would have the best one lol, but i’d love to hear what your thoughts about it! <3

Well, hello! Welcome! I'm happy you're here! Now, I had multiple people requests this very thing. I am answering one of those asks and the others will simply fall under this one (since they are all very similar). I did go with some variety here since being "alt" can mean a lot different things. I do have one with hair dying, one about showing off their taxidermy/skull collection, a metal concert, and forcing (Gaz) to have a makeover. I had lots of fun. Enjoy!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings: established relationship, humor, fluff, swearing, hair dying, taxidermy, concerts, makeovers

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Jesus bloody Christ. What happened?” John stands in the doorway of the bathroom, his eyes wide as he surveys the scene. “Did you murder someone?”

You stand hunched over like a gremlin in the shower, holding the handheld showerhead. The dye in your hair is circling the drain, but that’s not the only place is stains. The shower is going to need a good scrub as is the bathroom sink.

“I’m changing my hair?”

John blinks. “You told me you were going to a salon.”

“This is cheaper.”

His mouth opens and then promptly closes. You see the gears turning. John is reigning in the panic.

“It’ll come out,” you insist.

“Everything is red,” murmurs John.

“Only temporarily,” you insist.

“Are you talking about your hair or our bathroom countertops?”

“Are you mad?”

“No,” he says firmly, hand on the doorknob. “I’m going to shut the door and pretend that our bathroom doesn’t look like a crime scene.”

“I love you!” you call out as he starts shutting the door.

“I love you, too,” he sighs heavily. The door is nearly shut before it suddenly opens again. “Do I need to grab bleach from the store?”

“That would be great.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Stop moving,” you mutter.

“You’re gonna poke me in the fucking eye, love.”

“It’s just eyeliner. Calm down.”

“You’ve poked me already.” Kyle points at his eye. The white is slightly red with irritation.

Kyle’s gaze narrows, but you only tut, grasping the bottom half of his face with your hand. Squeezing his cheeks a bit, you tilt his face from side-to-side, observing your work. About half of his face is done. You’ve even added face piercings to his lips and nose.

The clothes were the easy part. Kyle was more than willing to put on what you picked out for him. It’s completely different from his tracksuits and jeans. He looks like he walked right out of the punk scene.

“You promised I could do your makeup.” You put a little whine in it, pouting your lip.

Kyle lightly grasps your wrist and tugs, removing your hand from his face. “I did,” he agrees. “But all this? Really?”

You’ve set out nearly every product you have, nearly covering the entirety of the bathroom counter.

“We have to match,” you insist.

Kyle’s mouth twitches slightly but he settles. “Fine. But you better make me the best-looking bloke in the joint.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“This is June.” You present the racoon skull to Johnny.

His eyes widen slightly. “Hello, June,” he greets.

You wait for the eventual frown, for the brief flicker of disgust, but it doesn’t come. Johnny isn’t drawing back or judging you at all. His attention is rapt—focused.

You gently return the racoon skull back to the shelf and point to a collection of preserved butterflies. “These were a gift from a friend.”

“They’re beautiful,” murmurs Johnny. “Do they have names?” He leans in, observing the display of colorful wings.

“No, but they do!” You enthusiastically gesture toward the rest of your collection. There are skulls and bones from all sorts of animals, preserved beetles, tentacles in jars, and even petrified fish bones.

Men say they want quirky, but when they get quirky, they run. Johnny though is entirely fascinated.

“Can I touch this?” he asks with an excitement that surprises you, pointing toward a beaver skull.

“Yes. It’s delicate though. I’m always fixing the jaw.”

Johnny lightly lifts the skull and brings it close to his face, slowly rotating it.

No. Johnny isn’t disgusted. He isn’t shaming you for your special interest. If anything, he’s fascinated.

You’re keeping him.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

The shredding of the guitar reverberates in your chest. It stirs your blood, sending waves of adrenaline through your limbs until even your fingers and toes twitch with anticipation.

The breakdown is coming, and with it will come a sea of bodies. They’ll crash against each other like a massive wave before descending into chaos, nothing but flailing limbs and gnashing teeth.

Already, the energy is pulsing, becoming a frenzy that will eventually burst.

You’ve never been in the middle of the pit before. You usually stay off to the sides or well out of the way, not wanting to receive an injury.

But now you have protection. Now, you have a bodyguard.

Simon stands right behind as your support and your shadow. This isn’t his scene, not that he doesn’t enjoy a metal show, but he could care less about throwing himself around in a pit. When you expressed the desire to do so, Simon agreed, but only if he joined you.

Sure, it might scare some people off, or deter others from getting too close, but Simon is supportive anyway.

He’s just a bit vicious. A bit protective.

The shredding rises. It’s time.

A pause.

Then everything crashes.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[skzdust]

Ateez Snapshots: Calling them Daddy

All suggestive. Minors DNI.

Anon request here! Daddy is usually not my fav but these were actually a lot of fun. My fav is Wooyoung's :) Enjoy!

Summary: Reader, who is friends with each member, calls them "daddy" out of the blue... they respond in a variety of ways.

Pairing: Ateez x reader

Includes: coffee dates, amusement park dates, study dates, video games, bar dates, dinner with a friend, writing a song, and touching yourself during a movie

Word count: 1.8k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,

@hyunjinsjeans, @somethingkindazainy, @silverstarburst

Network:@mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

-----

Hongjoong:

You and Hongjoong are having coffee, and your mind starts to wander.

Hongjoong is sipping his usual iced butterscotch latte with almond milk, caramel cold foam, and cinnamon sprinkled on top, and you have your usual order. You’re staring into your drink.

Hongjoong is your best friend, but you can’t stop thinking of him naked, pushing into you with a groan.

“Hongjoong… Daddy…” You’d whisper at the feeling, at him bottoming out inside you.

“Huh?” You look up, and Hongjoong’s flushed red.

“What?” You’re confused.

“Did you just… um… call me….”

Your eyes go wide as you realize. “Did I say that aloud?”

“Um… yes, you did.” Hongjoong is looking at you, waiting for you to respond. He’s all red, his fingers tapping against his cup, slightly biting his lip.

You want him so bad.

“Hongjoong…” You murmur. “I was just…” You sigh, unsure of what to say.

“Do you want to call me that?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then… ah, do you want to…” Hongjoong looks so nervous you laugh. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing cause you look adorable…” You lean in. “Daddy.”

Hongjoong groans. “Don’t say that in public. It’s gonna make me… ugh.”

“Kim Hongjoong, does ‘daddy’ turn you on?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Maybe.” He smiles.

“Then maybe we should go back to my place.”

Hongjoong’s eyes light up. “Yes, we should.”

-----

Seonghwa:

You and Seonghwa are at the amusement park, and your mind starts to wander.

You’re on the biggest roller coaster in the park, climbing up the first hill. Seonghwa’s hand is warm around yours, holding it tightly. You should be nervous about the drop ahead, but you can’t stop thinking about those hands, about what they could do to you.

Seonghwa squeezes, and you smile at him. “Thanks for holding my hand, daddy.”

“Daddy?” Seonghwa looks shocked, but before you can say anything, the car is toppling over the slope of the roller coaster, and you’re screaming, squeezing his hand even tighter.

Your stomach is in knots from more than just the coaster as it slows to a stop at the end of the track, and as you pull into the unloading area, Seonghwa doesn’t let go of your hand.

“Did you call me daddy?”

“I… um, yeah…”

Seonghwa smiles, a glint of mischief in his eye. “You know, if you want to call me daddy and scream, we could do something other than another roller coaster.”

You smile. “Are you serious?”

Seonghwa’s eyes dart over you. “Yeah, I’m serious.”

-----

Yunho:

You and Yunho are studying together, and your mind starts to wander.

Both of you are in a chemistry class together, and you just can’t get the calculations quite down. As Yunho’s showing you one for the third time, you can’t stop thinking about him fucking you on that table. You’re in one of the most private study rooms in the library, so it’s unlikely anyone would find you…

“And then you carry the one… got it?”

“Got it… daddy.” You whisper the last word.

“Daddy?” Yunho repeats.

“Yeah.”

He tilts your chin up so you meet his eyes, and your stomach jumps. “Did you mean that?”

“I did.”

“Fuck.” He says softly, his eyes roaming over your face. “You’re so beautiful, I’ve always thought that, but I didn’t think you… wanted…”

“Wanted you to dominate me?” You say boldly.

“Yeah.” Yunho smiles. “But now that I know… we’re gonna have fun, aren’t we?”

-----

Yeosang:

You and Yeosang are playing video games, and your mind starts to wander.

Well, Yeosang is playing League, and you’re laying on his bed and watching him. Your best friend isn’t very good, but it’s fun to heckle him as he plays.

He finishes his game and tosses his controller on the table. “I swear, that was not reflective of my skills.”

“Sure.” You laugh. “Whatever you say.”

“Oh, come on.” He spins around in his chair to face you.

“What did you want me to say? Yes, daddy, lose that game harder!” You say, joking, but Yeosang goes deep red, quickly looking away.

“Don’t say that.” He mumbles.

“Kang Yeosang, do you have a daddy kink?” Your eyes widen, and you grin.

“No!” He protests.

“You totally do, daddy.”

He puts his face in his hands. “Shut up.” His words don’t have any bite.

“Fuck me, daddy!” You whine. “Harder.”

“Seriously, shut up.” He looks at you. “If you keep talking like that, I’ll start to think you’re serious.”

“Well, maybe I am.” You say, your stomach jumping. Would that make things weird?

He blinks. “Seriously?”

“Yes… daddy.” You smile, shy.

“Fuck.” He whispers. “I love it when you say that, y/n.”

-----

San:

You and San are at a bar, and your mind starts to wander.

He takes another drink of his beer. “You look distracted, what’s up? Weird day at work or something?”

You shake yourself out of it. “Yeah, exactly that.”

“What happened?”

I was thinking about you fucking me all day and I couldn’t focus on my project, but I did have some fun fantasies about calling you daddy, so that was good. You think. “I was just really spacey today, I don’t know. Couldn’t focus on anything.”

“Really?”

“Yes, daddy.” You say without thinking.

San laughs. “Daddy? Where’d that come from?”

Your face goes hot. “I— um—”

“Be honest, baby.” He lifts his eyebrows. “Where’d that come from?”

San calling you “baby” lights a fire in your stomach. “I’ve been thinking about it a little bit.”

“Thinking about… calling me daddy?”

“Yes.” You look down.

“Hey. Look at me.” San says gently.

You look at him. His expression is full of compassion and maybe something a bit darker. “You can call me daddy if you want. And if you want me to fuck you, just say so.”

“I want you to fuck me.” You whisper.

“Okay, then let me finish this beer and we’ll go back to my place.” San takes another long swig from the bottle, nodding at your glass. “Finish your drink, and we’ll go, baby.”

You smile. You drink your wine as quickly as you can.

-----

Mingi:

You and Mingi are having dinner, and your mind starts to wander.

It’s just hamburgers from your favorite local place. You’ve gotten takeout and you’re sitting at the dining table in Mingi’s apartment.

But it feels like more than that.

“Did anything exciting happen today?” He asks, taking a bite.

“Um… not really.” You say, smiling, images of Mingi’s hand around your throat filling your head. “Nothing too interesting.”

“Whatever you say, sunflower.” You blush at the nickname. It’s your favorite flower, and it’s his special nickname for you. “But your little grin says otherwise.”

“What do you mean?”

“What really happened today?” Mingi raises his eyebrows.

“I was just… thinking.”

“About a guy?” He pokes.

You take a breath. You’ve been in love with Mingi for so long now, you may as well go for it. “About you.”

“Me?” He looks surprised. “I don’t get it.”

“I tink about you all the time, Mingi.” It comes spilling out. “You bending me over my desk, you pinning me against the wall, kissing me… all that kind of thing… daddy.” You whisper the last word.

“Daddy?” He whispers back.

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Yeah…”

“Call me that again, sunflower.”

You open your eyes. He’s looking at you intensely, his eyes burning with a fire you’ve never seen. “Call me daddy.”

“Daddy… will you fuck me?” You whimper, putting it all on the line.

“Shit.” Mingi says softly. “I’ve been wanting you to ask for so long. Yeah, daddy’ll take care of you.”

-----

Wooyoung:

You and Wooyoung are working on a song, and your mind starts to wander.

You usually don’t write sexy music, but the melody Wooyoung has built with the guitar combined with the riff you’ve composed on your bass has an undeniable seductiveness to it. Heavy, like a heartbeat, but somewhat risky, too. Wooyoung’s got an effects pedal plugged into his guitar that’s making it even hotter.

And you’re thinking about his fingers deep inside you as you play the bass line you’ve got down practically by heart at this point.

“That sounds really good, y/n!” Wooyoung says loudly over your playing.

“Thanks, daddy!” You say back, and then stop playing as you realize what you’ve just said, staring at him for any reaction.

“Daddy?” Wooyoung laughs. “Damn, you’re really getting into the… mood of the song, aren’t you?”

“I am.” You laugh nervously, hoping he’ll dismiss it at that.

But he takes a step closer. “Didn’t know you had a thing for ‘daddy’. I’ll have to keep that in mind.” He taps the tip of your nose, winks, and turns around to pick up his guitar again.

You feel hot all over. “What do you mean keep that in mind?”

“I just mean it’s good to know what you’re into. You know, in case you want to fuck.” He slings the guitar strap over his head, facing away from you, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

“In case— what?” You sputter.

“Oh, c’mon, I’ve noticed.” He smirks. “You stare at my fingers a lot when I’m playing. You want them inside you.”

“I— I mean, maybe.” You exhale.

“I’m up for it if you are.” He starts playing the chorus to the song, looking down at his guitar, and you notice the blush on his cheeks.

You smile. Wooyoung’s just as down bad as you are.

-----

Jongho:

You and Jongho are watching a movie, and your mind starts to wander.

Jongho kissing you, pushing you down into the couch, making you his.

You sneak a glance at him. He’s watching the fight scene contentedly, sticking a piece of popcorn in his mouth. He doesn’t even notice you looking.

You carefully slip one hand under the blanket on your lap.

And then you slide it under your sweatpants.

You close your eyes for a second. It feels so good to touch yourself after how worked up you’ve made yourself thinking about him. You know it’s wrong to touch yourself thinking about your best friend, much less when said best friend is sitting next to you, but you can’t stop yourself now.

“Fuck, Jongho, daddy.” You whisper, the words bubbling up on your tongue before you can stop them.

“Did you just…” The movie pauses, and you open your eyes to see Jongho looking at you, blinking.

“Oh, I was just— um—” You search for words, but you can’t find any.

He grabs the blanket and pulls it off, revealing your hand down your pants. You snatch it out and he takes it, licking your fingers and making hard eye contact with you.

You shiver. You hadn’t been expecting that.

“Beautiful girl.” He whispers. “Were you touching yourself thinking about me?”

“Maybe.” You whisper back. “I… maybe.”

“You should’ve just asked me to do it for you.” He licks again. “I would’ve said yes.”

“Can you do it for me?” You breathe.

His eyes glint. “Sure thing, baby.”

[lnfours]

focal point ☆ chapter 2 | l.n

summary: you’re running out of time to start your project and lando’s really trying to get you to agree to his ultimatum, despite your constant disagreeing.

warnings: art student!reader, best friend/college student!oscar, college student!lando, slight enemies to lovers!au, slight grumpy!lando x sunshine!reader, banter per usual, kind of shitty writing, and some more setting the scene.

series masterlist

the sunlight shone in through the tall windows of the library as you scribbled in your notebook. highlighters and pens scattered across the table, laptop sitting in front of you with a list of assignments you needed to get done this week.

the headphones on your head helped block out any noise from the outside world, free of any distractions from the other students in the upstairs portion of the large building. however, they also drowned out the noise of footsteps approaching behind you.

a tap on your shoulder almost sent you flying out of your seat, turning around and tugging an ear cuff off to be met with green eyes and brown, floppy, messy curls that clearly had endured the wind outside. you immediately sighed, “what do you want, norris?”

“well beings you left me on read,” he wore that stupid, signature smirk that you really just wanted to wipe off his face, “i figured i’d come to you with the proposal in person.”

