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slamdunk-headcanons · 6 months ago

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Fights, haircut and basketball - Imagine Mitsui Hisashi

Hello guys! So I decided to bring my SD imagines to this blog. They were originally written in Portuguese, and I used AI to do the most part of translation and revised it after to do some corrections and adaptations. So this is the very first one I wrote for SD, in 2016, for my favorite character, Mitsui Hisashi. My writing style is in third person, not second person. I hope you all like it!

Posted on Spirit Fanfictions, Wattpad and Nyah!Fanfiction (all Portuguese version) Word count: 3.6k Warnings: fem!reader, mention of gang fights, a bit of cursing, angst Cover by @ezrealsicons

Synopsis: Mitsui and [Name] were unseparable friends. But when their feelings became something more than just friendship, everthing caved in. With the Mitsui's injurey and his subsequent withdrawal from basketball, his personality began to be dominated by resentment and anger. The boy started to despise everything related to the sport, including [Name]. However, two years later, a fight and and old dream would finally make him remember how important she was for him.

“You did what!?"

[Name] looked at Mitsui with wide, horrified eyes. The boy had shown up at her mother's beauty salon that late afternoon without warning, his face covered in bruises and dried blood. The girl had quickly pulled him to the back of the establishment so he wouldn't draw attention in case a client arrive. The last thing she wanted was for Mitsui's problems to spill over into her mother's business. Now they were talking in the break room, which was fortunately empty.

The boy still had the same intimidating appearance that [Name] had seen the last time they met. The face that had once been marked by the features of adolescence was now almost entirely covered by his blackish-blue hair that cascaded down to his shoulders. His navy-blue eyes, once so bright and full of energy, were now dark and heavy. And to top it off, [Name] couldn’t even remember the last time she had seen Mitsui smile.

Faced with his friend's accusatory question, the senior kept his head down and his hands buried in his pockets. The shame he had felt earlier, in front of the man who had given him the determination to win the regional championship, now seemed to weigh ten tons on his broad shoulders. He could endure the accusing looks from everyone, even from Kogure and Akagi, but from [Name]...

"Hey! Answer me, Hisashi!"

He hunched his shoulders even more. It was hard enough to confess what he had done, let alone repeat it. Besides, didn’t [Name] already have enough reasons to despise him?

"I decided to get revenge on Miyagi... I wanted to do it by disqualifying Shohoku from the Nationals through a fight. If the rumor that the players were involved in a gang fight at their own school spread, they would surely be banned from the championship. So I gathered the judo team members and asked for help from a friend of mine, Tetsu-"

Mitsui didn’t get a chance to finish. A sharp, resounding slap stung his already bruised face, causing him to stagger back two steps. His hands instinctively covered the spot where he had been hit, and his navy-blue eyes rose in shock to meet the girl in front of him.

"Are you serious!?" she shouted angrily. "Didn’t I tell you to never speak to me again? And you, not only you disrespect that, but you also come and tell me something like this!?"

The high schooler lowered his gaze again and returned to his previous dejected posture.

[Name] had been his friend for years, and they had met because of basketball. She always played on the neighborhood’s public court, and it was there that he saw her for the first time. He clearly remembered being captivated by how she smiled while playing, and that made him interested in the game. He really wanted to experience the joy that made that girl seem so happy.

Mitsui then asked [Name] to introduce him to basketball. Reluctantly at first, the girl agreed to be his tutor. She taught him everything she could, from basic movements to the tricks of faking and three-point shots, which were her pride and joy. It was on that quaint basketball court that their friendship flourished.

Over the years, Mitsui and [Name] became inseparable, and their friendship began to take on new dimensions. However, neither of them had the courage to make a move, as neither was sure of their own feelings.

And that’s when everything caved in.

After Mitsui’s accident and his subsequent withdrawal from basketball, his personality started to be consumed by resentment and anger. The boy began to despise everything related to the sport, including [Name].

One day, the girl invited him to watch a street basketball game that was going to take place on the same court where they had first met. With disdain, he laughed in [Name]’s face and said he had better things to do.

"I'm not going to waste any more time with stupid things like basketball," he said with a mocking smile.

The girl looked at him in horror, unable to believe that those words had come out of Mitsui's mouth.

“What!?” she shouted, shocked.

“That’s exactly what you heard,” he spat. “I’m not wasting another second on basketball.”

And without giving [Name] a chance to ask any more questions, he spun on his heels and walked away.

After this episode, the high schooler began getting more involved with gangs and street fights, and the chasm that had formed between him and [Name] grew ever wider. Finally, one incident in particular completely ruined their friendship.

Angry after the beating they took from Mitsui’s gang, some troublemakers from Kainan High investigated Mitsui’s connections and discovered [Name]. After obtaining her address, they observed her routine for a few days. After a week, they ambushed her as she was heading home in the late afternoon. Meanwhile, one of them was tasked with delivering the message to Mitsui.

As soon as he found out, the boy was overcomed with an intense feeling of guilt and rage. He never imagined he would end up involving his friend in his fights, let alone as a hostage. Blinded by anger, he ran without hesitation to the agreed location, making a decision along the way: he would distance himself from gangs once and for all so that she would never be at risk because of him again.

When he finally reached them, he realized the true extent of the trap he had fallen into. [Name] was at the back of the alley, held by two burly high schoolers with contemptuous expressions. As soon as they spotted Mitsui, the other gang members blocked both exits of the alley, giving the boy no chance to escape.

“I knew he would come,” their leader sneered. “Let the girl go. We’ve got what we wanted.”

A momentary sense of relief washed over the student, and he searched for [Name] with his eyes. The girl was rubbing her forearms, marked by the strong grip of the thugs, and as soon as she processed that she was free, she looked for Mitsui among the figures present. When her eyes locked on his face, distorted by a mask of conflicting emotions, she marched toward him with determined steps, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

How? How had it come to this? How had he let something like this happen? And to her, of all people!?

Everyone turned to look at the slender back of the girl, who was walking forward with clenched fists. As soon as her childhood friend's face was within reach, she raised her right fist and delivered a solid punch to his left cheek.

"Bastard!" she shouted, tears streaming down her cheeks. "How did you get to this point? When did you stoop so low as to drag me into these stupid fights!?"

Mitsui kept his face turned away, his dark blue eyes vacant and empty from the shock.

"Never again..." she said through gritted teeth. "Never speak to me again."

Those words from [Name] hurt more than any punch or kick he'd ever taken in a fight. They hurt more than his knee injury. They hurt more than giving up basketball.

Even when he had given up on everything, she hadn’t. She believed that one day, the bitterness from what had happened in his first year would fade, and Mitsui's passion for basketball would resurface. And even as he sank deeper and deeper, she tried to support him, tending to his wounds so that he wouldn’t have to hear so much from his parents.

And he had simply dismissed all of it.

That day, the beating he took after being insulted and humiliated by the Kainan thugs didn’t compare to the pain of losing [Name] completely. He had deluded himself into thinking she would stand by him despite the stupid mistakes he’d been making. What else would he lose?

Since then, [Name] had never spoken to him again, and Mitsui had no choice but to respect her decision. In her absence, he continued to get involved in more and more trouble and fights, and the little hope hidden in his heart of returning to basketball disappeared completely.

However, the incident in Shohoku’s gym that day awakened old memories of basketball for Mitsui. The feeling of sinking the ball with a simple flick of the wrist, the euphoria filling his chest as he drove past opponents toward the basket... Remembering all of this, Hisashi Mitsui finally realized just how much he missed basketball and, most of all, how much he missed the person who had brought that wonderful sport into his life.

God! How he wanted to play basketball again! How he wanted to play with [Name] and see her smile in that unique and captivating way...

It was because of all this that he swallowed his pride and ran to see the girl he had dismissed out of pure arrogance and selfishness. He had to make things right. He would never forgive himself if he didn’t try.

Mitsui lifted his melancholic dark eyes to [Name] and took a deep breath.

"I know what I did was unforgivable. I really was a selfish idiot, only thinking about my whim of becoming Shohoku’s ace... and it ruined everything." He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and then reopened them, this time with a determined look. "But I need to tell you something."

The girl straightened where she stood and crossed her arms. Her eyes shifted to the floor, filled with pain and anger. She wanted so badly to believe Mitsui’s words. She wanted so badly for him to have truly recognized his mistakes and turned things around... But what he had done wasn't that simple.

With a furrowed brow, she bit her lip and lowered her head.

"I'm going back to playing basketball," Mitsui blurted out, as if the words were forcing their way out of his mouth. "I don’t want to keep pretending that I don’t want to."

[Name]'s eyes widened, and she immediately locked them onto her friend’s face.

"I know it might be a little late since I’m in my third year. But I still want to make the most of the time I have left in high school. I’m going to...

The sentence weighed heavily on his tongue, and he had to press his lips together to prevent the words from spilling out awkwardly. He wanted to show [Name] that this was once again his dream.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, then opened them to look at his friend with a crease of determination on his forehead.

"I'm going to help Shohoku conquer Japan."

[Name]’s lips parted in a small “o,” but not in horror or anger, but rather in surprise. Before her eyes, she finally recognized the determined expression of the Mitsui she had known on the court in their old neighborhood. The boy she had taught to play basketball, who had become much more than just a good friend, was once again standing in front of her.

"Hisashi..." she murmured, her eyes widening further.

Mitsui straightened his shoulders, pulling his hands out of his pockets. He raised a hand to his neck and scratched it, looking down at the floor as shyness took over his gaze.

"So... [Name]-chan... I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to say or do all those stupid things to you. I know it’s not something that can be fixed with just an apology... But today, I really need you."

As soon as the last sentence left Mitsui’s lips, both felt a rush of heat rising to their faces. [Name] averted her eyes to the floor and began rubbing her fingers together with her thumb. The teenager scratched his neck even more quickly and continued:

"It’s-it’s just..." He blinked and, with great effort, looked back at the girl standing in front of him. "Since you helped me take the first step in basketball, I want you to do it again. I want you to help me take the first step back into basketball."

[Name] shifted her weight to her left leg and looked at her friend with a mix of insecurity and suppressed hope. She wanted so much to say yes. She had dreamed so many times of this moment—the moment when Mitsui would tell her that he was going back to basketball, returning to being the boy who had won her admiration in such a simple, genuine way...

But [Name] was fully aware that Mitsui's mistake was almost unforgivable, and she wasn’t going to let him think it would be easy to make everything right.

"I'm not going to play basketball with you, Hisashi," she said in the sternest voice she could muster.

The high schooler flinched as if he'd been punched in the gut. My God! How those words hurt. [Name]’s disdain was worse than any beating he had ever taken. But he deserved it; after all, he had also treated her with disdain... and in the worst possible way.

"I know," he said sadly. "But I need something only you can do."

[Name] furrowed her brows and waited. Mitsui raised his left hand until his fingers reached a lock of his dark hair.

"Could you... cut my hair?" He paused, trying not to stumble over his words, and laughed nervously. "Don’t worry. I’ll pay."

[Name]’s eyes widened so much that Mitsui thought they might pop out of their sockets.

Since girls tended to do this more often, she knew the significance of a haircut at a moment like this. Mitsui really wanted to change and wanted to leave a physical reminder of his new goal: to conquer Japan wearing Shohoku’s jersey.

After a few seconds, [Name] lowered her head and, turning on her heels, said, "Come here."

Surprised that he hadn’t received a harsh response from the girl, Mitsui promptly followed her with an astonished expression. She led him to the bathroom used by the staff and opened a cabinet containing a stack of white, fluffy towels. Grabbing one, she pushed it against the broad chest of the teenager and said, "Wipe off that blood so you don’t scare the other customers. When you’re done, go to the salon. I’ll be waiting there."

Mitsui nodded promptly and quickly cleaned himself up. When his face finally lost the most alarming signs of the fight, he folded the towel, leaving it in a corner, and headed to where [Name] was waiting. The girl was already dressed in a smock, with a cape draped over the same arm holding a pair of scissors.

"Have a seat," she said, her face wearing an indecipherable neutral expression.

Mitsui obeyed and sat down. [Name] adjusted the chair’s height and looked into the mirror to meet the boy’s blue eyes reflected there.

"So, what will it be?" she asked, running her fingers through the teenager's overgrown hair. Her touch sent involuntary shivers down Mitsui’s spine, and a slight blush spread across his cheeks.

"Ahm..." he muttered, glancing at the countertop cluttered with beauty tools. "You can cut it all off."

"All of it!?" she replied, her expression once again showing shock.

"Yeah. I mean, really short. It’s more comfortable for playing..."

The girl ran her fingers through Mitsui’s hair once more, taking a few measurements, and nodded.

"I’ll cut it little by little, and you can tell me if it’s okay, alright?"

"Uh-huh," he murmured, trying to stay still as he heard the first snips of the scissors cutting through his hair.

[Name] worked in silence, avoiding Mitsui’s deep blue eyes whenever she checked the cut in the mirror. However, it was impossible for her not to notice his features as the long hair stopped covering his face. Now that the black curtain had disappeared, [Name] could finally see the changes puberty had brought to her friend’s face. His jawline had become well-defined, but in a gentle way. Dark circles under his eyes marked the edges of his cheeks, which were covered in bruises and scratches, yet this detail still gave him a certain maturity. His straight nose had the same effect. His thick, black eyebrows perfectly crowned his pair of navy blue eyes, which had always captivated [Name] in a way she would never admit. Now they were much more visible, and this pleased her deeply.

In the end, Mitsui’s new haircut suited him very well, giving his face a more playful and determined look.

Yes... This was the Mitsui she had known.

"So?" she asked after making the final touch on the left side. "What do you think?"

He turned his head from side to side to see the new hairstyle from different angles and then smiled, satisfied. [Name] went to the counter and grabbed a square mirror so Mitsui could check the back of his hair too.

"Oh!" he said, smiling even more. "It really looks good! Thank you so much, [Name]-chan!"

While the teenager admired his friend’s work, [Name] couldn’t help but notice his features again. Mitsui had turned out much more handsome than she had anticipated.

Realizing this, her cheeks involuntarily heated up, and she lowered her face, afraid he would see her embarrassed expression.