“has anyone told you how insufferable you are?”

he pulled the chair out from across the table, dropping his backpack to the floor before leaning back in the wooden chair, “no, they’re usually telling me i’m irresistible,”

“their standards must be pretty low.”

he shrugged, watching as you closed the lid of your laptop, placing the pen that once had been in your hand down on the lined paper. if there was one thing you knew about lando norris, other than the fact that he was undoubtedly annoying, he was also stubborn as fuck.

“let me get this right,” you started, “you want to be my model for my project so that in return i help you in econ, right?”

“yeah,” he said, “you scratch-“

“‘i scratch your back, you scratch mine’, yeah, whatever,” you said, “here’s my question, why don’t you just go to the tutoring center for help? like everyone else?”

“because i know you,” he said, “and because there’s a long ass waitlist for a tutor.”

“maybe you should’ve went earlier in the semester,” you shrugged.

“wasn’t failing the course til now,” he had an answer for everything, didn’t he?

“look, you’re running out of time to find someone for your little painting, and i’m one test score away from having to take the class again and miss graduation in the spring. why don’t we just be civil for the next month or so, help each other out, and then we can go back to hating each other as much as you’d like.”

maybe he had a point. you were running out of time to get started and despite your best efforts in not trying to feel bad for him, you kind of did. econ was a hard course, even you had struggled with it last semester. and you really didn’t want to be the reason why he misses graduation if you didn’t help him.

it wasn’t really that bad of an ultimatum, surely it could’ve been worse. it’s not like you were going to fall in love with him or anything.

“alright, fine,” you said, making him smile and cheer silently, “but, we‘re doing things my way.”

he put his hands up in fake surrender, “whatever you say,”

you began packing your things into your bag, “can we start tonight?”

“yeah, my last class ends at six. ‘m free after,”

“sounds good,” you said, “i’ll text you which building and floor is mine.”

he nodded, that stupid smirk popping up on his face again, “it’s a date then.”

you scoffed, throwing your bag over your shoulder before calling over your shoulder, “definitely not!”

you got back to your apartment, throwing your keys onto the kitchen counter before spotting your roommate, lily, on the couch. an episode of the show she had been trying to convince you to watch on the tv, but her head leaned back to smile at you softly.

“how was the library?”

you hummed, rummaging in the fridge before grabbing a water bottle from it, “it was fine until the devil showed up.”

she laughed softly, “‘the devil?’”

“yeah,” you plopped down next to her, “remember the guy i was telling you about the other day? oscar’s roommate who asked me to tutor him in exchange for being my model for the project?”

she hummed, “yeah, what did he just show up?”

“unfortunately. i think oscar must’ve mentioned to him that i go to the library on fridays to work on assignments. the guy literally tracked me down to convince me to agree to his plan in person because i left him on read the other night.”

she laughed softly, “gotta give it to him, at least he’s committed,”

“to getting on my nerves? oh, one hundred percent.”

“i mean, at least he’s offering to help you too,” she said, “plus, is he really all that bad?”

“just wait til you meet him,” you mumbled, “what’re your plans for tonight?”

she looked at the time on her phone, “after this episode i’m gonna start getting ready to head to the cafe. promised someone i’d meet them tonight,”

you wiggled your eyebrows, bumping her shoulder, “ooh, is it that cute guy from your chemistry class who you won’t shut up about?”

“one, i do shut up about him,” she sent you a pointed look but her face broke out into a small smile shortly after, “and two, maybe, who knows?”

“lils this is great!” you smiled, “i told you, he’s definitely into you!”

“i hope so. part of me wants to believe you, but the other part is telling me he just said ‘yes’ out of pity.”

“well then he clearly doesn’t know what he’s missing out on if he did,” you stood from the couch, “wear that black long sleeve you have, you look hot in it.”

“i hate you,” she laughed as you ventured to your room, heading to start setting up the things you needed for tonight.

“no you don’t!” you giggled back.

you made your way into your room and gathered all the supplies you were going to need in order to start your project tonight. humming along to a tune that was stuck in your head, you glanced at the clock and realized that time had passed a little quicker than you had thought.

lando should be here any minute.

and as if right on queue, you heard lily’s voice through the apartment, “y/n, lando’s here!”

you made your way to the living room where he was standing talking to lily, backpack still on his shoulders. he sported a backwards cap over his curls with a black hoodie and grey sweatpants to match. little curls peeked out from underneath the hat and-

why were you subtly checking him out?

“okay well you guys have fun,” lily smiled softly, “i’m heading out. it was nice meeting you, lando! i’ll see you guys later!”

her voice brought you back to the present tense, lando bidding her a soft smile and a wave, “nice meeting you, too!”

“bye! good luck!” you called back, causing her to let out a chuckle and a playful eye-roll as she’ll as she headed out the door.

“so,” he said after a beat of silence, following as you led him to your room, “what is it that you need me to do?”

you grabbed your sketchbook from your desk as he sat at the edge of the bed, “you can do whatever you want as long as you’re still enough for me to be able to come up with a draft.”

“sounds good,”

“good, let’s get this whole thing over with, yeah?”

[sisyphean-tragedian]

A Walk in the Forest

[got bored over thanksgiving. so instead of hanging out with my family i wrote fanfiction. Living la Vida Loca] [thanks to my Best Friend @jangles28 for being there while i wrote. Mwah.] [tw: smoking, non-consensual kiss, mentioned dead family member]

--

The detective had gone back to his mother-in-law’s house for the holidays. Only for about a week, just to make sure Junior wasn’t completely bereft of any company save the detective’s (and visits from Waldo? Maybe? God, they’d have to up the security again). 

It was hard, though. Even after years had passed, there were still the looks of sorrow and pity, and there was an extra chair left dusty in the closet. Junior seemed to be meshing well with the relations. It would be good for them to hear stories about their mother, stories still too painful for the detective to tell.

Having settled Junior down in front of their grandmother for a few of said stories, the detective flashed her a pained smile and announced that they’d be slipping out for a quick walk.

“Alright, hon, just be careful, would you? And don’t forget to bundle up, it’s getting cold.”

The detective’s mother-in-law chimed in with her ever-helpful advice, and Junior looked up at them with a smile and a wave. The detective smiled back, less pained this time, and told Junior to be good while they were gone.

They walked toward the coat closet, and pulled out their trench coat and other appropriate cold-weather gear. Properly “bundled up”, as their mother-in-law had put it, they exited the house with one final wave. 

Their mother-in-law’s residence was smack in the middle of a forest, so it was perfect to wander around and think in. Not that they had much to think about, at the moment. It was more an excuse to get away from the crush of pitying family members and reminiscences about their unfortunately late wife. The sentiment was nice and all, but it just made the detective feel worse after a while.

They started down a relatively little-traveled path in the woods. It really was beautiful, with oak and aspen and pine all around, and snow beginning to fall in large white flakes. They knew that the precipitation would drive then back inside sooner rather than later, but all they needed was a few minutes to clear their head.

Reaching into the pocket of their trench coat, they pulled out their packet of cigarettes and their lighter. After a bit of fumbling, they managed to get a cigarette lit and in their mouth. They took a drag, and exhaled a long draught of smoke. It warmed them nicely.

After a few minutes of simply smoking and wandering through the woods, the detective declared themselves sufficiently not-morose enough to go back and engage more with their relations. They turned around and began to head back to the house.

Only… 

They couldn’t find the path.

They tried to retrace their steps, follow the sun, a trail of ashes, notable strange-looking trees, anything that might help them find their way back to the house, but they had no luck.

Keeping a cool head, they continued to scour the landscape for any hints of the path back to their mother-in-law’s abode. Nada.

Then, off in the distance, against the autumnal backdrop of oranges, browns, and swirls of white, they spotted him.

He was leaning against a tree, smiling his insufferable smile, in his stupid striped sweater.

Still a little off-balance due to the constant reminders of their dead wife, the detective charged. Against their better judgement, of course, seeing as they had no weapons except their cigarette lighter, and no real means of subduing Waldo in case they did manage to get him down.

Just as they had reached tackling distance, Waldo stuck out his cane, and the detective ran bodily into it. Winded, they fell back against a nearby tree, and clutched at their chest while trying to regain their breath.

Waldo looked down at them, still with that ever-present smile.

“You look a little lost, dear detective. I saw you walking earlier, and I simply couldn’t resist taking the chance to say hello to an old friend.”

The detective, still slightly winded, snarled at Waldo. Much to their chagrin, this only made Waldo’s smile widen.

“I can help you back to your beloved family, detective, but it’ll come at a price to you. What do you say to a walk with me?”

Having recovered from both their earlier fit of rage and running into Waldo’s cane full-force, the detective took a look at him, weighed their options, then promptly turned around and walked away. From previous experience, they knew that they could unfortunately not out-grapple Waldo (who knew something that looked like mere skin and bones could be that strong?), and they didn’t think they could put up with the needling that he was sure to put them through.

So, they walked away. Picking their battles and all. They continued through the forest, searching for the path. They could hear Waldo behind them, in the crunching leaves and the soft giggles that came every now and again.

Eventually, they stopped walking. The sun had begun to set, casting long shadows across the forest floor. They had yet to find the path, and the relentless giggling was getting on their nerves. Suddenly, they felt someone much closer behind them than previously anticipated.

“Are you sure you don’t want my assistance, detective? It won’t cost you much, I promise. And I’m sure your baby is worried for you…”

Jumping away from Waldo, the detective turned to face him once again. At the reminder of their child, they caved a little. They had been searching for at least forty five minutes, and they had yet to find the trail that should have taken them ten minutes at the most. Briefly, they debated the merits of getting into a scuffle with Waldo. Based on empirical evidence, that would leave them bruised, frustrated, and Waldo-less, and they really did need to get back to Junior.

“Fine. No funny business, though. I don’t want to deal with any of your tricks,” acquiesced the detective with a sigh.

“Me? Tricks? I wouldn’t dream of such a thing, detective. Tricks are beneath me. Now, come along!” While speaking, Waldo looped an arm over the detective’s shoulder, much to their chagrin, and started walking in what seemed like no particular direction.

Waldo whistled as he walked, the detective noted. It was all too cheery a tune for a murderer, but they weren’t about to tell him to switch it up. They had to practically take two steps to every one of Waldo’s and they suspected that he might’ve been enjoying that, if the new lilt to his smile was any indication.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they came within sight of the house. The walk was stunningly hijinks-free, but the detective knew that out of sight didn’t mean out of mind for Waldo. They tried to duck out of his grip, but all of a sudden, his hand turned to steel on their shoulder.

“Not so fast, dear detective. I said there’d be a price, and I’m a man of my word,” Waldo said.

As the detective inhaled to ask what Waldo wanted from them, they were abruptly lifted, and pressed against a nearby tree. Indignantly, they tried to flail out of Waldo’s grasp, but he kept them firmly in the air.

When they tried to start protesting this treatment; however, there came something that they didn’t expect. 

Waldo leaned in, and pressed a kiss to their lips. The detective, jarred, jerked back, but unfortunately hit their head against the tree. Waldo chuckled, then dropped them unceremoniously to the ground. 

“Do remember your spacial awareness, detective. Anyhow, I’m sure your child misses you sorely. It has been fun, mouse, we should do this more often. Happy holidays!” 

And with that, he was gone. The detective, indignant, picked themself up off the ground, and brushed all the leaf debris off. Maybe they had time for one more smoke before they went in, just to steady their nerves? 

They reached in their pocket, and found a signature red envelope in place of their cigarettes. When had Waldo even found the time to do that? Inside, they found a rather condescending note regarding their smoking habit. With a frustrated growl, they stormed the rest of the way back to their mother-in-law’s house, and hugged a teary-eyed Junior upon their arrival.

The detective reassured everyone that they were alright, they had just lost track of time in the woods, no need to worry, but their words rang hollow even to themself. That night, once again, they sat beside an empty spot at the dinner table, and stared out towards the patch of woods where they had last seen Waldo. The snow that had since fallen covered any trace that might have remained from the afternoon’s happenings.

[cece693]

Ok but like imagine both Billy and Stu with a big tiddy goth! male! reader as their roommate lol

Reader looks intimidating but is actually really nice lol

Looks Can Be Deceiving (Stu and Billy x M! Reader)

Hi! So I'm not really that well informed on the big tiddy slang (English is not my first language) but after a quick google search I think I got the idea????? If not, then I apologize, but I hope you enjoy this :)

tags: oblivious reader, realistic billy and stu (I think), pre-relationship, open ended, might be a part 2 coming

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher weren’t exactly looking for a new friend, let alone a roommate. They’d been fine on their own, thriving in the chaos of their twisted little partnership. But when the college housing office placed them in a three-bedroom rental with some random guy, they couldn’t exactly say no. Rent was cheap, the landlord didn’t ask questions, and besides, how bad could it be?

The first time they saw you, though, they realized this arrangement was going to be…interesting.

You were standing in the living room when they arrived, setting up a bookshelf filled with horror novels and occult knickknacks. At first glance, you looked like something straight out of one of their favorite slasher films—towering, dressed in all black, tattoos peeking out from under your sleeves, with silver jewelry glinting against your pale skin. Your undercut only made you look more dangerous. Stu, never one to keep his thoughts to himself, leaned close to Billy and whispered, “Dude, do you think he’s in, like, a death cult or something?”

Billy didn’t answer, but his sharp eyes lingered on you as you turned to greet them. “Hey,” you said, your voice deep and smooth. “I made brownies. Want some?”

Stu’s jaw dropped. Billy just narrowed his eyes. And just like that, their expectations were shattered.

Over the next few days, it became clear that you weren’t at all what they expected. Despite your intimidating looks, you were ridiculously nice—almost unnervingly so. You always smiled when you saw them, greeted them with “Good morning” even if they ignored you, and even asked if they wanted anything from the grocery store before you went out. When you weren’t at class or work, you were usually in the kitchen, baking cookies or meal-prepping while blasting Bauhaus or The Cure from a tiny speaker.

Stu was instantly smitten. He started following you around like a puppy, throwing his long arms around your shoulders and declaring you his “best goth buddy.” He loved pushing your buttons just to see you scowl—like the time he “borrowed” one of your necklaces and pretended he lost it, only to give it back with an over-the-top apology. “Don’t worry,” he said, grinning up at you. “I’ll make it up to you. Wanna watch a movie? I’ll even let you pick.”

Billy, on the other hand, was harder to read. He spent a lot of time watching you from across the room, his dark eyes following your every move. You caught him staring more than once, but he always looked away before you could say anything. Unlike Stu, who was all loud jokes and obvious flirting, Billy was subtle. He’d make sarcastic comments about your goth aesthetic, only to quietly leave a new horror novel on your desk after you mentioned liking the author. He never admitted it, but you had a feeling he stayed up with you that one night you were stressed about your midterms just because he didn’t want you to be alone.

Stu and Billy’s affections, however, reached a dangerous new peak the day they stumbled into your room at the worst—or best, depending on how you looked at it—possible moment. It started innocently enough, or at least as innocently as things ever got with those two. Stu had been whining about needing help finding a charger, and Billy, clearly annoyed, suggested he ask you. Of course, "asking" wasn’t Stu’s style.

“C’mon, Big Guy!” Stu called as he shoved your door open, Billy trailing behind him. “You seen my—oh my god.”

You froze mid-motion, one arm reaching for the fresh shirt you were about to pull on, the other holding a towel you were using to dry your hair. Time seemed to stop as both of them stood there in the doorway, their eyes glued to your bare chest. No shirt. No barriers. Just you, all soft curves and broad muscle, your big tits on full display.

“Holy shit,” Stu breathed, his voice tinged with awe. His jaw practically hit the floor as he stared, unblinking. “Are you kidding me? Those things are, like, illegal.”

Billy, meanwhile, was much quieter, but no less affected. His dark eyes drank you in, his usual mask of control slipping for a moment as his gaze flicked downward, then back to your face. He swallowed hard, shifting his weight like he was trying to keep himself from stepping closer. His voice, when he finally spoke, was lower than usual. “We didn’t know you were changing.”