"You’re welcome," she murmured, moving to the counter to put away the mirror and the brush she had used to remove the excess hair.

As soon as she removed the cape that had covered him, he stood up and quickly reached into his pocket, pulling out some green bills.

"How much do I owe you?" he asked, checking the amount he had.

[Name] had her back to him, organizing the counter and sweeping some leftover hair onto the floor. She bit her lip at Mitsui’s question, and the phrase he had said earlier echoed in her mind:

"I know. But I need something only you can do."

"Could you... cut my hair?"

Now that she could finally see Mitsui's eyes without his long black hair in the way, she was certain that he wasn’t just talking for the sake of it. She recognized his stubborn determination in the navy blue of his eyes. The haircut was his way of telling himself that he wanted to, and would, become who he once was. If she charged him for it, Mitsui's request would lose all its meaning.

"Nothing," she said, reaching out for the broom that was leaning nearby. "It's on me."

"But...!" he blinked, stunned as he stared at the back of her head. "I said I’d pay!"

"Shut up and accept it, idiot," she replied, too afraid to turn around and meet his eyes.

A whirlwind of emotions tore through her chest. Her head was spinning with confusion. She wanted so badly to celebrate this, to support him at his games, and to train with him... But at the same time, she couldn’t forget what he had done. And that stopped her from showing what she truly felt.

The teenager remained silent for a few moments before saying, "[Name]-chan... Please, let me pay for the haircut. I'll feel really bad i—"

"I already told you it’s on me!" she exclaimed too loudly as she turned her body and began sweeping with her eyes fixed on the floor. She walked past Mitsui and bumped into his shoulder hard. "I’m done here. You can go."

Mitsui didn’t move. His eyes went blank, staring into nothing as he digested [Name]'s harsh words. He had known from the start that he wouldn’t win her trust right away, but that didn’t lessen the weight of being treated like this by her.

However, even though she was clearly resentful, [Name] had granted his request. And if she didn’t charge for the service... it meant that, deep down, she wanted to do it for him and was happy that he had come back.

A slight smile curved Mitsui's lips as he realized this, and he quietly approached [Name] until he stood just behind her.

"[Name]-chan," he called, letting the gratitude he felt fill her name.

Hearing his voice so close, [Name] tensed up, feeling her cheeks flush once more. Trying to sound as harsh as possible, she turned sharply and growled, "Hisashi, I already told you to—"

But she couldn’t finish the sentence. As soon as she turned around, a soft, warm touch on her left cheek silenced her instantly. Mitsui was leaning in, his hand gently resting on her left shoulder as his lips placed a very sweet kiss on her blushing face.

The touch lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough to make all the hairs on [Name]'s body stand on end. Internally, she wished Mitsui’s touch had lasted a little longer. Pulling back slightly, he whispered, "Thank you."

He then straightened up, running his hand through his hair in a slightly awkward manner.

"Well, I’ll be going. See you later, [Name]-chan."

He turned on his heels and headed toward the exit of the salon. The girl remained frozen, staring at the back of her childhood friend. She hated herself for being so affected by his gesture, and even more for knowing that deep down, she really wanted Mitsui back... for herself.

Maybe it wasn’t the right time for them to reconnect, but they could start, right?

She went back to sweeping, and just as he stopped to open the door, she raised her voice: “Hey, idiot.”

Startled, the teenager turned his torso enough to look at [Name] with a questioning expression. “If you don’t make Shohoku rise to the top of Japan, I swear I’ll beat you to death".

Mitsui's eyes widened, and gradually, a smile replaced his shocked expression. He chuckled quietly as he remembered the countless times he had said he would conquer the nation. There was no turning back. This time, he had to succeed.

Widening his smile even further, he looked at [Name] defiantly and said, “I’m on it.”

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averydavery · 1 year ago

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SECRET ADMIRER - hanaru/ruhana fic

Art by my bestie @anaislikestoart on IG (assuming this is her tumblr @ too lmfao) but yeah I posted about this fic awhile ago but for my b-day she made this gorgeous art of it for me!!!

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winternet-s · 4 months ago

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𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐃⭑.ᐟ

( 💭🪶 . • ✧ ) MISUNDERSTOOD - SLAM DUNK

─── © 🎞 by WINTERNET-S

summary : After moving to Japan over a year ago, [Name] faces the challenges of xenophobia, cultural barriers, and fitting into a society that sees her as an outsider. As she struggles with isolation, an unexpected encounter with Hanamichi Sakuragi, the school's notorious red-haired delinquent, throws her life into even more chaos. Between harsh whispers in the hallways and the surprising friendships she forms, [Name] is about to discover that fitting in means more than just blending into the background.

notes : i initially wrote it for wattpad but decided to post it on here so surprise, this book will contain christian values and i think that's it anyways see ya <3

warnings : -

MASTERLIST

000 PROLOGUE.

—— IN A LAND WHERE CHERRY BLOSSOMS WHISPER secrets to the wind, [Name] Dublanc found herself adrift in a sea of unfamiliar faces. A year had passed since her arrival in Japan, each day a testament to her resilience. The seasons had cycled from the scorching embrace of summer to the icy touch of winter, yet the warmth of acceptance remained elusive.

High school loomed ahead, a labyrinth of new beginnings and hidden challenges. Here, among the ancient temples and bustling streets, [Name] faced not only the daunting trials of adolescence but also the sharp sting of xenophobia. Her heritage, once a source of pride, now marked her as an outsider in the eyes of many.

Yet, amidst the whispers and sidelong glances, she discovered pockets of kindness. Haruko's laughter, as light as spring rain, offered solace. Hanamichi's unwavering spirit became a beacon of hope. In the shadows of uncertainty, these connections formed her sanctuary.

The road ahead was uncertain, paved with trials both seen and unseen. But as the cherry blossoms fell, carpeting the ground in delicate pinks and whites, [Name] stood tall. For within her heart bloomed a resilience as enduring as the ancient sakura, ready to face whatever storms lay ahead.

This is her journey—a tale of courage, of finding one's place in a world that often seems foreign. A story of discovering that home is not just a place, but a feeling, nurtured by the bonds we create and the strength we find within ourselves.

comment if u wanna be tagged in the next chapters ! i hope you enjoyed that short prologue and soon the story hahahaha we need more slam dunk content like where are y'all at ?!

#slam dunk #slam dunk x reader #sakuragi hanamichi #fluff #anime x reader #anime sports #rukawa kaede #haruko akagi #miyagi ryota #mitsui hisashi #anime fanfiction #90s anime #slam dunk fic #slam dunk fanfic

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wontmindd · 1 year ago

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CALLMERAINMAN'S MASTERLIST

↳ my AO3

𝐌𝐎𝐁 𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎 𝟏𝟎𝟎

Reigen Arataka

✧˚ · . one shots

Still Into You | fem!Reader

Nowhere Near You | fem!Reader

The Morning After | fem!Reader 18+!

Wishing You Godspeed | fem!Reader 18+!

Cameras | model!fem!Reader

✧˚ · . headcanons and playlists

Reigen Arataka's shady playlist to scam people

Reigen Arataka with a s/o who works as a model

𝐇𝐀𝐙𝐁𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋

Alastor

✧˚ · . headcanons and playlists

Alastor with a pure hearted s/o | gn!Reader

Alastor in a relationship with a pure hearted s/o | gn!Reader

Alastor realising his feelings for a pure hearted s/o | gn!Reader

Adam

✧˚ · . headcanons and playlists

First Man on the Earth still couldn't hit this | sinner!Adam x fem!sinner!Reader

Hellfire | Adam x fire-demon!Reader

𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑

Knuckle Bine

✧˚ · . oneshots

You Before The World | fem!Reader

𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐌 𝐃𝐔𝐍𝐊

Hanamichi Sakuragi

✧˚ · . headcanons and playlists

Hanamichi Sakuragi's pre-game hype playlist

Dating Sakuragi would include

Hisashi Mitsui

✧˚ · . headcanons and playlists

Dating Mitsui would include

#masterlist #writers on tumblr #writers on ao3 #archive of our own #mob psycho 100 #reigen arataka #hazbin hotel #hunter x hunter #slam dunk #x reader #fanfiction #headcanons #playlist #mp100

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ritzy-reminiscence · 1 year ago

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─🏀─ Slam Dunk : Pillow Wars

⸝⸝ tl;dr : how the shohoku starting five + kogure would act in a pillow fight ! features sakuragi, miyagi, rukawa, mitsui, kogure, and akagi !

⸝⸝ note : idea taken from this tumblr post by silentshayshores-2 ; it's prompt #9, "how would they hold up in a pillow war?" (also, a big thank you to thesaurus.com for showing me many ways to say "whack" :pray:)

Hanamichi Sakuragi 🌸

He'd be the most likely to start one, but is the least likely to actually win one. That's all you need to know.

I can imagine the Shohoku basketball team sitting down to watch a movie at someone's house and Sakuragi just .. throwing a pillow at someone out of nowhere.

(Someone being a certain ace player named Kaede Rukawa-)

He'd start the messiest and most chaotic pillow fight of the century and yet he's the one who gets whacked the most. (╥﹏╥)

He'd also get sick of getting whacked after awhile and will absolutely headbutt anyone who tries to do so again -

^^ It failed and he still gets walloped over the head anyways -

If Haruko were to be present, Sakuragi would fight tooth and nail to ensure that she doesn't get hit by anyone ... not that anyone would want to hit Haruko anyways .. (insert Akagi side-eyeing anyone who even dares to do so)

Ryota Miyagi ⚡

He'd side first with Sakuragi and would join in just for shits and giggles, but after a while he'd turn on Sakuragi and just go crazy with it.

Eventually he'd start to go after everyone and anyone. Except maybe Haruko because y'know. Akagi's scary when he's pissed.

Same as with Sakuragi, if Ayako were to be there he'd try to protect her from getting clobbered, but if anything Ayako would be the one clobbering him --

Somehow it's pretty hard to get a hit on him because he's running and jumping from place to place like lightning (winkwink)

And honestly, Ryota wouldn't let anyone hit him except for Ayako LMAO

Kaede Rukawa 💤

He'd be sleeping when the Great Pillow War commenced, but after being waken up with a couple of whacks by a certain hot-tempered redhead delinquent .. oh boy.

Rukawa is sitting straight up, glaring daggers at Sakuragi and clenching the pillow as hard as he can.

Tunnel vision on Sakuragi. Rukawa's seeing red and he's making a beeline for the so-called genius and no one is stopping him .

I imagine that someone else would be smacking him with a pillow and he just waves them away like a fly and just keeps on attacking Sakuragi (╥﹏╥)

Hisashi Mitsui 🦷

He'd get really pissy at first but when he decides to retaliate, he does it hard .

Like, I'm talking "cackling as he repeatedly smashes his pillow onto Kogure's head" type of hard. Either that or he turns on all the other members and just starts attacking everyone within a ten-mile radius.

Did he win ?? He did B)) (he didn't win ; he's only telling that to himself to make him feel better)

Kiminobu Kogure 👓

Being the mediator of the team, he'd step in and try to break everyone apart before injuries start happening ,,

,, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't join in the fun just to get back at Mitsui >:))

Eventually he's just lost in the chaos and he's laughing and smiling and having fun and he loves it .

Takenori Akagi 🦍

The one who actually stops the fight . Well, for like a split-second, anyways.

Then Sakuragi's stray pillow hits him full in the face and the next thing everyone knows the Great Pillow War has recommenced with the ferocity and the chaos magnified tenfold !!

Also the one that won the War. Bow before the great Gorilla King.

#୨୧ solari writes ! ₊˚#slam dunk #slam dunk anime #sakuragi hanamichi #kaede rukawa #ryota miyagi #mitsui hisashi #kiminobu kogure #akagi takenori #slam dunk fanfiction #sakuragi headcanons #kaede rukawa headcanons #miyagi headcanons #mitsui headcanons #kogure headcanons #akagi headcanons #shohoku #my boys !!

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legendl0re · 1 month ago

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This? Absolute fire *chefs kiss*

The fire crackled warmly in the hearth of the River House as Feyre paced the sitting room, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. The Inner Circle sat scattered across the plush sofas and chairs, their expressions ranging from curious to downright skeptical as she relayed the news. Feyre’s hands twisted together, a nervous habit she hadn’t indulged in for years, but Nesta had that effect on her.

“She accepted?” Amren finally broke the silence, her silver eyes narrowing as she leaned back in her seat, swirling a glass of blood-red wine. “Nesta Archeron, the Queen of Isolation herself, is coming to Solstice?”

Feyre nodded, her lips twitching into a tentative smile. “Not only is she coming, but she asked if she could bring someone.” She hesitated before adding, “I told her yes, of course. I didn’t want to make her feel… unwelcome.”

Rhysand, sprawled lazily in an armchair with an air of casual authority, arched a dark brow. “And you didn’t think to ask who this someone might be?”

Feyre shot him a look. “I was too stunned she said yes at all. I wasn’t about to interrogate her, Rhys.”

Cassian, who had been unusually quiet, sat forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees. His hazel eyes glimmered with a mix of hope and trepidation. “She’s bringing someone? Like… a friend? Or…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

“Maybe she’s found someone she actually likes,” Mor interjected with a sharp smile, though her tone carried an edge of disbelief. “That would be a Solstice miracle.”

Azriel remained silent, his shadowed gaze flicking between Feyre and Cassian, but his jaw clenched slightly, as if bracing for something unpleasant.

“It doesn’t matter who she’s bringing,” Feyre said, her voice firmer now. “What matters is that she’s coming. She’s choosing to be here. After everything…” Her throat tightened briefly, but she pushed on. “This is a step forward. For all of us.”

Amren snorted softly, setting her glass down with a delicate clink. “Or it’s just Nesta being unpredictable as always. Who knows what her angle is?”

“She doesn’t need an angle,” Feyre snapped, surprising herself with the force of her own words. “She’s my sister. I invited her because I want her here, not because I expect anything from her.”

Rhysand reached out, brushing a calming hand along her arm, his violet eyes softening. “No one is saying otherwise, Feyre. But you can’t deny it’s… unexpected.”

“It’s more than unexpected,” Mor muttered, crossing her legs and leaning back against the cushions. “It’s suspicious.”

Cassian’s gaze darkened, and he turned to Mor, his voice low. “She doesn’t owe us anything, Mor. Least of all your approval.”

An awkward silence fell over the room, and Feyre took a deep breath, centering herself. “Whatever her reasons, she’s coming. And we’re going to welcome her, like family should.” She glanced at each of them, daring them to challenge her. “That includes whoever she chooses to bring.”

The conversation drifted into quieter speculation after that, but Feyre remained by the fire, staring into the flickering flames, trying to suppress the nervous flutter in her chest. Nesta was coming. For the first time in years, her sister was coming back into their orbit—not for an argument, not out of obligation, but because she’d chosen to.

She clung to that sliver of hope like a lifeline, unwilling to let it slip away.

The silence that filled the room after Feyre’s announcement felt heavy, as if each member of the Inner Circle was lost in their own tangled web of thoughts about Nesta. It had been nearly a year since the last Solstice, when everything had come to a head, and the aftermath had left deep, jagged rifts between them all.

Nesta had stormed out that night—her words sharp, her tone colder than the snow that blanketed Velaris. In the weeks that followed, she’d stopped opening the tabs she’d once so freely placed on Rhysand’s account, a quiet but unmistakable declaration of her independence. The refusal had stung Feyre, though she couldn’t quite put into words why. Perhaps it was the finality of it, the way it marked a line between them that Nesta had no interest in crossing again.

“She’s changed,” Feyre said softly, breaking the silence. “You all know it.”

“She stopped drinking herself into oblivion, sure,” Cassian muttered, his voice low, his hazel eyes shadowed. “But it’s not like she kept us in the loop about anything else. She just… left.”

“She distanced herself,” Mor corrected, her voice clipped. “Not that it was a huge loss. She’s barely spoken to any of us since.”

Feyre flinched at the bitterness in Mor’s tone but didn’t argue. Mor wasn’t wrong. After Nesta had left the Inner Circle’s orbit, she hadn’t looked back. Letters had been the only form of communication—and even those had been sparse and stilted, only coming when someone else initiated the conversation. Feyre had written her often, clinging to the hope that Nesta would eventually reply with more than perfunctory sentences. Occasionally, she did. But it wasn’t the same.

“She moved out of that awful apartment,” Feyre said, a tinge of relief in her voice. “She found a job, started to rebuild… on her terms.”

“Good for her,” Amren said dryly, though her gaze flicked toward Cassian, as if gauging his reaction. “But the cost was cutting all of us off. You’d think one of her priorities might have been mending those bridges.”

“It’s not that simple,” Feyre said, her voice sharper now. “You all know how things were before. Nesta didn’t feel welcome. She didn’t feel… wanted.”

“Because she didn’t let anyone in,” Mor snapped. “She shut us out long before we gave up trying.”

“That doesn’t mean we were right to stop,” Feyre shot back.

Cassian stood abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “Enough.” His voice was gruff, strained. “Nesta did what she had to do. Maybe it wasn’t pretty, and maybe it wasn’t what any of us wanted, but she’s alive. She’s trying. And that’s more than most of us can say for her a year ago.”

Feyre’s heart ached at the truth of those words. She remembered the haunted, hollow look in Nesta’s eyes during her lowest moments, the nights Feyre had spent wondering if her sister would simply vanish into the void of her own despair.

Now, though, there was something different. In the rare moments Feyre had seen her, Nesta seemed more at ease, steadier. She no longer carried the same brittle anger like a shield. Still, the distance between them had grown into a chasm, and Feyre didn’t know how to bridge it.

“She’s coming to Solstice,” Feyre said again, more firmly this time. “She’s taking a step toward us. We owe it to her—and to ourselves—to meet her halfway.”

The room fell silent again, but this time it felt less oppressive, as if the weight of Nesta’s absence was finally beginning to lift. Even if it was just a sliver of light breaking through the cracks, Feyre clung to it.

The silence that followed Feyre’s words was as heavy as it was unyielding. No one argued, no one even shifted in their seats. It was the kind of silence that pressed down on Feyre’s chest, filling the room with the unspoken weight of everything left unresolved between Nesta and the Inner Circle.

Elain, ever the peacekeeper, appeared at just the right moment, her soft steps barely making a sound as she entered the sitting room. She carried a tray of cookies, their golden edges gleaming, the faint scent of cinnamon and cloves trailing after her. Her warm, practiced smile faltered as she glanced around the room and noticed the tension.

“Elain,” Feyre started, but before she could say more, there was a sharp, deliberate knock at the door.

The sound cut through the quiet like a blade, startling everyone. Elain froze mid-step, her eyes flicking to Feyre, the tray trembling ever so slightly in her hands.

No one moved at first. They all seemed rooted in place, as if reluctant to acknowledge what the knock meant. Feyre felt her pulse quicken. Nesta had arrived—and early, no less.

“I’ll get it,” Feyre said, her voice firmer than she felt as she stood, smoothing her hands down her sweater.

No one stopped her, though she could feel their eyes on her as she crossed the room. Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his face unreadable, while Cassian stared at the floor, his jaw tight. Azriel’s shadows curled faintly at his shoulders, and Mor crossed her arms, her expression blank but tense. Even Amren tilted her head slightly, as if listening for some hidden truth in the knock.

Feyre opened the door, her breath catching when she saw Nesta standing there. She looked different—not in the obvious ways, but in the subtleties: her posture straighter, her face calm, but without the guarded steel that had once made her seem untouchable.

“Nesta,” Feyre said softly, relief blooming in her chest. Her eyes flicked to the person standing just behind her sister, bundled in a heavy coat with a hood shadowing their face. “And you must be…?”

Nesta stepped inside without answering immediately, her gaze sweeping across the room before settling on Feyre. “Thank you for inviting me.” Her voice was steady, though her fingers tightened around the strap of the bag slung over her shoulder. She turned slightly, gesturing to the figure at her side. “This is Taryn.”

The hooded figure stepped forward and lowered their hood, revealing a sharp-featured, dark-haired woman with piercing eyes. She inclined her head in a polite nod, though her expression was unreadable.

Feyre managed a smile, even as the weight of the room shifted behind her. “Welcome,” she said, stepping aside to let them in.

The room’s tension grew as Nesta and Taryn entered, the warmth of the fire seemingly unable to dispel the chill that followed them. Feyre glanced back at the others, her resolve firm. This was going to work. It had to.

Feyre stepped aside, watching as Nesta and the woman—Taryn—stepped into the house. The warmth of the firelight illuminated them both, and it was then Feyre noticed the bags slung over their shoulders. Nesta’s was a small, simple satchel, while Taryn carried a larger bag that looked heavier.

Her gaze flicked to the bags, curiosity stirring. “Are those…” Feyre hesitated, not sure how to phrase it without sounding too eager. “Are those presents?”

Nesta’s stormy blue eyes met hers, unreadable for a moment. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible nod, she answered, “Yes.”

Feyre’s breath hitched in surprise. Nesta—Nesta, who had barely even attended Solstice last year and had left before the sun had fully set—had brought gifts. Feyre swallowed the lump rising in her throat and tried to smile, though her chest felt tight with emotion.

“Let me take your coats,” she said, her voice soft.

Nesta and Taryn obliged, shrugging out of their heavy winter cloaks and handing them to Feyre. For a moment, Feyre’s hand brushed against Nesta’s, and it struck her how steady her sister felt—no tremble, no hesitation. A quiet strength radiated from her, and Feyre’s heart ached with both pride and longing for the bond they’d once shared.

As Nesta handed her bag to Taryn to carry into the sitting room, Feyre couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Did you pick them out yourself?”

Nesta’s lips twitched, a faint flicker of amusement crossing her face. “Of course I did.”

The answer was so matter-of-fact, so… Nesta, that Feyre couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped her. “Well,” she said, stepping back to allow them further inside, “I’m sure everyone will be thrilled.”

From behind her, the room had gone silent again, the Inner Circle still frozen in a mix of shock and discomfort. But Feyre pushed aside the tension and turned to lead the way. For now, she would focus on this small miracle: Nesta was here, and she had brought gifts. Perhaps that meant there was hope after all.

As Feyre turned to lead Nesta and Taryn further into the room, it was Elain who finally broke the silence. Her soft, melodic voice cut through the awkward tension with surprising ease.

“It’s wonderful you came, Nesta,” Elain said, setting down the tray of cookies on the low table in the center of the sitting room. Her warm, genuine smile brightened the room in a way that only Elain could.

Nesta’s gaze flicked to her younger sister, and though her expression didn’t change, Feyre noticed the faintest softening in her sharp features.

Elain’s eyes moved to Taryn, taking in the woman with polite curiosity. “And you even brought a friend,” she added, her tone light and welcoming.

Taryn, standing quietly beside Nesta, inclined her head. “Taryn,” she introduced herself simply, her voice cool but not unfriendly.

Elain’s smile widened, and she gestured toward the chairs by the fire. “It’s lovely to meet you, Taryn. Please, both of you, make yourselves comfortable. I’ll get more tea.”

Nesta gave Elain a small, almost reluctant nod of thanks before stepping further into the room. Taryn followed closely, her movements deliberate and composed, as though she were ready to leave at any moment if the atmosphere soured.

Feyre’s chest tightened as she glanced between them, grateful for Elain’s efforts to ease the tension but painfully aware of how stiff and silent the rest of the Inner Circle remained. It was a fragile moment, one that could shatter with a single wrong word, but Feyre clung to the hope that Elain’s warmth might be enough to hold it together.

Elain paused in the doorway before disappearing to fetch tea, her gentle voice trailing behind her. “It really is wonderful to have you here, Nesta. Both of you.”

For a fleeting second, Feyre thought she saw something flicker in Nesta’s eyes—gratitude, perhaps, or maybe just relief. It was hard to tell, but Feyre held onto that moment like a lifeline. Small steps, she reminded herself. Small steps forward.

Feyre led Nesta and Taryn into the sitting room, the warmth of the fire contrasting sharply with the tension that hung in the air. The silence from the others was deafening, broken only by the crackling of the hearth. Still, Feyre kept her posture steady, determined to ease them into this fragile reunion.

“Here,” Feyre said gently, gesturing to the open space near the large, decorated table where the others had already placed their gifts. Nesta and Taryn followed her lead, setting their bags down with quiet precision.

As they straightened, Feyre’s gaze flicked to Nesta. She looked… different. Better. Healthier. The sharpness in her face had softened, replaced by a glow that hadn’t been there the last time Feyre had seen her. Her cheeks were fuller, her skin had a healthy flush, and her silver-blue eyes were clear, unclouded by the weight she used to carry. Even the way she stood—back straight, shoulders square—spoke of someone who had found stability.

Feyre felt a pang of emotion, a mixture of pride and longing, as she realized how much more beautiful Nesta looked like this. Not just in her appearance, but in the way she carried herself: calm, composed, and whole.

Her gaze shifted to Taryn, and Feyre took a moment to really look at the woman. Taryn was striking, her sharp features framed by dark hair that shimmered in the firelight. Her deep green eyes, cool and assessing, seemed to take in everything around her at once. She exuded a quiet confidence, one that balanced Nesta’s steadiness in an unexpected but complementary way. Feyre couldn’t help but think the two of them made an impressive pair, both polished and self-assured in ways that only added to their beauty.

Nesta and Taryn chose seats at the edge of the circle, slightly removed from the Inner Circle but still within reach. Feyre noticed the way Nesta’s hand lingered on the arm of her chair for a fraction of a second before she sat down, her gaze flicking toward Cassian and then away just as quickly.

Feyre settled herself in a nearby seat, her heart beating faster as she tried to catch Rhysand’s eye, silently willing him to say something to break the quiet. But her mate remained impassive, his violet eyes watchful as he leaned back in his chair.

Nesta folded her hands in her lap, her expression unreadable but calm. Taryn mirrored her, her gaze sweeping across the room, lingering briefly on each face before settling on the fire. Feyre couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nervousness as she realized how starkly Taryn’s composed demeanor contrasted with the awkwardness in the room.

Still, Feyre clung to the image of her sister as she was now—healthy, whole, and undeniably beautiful. Maybe, just maybe, this Solstice would be different.

Feyre perched on the edge of her chair, her fingers curling around the warm mug of tea Elain had handed her moments before. The silence stretched, oppressive and stifling, as everyone seemed content to avoid being the first to speak. Nesta sat still, her back straight and her gaze unwavering as she looked toward the fire, while Taryn leaned back in her chair with an air of quiet observation, her eyes flicking between each member of the Inner Circle.

Clearing her throat softly, Feyre decided to try. Someone had to break the silence. “So,” she began, forcing a smile that felt a little too tight. “How have you been, Nesta?”

Nesta’s gaze flicked to her, cool and composed. “I’ve been well,” she replied evenly, her voice calm but offering no further detail.

“Good, good,” Feyre said, trying to keep her tone light. “You look—healthy. Happy.”

Nesta’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Thank you.”

The tension thickened as Feyre searched for something else to say. She glanced at Taryn, hoping to bring her into the conversation. “And you, Taryn? How did you two meet?”

Taryn raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing on her lips. “We crossed paths in Velaris,” she said simply. Her tone was polite but distant, as if she were carefully choosing her words.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Feyre said quickly, nodding. “Are you from Velaris originally?”

“No,” Taryn replied, and though her voice remained pleasant, there was a finality to it that made it clear she didn’t intend to elaborate.

Feyre felt the weight of everyone’s eyes on her, their silence only amplifying her own discomfort. She glanced toward Elain, who was now quietly rearranging the tray of cookies on the table, clearly avoiding getting involved. Mor crossed her legs, the sound of her heel tapping faintly against the floor the only indication of her impatience.

Cassian’s chair creaked as he shifted, his jaw tight, though he still hadn’t said a word. Azriel’s shadows swirled lazily at his shoulders, his unreadable gaze fixed on the fire. Even Rhysand, who could usually ease any room with a well-placed quip, sat quietly, his violet eyes unreadable.

“Well,” Feyre said, forcing another smile and gesturing vaguely toward the tray of cookies. “Elain baked those herself. They’re—ah, delicious.”

Nesta glanced at the cookies but made no move to take one. “I’m sure they are,” she said evenly, though her tone didn’t quite reach warmth.