“No shit,” you snapped, snatching the shirt and pulling it over your head as quickly as possible. “You ever heard of knocking?”

Stu groaned, flopping dramatically against the doorframe. “Aw, don’t cover up! I was just starting to enjoy the view!”

Billy shot him a glare but didn’t argue. He was still staring at you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You’re...built,” he said, his tone almost grudging, like the words were being dragged out of him against his will.

“Thanks, I guess?” you muttered, tugging the hem of your shirt down and crossing your arms over your chest. You could still feel their eyes on you, and it made your skin prickle with a mix of embarrassment and something you couldn’t quite name.

Stu leaned closer, his grin widening. “Dude, do you, like, know how big those are? Like, for real? You could probably drown someone with ‘em. You want to try it out?”

“Stu,” you growled, your patience wearing thin. “Get. Out.”

Billy finally stepped in, grabbing Stu by the back of his shirt and dragging him toward the door. “Come on, idiot. Let's leave him alone.”

“But Billy!” Stu whined, digging his heels in. “I wasn’t done appreciating the—”

The door slammed shut before he could finish, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. You could hear them bickering in the hallway, Stu’s voice loud and animated as always.

“I’m just saying, those are a work of art! It’s like the Mona Lisa, but, you know, better.” “You’re an idiot,” Billy muttered, but his voice was tight, like he was holding something back.

From the moment Billy and Stu got an eyeful of your assets, the dynamic in the house spiraled into utter chaos. You’d barely noticed it at first, chalking up their constant presence to boredom or a newfound interest in hanging out. But as weeks went on, their antics became harder to ignore. The snarky comments, the heated glares exchanged when you weren’t looking, the way they tripped over themselves trying to one-up each other—it was enough to make even the most oblivious person suspicious.

But not you.

Whether it was the gym incident, the pancake debacle, or the never-ending movie night arguments, you remained blissfully unaware of the brewing storm. You were too focused on your studies, your workouts, and making sure the house didn’t descend into complete disorder to notice the increasingly absurd lengths Billy and Stu were going to for your attention.

It all came to a head one particularly tense evening. You’d gone out to grab groceries, leaving Billy and Stu alone in the house. The moment the door closed behind you, the gloves came off.

“Just admit it,” Stu said, pacing the living room like a caged animal. “You’re obsessed with him.”

Billy leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his expression icy. “Says the guy who’s practically glued to his side 24/7.”

Stu spun around, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You’re just mad because he actually laughs at my jokes. When’s the last time he smiled at you?”

Billy’s jaw clenched. “Maybe he doesn’t need a fucking circus act to enjoy someone’s company.”

“Oh, right,” Stu sneered, throwing up his hands. “Because brooding in the corner like some wannabe vampire is so charming.”

“Better than acting like a hyperactive toddler,” Billy shot back, his voice dangerously low.

The argument escalated quickly, voices rising as they hurled insults back and forth. At one point, Stu picked up a couch pillow and launched it at Billy’s head, narrowly missing. Billy retaliated by shoving Stu into the wall, and for a moment, it seemed like things were about to get physical.

But then you walked in.

“Hey, guys—what the hell is going on!?” you asked, staring at the scene in front of you: Stu pinned against the wall, Billy’s hand fisted in his shirt, both of them glaring daggers at each other. They froze, turning to look at you like two kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

“Uh…nothing!” Stu said quickly, plastering on his trademark grin. “Just some light wrestling. Y’know, for fun.”

Billy let go of Stu and stepped back, brushing imaginary dust off his shirt. “Yeah. Just messing around.”

You raised an eyebrow but decided not to press the issue. “Okay...well, I got pizza. It'll be in the kitchen.”

As you disappeared into the other room, the tension between them simmered, but neither of them made another move. Not yet, anyway. It wasn't until later that night, after you'd gone to bed, that Billy and Stu returned to their conversation.

“This has to stop,” Billy hissed, his voice low and cold.

Stu crossed his arms, still bristling from their earlier fight. “You think I don’t know that? But what’s your solution, huh? Scare him off so neither of us gets him? Not happening, Billy Boy.”

Billy was silent for a long moment, his jaw working as he mulled over his options. He hated the idea of sharing you—hated it almost as much as he hated the thought of Stu winning. But the alternative was losing you completely, and that wasn’t something he was willing to risk. “Fine.”

Stu blinked, caught off guard. “Fine what?”

“We share him,” Billy ground out, his teeth clenched.

Stu stared at him, and then a slow grin spread across his face. “Well, well, well. Didn’t think you had it in you to play nice.”

“Don’t push it,” Billy warned, his voice sharp. “This doesn’t mean I like you. It just means I like him more.”

Stu snickered. “Whatever you say, buddy. But hey, at least now we’re on the same team, right?”

Billy didn’t answer, turning on his heel and stalking off. Stu watched him go, still grinning to himself.

From that day forward, things…changed.

You didn’t notice the difference at first. If anything, Billy and Stu seemed to get along better, their bickering replaced with an odd sort of pact. They started spending more time together, which you figured was just a natural byproduct of living in close quarters. What you didn’t realize was that they were coordinating their efforts.

Stu would distract you with jokes and games while Billy silently took note of what you liked, using that information to his advantage later. Billy would lure you into long, intense conversations about movies and books, giving Stu time to swoop in with grand gestures—like the time he surprised you with a ridiculously elaborate cake “just because.”

If you were confused by their sudden teamwork, you didn’t show it. You just kept being your usual, oblivious self, completely unaware of the quiet, unspoken truce between them—or the way they both watched you like wolves circling their prey.

It wasn’t perfect. Billy still bristled every time Stu got a little too handsy with you, and Stu couldn’t resist making snide comments whenever Billy monopolized your time. But for the most part, they made it work. Because at the end of the day, they both wanted the same thing.

You.

And if sharing was the only way to keep you close, then so be it.

For now.

[bqstqnbruin]

Friendsgiving

Hi so we are going to ignore the fact that it is nearly 2 am but here I am with a fic that I started today because of this tik tok that I saw a few hours ago and I immediately went 'fic'. So, here we are

Warnings: none

WC: 5845

Enjoy!

__________________________________________

“Why and how are you in Vancouver?” 

“Don’t hate me.”

“Oh, my god, did you move to Canada without me? You moved and didn’t even tell me.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at what you hoped was Lena’s unnecessary panic that you heard through your phone speaker, trying to navigate your way through the airport that you had never been to before. “No, I’m just probably doing something stupid.” 

“And you’re doing it without me?”

“Leen, I’ll catch you up later, ok?”

“Am I going to have to make sure you don’t end up in a ditch?”

“You should probably watch my location for the next few days,” you say, in all seriousness. “But I have to go, I love you, bye.”

You hang up on your best friend as you hear her screaming on the other end about calling the authorities, knowing that she wouldn’t actually do that. Actually, she might. But you can’t think about that right now.

You were trying to find Brock, despite the fact that you had never met him in person and stupidly agreed to fly to Vancouver on a day's notice from your home the week of Thanksgiving. 

You couldn’t believe the last couple of days of your life. You had posted a silly photo of you and your friends at your annual Friendsgiving. You always got together the Friday before, and had been doing so since middle school when your parents still had to either make the food for you, or had to be in the kitchen with you heavily supervising the entire time. This year was the 15th year in a row that you had all gotten together, celebrating in a much bigger fashion than you had in years past; you all dressed up, you all brought the food in the best serving dishes you had instead of the Dollar Tree tin dishes you all normally brought, you had the fanciest bottles of wine you could afford littering the table, and you had even all planned to stay over together for the first time, continuing the event into the morning. 

Brock had messaged you because of the photo. You were mutuals, having some of the same friends in college but never actually interacted with each other. 

All of your friends talked about how you two would get along so well, but it seemed like every time you were supposed to meet, something happened that prevented you from doing so. There was the one party you were supposed to go to with your friends, that you had been planning on going to all week until you got food poisoning from the dining hall. There was the class you were supposed to take together until his practice times got changed and ended up conflicting with the class. You were supposed to go to a formal together as each other's dates until he slept through his alarm and missed the bus to the venue.

You were always supposed to meet, until you didn’t.

But then you got the message from him a few days ago asking if you wanted to come to his Friendsgiving that he was going to with his American teammates. 

It was easily the craziest thing you had done in your life, saying yes to flying out to Vancouver the next day to meet a guy you had never actually met in person, or really talked to before those messages.

It made you realize you really hadn’t done much with your life. 

You walked through the airport, trying to see if you could find the guy you would be spending the next couple of days with by the baggage claim where he told you he would meet you. 

You finally see him, the blonde head of hair sticking out to you for an unknown reason. 

You knew from his pictures on his account that he was attractive, but, shit, he was gorgeous in person. 

He was also dressed up way more than he should be for someone to be waiting for a stranger in an airport; he was in a full suit and tie, his hair looking like he had just gotten out of the shower and styled it immediately. 

“Hi,” he says to you when he sees you, a smile on his face making your heart skip a beat. 

You didn’t even know this guy. “Hi,” you manage to get out as he pulls you in for a hug. “You look good, all dressed up.” 

Brock reaches for your bag, taking it off your shoulder and walking you out of the airport. “Thanks.”

“Why are you dressed up?”

“We’re on our way to the game.”

“We?”

“I didn’t tell you?”

“Do I look like I’m dressed for a hockey game?”

Brock looks at you as the two of you approach his car, opening his trunk to put your bag in. “You look great to me.”

“I’m in sweats, fresh off a plane. When do you think you told me?”

“Uh,” he lets out as you get in his car. “Yesterday?”

You take out your phone, scrolling through the messages the two of you exchanged. “You told me you had a game, not that I was going to one.” 

“Who did I tell that to yesterday?” he says, staring out through his front windshield, wracking his brain. You couldn’t help but laugh. “I can take you back to my place, if you want.”

“Would that make you late for the game?”

He glances at the clock, pulling out his phone. “Very late, yes.” 

You roll your eyes, fighting back a smile that you couldn’t help. “I’ll go to the game. I’m sure I have something I can change into stuffed in my bag.” 

The two of you fall into easy conversation, much like you had when he first reached out to you. There was something about him that was easy to talk to. 

He pulls up to the arena, still talking about one of the parties you were both supposed to go to in college.

“Do you remember that one kid, Chris, who somehow threw up at every party he went to?” he asks you, leaning against his car as you rifle through your bag in his trunk, searching for any semblance of an outfit that was better than the sweats you were currently in.  

“Hold on,” you tell him, climbing into the trunk and pulling the hatch closed, trying your best to change in the cramped space. You managed to find jeans and a black shirt that could pass as a non-airport outfit that you were smart enough to pack as a spare since Brock didn’t really give you a ton of information as to how the week was going to go. You could see him standing outside the car, dumbfounded by the abrupt nature of you practically commandeering his car as a changing room for yourself. “Ok, I’m good,” you say, opening the door back up in what you were sure was record time for changing in a car trunk.

“Wow,” he says, you noticing the slightest shade of red appearing on his cheeks. 

“Better?” you ask. Your foot catches on part of the trunk as you try to get out, practically falling out of his car. 

You feel Brock’s hands catch you, spreading across your back and under your legs. “Much,” he says, his face inches from yours. He clears his throat, his face turning bright red as he puts you down.

He wasn’t about to kiss you, was he? And why would you have been ok if he did that? “Thanks for that,” you tell him, embarrassment seeping into your voice. 

“So, uh, Chris?” he asks, walking you into the arena with his hands now firming shoved into his pockets.

“He really did somehow end up in the bathroom at every party.”

“Even if he didn’t have anything to drink that night.” 

“I wonder what he’s up to now?”

“He just got engaged, actually,” you tell him. “His fiance was one of my lab partners back in college.” 

“Wow. Never would have known that,” he tells you. The two of you walk through what you could only describe as the tunnels of the arena, Brock showing you around and trying to explain to you what everything was. 

“You’re gonna be in here,” he tells you, showing to a room that was filled with women and children who all seemed to know each other. Before you can ask anything, he checks his watch, his eyes practically bugging out of his head. “Shit, I’ve gotta get ready. I’ll meet you right here after the game.” 

Brock runs off, leaving you standing at the entrance to this room that you could see was at ice level, filled with people you didn’t know. 

You couldn’t enter the room. This was already ridiculous, you being here in the first place with a guy you just met for the first time in person less than an hour before. Now you were apparently supposed to go into this room with a bunch of people and do what? Talk to them? 

No thank you.

You feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, leaning against the wall next to the entrance of this room as Lena calls you again. “Ok, you did not fly all the way to Vancouver to see a Canucks game.”

“I’m going to stop sharing my location with you,” you laugh.

“Ok, spill, why the hell are you in Vancouver?”

You recount the whole string of events to her, realizing how ridiculous the whole situation sounded now that you were actually verbally articulating everything. “And now, I’m outside of this room with a bunch of women and I think this is where I’m supposed to be for the rest of the game.”

“Are you in the WAG room?”

“The what?”

“The WAG room.”

“No, I heard you,” you sigh, “What does that mean?”

“The wives and girlfriends.”

You stare at the wall on the other side of the hallway as people you ignored scurried around you. “But I’m not a wife or a girlfriend?”

“Well, as long as you have that established. I heard there’s supposed to be amazing food in those rooms for the families.” 

You peek your head into the room, seeing a line of the women forming on the other side of the room in front of what looked like an incredible spread of food. “I can see that.”

“Go in!” Lena shrieks in your ear. “Have fun, make friends, and bring me some food when you get back.” She hangs up before you can say anything else, leaving you there with your phone pressed against your ear and no one on the other end of the call. 

You finally work up the courage to go into the room, trying to slip in and stay in the back, out of the way of anyone who would feel the need to come to talk to you. You stay along the wall closest to the door, trying to take in the room around you. There were children seemingly everywhere, running and shrieking as they played with each other. Toys were scattered all over the floor, bags lined against the wall. You probably looked like a freak the way you were moving through the room, trying to find a seat that you could sink into and become invisible in.

“Shit,” you let out, slamming down onto the floor, tripping over one of the toys you were somehow too busy to notice. 

“Are you ok?” one of the women asks you, crouching down on the floor to meet you at what was now, embarrassingly, eye level. 

You could feel your face getting hot. “Other than my ego being bruised, I think I’m good.” 

“I haven’t seen you before,” she says to you. “I’m Lexie. I’m Thatcher’s wife.”

You had no idea who Thatcher was, but it probably wouldn’t look good for you if you admitted that. 

You introduce yourself, finally getting up off the floor and dusting yourself off. “I’m here with Brock.”

Lexie’s eyes light up with excitement. “You must be Brock’s mystery girl.” The room seems to go silent when Lexie practically shrieks that, even the children making no noise. “He had been telling us he was seeing someone, but we never thought he would bring you to a game early.”

“Oh, I,” you start, getting nervous now that all eyes were on you. You had no idea what he had told these women, or their husbands, or boyfriends, or whoever these people were. “Here I am.”

“I can’t believe Brock would just throw you to the wolves like this,” Lexie says, linking her arm with yours and walking you over to the food table.

“Are you kidding?” another one of the women chimes in. “This is exactly something Brock would do. I’m Natalie, by the way, J.T.’s wife.”

The two women start chatting your ear off, you unable to comprehend what they were saying. Brock had a ‘mystery girl,’ that you had now taken on the identity of. Brock was probably seeing someone who couldn’t be there this week and now he was going to look like an awful human when you suddenly disappeared and were replaced with another person next week. 

But, why did you care? You barely knew Brock.

You had no idea how much time passed by when they all start filtering out the seats near the ice, the players skating around in circles. 

You join them, unsure what else to do. You pull out your phone, getting an idea and starting to type in a new note, trying to wave Brock over to the boards when you finally get his attention.

They think I’m your ‘mystery girl??? you show him with your phone screen pressed against the glass when he comes over. The color seems to drain from his face, mouthing ‘I’m sorry,’ and shrugging way too casually for your liking before practically sprinting away from you to the other side of the rink. 

You head back into the room, beelining for the exit and pulling up Lena’s number.

“Brock told everyone he and I are dating?” you try not to scream too loudly, hoping that none of the people in the room or in the hallway 

“Oh,” Lena says. “That’s not great.”