Feyre felt the flush rise to her cheeks, the silence stretching again as her attempt at conversation fizzled out. She glanced at Rhys, silently pleading for him to step in, but he merely raised a brow, clearly leaving it to her to navigate this minefield.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay calm. Small steps, she reminded herself. Even if those steps felt more like stumbling in the dark.

Amren, ever the one to speak her mind, eyed Nesta with her usual calculating gaze. The tension in the room thickened as she leaned forward slightly, her sharp voice cutting through the quiet. “Well, well, Nesta,” she said, her tone laced with that usual dryness. “You look… well, you don’t look like you’ve spent your nights in taverns anymore. How interesting.”

Feyre’s heart sank, the words landing like a slap. She braced herself for the usual reaction, but to her surprise, Nesta didn’t flinch. She didn’t even respond. Her face remained calm, her gaze steady, but there was a quiet strength in her silence.

It was Azriel who broke the tension, a soft snort escaping him as he leaned back in his chair, his shadows swirling lazily around him. Feyre blinked in surprise as his lips curled upward in a rare, almost amused expression. It wasn’t often that Azriel openly showed his thoughts on something, but there it was—his appreciation for Nesta’s quiet defiance.

Nesta, for her part, seemed unfazed. She simply continued to sit there, her posture regal and her gaze fixed ahead, as if Amren’s words hadn’t even touched her. Feyre couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride in her chest at her sister’s unshakable composure.

It was then that Nesta’s eyes flicked to Taryn, and for a fleeting moment, Feyre caught a glimpse of something soft in her sister’s expression. There was an unmistakable look of pride on Nesta’s face as she glanced at the woman beside her—an unspoken recognition that, whatever her past had been, she had something now. Something real.

Taryn’s lips curled slightly at the corner, and though she didn’t speak, the look she exchanged with Nesta said everything. There was a quiet understanding between them, something unspoken, but palpable in the air around them. Feyre watched, still processing Amren’s comment and Azriel’s rare amusement, as Nesta and Taryn settled into the room with a grace that surprised even her.

Amren, sensing that the moment had passed without provoking the reaction she’d hoped for, sat back in her chair, her eyes narrowing slightly. She seemed to begrudgingly accept the shift in the dynamic, her attention drifting away from Nesta to the others, though her earlier comment still hung in the air.

But for the first time in a long while, Feyre didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. Instead, she watched her sister—strong, unbowed, and silently proud—and felt a deep sense of admiration for the woman Nesta had become.

The silence stretched for another few moments before Elain, ever the one to soften the tension, gave a small, polite cough. “Well,” she said, her voice light and a little too bright, “dinner is just about ready.”

Everyone seemed to take that as a cue, rising to their feet as though the movement could dissolve the discomfort that still lingered in the room. Feyre felt a quiet sigh of relief as the group slowly shuffled toward the table, the tension ebbing just slightly, though the undercurrent of awkwardness remained.

Nesta and Taryn, however, were the last to rise. They moved with an easy grace, and Feyre couldn’t help but notice the quiet but deliberate way they settled into their seats. Nesta was all composed elegance, her posture straight as she placed her napkin across her lap with careful precision, while Taryn followed suit beside her. Feyre briefly exchanged a glance with her sisters before joining the others at the table, settling into the seats already taken by Cassian, Rhysand, Azriel, and Amren.

As the dinner began, a soft hum of conversation started among the Inner Circle. It was hesitant at first, filled with polite exchanges and the kind of superficial pleasantries that came with shared history, but it slowly grew more natural. Feyre felt a weight lift from her chest as she tried to relax into the evening, though her eyes kept drifting to Nesta.

Cassian, unusually quiet, kept his gaze trained on his plate more than the conversation at hand, but Feyre caught him looking up several times, his gaze snapping toward Nesta as she spoke with Taryn. She was laughing softly at something Taryn said, her eyes warm, her posture relaxed. The sight of Nesta, at ease and so far removed from the bitter, closed-off woman she’d been, made Feyre’s heart swell with a mixture of pride and sorrow.

The tension that had been there earlier, the weight of the past, seemed to lift as Nesta filled her plate. She ate with a steady, measured grace, occasionally glancing around at the others. Her laughter rang clear when Taryn made a remark about something mundane, her smile radiant and full of life, her earlier silence forgotten. For the first time in a long while, Nesta was enjoying herself, and Feyre couldn’t help but feel a flutter of hope.

As Feyre continued to watch, her gaze flickered back to Cassian. He had his jaw clenched, but she could see the way his eyes lingered on Nesta—sometimes soft, sometimes intense. It was hard to miss the way his stare seemed to follow her every movement, but Nesta remained absorbed in conversation with Taryn, unaware of the attention.

Feyre’s heart twisted slightly at the sight. She knew what Cassian’s feelings for Nesta had been, and maybe still were. But Nesta… Nesta was a different person now. Stronger, freer. Feyre couldn’t help but wonder if the quiet longing in Cassian’s eyes would ever fade, or if it was something that would always linger between them, even in moments like this, where the distance between them seemed insurmountable.

As the meal continued, conversation flowed more easily, but beneath the surface, there was a quiet undercurrent of curiosity. Feyre could feel it, though no one spoke it aloud. All of them were watching, their eyes flicking between Nesta and Taryn, as they shared glances, smiles, and occasional whispered jokes. There was something undeniably close between the two women, an intimacy that spoke volumes without a word being said.

It was Cassian who seemed the most restrained, his silence betraying the thoughts he was no doubt keeping to himself. His gaze occasionally shifted to Nesta, then to Taryn, but it was hard to read his expression, his usual confident demeanor replaced with something more guarded. Amren, always quick to pick up on things, narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t comment. Instead, her attention seemed to shift between Nesta and Taryn, as though she was piecing together her own theories.

Rhysand kept his usual smile in place, but Feyre could see the flicker of curiosity behind his eyes. It was there, hidden beneath layers of casual conversation—everyone was silently guessing. Was it something new? A fleeting connection? Or was there more to their relationship than they could see at a glance?

But Feyre couldn’t shake the surprise that lingered in the back of her mind. She had always known Nesta to be… well, Nesta. She had never shown much interest in romantic relationships, not in the way Feyre had, and certainly not in women. Feyre had always chalked it up to her sister’s trauma, her walls so high that she never seemed to let anyone in. So when she saw the way Nesta and Taryn interacted, the small, shared glances and the subtle, tender touches, it was both startling and fascinating.

She had never imagined Nesta in that light—at least, not with another woman. She couldn’t help but feel a small spark of curiosity flicker in her chest. How long had this been going on? When had it started? And more than that, Feyre realized she had never once asked her sister about her heart—what she wanted or who she cared for. She had been so focused on Nesta’s bitterness and the distance between them, she had never taken the time to think beyond the surface, to ask what truly mattered to Nesta.

There was a fleeting moment, as Nesta laughed softly at something Taryn said, that Feyre caught a glimpse of something more than just friendship in their connection. The warmth, the comfort, the quiet joy that seemed to radiate from the two of them—it was unmistakable.

Feyre’s mind raced with questions she had never thought to ask, but in the same breath, she didn’t want to pry. Nesta had always been fiercely independent, and Feyre had learned the hard way that pushing too hard could create distance. But seeing her sister so happy, so at ease in Taryn’s presence, made Feyre wonder if maybe there was something she had missed.

She turned her attention back to her plate, trying to focus on the food in front of her, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Nesta and Taryn. She was surprised, yes, but she couldn’t deny that she felt a strange sense of relief. It was good, wasn’t it? To see Nesta with someone who seemed to make her feel at home.

The moment stretched on, the air thick with curiosity and silent observation, when suddenly, Morrigan’s voice broke through the quiet, sharp and cutting as always. Her eyes, glinting with mischief—or perhaps something more—settled on Nesta as she leaned slightly forward in her chair.

“So,” Morrigan said, her tone casual but laced with an undercurrent of something Feyre couldn’t quite place. “How long has this been going on between you two?”

It wasn’t an innocent question. The way Morrigan phrased it, with that familiar edge in her voice, made it clear it was meant as a jab—a test. Feyre’s heart stuttered as she glanced at her sister, expecting a reaction, waiting for something, anything, to break the carefully constructed calm.

Nesta didn’t flinch, though, her expression a picture of composed indifference. But Feyre could see the subtle shift in her posture—a tightening of her shoulders, the slight narrowing of her eyes. Nesta’s fingers gripped the edge of her plate just a little tighter. Taryn, who had been casually leaning toward Nesta, faltered, her smile dropping for a brief moment, but she quickly recovered, her own gaze hardening.

Feyre’s chest tightened as the silence stretched, heavy and charged. It was clear Morrigan’s question had hit its mark. It wasn’t just an innocent inquiry; it was a challenge, one that was meant to make Nesta squirm, to put her on the spot in front of everyone.

Azriel, seated across from Nesta, let out a soft, almost imperceptible breath—one that Feyre recognized as his way of showing his disapproval. Cassian, on the other hand, stiffened, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing. It was clear that this was a familiar dynamic, one that Morrigan often employed to get a rise out of people.

But Nesta’s response was nothing short of a revelation. With the same quiet confidence she’d shown earlier, she turned to Morrigan, her eyes icy and unfazed. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

The words were soft, but they carried weight. There was no anger in her tone, no sharpness—just a calm, deliberate dismissal of Morrigan’s jibe. Feyre could almost feel the ripple of tension that passed through the room at her sister’s response.

Morrigan, momentarily stunned by Nesta’s unflinching composure, blinked, but her lips curled into a thin smile, her gaze flicking between Nesta and Taryn. “Of course,” she said, almost mockingly, her voice still laced with the same biting humor. “I suppose it’s not my place to know.”

But it was clear to everyone that the barb had been thrown, and while Morrigan tried to brush it off, the atmosphere had shifted again—this time, away from curiosity and into something more uncomfortable. Feyre felt a slight burn of anger for her sister, for the way Morrigan had tried to undermine her so casually, but she couldn’t help but admire the way Nesta had held her ground.

The rest of the table seemed to sense it too. A few exchanged glances—some sympathetic, some cautious—but the tension didn’t break entirely. Morrigan, for all her wit and sharpness, had not expected Nesta to be so resolute, so untouchable.

Rhysand, who had been silently watching the exchange with a practiced calm, finally spoke up, his voice smooth and warm. He glanced at Nesta, his usual charismatic smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“It’s good to have you here, Nesta,” he said, his tone light but sincere. “Either way, it’s been… too quiet without you around.”

There was a pause, and then he added, more softly, “I know Feyre and Elain have missed having you here. You may not have seen it, but it’s true.”

Feyre’s heart stirred at his words, a small flicker of guilt flashing through her. She hadn’t realized how much her absence had weighed on the family until now—until Rhysand so easily voiced what had been left unsaid for so long.

Nesta didn’t respond immediately, but when she did, she raised an eyebrow in that way she always did when she was about to make a point. Her lips curled into a faint, knowing smile.

“Well,” she said, her voice steady, “I’ve invited both Feyre and Elain out to restaurants and taverns a few times. But it’s not like they ever accepted.”

There was no malice in her words, only a cool, unbothered truth that hung in the air. Feyre’s eyes widened, the surprise evident on her face, while Elain’s cheeks flushed a shade of pink that made Feyre feel the heat of embarrassment on her own face.

Feyre had never known—had never considered—that Nesta had tried to reach out like that. She thought back to the years of strained silence between them, to the countless nights Nesta had spent behind closed doors, away from the family.

But now, Nesta had put herself out there, offering something she hadn’t before, and Feyre had never even known. The realization stung more than Feyre had expected, but it also made her feel a tiny flicker of hope. Perhaps this was the beginning of something—something that would bring them all closer.

Feyre opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Nesta continued, her voice steady and unapologetic.

“I don’t do this often, you know,” she added, her gaze flickering between the three of them. “It’s not my style to chase people. But you all kept saying you wanted me around, so I thought I’d make an effort.”

Feyre was silent for a moment, unsure how to respond. She hadn’t realized how much effort it had taken for Nesta to come back, to reconnect. Nesta had always been the one to keep everyone at arm’s length, and yet here she was, still trying.

“Thank you,” Feyre said softly, her voice filled with an emotion she hadn’t expected. “I’m glad you did.”

Nesta’s expression softened for just a moment, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. She gave a small shrug, as though the acknowledgment didn’t mean much to her, but to Feyre, it was everything.

Nesta sighed softly to herself, the weight of the evening settling deeper into her chest. She had been trying to navigate this new territory with her family, trying to find the right balance between distance and connection, but it was more difficult than she had imagined. She could feel the stares—casual, curious, like they were all waiting for something to happen.

Feyre, always the one to sense when things were off, cleared her throat and smiled brightly. “How about we have dessert while we open presents?” she suggested, her tone light, trying to shift the mood. “It’ll be fun.”

The others seemed eager for the distraction, nodding in agreement as they moved away from the dinner table and toward the living area where the presents were gathered. The air, though, still hung heavy with the unspoken, as if everyone was quietly waiting for the moment to pass.

Feyre picked up the first present, holding it carefully as she read the name on the tag. Her brow furrowed for a moment, and then she looked up with a small, surprised smile. “This one’s from Nesta,” she said, her voice soft but clear, holding the gift out as she looked around. The silence stretched for a beat, the atmosphere thick with an odd tension.

Nesta met her gaze, a flicker of something unreadable passing across her features. She was sitting back a little, arms folded loosely across her chest, watching the scene unfold without offering much of a reaction.

Feyre carefully untied the ribbon, peeling back the paper, and inside was a set of paintbrushes and oils. The wooden box was elegant in its simplicity, polished to a smooth finish. The paints looked high-quality, and the brushes—sleek and professional—spoke volumes about Nesta’s taste. Feyre’s heart skipped a beat as she realized what the gift meant. She hadn’t expected something so thoughtful.

“I—” Feyre paused, a lump forming in her throat. “Thank you,” she said, her voice unsteady, but genuine. The room seemed to hold its breath as Nesta nodded, watching her closely.

The rest of the Inner Circle looked between each other, their gazes shifting from Nesta to Feyre, but no one spoke right away. It wasn’t the gift that made them hesitant, it was the quiet undercurrent of something else—the words that went unspoken between them, the history that still hung in the air. But Nesta didn’t seem bothered by the silence; she simply sat back, looking more relaxed than she had in a long time, her attention now drifting toward Taryn, who was seated beside her.

The tension in the room remained thick, and the presents continued to be passed around, but it wasn’t lost on Feyre how everyone was exchanging small, tentative glances. It was clear that there was still much to navigate, much to rebuild, but this moment—this simple, thoughtful gift—felt like a bridge. Something solid in the midst of all the uncertainty.

Feyre opened the next gift, the room shifting with small, awkward comments and light-hearted jabs as everyone tried to break the silence. But for Feyre, as she gently ran her fingers over the brush handles, a quiet thought lingered in her mind: maybe things weren’t as broken as they seemed. Maybe this, however uncomfortable, was still progress.

As the presents continued to circulate, Feyre couldn’t help but feel the tension in the air, a soft, lingering undercurrent of discomfort. She was watching her family, taking in the moments of awkwardness, the careful smiles, and the small exchanges, when Cassian and Morrigan suddenly swapped gifts. Feyre’s eyes widened as Morrigan unwrapped a set of elegant, dark lace lingerie, holding it up with a smirk that said everything about the playful jab she’d likely intended. Cassian, in turn, was holding up a similarly risqué gift—soft, red silk underwear that made even Feyre blush a little.

She had expected the moment to be awkward, maybe even uncomfortable, but as she glanced over at Nesta and Taryn, sitting beside one another, she was surprised to see them smiling softly at each other. It wasn’t a fleeting glance, either—there was a warmth between them, a quiet understanding that Feyre hadn’t seen in Nesta before.

Taryn leaned in slightly toward Nesta, her lips brushing her ear as she whispered something too soft for anyone else to hear. Nesta’s eyes widened for a split second, then softened, and to Feyre’s complete surprise, she giggled. A full, unguarded laugh—something Feyre hadn’t heard from her sister in a long time, something that made her heart flutter with the unfamiliar joy of seeing Nesta so at ease.

It was a sound that didn’t fit with the version of Nesta Feyre had grown used to. The older sister who had kept so much inside, the one who rarely allowed herself to be vulnerable, much less to show any outward softness. Nesta’s laugh seemed to cut through the room’s awkwardness, drawing a few curious glances from the others as they tried to figure out what had made her so lighthearted.

Feyre blinked, unsure of what to make of it. She glanced quickly at Taryn, who had a small, knowing smile on her lips, as if pleased by the effect she’d had on Nesta. But it wasn’t just the laugh that caught Feyre off guard—it was the connection between the two women, something new and subtle that Feyre hadn’t expected to see.

She quickly turned her gaze away, pretending to focus on the next gift being opened, but she couldn’t stop the lingering thoughts that followed her. Could it be that Nesta was truly finding herself in this new chapter?

As Feyre watched Nesta and Taryn, something shifted in her chest, an unexpected sadness that wasn’t entirely about Feyre herself, but about the years that had slipped away, the things left unsaid, and the distance that had quietly built between them. Seeing Nesta laugh, something so genuine and full of life, reminded Feyre of the parts of her sister she had longed to see emerge again, but hadn’t. It made her realize how much time had passed without them truly connecting, without really knowing who Nesta had become during all those long months of silence.

It wasn’t that Feyre was angry or resentful about the way Nesta had distanced herself, or about the woman who had clearly made her so happy. No, it wasn’t Taryn who caused the sadness, nor was it about the complicated emotions that came with watching someone you loved grow into something you hadn’t anticipated. Feyre was happy for Nesta, truly, in a way that surprised her. She was glad her sister had found a space where she could laugh freely, where she could be something more than the woman who had been crushed by grief and trauma.

But Feyre couldn’t ignore the deep ache in her chest as she watched. How had she let it go so long without truly seeing her sister, without trying harder to understand her? Nesta had changed, she had grown, and Feyre felt as if she had been standing at the edge, waiting for her sister to come back—but Nesta had already found herself elsewhere. It hurt, in a way that Feyre didn’t know how to articulate.

Her smile, though warm, was tinged with something more bittersweet now. As Nesta and Taryn exchanged whispers, as they shared something that felt so uniquely theirs, Feyre realized she was no longer the person her sister turned to for comfort. It was Taryn, not her. And for all the love she had for Nesta, for all the good intentions she had in trying to bring her back, Feyre felt the quiet sting of being left behind.

This wasn’t something Feyre blamed anyone for—least of all Nesta. It was just a quiet realization of how much time had passed, how much had shifted, and how those changes were irreversible. She had always thought they would grow together, in their own ways, but that hope had begun to feel more distant. Feyre sighed softly, quickly pushing the emotion down, not wanting to let it steal the joy of the evening.

Elain cleared her throat, breaking the soft silence that had fallen over the room. Her eyes darted to the pile of presents before her, and she carefully picked up one that seemed different from the others. It wasn’t a box, but a carefully wrapped bundle, and she held it out toward Nesta, her hands slightly trembling as if unsure of the reaction she’d receive.

“Here, Nesta,” Elain said, her voice a little quieter than usual, but warm, full of hope.

Feyre watched, her heart tightening as Elain offered the gift. It was a book set, wrapped in delicate paper with a satin ribbon, the kind of gift that showed thoughtfulness. Elain had always been the one who poured herself into nurturing those around her, even when it came to Nesta, despite the distance that had grown between them. Feyre could see how much Elain was hoping for a good reaction—how much she wanted to rebuild that connection with Nesta, even if it was just through something small like this.

For a moment, there was a stillness in the room, everyone waiting, perhaps holding their breath to see how Nesta would respond. And then, slowly, Nesta took the gift from Elain’s hands. She smiled faintly, her eyes scanning the wrapping before she carefully set it down to untie the ribbon.

When she finally unwrapped it, Nesta’s eyes flickered over the book set—classic novels, well-loved and already known to her, perhaps something Elain had thought she’d enjoy. But Nesta didn’t seem surprised. She didn’t seem disappointed either, though there was a moment’s pause before she looked back at Elain.

“I already have this,” Nesta said, her tone soft but steady. “But thank you, Elain.”

Nesta’s smile lingered, something faintly warm in her eyes as she looked at Elain. “I appreciate it,” she said quietly, her voice softer than usual, her words more sincere than Feyre had heard in a long while.

As the conversation moved on, Feyre felt a sudden weight settle in her chest. She glanced over at the pile of presents, and her gaze drifted to Nesta. Elain’s gift had been the only one for her, the only thing that had been offered to Nesta. The realization hit Feyre like a cold wave—she hadn’t gotten Nesta anything. She hadn’t even thought to, caught up in everything else, in the tension of the evening, in the strange, quiet joy of having her sister back in their lives.

The sting of guilt gnawed at her, because she should have thought of something. She should have found something personal, something meaningful to give to Nesta, especially after everything they had been through. But no, Elain was the only one who had considered it.

Feyre glanced down at her own hands, feeling suddenly empty and unprepared. How had she missed it? Had she truly been so focused on the idea of Nesta returning, on making things right between them, that she had forgotten the simple act of giving? She should have gotten something for Nesta, something that showed she remembered, that she cared. Something that wasn’t just a grand gesture or a fleeting hope but something small and thoughtful.

Her heart squeezed in her chest as she looked at Nesta. She could see the way her sister was holding herself, the careful way she smiled, even as she tried to mask any discomfort. Nesta hadn’t expected anything. Feyre had assumed that Nesta wouldn’t care, that she would be indifferent to the gifts or the evening, but that wasn’t true. Nesta had accepted the invitation. She had come. She had brought someone with her. And here was Feyre, not even having thought to give her something—anything—to mark the occasion, to show that she still cared, even after everything.

For the briefest moment, Feyre felt her face flush with embarrassment. She was the one who had wanted this night to go well, to have her family together again, but now it felt like she had failed Nesta in the smallest, most basic way.

She looked over at Elain, who was still smiling, still holding onto that soft relief, as if her gift had been the bridge between them. Feyre felt the weight of her failure in the silence that followed. No one had commented on the fact that Elain’s gift was the only one, but Feyre knew. She knew, and it stung more than she could explain.

Her gaze flickered over to the pile of presents once more, and her stomach dropped as the pieces slowly clicked together.

They had all received gifts from Nesta. Each one of them.

Cassian had his new set of armor polish, perfectly chosen for the items he’d always used to maintain his gear. Mor had a sleek, beautifully crafted dagger—one that Feyre knew would be the perfect match for her. Even Azriel had a dark cloak, lined with silver threads that shimmered faintly under the light, a gift she knew Azriel would never admit to appreciating but would wear nonetheless.

And yet, Feyre hadn’t reciprocated. She hadn’t thought to give Nesta anything, while Nesta had clearly put effort into their gifts, had thought about each of them, chosen something personal.

Feyre opened her mouth to speak, to try and bridge the awkward silence that seemed to have settled again, when Taryn unexpectedly reached for an envelope tucked inside her bag. She handed it over to Nesta with a soft, knowing smile, and Nesta took it, her fingers lingering on the edges of the paper for just a second longer than necessary.

Feyre watched as Nesta carefully opened the envelope, her brow furrowing slightly as she pulled out a pair of tickets. The moment her eyes scanned them, they widened in shock, her voice barely a whisper as she read the name aloud. “The ballet?”

Taryn nodded, her smile warm, and Feyre caught a glimmer of something—pride, maybe—beneath her calm exterior.

Nesta, still holding the tickets in her hands, blinked in disbelief. “But they sold out months ago,” she said, shaking her head in amazement. “I—I didn’t think there was any way to get in. How… how did you manage this?”

Taryn’s smile softened even more, and Feyre could see the connection between them, an ease that was new, and yet, not so new after all. Taryn had a way of making Nesta look like she was finally settling into something she hadn’t quite realized she was missing—something that wasn’t just companionship but a deeper understanding, a way of making the world feel just a little more expansive for Nesta.

“I have my ways,” Taryn replied simply, a wink accompanying her words.

For a moment, Nesta was speechless, the tickets held so tightly in her hands that Feyre thought they might tear. But then Nesta’s lips curled into a genuine, wide smile—the kind Feyre hadn’t seen on her sister’s face in years. It was a look of pure, unguarded joy, a moment of surprise and gratitude.

“Thank you,” Nesta said softly, her voice almost cracking. Feyre had to swallow down the tightness in her own throat as she watched her sister. That small, simple act of kindness from Taryn—something Feyre hadn’t seen in their family for so long—seemed to break something open in Nesta.

Taryn gave a soft shrug, as if to say it was nothing, but Feyre couldn’t help but notice the way Nesta’s expression shifted, how her posture softened just slightly. The tension that had clung to her earlier seemed to ease just a little, like a small crack in the armor she wore so tightly around herself.

She hadn’t realized just how much it must have hurt—how much it must have meant to Nesta—that this was a piece of her past, a part of herself, that she had quietly kept hidden. Feyre remembered the long-ago days when Nesta had danced, her movements graceful, her face full of joy. But those memories had faded, overshadowed by everything that had happened since.

And now, seeing Nesta hold those tickets, the spark of something old and forgotten in her eyes, Feyre couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since her sister had allowed herself something purely for her own enjoyment. Something that wasn’t just about surviving the weight of the world.

It hit Feyre with a sharp clarity—when Nesta had said she’d frequented the taverns, not for the men or the drinks, but for the music, they’d all thought she was lying. They had assumed it was just another excuse, another way for her to hide, to make her actions seem less painful or desperate. But Feyre realized now how wrong they’d been, how little they had truly understood. Nesta hadn’t been lying. She had been searching for something beautiful, something that resonated with her heart—the music, the rhythm, the feeling of moving to a beat that wasn’t born of their cruel, tumultuous world.

The guilt gnawed at Feyre. They had brushed it off as just another thing Nesta claimed, another part of her that seemed too difficult to believe. But it wasn’t. Nesta had always loved dancing, always had a soul that craved something more than the darkness of the taverns. Feyre had dismissed it, had dismissed her, not even bothering to see the layers that had made Nesta who she was, the complexities that lay beneath the surface.

Now, as she watched Nesta sit with Taryn, the gift of the ballet tickets between them, Feyre couldn’t help but wonder how much of Nesta’s soul had been buried in the years she spent trying to survive—how much of it she had given up to the harshness of their world, to the expectations and the hurt. Feyre had never asked her about the music. She had never asked Nesta to tell her what she had really been seeking when she wandered into those taverns.

And now, Feyre had to confront the reality that they had failed to see it, failed to see Nesta’s pain and the things she longed for, things that didn’t involve anyone else but her.

Her heart clenched painfully, and she couldn’t shake the thought that she, too, had been a part of that failure. They had all let Nesta be alone in her struggle, thinking her needs and desires were just more of her façade. They hadn’t even considered that she might be trying to reclaim a part of herself, trying to find something to hold on to that wasn’t all wrapped up in the past they had shared. It was only now, watching her with Taryn, that Feyre could see the weight of her sister’s quiet longing.

The sudden awareness of this made Feyre feel smaller, more guilty. She had thought that Nesta was lost, that the anger and the bitterness she displayed were all that was left. But Nesta had always been more than that. She had always been more than the broken pieces they had ignored for so long.

As the present exchange began to wind down, Feyre thought the tension might finally start to lift. She watched as the last few gifts were passed around, each one drawing out more smiles, more laughter, a moment of connection that hadn’t been there before. But then, Cassian stood, that teasing grin of his slowly spreading across his face as he held up a small, delicate box in front of Nesta.

“This one,” Cassian said with a playful tone, “is for you as well.”

Nesta’s eyes flicked to the box, her brow furrowing slightly, but she didn’t say anything. Feyre noticed the way her sister’s posture stiffened, a subtle shift that didn’t go unnoticed. Cassian, ever the opportunist, didn’t seem to care as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into a mockingly sweet tone.

“Open it, sweetheart,” he teased.

For a second, it felt like the entire room froze. Nesta’s face, usually so controlled, shifted ever so slightly—an uncomfortable twinge in her features, a small narrowing of her eyes that Feyre recognized all too well. She didn’t want to take the box, but she did, her fingers grasping it with hesitant care. The room waited in almost a silence as Nesta slowly opened the small lid.