“Not great?” you say, running your hand through your hair, feeling yourself panic. “This is crazy. What if this turns into a psycho killer situation?’

“He’s way too high profile in the area to get away with killing you.”

“That’s not reassuring.” 

“I’m just saying he wouldn’t get away with it.”

“Adelena,” you stomp your foot like a child out of frustration, using your friend's full name.

“Ok, calm down,” she says. “There’s no need for the government name here. I think you just need to talk to him after the game and figure out what’s going on. I will fly out there and save you if I have to.” 

You take in a deep breath. This was the dumbest thing you could have done, regret seeping into you with every passing moment that you spent in Vancouver. “I’ll let you know.” You go back in the room, trying to pay attention to the game as the people around you milled about, trying to get to know you and about your ‘relationship’ with Brock.

“How long have you two been going out?” Lexie asks eagerly. 

“Um,” you panic, “Not that long, honestly. This is all really new.” That wasn’t a total lie.

“How did you two even meet?”

“We went to college together.” 

Before Lexie could ask you another question that you probably didn’t have an answer to, a toddler runs up to her, crying. “Gotta go,” she says to you, lifting the toddler and trying to comfort them. 

You sat and tried to watch the rest of the game, writing down everything you told Lexie in hopes that Brock would have said something similar. You spent the rest of the game on your phone texting with Lena, thankful that no one else in the room came up to you to talk to you or ask questions the way Lexie had, only going back to the ice and looking up from your screen to see Brock scoring.

You wait outside the room for Brock once the game was over, his teammates coming out much faster than he was as the hallway and the room behind you slowly emptied out, leaving you alone in the hallway. 

“What the fuck,” you ask him when you finally see him. 

“I’m sorry, I know,” he tells you, walking out to his car. 

“I don’t care if you need me to pretend to date you, but I would have liked to know about it before you threw me into the Gossip Grotto.” 

Brock exhales when he gets into the car, resting his head against the steering wheel while you stared at him with your arms crossed in front of you. “The guys keep bugging me about not dating anyone so I told them I was seeing someone to get them to shut up.” 

“And you didn’t think that was relevant to mention when you invited me here that there was a good chance they would think I’m the girl you’re dating?”

“No. I figured they would have forgotten about it by now.” 

“Well, their wives didn’t.”

“So what do we do?”

You stare at him. “I could leave on the next flight and get out of here and probably be mad at you forever. Or, we pretend we’re together.”

He whips his head to you, his eyes crazy with shock. “What?”

You shrug, pulling out your phone and showing him the notes you made during the game about you and him being together. “We fake date. I’m only here until Wednesday, and you said we were only going to be seeing your friends on Tuesday night. We have plenty of time to figure this out.”

“We have a day and a half.” 

You scoff. “You think I haven’t figured out more complicated things in less time? I got a plane ticket and got myself here on twelve hours notice.”

“So, we fake date?”

“We fake date.” 

_____________________________

“What are you doing?” you ask, walking into Brock’s kitchen the next morning, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You spent the night in his guest room, sleeping in what was probably the most comfortable bed you had ever slept in. You spent the night before starting to hash out the story you would tell his teammates and their partners, agreeing that you would only share information about the two of you if you were directly asked about it. 

“Debating whether or not to make us breakfast,” he tells you, one hand on his hip, the other holding open the fridge door. Brock had on no socks, boxer shorts and a t-shirt, all of which showed off to you just how unfair his entire physique was. His hair was messy in a somehow perfect way that would have made you drool under any other context. You could pretend to drool over him, but real drooling was out of the question right now. 

“What’s the other option?”

He closes the fridge door, turning to face you. “I don’t make breakfast and we go out for food instead.” 

“How good are you at making breakfast?”

“I make a mean bowl of cereal.” 

“We’re going out for breakfast, get dressed.” 

“Wow, my girlfriend is bossy,” he smirks as you walk away, looking over your shoulder at him and sticking your tongue out.

Was that too flirty? You had agreed last night that flirting was ok so you could ‘get used to it.’ How could you flirt in front of other people if you had never done it before? 

You call Lena while you were getting ready. 

“You could just real date him,” you hear her suggest, crunching on something on the other end of the line.

“You could just give me real advice and not chew on something in my ear.” 

“It’s morning, let me eat my apple,” Lena says, obviously with her mouth full. “What are you guys doing today?”

“Right now, getting ready for breakfast. Beyond that, watch my location.”

“Yeah, I have no job. I can just stalk you all day.”

“If I end up dead how are you going to know?”

“Ugh, fine,” she sighs. “Have fun, don’t die.”

She hangs up, leaving you alone to get dressed for a day you didn’t know the details of. You pull on leggings and a sweater, your sneakers on and grabbed a jacket that you didn’t even know if you needed. You head back out to Brock’s kitchen, finding him leaning against the counter on his phone.

“You need to change,” you tell him. He had on black jeans and the same color sweater as you. 

“This could be a cute couple thing,” he jokes. “We could take a picture together and post it, or something.” You hesitate, walking over to Brock as he extends his hand with his camera open. “At least pretend to like me,” he tells you, plastering a smile on his face as he starts taking photo after photo.

You rest your hand on his chest, leaning into him and smiling at his camera. You did look good together, if you had to admit. 

“Can you do one where you kiss my cheek?’

“What?”

“Don’t couples do that?’

You stare at him for a second. Would it be weird to do that? He asked you to do it. “I normally scroll past those photos.”

“Me, too.” The two of you stand in silence for a second, neither of you sure how to go on. “Maybe we don’t do that. Too much, too soon.” You nod in agreement.

“So, where are we going?”

Brock smiles at you, leading you out the door. 

_____________________________

The breakfast he took you to was amazing. He said that he had an entire day for you planned as a thank you for coming out here in the first place. 

“How are you with hiking?”

“It depends.”

“On?”

“How long the trail is.”

Brock laughs, putting his car in park in front of a water front. 

“If we don’t stop, it’ll take two hours.” 

“That seems like a long time.”

“That’s how long my games are.”

“Yeah, that was a long time,” you tease him, getting out of the car. 

The trail was beautiful, a breeze off the water cooling you down as you walked alongside Brock. This could easily have been a real date if the two of you were actually together. 

You shake your head slightly of the thought. This was just supposed to be you helping him out, even though that wasn’t the original purpose of your trip. “So what are you supposed to do for Friendsgiving tomorrow night?”

Brock stops walking, the person behind him nearly knocking into him as he scolds Brock for stopping in the middle of the trail. You pull him over to the side of the walkway, ignoring the spark that you swore ran through you as laced your fingers in his. 

“I have no idea, actually.” 

“So you’re off to a great start.”

“I think I was told to bring something in the group chat,” he says, using his free hand to pull out his phone and start scrolling through the message thread that seemed to go on forever, your hands still intertwined. You weren’t sure he even noticed at this point, but part of you didn’t want to be the one to break the connection between you. “Ah, mac and cheese.”

“Have you ever made homemade mac and cheese before?”

“It has to be homemade?”

You roll your eyes, starting to walk again with your hands still locked together. “Did you think it would just magically spawn in front of you once you got to Quinn’s place?”

“I only have boxes of the store brand of mac and cheese.”

“Oh my god,” you sigh, pulling out your phone and finding the recipe you make for yourself when you have motivation. “Can you use Quinn’s oven when you get there or will he not have space?”

He quickly types on his phone as the two of you keep walking. “Yeah, we can as long as it doesn’t take too long,” he tells you, showing you the message from Quinn.

You nod, scrolling to the recipe on the website. “What do you have from these ingredients?” 

Brock quickly scans the list, nodding along and mouthing each component to himself. “I have the flour, salt, and pepper.”

“So you were supposed to be making mac and cheese and you had neither the mac nor the cheese?”

“That would be correct.”

“Oh my god,” you groan again. Brock stops walking, pulling you off to the side of the trail again. “What?” Brock gestures to the water in front of you, the sun making the ripples shine, the sky absolutely pristine. “Wow,” you let out. 

“What do you think?” you hear him ask, not taking your attention away from the sight in front of you.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It is.” You look over at him, seeing him tuck his phone away into his pocket, his eyes on you instead of the view. 

_____________________________

“Why was getting all of this way harder than I thought it would be?” Brock asks, putting the bags of groceries on the counter.

“Because you had no idea where anything in the store was and we had to keep doubling back for things we missed the first time.”

“You really have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“We’re dating, isn’t that something you’re supposed to know?”

Brock laughs, pulling out pans and bowls from his cabinets as you start to get everything prepared for the mac and cheese. You tell him what to do, giving him step-by-step instructions.

“This is nice,” he tells you. 

You think for a moment, shredding the cheese into a bowl. The recipe called for more cheese than any recipe you had ever made before, and somehow the mountain of cheese in front of you still didn’t feel like enough. “It is.”

“My mom and dad used to cook like this,” he tells you, his voice somber as he comes up behind you. 

“Yeah?”

“She would tell him what to do and he would do it. Badly, but he would try his best.” You laugh along with him. He had told you that his father had passed away a couple of years ago, but you didn’t know anything else about him other than what she could find with a quick google search that now, in a weird way, felt like an invasion of privacy. “We could always tell which things Dad helped with because they tasted just a little off.” 

“You miss him, don’t you?” you say, slowing down your shredding and turning towards him. He was facing you again, his arm around you but not touching you, resting on the counter on the other side of you. 

“Always.”

You swore he was going to lean in, his eyes flickering down to your lips. You clear your throat, turning back to the cheese. “You should check the pasta to see if it’s almost done or not.”

Brock nods, smiling and winking at you before doing what he was told.

_____________________________

“This is all fake.”

“And?”

“It doesn’t feel fake.” 

“Well, you aren’t a great actress, are you?”

“Lena,” you whine. 

“I saw you try out for The Little Mermaid in middle school.” 

You had texted her once the mac and cheese was done and you were back in what Brock now referred to as ‘your room,’ panicking that he had almost kissed you again. What if you were just reading into things? You felt stupid to think that he was doing anything more than pretending for the sake of getting used to things for tomorrow, right?

“Is there a chance for this to turn into something not fake?”

“Considering he lives in a different country, unless you want me to actually move to Canada without you, no.” 

“Do you want it to be something that isn’t fake?”

You hesitate, knowing that Lena had a stupid smirk on her face that would turn into some sort of ‘I told you so,’ later in the conversation. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it does.”

You sigh. “He’s great, but I’ve known him for two days. You don’t fall for someone like that in two days, it’s absurd.”

“Jack and Rose did in Titanic.”

“And that’s fiction, not real life.”

“Ok, if you had more than two days, then what?” 

“Then, I don’t know. Maybe?” 

“So, what do you do about it?”

“What can I do, Leen?” You flop down on the bed. “I’m here for less than two days before I leave and probably never talk to him again. The best this can be is fake.” 

_____________________________

“Are you ready for this?” Brock asks you, handing you one of the trays of food you made. “No.”

He smiles at you. “Me neither.” 

You head towards the door of Quinn’s place, ready to be as overwhelmed with the people you were about to encounter as you were two days prior at the game, even if you had already met most of these people. 

Lexie is the first one to greet you, somehow, through the chaos of everyone else around you. She leads the two of you into the kitchen, even though Brock already knows his way around. “I’m stealing her,” she tells Brock, grabbing you by the hand and leading you off to another room while all the guys stand around the kitchen island, somehow the ones in charge of the food.

“It is so good to see Brock so happy,” she tells you, handing you a glass of wine as she poured one for herself. The two of you were alone in the room she pulled you into, leaving you amazed that with that many people in the house, there was even an empty room to begin with. “I mean, those photos he posted of you? You are the most photogenic person I have ever seen.”

“Uh, yeah,” you tell her, knowing that you have to stop stammering everytime you try to give someone an answer. 

“You don’t know about the pictures?” You shake your head. She prompts you to pull up Brock’s page, the most recent pictures one from yesterday.

You scroll through the carousel. The first one, as you saw, was the one of you two before you went out for the day. The second one was one of you in the airport, looking for him. You thought you looked awful, but somehow, he made you look good. The third from the game the other night, one of the photographers probably captured a photo after he scored of him looking at you and smiling at him before he heads to the bench. The fourth and fifth were ones you had no idea he took; when you were looking out at the water yesterday, smiling at the sight while your hair somehow perfectly framed your face, and while you were hunched over the cheese, grating too many cups of the stuff for today. 

“He’s in deep,” Lexie smirks, drinking her wine. 

You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as you looked at the photos, which he captioned, Thankful for you, with your handle tagged. 

“Now it makes sense why I’m getting so many notifications,” you joke, setting your glass down on the table in front of you. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to go find the bathroom.” 

You head back towards the kitchen, hoping to find Brock there. 

“I’m surprised you actually are dating someone,” you hear someone’s voice in the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Brock responds.

“I thought you made her up,” another voice agrees with the first. 

“I’m not Quinn, I wouldn’t do that,” Brock lies.

“That was one time when I was in sixth grade,” the first voice argues.

You hear Brock laugh, your heart fluttering at the sound, immediately hating yourself for that. You’ve known him for a few days, why did you have to remind yourself about that?

“How long have you guys even been together?” Your heart stops,hoping Brock remembered all the things they talked about the last few days. She knew what he should say, but that didn’t mean he would say it.

“Only about two months, I think.” 

“You think?”

“Petey, you know he’s not good with time.” 

You finally work up the nerve to walk into the room, seeing Brock’s face light up at the sight of you. 

He was faking it. 

“Hey, babe,” he says, pulling you close and kissing the side of your head. 

“God, you two aren’t going to be the kind of couple who overdo the PDA, are you?” Petey asks.

“Only if you piss us off,” Brock says, not taking his eyes off you. 

“So, um,” you say, coming back to reality and turning to the other two. “Everything looks great.” 

Quinn looks at the clock on the oven. “We should probably eat soon. The food should be in a couple of minutes.”

“We’ll get everything on the table,” Brock volunteers the two of you, grabbing one of the plates and handing them to you.

“Everything is going well, so far, I think,” you whisper to him once you’re out of earshot of the others. 

“Everyone thinks we’re actually together. I think we might pull it off.” 

_____________________________

The rest of the night went surprisingly well, the attention largely kept off the two of you most of the time as the team seemed to be more interested in teasing each other while their partners rolled their eyes at the guys’ antics. Brock drove you back in silence, a smile on his face the entire time. 

You headed to bed, knowing that you were going to be leaving when you woke up the next morning, part of you dreading the moment Brock would drop you off at the airport. 

He pulled up to the terminal, neither of you moving once he put the car in park. 

“Can I admit something?” he asks. 

“Sure.”

“I don’t think I want you to leave.” 

You look at him. “I don’t really want to leave.”

“But,” he starts.

“I have to.” 

Brock gets out of the car before you could say anything else, heading to grab your bag from his trunk. 

“We were good at fake dating, though,” he says, handing you your bag. 

You nod as he pulls you in for a hug. “Was all of it fake?” You don’t know what compelled you to ask that, other than you not thinking before you speak.

Brock smiles, his arms still wrapped around you. Before you can fully process it, his lips find yours, a sweet, slow kiss as your lips moved together, his hand on the small of your back pressing you into him. 

“No.” 

[jjpopeshipper]

Pope is literally his soulmate. His everything. And we barely got any JJPOPE in pt2. We've never gotten them back since s2. I said it to my friend when s3 dropped, that that was the death of JJPOPE. Not even as a ship, but as BEST FRIENDS!

S1 it was John B and Kie who were close, and JJ and Pope who were close. They were all friends, but they'd pair off into duos. They were the yin to each other's yang. The sunshine to the moon. I'm so upset that s4 became the JJ show (as much as I love him) because literally every other character just stood around waiting to step in to save JJ.

Sarah is fcking PREGNANT!!!! And barely gets any screen time or time to process. John B, THE MAIN CHARACTER BTW is sidelined and literally just stands there or yells at JJ when he does something stupid. Same with Kiara. She has almost nothing to do with the plot. She even gets the cliche of being knocked out/incapacitated.

Then Cleo is still barely known at all. Great she got the last family member she had. He was ripped violently away from her and almost lost her life. Then it's never addressed again until Pope takes the k!ller's life for her.