Feyre could feel her heart thud in her chest, and for the first time, she understood that something was off. The joy, the warmth that had started to blanket the evening, vanished in an instant. Nesta’s eyes dropped to the contents of the box, and when she saw the ring inside, the air around them seemed to thickest.

The room was silent. Feyre’s throat tightened as she realized what was in the box—a simple, silver ring. But not just any ring. It was the same one Cassian had tried to give Nesta the last Solstice. The same ring she had rejected with a sharpness that had left Cassian wounded and the rest of them uncomfortable. Feyre had known it was a painful memory for both of them, but seeing it again now, in the present, felt somehow worse than it had before. It was a ghost of their past, a reminder of the rift between them.

Nesta’s face was unreadable, but Feyre could see the flicker of something—maybe confusion, maybe dread—in her sister’s eyes. It was clear Nesta hadn’t expected this. It was clear she hadn’t wanted this. She took the ring from the box slowly, her fingers brushing over the smooth metal as she exhaled quietly, but her lips were pressed tightly together.

Cassian stood, grinning like the fool he was, his eyes glinting with that mischievous gleam he usually wore. “What’s the matter, Nesta? Not even a thank you?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly testing the waters, his voice lighthearted but carrying a hint of challenge.

Feyre couldn’t help the surge of discomfort that rushed through her. She wanted to say something, to stop Cassian before he made it worse, but she found herself frozen in place. She had been so focused on the fragile balance of the evening, on how much progress Nesta had made in such a short time, that she hadn’t anticipated this moment—this reminder of the tension that still lingered beneath the surface between her sister and Cassian.

Nesta, to everyone’s surprise, didn’t respond immediately. She looked at the ring in her hand, a flicker of something crossing her face, and then she slowly, carefully, set it back in the box. She closed the lid with deliberate slowness, her gaze lifting to Cassian’s with a quiet intensity. For a moment, the room felt as though it was holding its breath.

“No, thank you,” Nesta said softly, her voice steady but firm. “But this isn’t something I need. Not now.”

Cassian’s grin faltered, the teasing edge gone. Feyre could see the frustration building behind his eyes, but he didn’t push. Instead, he gave a small, resigned shrug, as though he was used to this—used to the unspoken rejection that hung between them like an invisible thread.

Taryn, still sitting beside Nesta, placed a gentle hand on her arm, an unspoken show of support, and Nesta looked at her, offering a small, almost imperceptible smile in return.

Feyre couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but something about the moment made her chest tighten with sorrow. It was as if, despite all the progress, the chasm between Nesta and Cassian still remained. And it wasn’t just a matter of pride or refusal. It was something deeper—something neither of them had fully reckoned with.

Cassian’s face darkened as Nesta handed the ring back with such finality. The playful grin he had worn moments earlier disappeared, replaced by a look of quiet hurt, the kind that only those close to him could read. He stared at the box, his fingers flexing, as if he were trying to force the weight of the situation into something lighter, but it wasn’t working. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath, but there was no hiding the hurt that lingered behind his eyes. He quickly tried to mask it with a shrug, but it was clear that Nesta’s rejection had cut deeper than he had let on.

Morrigan, ever the one to speak her mind, let out a sharp scoff. She leaned back in her chair, her arms folding over her chest as she gave a pointed look toward Nesta. “Well, that was just charming,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Could’ve at least been polite about it, don’t you think?”

Feyre’s heart sank. She had hoped the evening might stay civil, that they could all enjoy the rare peace they had with Nesta’s return. But Morrigan’s comment tore through the fragile air of the gathering, cutting it like a knife. Feyre glanced at Nesta, who didn’t flinch at the jab, but instead, her eyes hardened—sharp, unwavering. It was clear that Morrigan’s words meant nothing to her now.

Nesta remained silent, her jaw tightening, but her gaze never wavered from Morrigan. There was no anger in her eyes—only a steady resolve, as if she had long since stopped caring about what people thought of her. Cassian, still standing, looked away quickly, clearly not wanting anyone to see the rawness in his expression.

Morrigan, of course, didn’t care. She tilted her head slightly, studying the tension in the room like it was an entertaining spectacle. “I just don’t get it,” Morrigan continued, her voice dripping with condescension. “What’s the point of playing hard to get if you aren’t even willing to try? Doesn’t seem like you’re putting in much effort, Nesta.”

Nesta’s glare cut through the room like a blade, her icy stare locking onto Morrigan as the words fell from her lips. There was no hint of hesitation, no softness in her tone—just the cold, biting clarity that always seemed to come when Nesta was pushed to her limit. “Do I really need to spell it out for you?” she said, her voice calm but dangerous, each word deliberate. “I’m in a relationship. A real one. And I don’t owe anyone, least of all Cassian, anything. I don’t need to return his feelings just because he’s decided that I should.”

The silence in the room thickened as Nesta’s words hung in the air, but Morrigan, ever the provocateur, wasn’t about to back down. She leaned forward, her gaze sharp and unapologetic. “He’s your mate, Nesta,” Morrigan said, her voice dripping with something Feyre couldn’t quite place—whether it was disdain or just sheer annoyance at being defied. “You can’t just dismiss that. You don’t get to throw away a bond like that.”

Cassian’s expression twisted, and for a moment, Feyre thought she saw a flash of something—resentment, hurt, maybe even shame—as he looked between Morrigan and Nesta. But it was quickly replaced by a blankness, as if he had shut himself off from the conversation entirely.

Nesta didn’t flinch at Morrigan’s words. If anything, the corner of her lips twitched ever so slightly, almost as though she were amused by Morrigan’s inability to grasp what she had said. “Maybe I don’t want to be defined by that bond, Morrigan,” Nesta replied, her voice low but firm. “Maybe I don’t want to be tied to someone just because fate decided it for me. You think that’s easy? That it’s something I just want to accept and move on with?”

The tension in the room crackled like a storm, and Feyre could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t want to intervene, but she also knew that whatever was happening between Nesta and Morrigan had to be addressed—before it turned into something that would break apart what little progress they had made.

Morrigan narrowed her eyes, clearly unfazed by Nesta’s words. “That’s your choice, I suppose,” she said, her tone laced with something Feyre couldn’t quite place—frustration, maybe, or disbelief. “But you’re not going to convince anyone here that what you’re doing is right, Nesta. Especially when he’s your mate.”

For the first time, Feyre noticed the look in Cassian’s eyes—a mixture of hurt and something else that was harder to define. It was the look of a man who had been told, once again, that he wasn’t enough, despite the bond that should have connected them. Despite everything he had done, everything he had tried.

Nesta’s expression softened for a fraction of a second, but it was quickly replaced by the same implacable distance that had become her armor. She didn’t look at Cassian; her gaze was focused solely on Morrigan as she delivered the final blow. “You can think whatever you want, Morrigan,” Nesta said, the edge of finality in her voice unmistakable.

Feyre, feeling the weight of the moment, quickly pushed herself to her feet, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to interject. “Please, can we just—” she began, but Nesta stood before her, cutting her off with the sharpness of a blade.

“I think we’ve overstayed our welcome,” Nesta said, her voice flat and resolute, with no hint of the warmth that had been there when they’d first sat down. She didn’t look at anyone else, her gaze fixed straight ahead, as though she had made up her mind the moment Morrigan’s words hit her ears. “Taryn and I are leaving.”

The room was frozen in place for a moment, everyone watching as Nesta turned away without waiting for any further response. Taryn followed quietly behind her, picking up her bag, her expression unreadable. Feyre’s heart sank as she watched them both move towards the door. It had all unraveled so quickly.

Feyre, unable to stop herself, moved to follow. She felt a desperate need to fix things, to somehow make everything right, but she knew, deep down, that the damage was already done. “Nesta, please,” Feyre called softly as she reached her. “I’m sorry. Morrigan—she didn’t mean to make it worse, but she didn’t understand. I know, Cassian is your mate, and we all respect your choice, truly. But isn’t this something we should… maybe talk about? Please?”

Nesta stopped, turning to face Feyre, her expression still unreadable, though there was a glimmer of something behind her eyes—something Feyre couldn’t quite decipher. For a moment, they simply stood there, the weight of Feyre’s words hanging in the air between them. Nesta was silent for a long time, and when she finally spoke, her words cut through the tension like a cold wind.

“Is Elain talking to Lucien while flirting with Azriel?” Nesta asked, her voice low, but the challenge in it clear. Her eyes flicked over to Elain, who was still at the table, looking as surprised as anyone else. The comment was so pointed, so unexpected, that Feyre froze for a moment, unsure how to respond.

Feyre’s face flushed hot with a sudden rush of embarrassment. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and she glanced over at Elain, who was equally flustered, her cheeks pink with the unmistakable hint of a blush. It was so obvious now—Elain’s soft laughter, her teasing looks at Azriel, and the way she seemed to be drawn to him more and more lately. Feyre couldn’t help the sudden, awkward shift in her own expression as she shot a quick look at Azriel, who had gone entirely still, his gaze focused on nothing in particular.

“Oh,” Feyre stammered, her face now burning. “I—well, that’s not exactly—” She trailed off, unsure of what to say. There was no denying it now. “I mean, she’s not… It’s not like that,” she finally managed, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew how it sounded—like she was trying to cover something up.

Nesta’s lips quirked into a half-smile, though it was more bemusement than anything else. “You don’t have to lie, Feyre,” she said quietly, a note of something almost sympathetic in her tone. “It’s obvious.”

Feyre felt her stomach twist. She had always been so attuned to the unspoken moments between her sisters, but this—this moment of embarrassment, of Nesta cutting through the tension with something so sharp—was entirely new.

“I’m sorry,” Feyre repeated, her voice small. “It’s just… It’s been a long night. I didn’t mean for it to go this way.”

Nesta, however, didn’t seem to hold any ill will. She nodded once, her expression hardening again, like she was already shutting herself off from any further emotional entanglements. “We’ll be going now,” she said softly, but the finality in her voice made it clear that there was no room for discussion.

Feyre, her heart aching with the weight of the evening’s tension, took a tentative step toward Nesta, her voice soft and sincere. “I would love to have you again, Nesta. Please, don’t be a stranger,” she said, her words carrying a warmth, a hope she desperately wanted to believe in.

Nesta paused as she reached for the door, her back still turned to Feyre. The dim light of the room flickered in the silence that stretched between them, and for a moment, Feyre thought Nesta might not respond at all. But then she heard her voice, low and steady, yet touched with something unspoken.

“We have a house now,” Nesta said, her tone even but undeniably firm. “Taryn and I. Every weekend, we’re at the taverns.” She finally turned to face Feyre, her expression unreadable but not unfriendly. “You’re welcome to stop by if you want. They’ve got live shows playing, and we always have a couple of drinks.”

Feyre swallowed, her breath catching as the words sank in. She had expected something else, perhaps a refusal, perhaps a coldness, but this… this was something different. It wasn’t an invitation with open arms, but it wasn’t a door slammed shut either. It was a line drawn, an offer made, but with distance—a distance Feyre knew she had no right to cross easily.

“I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind,” Feyre said, her voice softer than she intended, filled with a sadness she couldn’t quite suppress. “I hope you know you’re always welcome here too, Nesta.”

Nesta nodded once, her gaze flickering briefly to Taryn, who stood by the door, ready to leave. “Thank you, Feyre,” she said, the words surprisingly calm, though there was a finality to them.

As Nesta moved toward the door, Taryn paused, her gaze shifting from the retreating figure of her friend to Feyre. There was a quiet intensity in her eyes, a calm that carried with it a sense of finality. She took a breath before she spoke, her voice carrying a weight that made Feyre stop in her tracks.

“She’s inviting you. It’s up to you and Elain to decide if you want to be a part of her life, not the other way around.”

With those final words, Taryn gave a small nod, the strength in her gaze undiminished. She turned toward the door to join Nesta, but before leaving, she looked back at Feyre once more.

“She’s trying, but if you keep waiting for her to come to you, you’ll lose her.”

The door closed softly behind them, leaving Feyre standing in the quiet, the sting of Taryn’s words echoing in the silence.

Feyre stood frozen, her mind racing as Taryn’s words replayed in her head. She felt a heavy, suffocating shame settle in her chest, a tightness that constricted her lungs. Her feet felt rooted to the floor, but the sting of truth washed over her like a wave, forcing her to turn back toward the room.

Taryn had been right. All of it—every single word.

The realization hit Feyre like a gut punch, and her face flushed with the heat of guilt. She had expected so much from Nesta—her loyalty, her presence, her willingness to return to them—without ever stopping to think what it cost her.

She hadn’t been fair.

#we got girl kisser nesta #we got mor and Cass and nc being slam dunked #we got a bit of Archeron sister healing #it’s got it all #gotta draw Taryn and nesta now #I also love how she doesn’t get involved and lets nesta handle it all #but is there in quiet support #damn good writing for a damn good partner #acotar critical #acotar fanfiction #acotar #nesta x oc #nesta archeron #pro nesta

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bunnies-and-blues · 11 months ago

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꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱|| intro, rules, masterlist .ᐟ

⸝⸝ who am i ? im solari ! this blog is actually a sideblog, a place to put all my slam-dunk related content ! i'll mainly be just dumping all my thoughts about the anime here, and i'm always up for asks ! have fun perusing ! ^^

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱|| rules .ᐟ

slam dunk related asks only, please!

i will take asks five at a time ! once I've received five asks, my askbox will be closed until i've gotten through my current asks .

strictly no nsfw . romantic and displays of affection scenarios is alright, but anything beyond that i will refuse to write .

i also won't write anything along the lines of pedophilia, abuse, traumatic deaths, or any form of bigotry or hate!

please be patient ! i'm only a student with not much free time, so it might take me awhile to get through all the requests, but i'll try my best! ♡

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱|| masterlist .ᐟ

⸝⸝ fanfictions . .

a different kind of training - mitsui spends an afternoon being tutored by you, and he learns about math (and how he sees you) in the process.