Now onto Pope. My biggest disappointment in terms of character development. He was going to college and he was this snarky nerd who knows better than everyone. Who is logical but is still very much ruled by his emotions when confronted with big conflicts. Then he pairs off with Cleo and nothing for him. His dreams are completely gone in place for searching for treasure the rest of his life.

I'd maybe be more accepting of this season if literally any of them had a purpose besides reacting to JJ, but that's not the case now, is it?

This show falls directly into the Netflix pattern.

BEAUTIFUL, COMPELLING, ONE OF A KIND FIRST SEASON.

Then BOOM the show explodes.

Then s2 comes and we're like "ok not as good as one but its still good."

S3 comes and it's like "oh yikes... big problems with this one. But not unbearable. Has its high points."

Then s4. Nail in the coffin in terms of its CHARACTERS.

The whole reason people watch OBX is for the found family. Knowing that no matter what the pogues will find a way out and support each other.

Where was that? Where was that at all this season?

They think they can just shoehorn some bonding montages into part 1 and that'll fulfill that same need.

No. It needs to be woven throughout.

It just becomes the JJ show and I'll give props where it's due. The plot of this season is pretty strong.

As long as you don't think too much about character development, relationships or just how many shooting/chase scenes there are.

Or how the characters don't even seem to care about each other outside of their romantic relationships.

Or how the female characters are all cardboard cutout plot devices!!!! 🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗

Sorry not sorry. I'm over it. Probably won't tune in for s5.

JJ's death sends the message that no matter how hard you try, your circumstances are your circumstances. And, it gets worse. So might as well just accept it and gamble your life away until you inevitably d!e young.

But yay!!! Gold!!!! Gold, gold gold. That's the point, right?? Right?????

fuck jiara, i miss jjpope so bad to the point where im gonna start sobbing

[formylovetodaryldixon]

“Russian roulette.” Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif)

The game of killing or dying was too much for you after Richard was about to use you as bait, so you left to not be part of that life. However, it happens that you have a husband who is an excellent hunter, and who swears to you that he would burn everything in his path until he finds you.

A/N: This is an imagine I wrote a long time ago, but that was the first time I wrote smut (I suck at it, really) that's why I never did it, but I tried my best hehe. I realized that I love, LOVE writing Daryl as a husband, is kind of hot♥ (Sorry if there are any grammatical errors)

From afar, Daryl sees you teaching the children of the kingdom how to use the bow in the archery area. Some little ones had good bases to become great archers, to protect themselves and others from the dead, but he sees too how they insist that you show them again how it was done. So you search inside the quiver that hangs against your back, taking an arrow with a red feather in it that shines in the morning sun when you connect it with the bow. With a fluid movement, you raise the bow to the height of your face, pointing towards the target in front but far from you, and your arrow pierces right in the middle of the yellow point of the objective.

Daryl smiles proudly, but decides not to get close when King Ezekiel approaches you. Instead, Daryl walks away from there and crosses the garden and some houses, while, near him, Richard keeps practicing in his own archery area, and watches Daryl as he approaches.

“I’m practicing. I have to start using these more.” He raises the bow close to his face, aiming towards the target, but the arrow hit the black point far from the center. “I know your wife can do much better.”

“She can.” Daryl says, and Richard turns to him.

“Morgan said you’re a bowman.” Richard takes the crossbow from the big box between them, holding a calm expression that Daryl doesn’t trust in, but he takes it, glancing at Richard with suspicion.

“Why?”

“Because we want the same things. And I need your help.”

He is talking about the saviors, Daryl knows it well, so he checks the weight of the crossbow in his hands before he lifts it close to his face, ready to shoot.

Daryl and Richard walk down the empty highway with green trees at the sides and a desolate view. The plan is to attack first, a surprise ambush that would cause a war between the Kingdom and the saviors, to then finally kill them to live safe. So they hide behind a big cargo truck by the side of the road, putting down their weapons and backpacks.

“They ride this road. If we see cars: it’s the saviors. They are coming in bands of 2 or 3. That’s why I need you. I can’t take them down alone.” Richard says. He kneels in front of his backpack, pulling the liquor bottles out of it. “We hit them with the guns first, then with the molotovs, and back to the guns until they are dead.”

“Why the fire?”

“It needs to look bad.” But Daryl doesn’t seem convinced, and walks around Richard with his crossbow in hand, forcing him with just a look to continue explaining himself. “The saviors who discovers what’s left…” Richard gets up and turns around to look at Daryl. “We want them to be angry. I left a trail from here to the weapons cache near to an open field that will take them… to a person who practices near here and that Ezekiel cares about.”

Daryl narrows his eyes, because he was too protective to let a person be exposed like that.

“Who’s that?”

“Just a person that will help.”

“Lives in the kingdom?”

“She practices out of there.”

Daryl stops himself.

“It’s a woman?”

Richard frowns, suddenly becoming impatient.

“What’s that matter? She got more balls than you and me together. She’s not gonna die, but when the saviors come and find their friends dead, they will follow the trail and go to the gun’s cache, then to the open field and they’ll try to attack this woman…”

Daryl frowns, growing impatient as well.

“What’s 'er name?”

“They won’t kill her, but that’s gonna show Ezekiel what he needs to do. He will see she was about to get hurt because of the saviors and just then he will fight.”

Richard’s betrayal begins to unfold in front of Daryl’s eyes, but he doesn’t like what he hears, and as a reflection, his hand tightens on the crossbow.

“'er name. What is it?”

“She is tough. She will live.”

The pieces of the puzzle begin to fit in and Daryl starts to have a complete view of Richard’s plan, but he doesn't want to act recklessly until he hears it with his own ears.

“Say 'er damn name!”

He needs to hear it to be sure. However, although his threatening look makes Richard almost surrender, he shows no fear, showing all his disinterest towards your life.

“(Y/N)”

Containing himself so as not to kill Richard at that very moment with a single arrow in his skull is the hardest thing Daryl ever did. But his body is shaking with anger; the blood on his veins freezes as he listens to that man and how he put his wife’s life in danger without remorse. As if your life is worth nothing, as if you didn’t have someone to defend you.

“Are ya fuckin’ crazy?” Daryl talks with a low, yet angry voice. “Ya jus’ dared to put in risk ma wife’s life jus’ ‘cause ya think she can handle a group of saviors?”

“You two told Ezekiel that anything had to be done to stop the saviors.”

Again, even when he has the chance, Daryl uses all his strength to not shoot an arrow in Richard’s face, and he walks around Richard to take his things before leaving that place.

“No.”

“She’ll live. Listen… this is how this has to happen. This is how we will get rid of the saviors. You two stayed in the kingdom for a reason: to prove to Ezekiel we can kill the savior. Together. So we can all have a future.”

“No!” Daryl passes him by, walking away from him.

“If we don’t do something people are gonna die!” Richard walks towards him and Daryl faces him. “People who wants to live!”

“Get the hell away from ma wife, ya hear me?”

Daryl gets close to him, looking straight into his eyes. Richard backs away, but hearing the roar of the cars that approaches in the distance attracts his attention. Daryl drops his backpack off his shoulder and holds his crossbow, watching the saviors’ path toward them coming down the hill.

There, Richard looks at Daryl.

“It’s them. We can wait for things to go bad, lose people, or we can do the hard thing…” He glances back at the saviors for a few seconds before looking at Daryl again. “Or choose our fates for ourselves.”

“No.”

Richard shrugs.

“Sorry.”

He turns around to carry out his plan with or without Daryl’s help, but Daryl drops his crossbow and takes Richard by the collar of his t-shirt to push him to the ground. He tries to fight back, but Daryl holds him with his own arm close to Richard’s neck, to then punch him, over and over until a river of blood descends from his nose to cover part of his face. Richard whines taking a canteen next to his face and hit Daryl, falling onto a side as both crawl on the ground to take their weapons to aim at their faces when they get up.

Richard breathes through his parted and broken lips and nods towards the saviors.

“There will be more. Or they will come back later, and we will have another chance. But we are running out of time. Your people need the kingdom to beat the saviors… We have to make sacrifices in one way or another. Guys like us… we’ve already lost so much.”

Daryl sees in his eyes the sadness for his loss, but that would never justify taking the life of another person to win that fight, not that way.

“Ya don’t know me.”

“I know that (Y/N) is stronger than us.”

To Richard’s surprise, Daryl lowers his crossbow, but the fierce look in his eyes is enough to make Richard take a step back.

“I’ll tell ya this jus’ once: If ma wife gets hurt, she dies, she catches a fever, she gets taken out by a walker, she gets hit by lighting, anythin’ happens to her, I’ll kill ya. Even if she jus’ gets a small cut in ‘er body, I’ll kill ya. So from now on: don’t talk to 'er, don’t look at 'er, don’t breathe near 'er. Fuck, don't even think about 'er.”

Richard holds his breath, looking at Daryl straight in his eyes.

“I would die for the kingdom.”

Daryl looks back at him, without any fear but with boiling anger.

“Why don’t ya?”

And then, he takes his backpack, his crossbow, and Daryl leaves.

When you turn off the lamp on the night table of your room, the light of the night comes in softly through the closed window, and you lay down sideways on your side of the bed as Daryl covers you with the blanket.

“Ya won’t take your clothes off?” He asks as he hugs you from behind.

“No…” You lie. “I’m cold.”

“I can help ya with that.” He says softly and moves to get closer to you. His arm hold you against him, giving you part of his warm. “Don’t worry ‘bout anythin’. No one ain’t gonna hurt ya. We’ll leave this place in a few days.”

You hold his hand on yours, waiting for him to fall sleep.

The anxiety and the fear inside you become one within you as the minutes pass in a dead silence. But suddenly, the world around you seems like a lie because everything is as quiet as if there were no walkers on the other side of the big gates, as if Richard hadn’t tried to hurt you without any remorse. Daryl told you because you already knew that something was happening and because he wanted you to stop going to that open field to practice. He couldn’t protect you without telling the truth. However, what hurt you the most is thinking how a life could mean nothing in the hands of other people: as if they had any rights over it. But the truth hits you hard too; because you did the same thing the first time you defended yourself from someone who tried to kill you for your weapon.

That didn’t make you a killer, too? Then, the guilt falls on you, the harsh reality of a murderer who tries to justifies a murder, just as Richard tried to do, just as you did. Everyone there, good or bad people were doing the same thing. Killing. Taking lives away. And you realized you couldn’t be part of all that. Not because you were weak but because you didn’t want to be the survivor that sees its friends die. And what if you die in the middle of the battle? Dying and causing pain to others, was that worth it? Or to stay alive but live in a constant pain? That life was like playing Russian roulette: none of you knew who could die or live, but all had to play. No exception. But you couldn’t stay and do it, so that night, you left before the game started.

That same night, you leave your backpack on the small bed and look around the place in that cold lonely night. It is a two-bedroom cabin. It is old, small but cozy, much better than a bed in the kingdom. This was a place you found days ago without telling anybody, not even Daryl. And as you lay down there, you hope that is the last time you start a new beginning far from killing, far from the fear of losing people, even if you had just lost your husband.

In the very early morning, near the garden of the Kingdom, a commotion catches Morgan and King Ezekiel’s attention. They run to the group of people who gathers around a fight, but no one is able to stop a wild Daryl, who is over Richard, punching him over and over until Morgan takes him by the arms and pulls him out of Richard before he could kill him. Daryl gets up and breathes hardly through his parted lips, watching Richard still on the ground and unable to move, or breathe.

“What is happening?!” Ezekiel asks, holding Richard and looking around. “Walk away, people. There is a lot to do today.”

The people listen, and Ezekiel glances at Daryl.

“Tell me right now why you did this.”

“That piece of shit did somethin’ to ma wife. She left!” Daryl is about to fall over Richard again, but Morgan holds him back. “I told him to stay away from ‘er!”

Ezekiel gets up leaving Richard on the ground, too weak to get himself up.

“What did Richard do to (Y/N)?”

Daryl looks at Ezekiel, not wanting to say what happened.

“Let him tell ya, I’ll go find ma wife.”

Daryl takes his crossbow from the ground and walks away with big steps towards the gates. Behind him, Morgan is following him.

“Daryl… Did (Y/N) leave a note?”

But he doesn’t stop.

“She wanted to get away from this fight. She doesn’t wanna see 'er friends being killed.”

“Because she knows that some of us could die.”

Daryl hates the way Morgan talks, like if Daryl didn’t understand that could happen. So, he turns around, giving Morgan a threatening look.

“Don’t talk to me like I was a damn child. Killin’ the saviors is the only way for me to make sure ma wife and friends will have a safe life.”

“Even if someone dies in the process?”

But Daryl doesn’t answer, and he yells at the man in charge of the gates to open it up. He walks out, completely sure he would find you sooner or later.

During a silent and almost deafening sunset, you walk through the forest near your house, with the quiver on your back and the bow in your hand, looking for some animal to eat. Everything is as it should be in the forest, everything there belongs to its place. Except you. But still listening to the birds sing in the long distance, you make your way until you find a squirrel that moves from here to there on the branch of a tree. You pull an arrow from the quiver; you connect it to the bow and lift it to the correct height close to your face, holding the air in your lungs. However, as a sudden sadness covers you because you couldn’t stop killing, another arrow flies close to you and sinks into the animal’s body.

You gasp in acknowledgment, so you turn around to see Daryl walking close to you, with your heart beating fast against your chest. He stops in front of you, looking at you through his head slightly down, just like he did when he was sad. He did that just with you, because just with you he was able to show how he truly felt, without feeling ashamed of feeling weak.

“This is the moment when you ask me why the hell I left you.” You say through the knot in your throat, but he just shakes his head softly.

“This is the moment when I say I missed ya.” He approaches you, almost afraid as if you are not real, and he puts his arms around you to embrace your waist, hiding his face in your neck, at the same time that you let go of the bow to feel him close to you. “I missed ya.”

As you sit down in your little bed, kicking your black boots off, Daryl leaves his backpack on the table in the middle of the room and looks inside for something. But before you know what it is, he throws it at you and you catch it perfectly. It is a peach, because he knows how much you like them. As you clean it against your clothes, Daryl sits in the chair that gives him a perfect view of you, resting his elbow against the wood, holding his chin in his hand.

“Explain it to me ‘cause I don’t get it.” He makes a gesture with his hand to point around the place. “I said I would protect ya. We were ‘bout to leave that place. But ya just walked away in the middle of the night… Why?”

His voice fill with disappointment pierces your ears, but you try to gather your ideas so that he understands your reasons.

“I’m tired. I’m afraid. And I don’t wanna see any of our friends being killed…and I realized I can’t neither. It’s too much to handle. I can kill, like, a person, and that’s what really scares me. I know they killed our friends, but this revenge, or justice, or whatever you want to call it: it will only endanger our people, and we will see more blood. And then we will have nightmares about their deaths, and we will not know what is worse: if sleep only to have nightmares about their deaths, or live awake in this real-life nightmare. I know I’m being selfish because they are willing to fight, but I can’t lose you or them.” You feel the tears in your eyes, but you rub your face with your hands to not let them fall right now. “I don’t want to be around if that happens.”

Daryl looks at you, rubbing his finger against his lip, trying to contain his own anger. He didn’t want to act like he used to, he didn’t want to yell at you for leaving him just the way you did. But that was hard for him too, it was too painful, almost impossible to bear the days he was without you, thinking that something bad could have happened to you because he couldn’t protect you. But right there, in front of you, he wants to tell you how scared he was when he didn’t find you by his side that morning, and that he couldn’t sleep the days after that.

“So what?” He says with a raspy voice. “What ‘bout me? I’m yer husband. Did ya think I’d jus’ sit there and do nothin’? That I would jus’ let ya get away from me? That was yer plan? Make me love ya and then leave me?”

Daryl was the strongest man, but the weakest too when it was about you. And you knew, that in that world or in the previous one, love was still a dangerous feeling, sometimes even more dangerous than a walker.

“That’s not true, Daryl: you know it.”

He laughs harshly.

“I realized I don’t know anythin’ about the woman I’m married to.”