⸝⸝ headcanons . .

study sessions - kogure, fukuda, sakuragi

megane-kun - kogure ; general headcanons

megane-kun2 - kogure; general headcanons

songbird - sendoh, rukawa; singer!reader, romantic headcanons

a date with sannoh's ace - sawakita + you; romantic headcanons

my muse - mitsui, ryota, sendo, maki ; artist!reader, romantic headcanons (can be a bit platonic too if you squint !)

kiss & make up - mitsui, kogure, rukawa, + you; romantic headcanons

lovestruck - ryota + you; romantic headcanons

⸝⸝ brain dumps . .

none yet ; work in progress !

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slamdunk-headcanons · 5 months ago

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37ºC, 2 p.m. (Imagine Mitsui Hisashi)

Hello people! How are you?

I'm so happy to bring this brand new Slam Dunk fanfiction for you guys after 8 years without writing anything besides headcanons for this fandom! And to restart, it's obvious I would choose my ultimate Slam Dunk husband, Mitsui Hisashi! I really hope you guys like it! But hold on, because there's more coming!

Posted on Spirit Fanfictions, Wattpad (all Portuguese version. Translated using AI with some personal adaptations) Word count: 1.9k Oneshot| College scenario Warnings: fem!reader, couple argue, anxiety mentioned Cover by rakolniskov

Synopsis: Mitsui catches his girlfriend attempting to do insane tasks in extreme conditions once again. While he tries to make her aware of the risks she’s taking, a message from a freshman turns everything upside down.

“Are you mad!?”

Even with headphones on, [Name] heard it, which made her throw the plastic Becker she had in her hand up in the air. She looked startled towards the entrance of the greenhouse, finding a breathless version of her boyfriend, Mitsui Hisashi. The hair falling over his forehead and the Tokyo University jersey accused that he had just come from practice.

“Do you know how hot it is in here!?”, he continued, striding determinedly towards his girlfriend.

[Name] frowned at Mitsui and, picking up the plastic Becker she had thrown, hit him on the shoulder three times.

“You are mad! You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“Me, mad?”, exclaimed Mitsui, holding her by the shoulders.”It’s 37 degrees in here!”

[Name] blinked, processing her boyfriend's words. Then she looked around and then up. The exhaust fan was running at full power, as was the humidification pad.

“But I turned on the cooling system”, she countered, thoughtfully.

Her attention seemed to finally detach from the task she was performing before Mitsui's interruption and returned to herself. Her clothes were drenched in sweat. Drops were pouring from her hairline and must have ruined the foundation she had put on that morning. The latex gloves she was wearing were covered in soil and stuck uncomfortably to her hands.

“Oh”, she unconsciously let slip.

The anger and indignation on Mitsui's face clouded over. With a long sigh, he said:

“One day, your hyperfocus is going to be the death of you. Look at you. How did you not realize it's boiling in here? Come on”. He opened one of the plastic bags hanging from his arm and took out a tangerine Gatorade, [Name]'s favorite flavor. “Drink.”

Mitsui unscrewed the cap and handed the bottle to his girlfriend, who drank it in one gulp. When the cold liquid started to flow down her throat, [Name] felt a wave of relief and freshness, making her realize how hot and thirsty she actually was.

“Ah, that’s delicious!” she said, lowering the empty bottle. “I was really thirsty.”

Mitsui stared at her, serious.

“No wonder.” His gaze wandered around the greenhouse and stopped at the huge bags full of soil that [Name] had apparently been handling. “Are you dealing with all that soil by yourself”.

“I need to fill the pots to set up the experiment for Friday”, replied [Name], already jumping to the justification.

Mitsui widened his eyes at her, indignant.

“What did I tell you the last time I caught you autoclaving those 110 pounds of soil by yourself?”

[Name] whimpered, stomping her field boots on the cracked concrete.

“Hisashi, I can't keep depending on you to do the heavy lifting for the experiments. It's a lot of work! Besides studying and attending classes, you also have to practice for the games.”

“And don't you have to do the same!?”, he exclaimed, throwing his arms out and slapping his thighs impatiently. “That's why you've been so exhausted! Look at the crazy things you've been doing, [Name]. You spent two weeks lifting those heavy soil cans by yourself until I found out! And that was right before the summer nationals qualifiers.”

“But-”

“And you don't tell me anything! You didn't mention the technicians' strike, you didn't say you were doing everything alone! I can help you, you know that!”

“Hisashi, I-”

At that moment, they heard three knocks against the wall of the greenhouse, sounding close to the door. They turned and saw a figure crouched behind the worn translucent plastic sheeting.

“Come in”, said [Name].

She immediately recognized the newcomer as soon as she tilted her head to make her face visible in the doorway.

“Ah, Etsuko-chan!”She was one of [Name]'s freshmen. “What is it?”

“Masako-sensei said tomorrow's game has had a time change. It'll be at 2 o’clock. Since you said you weren't going to practice today, she asked me to come and tell you.”

[Name] felt her boyfriend's silhouette stiffen beside her, and she was sure she was definitely in trouble.

“A-ah! Thank you, Etsuko-chan! See you tomorrow!”

She waved nervously at the freshman, who sensed the growing tension between the two and left as quickly as she could without appearing to flee.

There was a moment of dense silence in the greenhouse before Mitsui's voice thundered against the sheeting:

“You have a game tomorrow!?”

“I, look Hisashi, I can…”

All attempts to explain herself vanished from [Name]'s mind the moment her eyes met Mitsui's.

For there was a pain there that she did not expect to find.

[Name] fell silent, waiting expectantly for the next reaction. However, Mitsui's stormy stance dissolved like a cloud suddenly blown away by a strong gust of wind. His broad shoulders fell, and deep sadness creased his face.

“You…”, he started again in a sullen tone. “You don't ask for help when you need to do something here in the greenhouses. And now you don't even tell me the dates of your games... [Name], is something going on between…”

She understood what he meant before the sentence was finished. Instinctively, she moved towards her boyfriend in one swift motion and held his face with both hands. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and her heart was pounding.

“No! It's not what you're thinking, Hisashi!”, she exclaimed, clearly shaken. Just the mere idea made her heart race with nervousness. “There's nothing wrong between us, I... it's just…”

Finally, the tears came.

Tears of exhaustion.

[Name] covered her face with her hands, crouched down, and broke into sobs.

“I swear I'm trying!”, she cried between sobs. “But it's so much... So much... But I can't…”

Alarmed, Mitsui knelt beside her and wrapped her in an awkward hug. Seconds later, he gave up on the position, sat on the ground, and pulled her onto his lap. [Name] cried for nearly ten uninterrupted minutes, clinging to Mitsui's jersey. Finally, the sobs grew less frequent until they ceased.

“You've always been like this since junior high. Too quiet. Too stubborn. Why do you still insist on doing things alone?”

[Name] sniffled and, after a few moments of silence, responded:

“I don't like bothering others with my problems.”

“Oh, so I'm ‘others’?”

“It's not that!”, protested [Name], giving Mitsui a light punch in the abdomen, which made him stifle a groan. “Sorry. It's just that I don't... want to be a burden.”

“Hey!”, Mitsui held [Name]'s chin with his index finger and thumb, lifting it so he could look her deeply in the eyes. “Your problems, my problems. Isn't it you who keeps quoting that verse up and down every time I refuse your help to study, "and they shall become one flesh"?

[Name] felt her face flush at the quote, and her heart seemed to skip a beat. Why did he always remember every detail of what she said?

In her embarrassed silence, Mitsui reinforced:

“You will never, ever be a burden to me. So please, let me help you. That way, you won't be so tired.”

He hugged her tightly against his chest, and she nestled against his jersey. After almost a minute of silence, [Name] said:

“I feel like my brain is unlearning how to think. There's so much information to manage, so many important decisions to make... Alone. My advisor is very busy. My co-advisor helps a lot, but he has his own students to supervise. I've never put together an entire research project by myself, let alone execute one. It's difficult... I'm afraid I won't be able to finish on time. And then there's the team... Even though I'm not in the sports-related courses, Masako-sensei counts on me a lot as a player. And I feel the pressure, you know? I wonder if the other players are jealous... There are girls in physical education who sit on the bench! And then there's the worries at home...

She let out a long sigh and buried her face in Mitsui's jersey.

“I'm sorry for forgetting to tell you about the game. I can't take so many memory lapses anymore... I'm so tired…”

Mitsui kissed the top of [Name]'s head and adjusted her on his lap so he could lift her in his arms as he stood up.

“So, today, you're going to rest. No more messing up with this soil. After the game, you can finish this. I'll come to help you.”

[Name] let out a long sigh, resigned.

“Okay. Let me just get the tools to return them to the mechanization area.”

She swung her legs, signaling she wanted to get down. Mitsui set her on her feet with another kiss, this time on the side of her head.

“Get everything and give it to me. I'll-”

Mitsui couldn't finish his sentence because, at that moment, all the roof sprinklers turned on simultaneously. Within seconds, a thick cloud of water droplets filled every inch of the stuffy greenhouse air. [Name] had stopped mid-stride and turned. Now, she was staring at Mitsui with wide eyes. Slowly, her hands rose to cover a smile that insisted on curving her lips.

“It's…”, she ducked quickly, as if dodging a ball that had just passed close to her head. “It's 2 o’clock.”

“What?”, Mitsui replied, confused. “2 o’clock... But isn’t the game tomorrow?”

[Name] stifled a giggle.

“No! It's just that I had done a programming test earlier with the micro-sprinklers for 2 p.m.... And I forgot to turn off the automatic setting!”

The two exchanged astonished looks and suddenly burst into laughter. [Name] hugged her belly, doubling over with laughter. The water ran cold over her body, bringing a strange sense of relief. The temperature inside the greenhouse dropped generously, making the air feel lighter.

Feeling a pleasant warmth in his chest, Mitsui watched [Name] laugh for a few moments, then finally walked over to her. Water dripped from her hair and ran down her makeup-smeared face to the curve of her smile, which redirected the droplets.

It was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen, and he would do anything to protect it.

Gently, Mitsui held [Name]'s face with both hands and gazed deeply into her eyes.

“I know I may not be as smart as you, but I want to help you in any way I can.”

[Name] gave a small laugh and a light slap on Mitsui's chest.

“Don't say that. You are smart. And you've always helped me, much more than you ever thought you could.”

Mitsui smiled and, without another word, touched [Name]'s smiling lips with his own.

She stifled a smile as she thought about how her boyfriend had an incredible ability to say so much even when he said little. Mitsui tended to be direct when he spoke, but he left many subtleties unsaid in each touch. And [Name] felt and understood each one of them, hidden in that kiss.

The four fingers gently encircling the side of her neck said, "I know you're feeling weak. I'll support you." The thumbs on her cheeks that made light caresses on her skin said, "I'll take care of you." The distance he kept between his chest and hers said, "You don't fully belong to me yet, and I recognize and respect that." The slight tremor in his lips said, "I'm afraid I won't be able to help you," but the continuous, gentle, and affectionate touch said, "I love you."

A few tears welled up in [Name]'s eyes, camouflaged by the droplets from the micro-sprinklers. Gently, she raised her hands and placed them tenderly on Mitsui's jaw. She made a slight movement with her lips, intensifying the touch for a moment, then pressing them against his.

Looking deeply into his eyes, she said with a smile:

“I love you, Hisashi. Thank you…”

#slam dunk #mitsui hisashi #hisashi mitsui #mitsui hisashi imagine #mitsui hisashi fanfiction #mitsui hisashi fanfic #mitsui hisashi x reader #hisashi mitsui imagine #hisashi mitsui fanfic #hisashi mitsui fanfiction #hisashi mitsui x reader #slam dunk fanfiction #slam dunk fanfic #slam dunk imagine #shohoku #slam dunk anime #slam dunk manga #the first slam dunk #slam dunk movie

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averydavery · 1 year ago

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AO3 Timeline Update + Sketches I haven’t posted yet!

Hello, people of tumblr! I’m here with a report on the update status for all of my unfinished works on Archive of Our Own! For those of you who don’t know, on AO3 my username is Moonshot_Sputnik and I have a variety of fics that I’m known for! My tumblr is the only place where I share my fics so a lot of people come from my AO3 to my tumblr for updates and art or from my tumblr where I talk about my work to my AO3 to read them.

A lot of people have been commenting on my works asking when I’ll update them so I figured I should make a master post about when they’ll come out, both as a means for me to commit to something and as a way to show you guys that they haven’t been abandoned. Below I won’t be linking the works since they generate that whole AO3 pop up and that’s obnoxious. What I will link though is my whole page itself, so here it is:

Timeline

“A Doctor & A Detective Walk Into A Bar” 1/3, last updated on 10/25/2023. (Fandoms: Yakuza and Black Jack). Currently writing the second chapter, expected air date should be before next Saturday.

“More Than Human” 3/?, last updated on 10/12/2023. (Fandoms: Fullmetal Alchemist and Dororo). Most popular continuation request and the next thing I was planning to continue, expected air date should be before 11/18/2023.

“When The Swallowtail Flies” 1/?, last updated on 1/1/2023. (Fandoms: Yakuza 0 and Vagabond). Most recent continuation request and oldest incomplete fic on this list, expected air date should be before the end of November.

“Chopping Block” 3/?, last updated on 10/8/2023. (Fandom: Slam Dunk). Most popular fandom I write for and second most requested continuation, expected air date should be between the first two weeks of December.

“Becoming A Myth” 2/?, last updated on 9/9/2023. (Fandom: Ghost of Tsushima). Third most requested continuation, expected air date should be before the New Year.

“Comfort Eagle” 1/1, last updated on 8/8/2022. (Fandom: Yakuza 4). CANCELLED, I do NOT plan on continuing this work.

And that’s all the works that I have that are unfinished currently. Every other fic of mine is completed. On my page I have 13 works both active and completed, as well as 2 drafts that I have given up on (for now) and haven’t posted. The top three fics that I mentioned are of my utmost importance at the moment and I plan on completing them at some point. Updates on the last three will likely vary from when I actually get to them. The first three, however, should be fairly timely. Please be patient with me, as of late I’ve had a problem with starting fics and then not finishing them before moving on. I used to be so good about that. So I swear to all of my loyal readers that they will come out soon!

Anyways… doodles!