“Ouch… That hurts.” You chuckle tiredly, then sighing until you found the right words. “I think it would be better if you get angry with me, if you kick the chair and tell me what I did wrong.”

Daryl takes a deep breath, trying to calm his wild heart.

“Nah. Ya are here with me now.” But, suddenly, he stands up, taking off his vest in his way to you, his gaze locked on yours as he begins to unbutton his shirt next. “But I think I need ya to learn your lesson in a different way.”

Your mouth is dry, and your own heart begins to beat at an alarming pace.

“Daryl… what are you doing?”

As he reaches the edge of the bed, he tosses his shirt aside, while, with the gentleness that didn’t usually characterize him on the outside, his thumb caresses your soft cheek, a warm contrast to his finger.

“Have ya ever been scared of me?”

Though he’s referring to that situation happening now in particular, you know he’s asking in general as well, if, perhaps, at some point in your marriage, you’ve seen him through different eyes. Perhaps with a fear reflected in them, a silent fear that would be overwhelming for him. But you shake your head, your gentle gaze on his ocean-colored eyes.

Daryl was a tender lover behind his tough appearance, and you were never scared, not by him.

“No. You know damn well I have not.”

“Not even once?”

His own doubt makes you smile a little bit.

“Not even once, Dixon, I know well you have a soft spot for me.”

“Hell yeah, woman, n’ only for ya.” He says, so serious like never before. “So if that’s true, lay down n’ lemme show ya how damn much I missed ya.”

You do as he tells you, your gaze on the wooden roof, feeling the knot in your stomach traveling to your lower part as he unbuttons and unzips your black jeans. It's torturously slow, but you know he's doing it as part of the lesson, because he's never denied you pleasure before. Since your marriage began, he was always a giver, taking your own pleasure as his own. It was like a rule for him to give you all the pleasure, and then give you a little more.

But when he removes all your clothes and his breath and his beard tickle your most sensitive area, your hands look blindly something to hold yourself onto, his long hair maybe, but he just pushes your hands away.

“No touchin’.” He says, dangerously low.

However, when his strong hands cling to your hips, his mouth sinking into you, you let out a tight gasp, your knees bending up. But the way he is moving against you as you move against him, too, makes him feel so needy for you, like he is in a beautiful hell. Your hands still in the air closed almost painfully, eyes closing too, arching your back, and mouth falling finally open.

“Daryl, wait–”

“Shut it.” He warns you, keeping his warm mouth close to your entrance. “Fuck, why ya always taste so damn good? Makes me wanna live in between your legs all the fuckin’ time.”

He wasn’t normally a very talkative person, but when Daryl was on the right mood he loved saying things that he knew would turn you on, leading you to the edge of being out of breath. He loved playing with you like he does again, his mouth kissing and licking and sucking, fingers holding onto the bones on your waist. The angry animal inside him woke up when you moan with open lips, sending a painful throbbing to the hardness in his pants.

He sucks hard on you, making you shake against him, holding yourself onto the blanket even when you want to hold his hair. But feeling you so needy for him, and only for him makes him feel about to explode, but he stops himself from lower one of his hand to his pants to stroke his manhood.

Daryl starts to feeling you moving against his face, and he takes pride that he could make you cum without being inside you, yet, because he’s not going to let you do that, hell no. No matter how much he enjoyed torturing you that way, he is ready to give you so much pleasure you wouldn’t think ever again about leaving him, no when he couldn’t live without you anymore.

So Daryl stands up, removing his hands from your body, giving you the time to catch some air as he unbuckles his belt, like the most erotic image in the world. His strong and naked chest rises and falls as he locks eyes with you, his mouth in a tight line as he removes his belt, not ready to smile even a little to you as you bite your own lips, hiding a smile.

“I will never be scared of you, but it scares me a little bit what is coming.”

He is kind of angry, but not with you, but with the idea of being a little bit animalistic, like to roll over onto your knees so he could hold himself on your hips, maybe even on your hair, pulling it just a little like he has done a few times when you two were getting playful.  

“Ya should be.” He says, so low and dangerous as he unbuttons his pants. “Now take the rest of yer clothes off.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, sitting back down to pull off your black t-shirt, with nothing underneath. The complete view of your now naked body is such a temptation for him, so much that he thinks he would give up soon. But no, he’s stronger than that.

“Now lay back down, n’ spread your legs open for me.”

Fuck. You think that couldn’t get any hotter, but you know it could with that look in his deep gaze, so you lick your dry lip and look back at him as he kicks his boots off, taking off his pants and his boxer next, while, still sitting, you try to look up only, even when there is a whole spectacle at the level of your own gaze.  

“Should I call you sir while I do that?” You smile sweetly at him, playing innocent.

And for the first time in the night, Daryl smiles back.

“I’m yer fuckin’ husband, peach, the same person that’s gonna make love to ya, maybe that way ya won’t leave me ever again. Now do as I tell ya.”

Though you can hear the sadness in his words, his voice doesn’t waver, not when he’s so ready to do what he promised, so with nothing else on your mind, you lay back down on the bed, spreading your legs as an invitation that Daryl immediately takes. He lays on top of you, and you can almost feel his own heartbeat as he sinks into you with one hand, while the other arm holds him up too close to your face. You feel him throbbing inside of you, and he holds himself on his legs, his free hand looking for the softness of your face to hold you there, kissing you deeply.

Your own hands hold his lower back, and this time, he lets you touch him freely. The warm of your fingers is melting him, but when he starts to move, he drowns your moans and his tense grunts in a kiss. His calloused hand grasps your face with a firmness but a sweet touch, as if you are a piece of glass, the most precious in the world, in his world.

Daryl never felt so primitive and he is too drunk with lust, but there is something intense and so erotic in the idea that he could push himself deeper into you, and that you would take everything and even beg for more. So he does, he presses into you deeper, harder than ever but not in a painful way because hurting you wasn’t in his nature, but he is taking you to the very edge in no time. You called out his name against his mouth as he starts moving faster against you, making you feel the tension building up on your stomach and in between your legs, so hot like hell itself, as intense as the beginning of the orgasm that is about to hit you soon if he keeps moving that way.

But it feels different from other times, short but in a new kind of intense. His thumb caresses your check, his forehead resting on your just a moment before he buries his face in your neck, the same finger sliding over your bottom lip, and that little action is so hot. The sounds he starts making against your neck are an arousing melody, sounds he muffles against your hair on his own path to much-needed release.

Your hands hold his lower back even harder, pulling him against you, your mouth against his shoulder, drowning out the forbidden sounds that come from between your lips, the view of the world fading as you close your eyes while letting out a hot cry as he makes you cum.

Finally, Daryl spills himself inside you, breathing through parted lips as he catches his breath.

After a long minute, or maybe two and when you can breathe again, you speak softly.

“I’m sorry, I never wanted to leave you alone, or make you think that I don't love you.”

Daryl raises his head, getting lost in the way you ask for his forgiveness with your eyes, too. But in that moment, he knows everything will be alright.

“So ya won’t leave me again?” He asks softly, but, too deep in your own sadness to speak properly, you just shake your head. “Good. ‘Cause ya got to know I’ll chase ya to the end of the fuckin’ world, burnin’ everythin' on ma way ‘till I find ya.”

[lucidbee]

Love Is A Science | Percy Jackson x Reader

Summary: You and Percy have always been best friends you just needed a little push for you to become more.

Word Count: 1.1k

Author Note: Did I write this in the car to eat dry turkey and complain to my family about what tariffs mean, yes. Did I get car sick from writing this also, yes. Not proofread. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Feel free to leave any requests. 

—---—---—‐--—---—---—---—---—---

You and Percy had been friends ever since he came to Camp Half-Blood. You both were always next to each other; if you weren’t, you were talking about them somehow. Every camper could see that both of you were meant to be together. The teasing and questioning were endless. The Aphrodite cabin had a blast creating different scenarios and challenging each other on who could get you two together first. For years the both of you had been denying any claims that you were anything more than friends. Both of you believing that you were just really good friends, companions in battle. 

But after the battle in Manhattan, things started to change, both of you becoming more aware of each other's presence, not wanting to be more than an arm's reach away from each other at all times. Something deeper had started to grow after all these years, something unspoken.

That's where you find yourself, both silently staring into the fire crackling on the beach. You’re wrapped in Percy’s arms, your back pressed against his chest. Before the battle, if anyone had asked, it would have been simply cuddling nothing more, than just a way for two friends to stay warm. However, now if you were asked the same question, you weren’t sure what you would say. It was different now, you didn’t just want to be around Percy anymore, you needed to be around him. You needed to know that he was safe, that you weren’t going to lose him. The possibility of losing Percy opened up feelings you had no idea you had for the son of Posideon. 

You wanted to kiss him, to be held by him, for him to fight every battle with coming home to you as his only goal. You were hopelessly and undoubtedly in love with Percy Jackson. The only trouble was that you had no idea how to bring the topic up to him. You had spent years denying the claims that you were lovers, was it possible for him to have the same change of heart as you? 

The fire crackled loudly filling any awkward silence. You knew you only had so much time to confess your feelings before curfew, if you didn’t do it today you knew you would talk yourself out of it every day to come. 

“Percy?” You call out not taking your eyes off of the flames.

Percy, who is usually quick with his words, had been unusually quiet this whole time. Usually, he would be humming a song, or bouncing his knee to create any sort of noise. Today he looked completely lost in his thoughts. 

“Percy?”

“A daughter of Aphrodite asked me out today,” Percy said looking down to look at you.

Shocked was the only way you could describe what you felt right now. Your heart started to race and your head started to spin, were you too late?

“W-what did you say?” 

Percy sighed before saying “I told her I would think about it.”

More dread filled your body. “Do you like her?”

“Well no, but there is no harm in just one date right?”

Your head was still spinning but your heartbeat started to slow back down, you still had time. 

“Do you like anyone?” You asked.

“There is this one girl, but I don't think she is interested.”

Your heart broke at that moment, you had waited too long. You could have had him years ago but now that you are about to lose him you have never wanted him more. Pain fills your body, and you find it more difficult to breathe. 

“She would be dumb not to be interested in you, Percy.” You say tears filling your eyes.

“Y/n are you okay, did I do something?”

“No, it's what I did,” You say tears strolling down your face.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t tell you how much I love you and now it’s too late.” 

You stand up wiping your tears, needing to separate yourself from Percy. Percy soon follows but keeps his distance.

“Y/n?”

“I should have told you so much sooner, but we both needed time to heal after the battle and I was worried you wouldn’t feel the same way,” You ramble off walking back and forth.

“Y/N,” Percy yells.

Your head swings to look at him, tears still streaming down your face. Percy steps closer taking your hands in his. Both of you keep eye contact the whole time as he allows you time to calm down.

“I love you too”

“You what?”

“The girl I was talking about was you, I love you.” 

“This isn’t funny seafoam, you can’t joke about this, I’m barely holding myself together right now.”

“I’m not joking, in Manhattan, all I could keep thinking about was that I was terrified I was going to die before being able to kiss you.”

For what felt like an eternity you were finally able to breathe. The pain washed away into a feeling of overwhelming joy.

“Kiss me,” You say.

“What?”

“Kiss me, do you not want to anymore?”

“NO,” Percy yells.

Percy quickly takes you into his arms and presses his lips against yours. Your eyes quickly shut, wrapping your arms around Percy’s neck. It was everything you imagined and more, you could have stayed in the position for hours. That was until the sound of a horn being blown in the distance alerting you both that curfew was in a few minutes. 

“I don’t want to let you go,” Percy said nuzzling himself into your neck.

“Then don’t.

Percy looks at you in a confused way, when you finally explain it to him. 

“You’re all alone in your cabin, sneak me in.”

“You are brilliant,” Percy says giving you a light peck.

Percy quickly put out the fire that was still burning beside you, before taking your hand and rushing off of the beach and into cabin number three. You both leave grinning and completely absorbed in each other. Completely not noticing the daughter of Aphrodite and Athena hiding behind the bushes.

“Told you all they needed was a little push to figure out what they were missing out on,” Annabeth said.

“You are a genius and about to be the richest person in camp, we’ve been betting on them for the last four years,” Drew says walking back towards the Aphrodite cabin.

“What can I say love is a science, after all, let me know if you need any lessons.”

“Don’t push it, brainiac.”

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Reunited 5

Pairing: modern!Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: So this is it. The journey has come to the end and I'm a bit sad but also very happy. This fic has a lot my own struggles within it and it has helped me to think over and let go of certain things that had accumulated. But before Sihtric and reader can look forward into the bright and shiny future they have to resolve some unsorted questions. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Warnings: it's emotionally tense with some angst and self reflection but still sweet

Summary: It was supposed to be a short two week trip that turned into five long years apart, just because your best friend couldn't keep her mouth shut. Will the reader and Sihtric manage to repair their broken relationship and find their way back to each other? Or will the reader decide to stay with the handsome and talented Sigtryggr?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word Count: 7,8 K

Please remember that comments and reblogs are two things that make writers smile and keep us motivated.

You felt a surge of betrayal twist through you, an uncomfortable déjà vu that made your stomach drop. The whole scene was surreal, and your mind spun, trying to piece it all together. But before you could say a word, Sigtryggr's hand found yours under the blanket, his grip firm and panicked.

“This—this isn’t what it looks like, I swear,” he stammered, his face pale and clearly horrified by the scene unfolding. He scrambled to sit up, looking between you and the woman standing in the doorway. “This is… this is Stiorra, my ex-girlfriend.”

Stiorra crossed her arms, one eyebrow raised as she regarded him with a mix of annoyance and disbelief. “And in case there’s any doubt,” she interjected, “I’m the one who threw him out.” Her eyes flicked to you, and a slightly sheepish smile softened her expression. “Told him to never come back, actually.”

Sigtryggr winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not exactly a high point in our relationship,” he muttered. Then, as if desperate to regain some semblance of control, he gestured toward the kitchen. “Stiorra, why don’t you, uh… wait in the kitchen? Give us a moment?”

With a sigh that suggested she was equally exhausted by this awkward situation, Stiorra shrugged. “Fine. But we’re talking after,” she said, shooting him a look that clearly communicated there was unfinished business between them. She turned on her heel, retreating to the kitchen and leaving the two of you in a tense silence.

You exhaled, still feeling the sting of surprise. “So, let me get this straight. Your ex-girlfriend who kicked you out now has a key and comes barging in?”

Sigtryggr’s cheeks flushed as he stumbled over his words. “It’s… complicated. We broke up months ago. She kept the key for emergencies, but I didn’t think she’d actually use it. I mean, she made it pretty clear she never wanted to see me again.” He shook his head, his eyes wide with a mixture of embarrassment and desperation. “I had no idea she’d be coming by today, I swear.”

You let out a breath, half-amused by his genuine horror at the situation. Despite everything, there was something undeniably ridiculous about it all. Here was this cool, collected artist, now completely rattled by his ex-girlfriend unexpectedly showing up while he was in bed with someone else.

You finally cracked a small smile. “You couldn’t make this up if you tried.”

He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. “This really isn’t how I imagined our morning together going. I’m sorry.”

Before you could respond, Stiorra’s voice called from the kitchen. “I’m making coffee. There’s milk and sugar somewhere—if Sigtryggr actually bought groceries this week, that is.”

Sigtryggr’s eyes met yours, full of sheepishness, and you couldn’t help but laugh, the tension starting to dissolve. “I’ll take that as a hint to get dressed,” you said, sliding out of bed and grabbing your clothes, feeling his gaze following you apologetically.

“Take your time,” Stiorra called again, her voice faintly dripping with irony. “I’ll try not to make it more awkward.”

As if more awkward was even possible, a stifled laugh escaped you as you slipped into your clothes, feeling like you were in some strange, twisted sitcom. Sigtryggr joined you, tossing on his shirt and jeans quickly, his eyes darting nervously between you and the kitchen.

Once you were both dressed, you headed to the kitchen. Stiorra was there, leaning against the counter with a mug in hand, her lips twisted in a wry smile. She looked at you and Sigtryggr with an expression that was part curiosity, part thinly veiled irritation. Two other steaming mugs waited on the counter and you grabbed one like a life saviour.

"Well," she drawled, swirling her coffee. "I see you’ve wasted no time finding a replacement." Her gaze flicked from you to Sigtryggr, her tone razor-sharp. "Or were you just waiting for the perfect moment to jump into someone else’s bed, Sigtryggr? Good to know you’ve been so… resilient."

You saw a flicker of hurt cross Sigtryggr’s face as he tried to respond, his gaze darting briefly to you before returning to Stiorra, as if caught in some unresolved pull. He shifted beside you, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Stiorra," he managed, his voice tight, "you know it’s not  like that. It’s been almost half a year..."

But she didn’t give him room to explain. She looked down at her coffee, a hint of sadness breaking through her sarcasm as her fingers tightened around the mug. "I didn’t come here to make a scene," she murmured, her tone softening. "I just… I thought I wanted to move on. But maybe I was wrong."

You swallowed hard, your eyes darted from Sigtryggr to his ex-girlfriend and truth be told the only coherent thought was the increasingly intensive wish for the earth to open up and swallow you whole. Facing lions in the Colosseum would have been a more appealing option than drinking coffee in what you’d thought was your new boyfriend’s kitchen, watching it turn into a stage for a soap opera. Whoever said, "If something looks too good to be true, it probably is," had clearly known exactly what they were talking about.

Stiorra lifted her gaze to meet Sigtryggr’s, her defiance melting into something softer, tinged with regret. 

"Siggy, baby, I’m so sorry!" she blurted, her voice cracking as her teary eyes searched his. The sudden burst of emotions startled you both, leaving the room steeped in uncomfortable tension. "Leaving you wasn’t what I thought I wanted," she continued, the words tumbling out, unrestrained and unguarded. "It was the biggest mistake of my life, and I just hoped you… you might feel the same. I couldn’t wait any longer—I just needed to tell you this." Her gaze darted back to the steaming coffee in her hands, as though she couldn’t bear to face him anymore. “I never imagined you’d move on so fast, not after everything we had together.”

You glanced over at Sigtryggr, who looked as if he’d just been slapped with a cold fish. The usual calm, steady demeanour he carried so effortlessly was gone, replaced by a vulnerable uncertainty you hadn’t seen before. His mouth opened as if to respond, then closed again, his mind clearly spinning in too many directions to form coherent words. He looked at you briefly, but his attention was drawn back to Stiorra, as if caught by an invisible thread that still connected them.

His eyes softened, a hint of that old, unguarded affection surfacing as he stammered. “Stiorra, I… I didn’t expect this. I thought… we were over. I thought you’d moved on.”

The longing in his voice was unmistakable. You felt an odd pang, a mixture of empathy and unease as you watched him struggle. The way he looked at her, his gaze clouded with both confusion and something undeniably tender, told you more than his words ever could. And strangely you didn’t even feel betrayed. You felt a deep understanding, even sympathy kindling within you. 

It was clearly time to make an exit before this scene turned into a full-blown tragicomedy. But before you could even think of a polite way to excuse yourself, Stiorra’s gaze shifted to you, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“Oh, I know who you are,” she said, her tone casual—almost too casual. “You must be the mysterious girl who broke Sihtric’s heart. I’ve seen your picture, actually. He still keeps one in his wallet.”

“What?” The words hit you like a frying pan to the face, and you nearly dropped your coffee mug. This was beyond surreal; it was a nightmare layered with unwanted revelations. You glanced around, looking for any possible way to evaporate from the room as a wave of nausea crept over you.

Stiorra caught your reaction, her gaze sharpening as if sensing your unease. “No,” she said, her eyes assessing you calmly. “Not like that. Sihtric and I were never… involved.” She gave a casual shrug, one that seemed both reassuring and indifferent. “But I know him well enough. He worked for my father, Uhtred, for quite some time. And we have some mutual friends—Finan, Osferth. They’re close, practically brothers.”

You swallowed, still processing the shock as she spoke, and noticed the way her gaze flickered, slightly more empathetic now. Sigtryggr shifted beside you, clearly uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading, his gaze moving between you and Stiorra.

“Stiorra,” he said, clearing his throat, his voice a mixture of discomfort and quiet insistence, “I think we’re all getting a bit caught off guard here.”

Stiorra shrugged, but her expression softened as she looked back at him. “Maybe,” she admitted, voice gentler now. “But some things are better said than left hanging.” She turned her attention back to you. “Haven’t seen him in a while, but… he never really got over you, you know.”

The words landed like a stone in your chest, and for a moment, you felt the weight of everything you’d tried to put behind you pressing in. 

“Wait, hold on!” you blurted out, the words escaping faster than you could stop them and surely much louder than you wanted. “I broke his heart? What the hell are you talking about? He was the one who found someone else less than a week after I was out of sight.”

Stiorra’s eyes widened at your outburst. She hesitated before responding, her voice softer, almost cautious. “Wait… really? I don’t know all the details,” she admitted, glancing away briefly, “but I know for sure that Sihtric has been a mess since you left. Osferth and Finan have been trying to get him back on his feet, trying to knock some sense into him. But he’s just… shut everyone out, suffering in silence.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but something in her expression stopped you. There was a subtle reproach that made you falter.

Her words stung. You knew them—Osferth and Finan—Sihtric’s closest friends. Meeting them had felt like a significant step, almost as if you were meeting his family. Sihtric barely spoke about his parents or any siblings, but these two were an inseparable part of his life. The night he’d introduced you to them still lingered vividly in your memory.

Finan had taken to you right away, looking at you with an approving grin, clapping Sihtric on the shoulder and saying, “Finally, he’s found someone who might actually keep him in line.” His easy laughter and quick wit made you feel like you’d known him for years, and there was a warmth to his acceptance that had meant more than he probably knew.

Osferth, meanwhile, had been a bit more reserved, a touch of shyness in his gentle eyes. But there had been a sweetness in the way he’d talked to you, always quick to ask if you needed anything, checking that you felt included. You’d quickly learned he was the steady, caring presence in their group, looking out for both Sihtric and Finan with a brotherly devotion.

Those early evenings with them had been filled with laughter and endless stories from their nights out. You’d felt embraced by the friendship, a part of the easy bond they all shared. But when Sihtric walked out of your life, that sense of belonging had vanished too. They had been his friends, not yours, and your connection with them had ended as abruptly as your relationship with him.

“Look,” Stiorra continued, her voice pulling you back from your thoughts, “there are always two sides to a story. But only one truth. If you want to know more, maybe… maybe you should talk to Finan and Osferth. They know him better than anyone and could probably tell you more than I can.”

Without another word, you stood up, the urge to leave overpowering any sense of decorum. Sigtryggr reached out, his face a mix of surprise and worry as he tried to get your attention. “Hey, are you okay? What’s going on?”

You shook your head, barely able to meet his gaze. “I just… I need to go. I need…” The words trailed off, but you didn’t even bother to finish the sentence as you hastily grabbed your purse and headed to the doors without a single look back. 

You knew that Osferth worked as an assistant stylist at one of the top fashion studios, and Finan had a reputation as a brilliant set designer, always moving between shoots with an infectious energy. They were well-known figures in the industry, so it didn’t take long to track them down at a nearby studio where they were scheduled to prepare for an upcoming campaign.

The studio was bustling when you arrived. Assistants hurried about, racks of clothes lined the walls, and the hum of people preparing for a major shoot filled the space. You spotted Finan first, standing with his hands on his hips, joking with a lighting technician, his signature grin lighting up his face. Beside him, Osferth was focused on arranging a set of accessories on a table, his usually reserved expression serious as he worked.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, and Finan caught sight of you. His grin faded, replaced by surprise that quickly gave way to guarded curiosity. He nudged Osferth, who looked up in shock, the familiar softness in his eyes now laced with uncertainty and distance you hadn’t expected. The two exchanged a look before approaching you, their movements careful, almost wary, as if they were unsure of how to greet you.

“Hey,” you managed, your voice catching. “I… I need to talk to you. About Sihtric.”

“Well,” Finan said, crossing his arms, his voice lacking its usual warmth. “If it isn’t the ghost from Sihtric’s past.”

The jab landed harder than you’d expected, his accusatory tone sinking into you like a heavy stone.

Finan’s gaze was steely, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he fixed you with an unforgiving look. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to him?” he said, his voice thick with frustration. “Twice now, you’ve come crashing into his life—first, tearing him apart, and now, strolling back in like a stranger, as if he doesn’t deserve even a shred of understanding for everything he’s been through. The least you could do is thank him for what he did for you.”

“What he did for me?” you repeated, your voice barely a whisper, caught in a haze of disbelief. You couldn’t even process the meaning behind his accusations, feeling as if you’d just walked into an ambush. You regretted coming here, every instinct screaming at you to turn and leave, to escape this room and the anger that pressed down on you from all sides. Blinking back tears that threatened to spill, you took a shaky step back, but Finan didn’t relent.

He moved closer, his gaze piercing, his voice unyielding. “Do you know how long it took him to get his life back together after you left?” he continued, his tone unwavering. “To even begin piecing himself back together? And then you show up out of nowhere, with no idea what he’s been through, and somehow make him fall all over again.”

Stunned, you stared at him, but he wasn’t finished. “We’ve been trying to help him move on for ages. Osferth and I—do you know how many nights we’ve spent picking him up after he shut everyone out, barely holding on? He’s been carrying this burden alone since the day he let you go.” Finan scoffed, his voice low and dark with exasperation. “And you—you have the nerve to walk back and judge him?”

You wanted to move but you felt rooted to the spot as you couldn’t keep the tears from rolling down your cheeks anymore. “Thank him? For what? For dropping me and finding another less than a week after I wasn’t in sight? For ruining my life, leaving me gathering the shards?”

Finan drew a deep breath, but Osferth interrupted him, placing a calming hand on Finan’s arm, though his face still held traces of disappointment as he looked at you. “Finan wait. Something’s not right there.” His eyes shifted to you, his expression softening, but only slightly. “And that’s all you know about what happened?”  he asked, his tone measured but no less serious. 

“What else is there to know?” you snapped, frustration simmering in your chest. “I thought he loved me, and the next thing I know, he’s moved on like I never existed. I think I have a right to be a little angry.”

Finan exchanged a glance with Osferth, as if confirming something, then sighed, rubbing his temples. “So, Gisela never told you why he did it?”

You felt your stomach clench at the mention of Gisela. Confusion gave way to a creeping unease, your mind racing to piece together what they were trying to say. “Gisela?” you repeated, barely masking the surprise in your voice. “What does she have to do with any of this?”

Osferth shifted uncomfortably, his gaze turning thoughtful. “Gisela came to him. Said it would be better if he… stepped aside. She told him about that offer you got, the scholarship and the contract – that once in a lifetime opportunity for you. She’s the one who convinced him to let you go. She told him it would be best for you to focus on your future, that he was holding you back.  And Sihtric… well, he thought he was doing what was best for you.”

“Best for me?” The words felt hollow, ringing with an irony that cut deeper with each syllable. You felt a wave of disbelief crash over you, your stomach twisting as you processed his words.

Osferth nodded, his gaze sombre. “He figured if he just… cut ties, you’d have no reason to look back. He tried to bury how he felt, make you believe he’d moved on. But we both know it tore him apart. He’s never been the same since you left.”

You felt your knees weaken, the ground beneath you seeming to tilt as the truth settled over you, each piece of information landing like a blow. The anger, the hurt, the betrayal—all of it twisted into something else, something that left you feeling hollow. Your legs gave way, turning to jelly, and you would have surely hit the ground if Finan and Osferth hadn’t steadied you from each side.

“Easy there!” Finan’s voice had softened, a warmth returning that you hadn’t expected as he guided you, his anger replaced by concern. He quickly waved to a set assistant walking nearby. “Get a chair—and some water!” he called, his tone firm but urgent.

You barely noticed the assistant rushing off. A chair was brought over, and Finan and Osferth eased you into it, the world around you blurring as you tried to comprehend what you just heard. Osferth knelt beside you, his eyes steady and full of sadness as he handed you the water.

“I… I didn’t know,” you stammered, the words feeling small, inadequate. You looked at them, your voice cracking. “I thought he… I thought he didn’t care. I thought he wanted me gone.”

Finan shook his head, his gaze softening as he met your eyes. “It was never about him not caring. He thought he was doing the right thing—for you.”

“He’s been living with that choice,” Finan added quietly, his eyes meeting yours, “because he thought it would give you a better life.”

Osferth placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his tone gentle. “Sometimes people make the hardest choices for the ones they love. Doesn’t mean they don’t hurt just as much.”

“Maybe… maybe it’s time you hear it from him,” Finan said softly, his tone no longer accusatory but understanding.

—---------------------------------------------------

The worry gnawed at you, growing with each unanswered call, each message left unread. Sihtric had vanished after the fashion show, and as the hours without a word turned into an entire day, you found yourself pacing around your apartment like a caged animal, restless and frustrated.

You hadn’t wanted to go to his place—not at first. The idea of stepping into his space felt like giving up the neutral ground you’d hoped to keep. But as your concern deepened, it became clear that there was no other option. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed your things and headed out, finally making your way to his apartment.

When you arrived, you looked up to see a warm glow coming from Sihtric’s window. Relief flooded over you—he was home. You exhaled deeply, feeling the tightness in your chest ease, if only a little. You deliberately chose the stairs over the elevator, hoping the walk up would give you time to gather your thoughts. But even with the extra moments, your mind remained frustratingly blank, and your heart raced like a drumbeat in your chest.

Standing in front of his door, you raised your hand to the doorbell, trying to ignore the nervous twist in your stomach. But instead of ringing, you pressed your palm and ear to the door, straining to hear any sign of movement on the other side. Come on, you can do this, you urged yourself, taking a deep, steadying breath. Finally, you lifted your hand and pressed the button, feeling your pulse quicken as you waited for him to answer.

A sinking feeling twisted in your gut as there was only silence on the other side but you refused to give up. You pressed the doorbell again, then again, determined to get some response. Still, nothing.

“Sihtric,” you finally called. “I know you’re in there. I can see the light. Please, just talk to me.”

Silence stretched, pressing down on you. Frustrated, you balled your fists and pounded on the door, the echo of each hit ricocheting down the empty corridor. Somewhere down the hall, a door creaked open, and you glanced over your shoulder to find a pair of curious, disapproving eyes peering at you through a crack. But you were beyond caring about nosy neighbours. Ignoring them, you turned back to Sihtric’s door and knocked again, your voice catching slightly as you called his name once more.

Just as you felt the last shimmer of hope begin to slip away, you heard a faint shuffle behind the door, the sound of hesitant footsteps drawing closer. Relief flickered through you, only to fade as his voice, rough and bitter, cut through the silence.

“Just… go away,” he muttered, his tone carrying a heaviness that felt like a punch to the chest. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Sihtric?” you called, pressing a hand against the door. “Please, open up. I just want to talk.”

Silence. But you knew he was there, so you waited. A bitter, muffled voice finally answered. “Why? There’s nothing more to talk about,” he replied, his tone rough, barely masking the exhaustion in his voice. “Just… leave me alone.”

Ignoring his dismissal, you leaned closer, unwilling to let him shut you out. “Sihtric, please. I was wrong. I was wrong not wanting to listen to you, shutting you out. Please open the door, so we can talk. I just… I need to understand.”

He scoffed from the other side, the bitterness in his voice cutting. “Understand? You want to understand now? Why? You have your perfect little life, your perfect job, your prince charming.” His words were laced with sarcasm. “You want to judge me? I already gave you the chance for that at the show. I saw it on your face. I don’t need more of that.”

You pressed your forehead against the door, your heart pounding as you tried to will back tears slowly gathering in the corners of your eyes. “I’m sorry. Sihtric, can you hear me? I’m so sorry. And I wasn’t judging you, Sihtric. I was just… surprised. I’m not here to make things worse. I came because I care.”

On the other side of the door, Sihtric stood still, barely breathing, his entire body tense. He could feel the ache in his shoulders and neck, the result of hours spent tossing and turning through a sleepless night, haunted by thoughts of you and his own spiralling decisions. Every muscle felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion, regret and anger.

He wanted to open the door. Part of him ached to see you, to hear your voice without the barrier between you. But another part—larger, stronger, the part that had convinced him to let you go years ago—held him back. That part reminded him of everything he’d become, the mess he’d made of his life since then, and the humiliation of his drunken, jealousy-fueled outburst at the fashion show. He clenched his fists, fighting the shame that burned inside him, wondering if he could ever face you again.

His heart pounded, each beat reverberating with the bitterness that had taken root within him. What did he have to offer you now? He was broken, he knew that much, and he’d spent too long building up his defences to believe someone would want to come close enough to help him pick up the pieces. Especially not you—the one person he’d hurt most by pushing you away.

Drawing a deep shaky breath he slowly slid down to the ground, resting his back against the door. His elbows propped on his knees he buried his face in his hands, the world reduced to the darkness behind his closed eyelids. 

The memories of the fashion show flashed in his mind—your face when he’d approached you, the shock and disappointment in your eyes, the way he’d stumbled through his words, lost in a haze of jealousy and alcohol. The regret was a deep wound now, throbbing with every word you spoke on the other side of the door.

What could he say to you? That he was sorry? Sorry didn’t even begin to cover the tangled mess he’d made of things. 

The sound of your voice, pleading, coaxing him to open the door, tore at him. He could feel you there, so close, and it made everything hurt more sharply. Sihtric let out a shaky breath, feeling the first sting of tears pressing at the corners of his eyes, but he held them back, unwilling to let himself break down, even now.

“Why are you here?” he muttered under his breath, as much to himself as to you. His voice was rough, barely hiding the bitterness he felt, not even toward you but toward himself. “What good can come from this?”

He sat there, torn between the urge to stand up, unlock the door, and reach for you, and the dark, cynical voice in his mind that told him to stay hidden, that he didn’t deserve whatever you were here to offer.

And yet, through it all, he couldn’t help but listen, couldn’t ignore the hope in your words, the softness in your tone. He could almost feel you on the other side, feel the warmth you brought, a warmth he hadn’t felt in years. 

But that hope was terrifying. Because if he opened the door, if he let you in… The very idea of you seeing him like this—broken, regret-filled and barely holding it together—filled him with shame. He didn’t know if he was strong enough to do that. He probably wasn’t. 

Silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Sihtric’s breathing grew uneven, and for a moment, you wondered if he’d even heard you. Then, his voice cut through the quiet, rough and worn, tinged with a bitterness that struck you like a physical blow.

“I don’t need your sympathy,” he muttered, the words laced with frustration. “I don’t need anything from you. Just leave me alone—I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Sihtric,” you called softly, pressing your hand flat against the door. “Please… just open the door.”

When he didn’t respond, you clenched your fists and banged against the door, louder this time, not caring who heard. “Sihtric, I’m not going anywhere! You don’t have to shut me out. I know… I know what you did for me. I know why you left.”

There was a pause, so deep and tense you could hear the faint sounds from the street outside, muffled and distant. Finally, his voice broke the silence, barely audible, fragile. “Who told you that?”

You took a steadying breath, hoping he could hear the sincerity in your tone. “Finan and Osferth,” you replied. “They told me everything. How you thought leaving was best for me, how you made it look like you’d moved on just so I wouldn’t come back… how you suffered through it all because you thought it was the right thing.”

There was another pause, and then he laughed, a hollow, defeated sound that twisted painfully in your chest. “So, what?” he said, his voice wavering, barely holding steady. “You came here to pity me? To see what a mess I’ve made of myself?” He sounded tired, as if the words themselves were an effort. “I don’t need your pity either.”

For a moment, all you could hear was his unsteady breathing. You imagined him, standing just on the other side, close enough to touch if only he’d open the door. It was driving you mad—having him so close but so far away at the same time. You silently cursed yourself for turning him down, for refusing to listen when he had tried to talk to you before. Why had you been so cold? Why had you let fear take over?

But it wasn’t just your fear that had brought you to this moment. Gisela. The thought struck like a dagger, bitter and sharp. Why had she meddled? Why had she pushed Sihtric into making that choice without ever telling you? All those times she’d been there, comforting you, assuring you that moving on was the right thing to do—she had known. She had known the truth and had kept it from you. Why, Gisela? you thought bitterly, your hands balling into fists against the door. Why did you do this to me? To us?

You closed your eyes, pressing your forehead against the door, the whirlwind of emotions inside you felt unbearable, but amidst the chaos, a single thought began to crystallize with startling clarity. I’m not letting this go. Not this time. You had spent too long blaming others for what had happened—Sihtric, the universe, now Gisela. Too long nursing your pain, placing it on a pedestal like some kind of shield to justify not moving forward, not letting yourself feel again. But you couldn’t hide from the truth anymore. This wasn’t just pain or regret—this was love. It had never stopped being love, and it was time you faced it.

You straightened slightly, you weren’t going to let the past define what was left of your future. This was your chance, and you weren’t going to let fear or pride hold you back any longer. Sihtric deserved the truth, and so did you. He needed to hear it, to know that you still loved him—not the sanitized, half-forgotten version of love you’d pretended to bury, but the real thing. The kind of love that ached, that fought, that refused to let go.

And he needed to know the part you’d played in letting it all fall apart. The anger you’d clung to, the walls you’d built to protect yourself, all of it had driven you away from him when you should have stayed and fought, and you needed to own that. 

“I’m not giving up on this,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him, though you hoped he could feel the determination in your voice. “Not this time, not again.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the door as your only support as you leaned against it. “Sihtric,” you began, your voice trembling, but there was no hesitation in your words. “Please, just listen to me. Don’t make the same mistake I did. Please, I’m begging you just hear me out. I’m here because… because I never stopped loving you.”

You could feel his breathing hitch on the other side, but he didn’t say anything, and you went on, needing him to hear everything.

“I wanted to hate you,” you confessed, your voice breaking slightly. “I tried. I thought that if I could just hate you, it would be easier. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t hate you, not really. Even when I tried to move on, to make a life without you… I couldn’t let go of you. No one else could replace what you mean to me.”

On the other side of the door, Sihtric let out a ragged breath, his hands covering his face. 

The weight of your own words took their toll, and slowly, your legs gave way. You slid down to the ground, sitting with your back pressed against the door, your head resting against the wood as you stared at the empty hallway in front of you. 

“When you wanted to talk to me that day at the shoot… I was so cold because I was scared, Sihtric,” you whispered, the confession falling from your lips before you could stop it. “I was afraid that if I let you in, even a little, I’d break. That all the walls I put up to protect myself would come crashing down.”

Sihtric listened, his face buried in his hands, feeling every word you spoke burning holes in his soul. He wanted to reach for you, to say something, but something kept him still, the knowledge of everything he’d put both of you through holding him back. His breath was shaky, his heart pounding as he imagined you there, only inches away.

“I tried to move on, Sihtric,” you continued. “I tried to make a life without you. I even tried to love someone else, to find what I had with you with someone new. But it didn’t work. No one… no one ever felt like you.”

Sihtric’s hands dropped from his face, and he pressed his palms flat against the door, his fingers splaying out as if they could reach you through the barrier between you as he felt his resolve breaking, his walls crumbling bit by bit.

“I thought letting you go was the best thing I could do for you,” he murmured. “I thought that if I hurt you enough, you’d decide to leave me behind… and you’d never look back. I wanted you to be successful and happy, even if it meant I couldn’t be.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you listened, your heart breaking all over again. “Don’t you see?” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “I was never happy without you. I kept telling myself that I could be, but deep down, I knew… I knew I’d never feel whole again.”

For a moment, the two of you sat there, separated by inches of wood and miles of unspoken feelings, both of you held captive by the same painful memories and buried longing.

“You don’t understand…” he continued, his voice breaking. “I’m not who I used to be. I’m not… I’m not enough for you, you need someone better. I don’t even know who I am anymore. You should be out there, living that life you’ve created and earned, not here… with someone like me.”

You swallowed hard, tears pooling in your eyes but refusing to fall. “I don’t need someone better, Sihtric. I need you,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “The real you, flaws and all. I can’t pretend anymore that everything’s fine without you in my life. I don’t care about perfect, Sihtric. I just… I just want you.”

The silence behind the door was deafening, stretching longer than you could bear. Your chest tightened, every second dragging on like an eternity. You strained to hear anything—a shuffle, a breath, even the slightest indication that he was still there—but there was nothing. The hollow quiet seeped into your heart, threatening to shatter it into a thousand pieces again.

Was this really the end? The thought weighed heavy, pressing against you until you couldn’t sit upright any longer. Slowly, you laid your head down on your knees, clutching them tightly as if to hold yourself together. You felt the sting of finality creeping in, the cruel certainty that you had done everything you could. It was time to stand up, to walk away, and this time, not look back.

But just as you started to gather the strength to rise, a faint, almost imperceptible sound reached your ears. A click. Your breath hitched as the unmistakable sound of the lock turning echoed softly through the silence.

You turned your head at the sound of the door creaking open, and there he was. Sihtric stood in the doorway. He looked exhausted, dark rings encircling his beautiful large eyes, face shadowed and tired. His hair was disheveled, and his shirt was rumpled, hanging loosely on his frame, but you didn’t care. All you could see was him, standing there, finally letting you in.

You jumped to your feet, propelled by a wave of relief and emotion, and lunged at him before you could think twice. The sudden movement caught him off guard, and the two of you stumbled backward into the apartment, the door swinging shut behind you. Your arms wrapped tightly around him, holding on as though he might disappear again if you let go. Tears streamed down your cheeks, soaking into his rumpled shirt as you buried your face against his broad, muscular chest.

For a moment, he stood frozen, his hands hovering uncertainly by his sides. Then, slowly, hesitantly, his arms came around you, pulling you closer. He let out a shuddering breath, the tension in his body giving way as he held you tightly, like he was afraid this was just another fleeting dream.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice muffled against him, trembling with emotion. “I’m so, so sorry, Sihtric. For shutting you out. For not fighting harder. For letting my anger win.”

His chest rose and fell beneath you as he struggled to steady his breathing. His voice was rough, as he finally spoke. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It was me… all of it. I pushed you away. I thought it was the only way.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. 

“I should’ve fought for us,” you said, your voice breaking. “I should’ve seen through it, through what you were doing. But I didn’t.”

His hand came up to cup your face, his touch tentative, almost disbelieving. “You couldn’t have known,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I made sure of that. I wanted you to move on, to be happy.”

“I wasn’t happy,” you said, shaking your head. “I could never be happy without you.”

He closed his eyes, his forehead resting against yours as a tear slid down his cheek. “I don’t know if I can fix this. If I can fix me.”

You reached up, your fingers tracing the stubble along his jaw as you steadied your voice. “You don’t have to fix anything. We’ll figure it out together. Just, please, don’t push me away again.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He just held you, his hands trembling slightly as they clung to you. Then, he leaned in and his lips brushed yours in a soft, lingering kiss that carried the weight of everything he couldn’t say.

Sihtric's lips trembled against yours, as you pressed into him, your hands clutching harder the fabric of his shirt, silently telling him that you were here, that this was real. You kissed him back pouring all your emotions into that one single gentle touch of lips, getting more heated and desperate with each passing moment.

When he pulled back just enough to catch his breath, he began to press a trail of kisses across your cheeks, your forehead, the bridge of your nose. 

“I love you,” he murmured between kisses, his voice rough and low. “I’ve always loved you. Even when I tried to forget… when I tried to move on, I couldn’t.” His lips found yours again, more insistent this time, as though he couldn’t get enough, couldn’t hold back the flood of emotions he’d kept buried for so long.

“I tried to find someone else,” he admitted, his voice breaking as he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. His breath was warm and unsteady. “I thought I could replace what we had. But it was never the same. No one could ever be you.” His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his grip firm but gentle. “I don’t want anyone else. I can’t. It’s always been you, and it will always be you.”

Without warning, he scooped you up into his strong arms, holding you effortlessly as though you weighed nothing. You gasped softly, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with something raw and unrestrained.

“I need you,” he said, his gaze locked on yours. “I need you in every part of my life. And right now… I need to show you how much I love you.”

You smiled through tears, you fingers tangling in his thick, disheveled hair. You pulled him closer and with a low almost desperate growl his lips captured yours again as he carried you further into the apartment.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

The soft hum of voices and the gentle clinking of glasses filled the air as you arrived at the exhibition, a feeling of anticipation settling in your chest. Gisela was waiting for you near the entrance, her ever-poised demeanor slightly off-kilter as she scanned the crowd. When her eyes landed on you, a flicker of something—relief? Concern?—crossed her face, and she hurried over.

“There you are,” she said, taking your hand as though to steady you. Her tone carried an edge of urgency, and you could tell she was gearing up to say something important. “I’m glad you came. But listen, before you go inside, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Her voice lowered conspiratorially as she leaned closer. “Sigtryggr… he’s here. And he brought someone. A girlfriend, apparently.” Her words were careful, but her gaze flickered with unease, clearly gauging your reaction.

You raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement rising in you. “That’s fine, Gisela,” you said, squeezing her hand lightly. “Sigtryggr and I… we weren’t meant to be. I’m happy for him.”

She blinked, slightly taken aback by your calm response, but pressed on. “Well, I thought you should know. But I also have someone I want you to meet.” Her voice brightened slightly, as though trying to distract you from the potential awkwardness waiting inside.

You tilted your head, an affectionate smile creeping onto your face. “Actually, Gisela, I have someone I want you to meet first.”

Before Gisela could respond, Sihtric stepped forward from behind you. He wasn’t dressed to blend into the crowd of sharply tailored suits and polished shoes that filled the gallery, yet somehow, he looked effortlessly striking. 

A dark, fitted leather jacket hung perfectly over his broad shoulders, paired with a simple, black t-shirt that clung to his lean, muscular frame. Fitted jeans and scuffed boots completed the look, adding a touch of ruggedness that made him stand out in all the right ways.

His dark hair was neatly tied back, but a few rogue strands fell across his sharp cheekbones, softening the intensity of his piercing eyes. He looked effortlessly cool, the kind of man who drew attention without even trying, and the subtle smirk on his lips only added to the effect.

Sihtric slipped his hand into yours, your fingers intertwining, and the look on Gisela’s face was priceless. She was frozen, her gaze locking on him as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her usual poise faltered, and for the first time, she seemed genuinely at a loss for words. Her eyes flicked between you and Sihtric, wide with shock, her mouth opening and closing slightly as though searching for something—anything—to say.

“Sihtric,” you said warmly, your voice filled with affection as you glanced up at him. He responded by slipping his arm around your waist, his hand resting at the small of your back.

Gisela finally found her voice, though it was a touch higher-pitched than usual. “I… didn’t realize…” she stammered, her gaze darting to you as if silently questioning how, when, and why this had happened.

You cut her off with a gentle but firm nudge to the side, brushing past her with a smile. “Gisela, we’ll catch up later. Right now, there are a few people we’d like to say hello to.”

Sihtric’s arms wrapped securely around you as you walked into the exhibition together, his warmth grounding you. You caught sight of Sigtryggr and Stiorra in the center of the gallery, standing close, their heads tilted toward each other as they shared a quiet laugh. Whatever lingering awkwardness might have existed between you and Sigtryggr seemed to dissolve as you approached, Sihtric at your side.

“Sigtryggr,” you greeted warmly, your smile genuine. “It’s good to see you.”

Sigtryggr turned, his expression flickering with brief surprise before softening into a polite smile. “And you,” he replied, his gaze briefly darting to Sihtric before settling back on you. “I see you’ve… moved on as well.”

“Seems like we’ve both found where we’re meant to be,” you replied, your tone light, though the weight of those words resonated deeply within you.

Stiorra raised her glass with a mischievous grin. “Well, well. Isn’t this a picture-perfect reunion?” she quipped, her tone teasing but kind.

Sihtric’s arm tightened around your waist as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “A reunion, maybe,” he murmured just for you, his voice warm and low. “But what matters is where we go from here.”

And as you stood there, surrounded by art, by people who had once been tangled in your past, you couldn’t help but smile as for the first time in a long while, the future felt beautifully, wonderfully yours.