Black Jack (2004) redraw + Pinoko and BJ! Cuties!!!

I was John Marston for halloween so I drew him a lot last month. One is oil pastel and the other was while I was at work.

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jcstyle444 · 2 months ago

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I Love reading stories about #Dersha as a family. I wish the writer would come back and finish this #Fanfiction

All the #HitTheFloor Fanfiction writers are amazing. I love reading about the Roman's.

Slam Dunk Chapter 1

Hello everyone! Welcome to the third and final part of the Defense series. I cannot wait for you guys to read this series, you’re in for a crazy ride!

Most of the chapters in this series will be inspired by Banks’ songs, the song inspo is real right now!

The song that I seeked inspiration from is, Alibi by Banks

Here is the link to the song

I hope you enjoy this first chapter.

—–

“Mom, can I stay over Dad’s for dinner?” Mackenzie asks Ahsha who just came in from a long day at work at the dance studio. The mom had been working on choreography at her dance studio and was in need of a well deserved nap.

“Yes sweetheart. Where is your brother?”

“He’s hanging out with Daddy. Do you want to speak to him?” The eleven year old has a sly smile on her face as she looks at her great aunt, Katharine.

Ahsha tenses up at the mention of Derek’s presence and she finishes putting the papers into their appropriate files.

“No Ken, it’s okay. I can just talk to him later.”

“Ken, is that your mom?” Derek asks as he strolls into the room with Carter at his side, the two just finished watching basketball.

“Yeah, here dad!” Mackenzie cheers and practically throws the phone into her father’s hands. Derek chuckles at his daughter and shakes his head.

“Thank you, Ken.”

Derek and Ahsha have not spoken to each other in two years and had just finished with the finalization of their divorce.

“Hey.” Derek answers the phone, letting out a light chuckle at Ahsha’s incoherent rambling on the other end of the phone. He hopes that she says something to him over the phone.

“Hey. Derek, I have to go. I’ll be at the mansion to pick up the kids around eight, if that’s okay.” She blurts out and smacks herself in the head for talking, grabbing her laptop.

“Yeah, it’s fine Ahsh,” Derek answers and his eyes widen at the mention of his wife’s nickname, Ahsha’s heart skips a beat. “Remember, you’re always welcome over for dinner.”

“Thanks Derek. I really need to go, I’m in the middle of something important. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay. Talk to you later.” Derek retorts.

“Bye.” Ahsha says and quickly hangs up the phone. She feels her heart racing once again and feels tears rushing to her eyes. She quickly wipes them away before they turn into full on sobs.

“You already cried over him last night. When are you going to stop?” She asks herself, unable to stop the tears from flowing this time.

Her phone rings once again and her heart races as she closes her laptop. She grabs the phone and realizes that Kyle is calling her phone.

“Hey Carebear!” The blonde answers excitedly. Little does Ahsha know, she is making her way up to her condo now.

“Hey.” She answers the phone, sounding glum.

“Carebear? Spill it.” Kyle drills, sensing the tone of her best friend’s voice.

“I’m fine, Kyle.” Kyle’s phone cuts off and she knocks on Ahsha’s large white door. Ahsha jumps up and opens the door for her best friend. Kyle walks right into her best friend’s condo and gives her best friend a tight, comforting hug as she cries in her arms.

“Sister intuition told me you weren’t fine which is why I came over. Now spill it.” Kyle says as she lets her best friend go and takes a seat next to her on the chair, putting her Celine bag on another chair.

“Derek invited me over for dinner and I don’t know if I can go. Kyle I’m not even over him yet.” Kyle nods her head in understanding and rubs Ahsha’s back.

“I know it’s been a year since the divorce and I know how hard it is seeing him everyday and not being able to still jump in his arms and tell him you love him. It’s okay to still be upset. Getting over him is going to take some time, take as much of it as you need but don’t rush it.”

“I still love him.” Ahsha admits for the first time since the day of the divorce being finalized.

“And that’s okay, love.” Ahsha wipes her tears away and wraps her arms tighter around Kyle, holding her close.

Ahsha’s phone rings once again and she sees Derek’s number pop up on the screen. Kyle gently rubs her back as she picks up the phone. “Hello?”

"Mommy can you please come for dinner? We’re having chicken parmgon.” Chloe answers. A chuckle escapes Ahsha’s lips, giving both her and Kyle some light at the end of the tunnel.

“Chloe it’s parmapon.” Lillianna answers, causing Mackenzie and Katharine to crack up at her.

“Sweetheart, it’s Chicken Parmesan.” Mackenzie says before taking the phone. Ahsha sits at the other end of the phone chuckling at her girls.

“Mom can you please come for dinner?” Ahsha’s eldest inquires.

“Please mom?” Carter says, standing next to his sister while his father is still busy preparing dinner in the kitchen.

“Pleaseeeee?” All four kids beg, warming Ahsha’s heart.

“Fine, I’ll come to dinner tonight. Auntie Kyle’s coming too.” Kyle’s face has confusion written all over it.

“I’m doing what?” She asks.

“Okay mommy! I’ll talk to you later, bye!” Mackenzie answers before she quickly hangs up the phone, seeing her father walking into the den.

“What are you guys doing?” Derek asks, noticing Mackenzie’s nervous expression. Chloe and Lillianna look at each other with their eyes wide open.

“Nothing!” The twins exclaim at the same time.

“Chloe and Lilly are up to no good like always.” Carter says, causing the twins to give him the side eye.

“They look just like Ahsha.” Katharine laughs out loud as she sees the twins’ little faces.

“Right?” Mackenzie chimes in and sits next to her great-aunt on the chair.

“I’m going to take the chicken out of the oven. Dinner should be ready in about fifteen minutes.” Derek tells everyone and leaves the den.

“Kids.” He scoffs as the thought of Ahsha coming for dinner crosses his mind.

Back at her apartment, Ahsha is now tapping away at the emails on her laptop while a million and one questions escape Kyle’s lips.

“What if you two get back together again?”

“Kyle.”

“Ahsha. I’m just asking Carebear, it’s so obvious that you still love him.”

“Really? How so?” The mother asks as she stops typing up the roll sheet for tomorrow’s hip hop class. The conversation strikes a nerve and she tenses up.

“Shall we talk about when he walked in here with the twins yesterday? You couldn’t stop staring at him.” Kyle says as Ahsha looks down at her lap.

“Yeah. But.”

“There’s no buts Carebear. Plus you told me twenty minutes ago that you still love him. I may be blonde, but I’m not stupid. Let’s go to dinner, I’m hungry.” The blonde chuckles and wraps her arms around her best friend.

“I’m not driving.” Ahsha tells her. The two best friends head out the door and get into Kyle’s car.

En route to the mansion, Kyle starts to ask questions again. “So are you excited to finally talk to Derek?”

“I don’t want to talk to him Kyle,” Ahsha replies bitterly. “The last time he and I had a full conversation, it was the day I divorced him.”

Kyle stays quiet and continues driving, knowing Ahsha’s stubbornness will wear off after a while. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“What, Kyle?”

“You don’t think you guys gave up too easily? I get that he was hurt about Mary and that he decided to shut down, but you shut down on him too.”

“Kyle, I really don’t want to discuss why he and I divorced. I am trying to move on.”

“Move on or keep stuff from me? Carter told me that you still cry in your sleep. I know today wasn’t the first time you’ve cried like that.” Kyle takes a glance at Ahsha before she pulls up to the red light.

“It happened once or twice.”

“Not counting tonight. Last night, two nights ago?” Kyle asks, seeing Ahsha crumble.

The young mother looks out the window, feeling her heart racing. “Yeah.”

The blonde stops the car and looks over at her friend again. “Like I said, It’s okay to still be upset babe. You two have been divorced for a year, no one says you have to heal overnight.”

“It’s easy for you to say when you’re married and you two are going strong, Kyle. Do you know how bad it hurts to see him everyday and know that what we had is gone?” Ahsha asks as tears fill the rim of her eyes.

Kyle pulls into the driveway at the mansion and hugs Ahsha after putting the car in park. “I can’t go in there crying.” Ahsha jokes and wipes her eyes.

“I’m right here, remember.” Kyle tells her and grabs her hand.

“Thank you, Kyle.”

The two get out of Kyle’s car and walk to the door of the mansion. Kyle knocks as Ahsha stands there somewhat frozen in fear of what the evening holds.

Max the Pit Bull barks in excitement as he smells Ahsha’s scent and runs in circles around Katharine who makes her way to the door. “Calm down, buddy.”

Katharine opens the door and beams as she sees Ahsha. “I missed you!”

“I saw you earlier at dance, Kath.” Ahsha chuckles and hugs Katharine back.

Max waits for Katharine to stop hugging Ahsha before he jumps on her and then jumps back down. “Max!” Ahsha coos and plays with the large dog who is very excited to see her. He excitedly rolls over and lets her rub his stomach. He snorts out loud and moves his large legs as Ahsha reaches his ticklish spot.

“Mommy!” The twins scream and run to their mother. Ahsha perks up and stops rubbing Max. The dog gets up and runs out of the room, going to greet Derek in the kitchen.

“Hi my babies!” Ahsha coos and kisses Chloe and Lillianna all over their little faces. They let out their little laughs and hug their mom.

Ahsha puts the girls down and notices Lillianna’s hair is out of its ballerina bun and into a regular ponytail. “Where’s your pretty bun, Lil?”

“I like ponytails better, mommy.” The three year old sighs.

“Auntie Kyle!” Lillianna screams, making Kyle laugh.

“Lilly pie!” Kyle happily cheers and picks Lilly up, kissing her all over her face.

“What about me?” Chloe says, crossing her little arms in disbelief about her godmother’s behavior.

“If you aren’t your daddy’s twin.”

“No! I’m Lilly’s!” Chloe replies as Kyle kisses her cheeks. Kyle places both the girls down and notices Ahsha and Katharine in conversation.

The twins run off to go tell Derek that Ahsha and Kyle arrived. Ahsha and Kyle take off their shoes and place them next to the door with everyone else’s shoes.

“Hi mom!” Mackenzie calls out and rushes to give her mother a hug.

“My big baby!” Ahsha says and wraps her arms around her oldest child.

“Your favorite baby.” She reminds her mother as Ahsha kisses her forehead.

“Actually, I think Carter’s my favorite.” Ahsha says as she sees her son coming into the room to greet her as well.

“Hey!”

“It’s not my fault I’m mommy’s favorite.” He replies as he hugs Ahsha as well. Ahsha presses a kiss to her little boy’s forehead and holds both of her children close to her.

“I love the both of you.”

“We love you too.” The two siblings reply at the same time. The three let each other go and they go to hug Kyle.

“I’m your favorite, right Auntie Ky?” Mackenzie asks, batting her big brown eyes.

“Yes, you are, my sweet Kenzie.” Kyle tells her and kisses her forehead, wrapping her arms around her goddaughter.

“Me too?” Carter asks, seeming hopeful. Kyle laughs loudly and hugs her godson.

“Yes, you too, my handsome.”

Derek walks into the living room with the twins at his side, he looks at Ahsha and suddenly forgets what he has to say. He is taken aback at her beauty.

Even in a pair of leggings, a Loyola Marymount hoodie, no makeup, and her hair up in a bun, Ahsha Hayes could still be the most beautiful person to Derek.

“Dinner’s ready?” Katharine asks, noticing Derek and Ahsha looking at each other without breaking their gazes.

Katharine and Kyle look at each other and wink. “Yes.” Derek states as Lilly bumps his side on purpose. She and Chloe look at each other and laugh loudly, the two wink at each other.

“Yeah, dinner’s ready.” He replies again, rubbing his head.

“Let’s eat!” Chloe cheers and rushes into the large dining room, pulling Lilly with her. “They still love each other!” Chloe excitedly whispers to her little twin.

“I know!”

Everyone follows behind the twins, unaware of their whispers to each other regarding their parents.

Taking their seats, Ahsha notices that she is sitting in between Mackenzie and Kyle.

Derek says grace and then everyone passes around the food. The parents each help out the twins with getting their chicken and spaghetti on their plates.

The dinner table was filled with small conversation as everyone enjoyed the delicious dinner prepared by Derek. Ahsha internally sighs, appreciating the taste of Derek’s cooking all over again. Chloe and Lilly were the first to finish and were excused from the table to go play. The kids finish eating and everyone around the table shared stories about their day, except for Ahsha who stayed quiet, feeling awkward in the presence of her former lover.

The sound of her ex-husband’s deep voice was enough to send Ahsha’s heart beat into shock. The angelic voice was enough to take her brain to places she had forgotten all about in the past year. The thought of the former baller turned Devils CEO’s body pressed against hers made her soak in a place where she thought was a desert.

“Well guys I have to go. I have a presentation that I have to prepare for class tomorrow.” Katharine tells everyone.

“Go ahead, Ms. high schooler.” Ahsha teases. The seventeen year old lets out an exasperated, “Two more weeks until graduation.”

Katharine gives Kyle, Ahsha, and Derek hugs. “Goodnight guys.”

“Goodnight. Let me know when you get home.” Derek calls out. Ahsha and Kyle finish eating their food and are stuffed.

“Will do, nephew!” Katharine teases as she makes her way out of the dining room. Derek rolls his eyes at his younger aunt’s statement. Having a great aunt who is eighteen years younger than him seems a little embarrassing, but having her around was like having a younger sibling.

Katharine says goodbye to her great-nieces and nephews, then heads home to her parents, John and Elise.

The girls run back into the dining room. “Daddy what’s for dessert?”

“Apple pie and ice cream in thirty minutes.” He answers. The two run back into their playroom right after they get the answer they were looking for.

The table falls awkwardly quiet as the three adults sit in silence, not knowing what to say next.

Ahsha realizes that she has to use the bathroom.

“Excuse me.” She says and gets up from the table feeling hot, dizzy, and nervous. The young mom wanders upstairs and straight into her large, spacious, old master suite without even realizing her actions. She heads straight to the bathroom and starts to use it. Looking to the left to grab toilet paper to wipe with, she notices that there is barely any toilet paper left.

She uses what she needs and gets off of the toilet. She then gets dressed again and goes about her business in the bathroom.

After washing her hands she plans on getting more toilet paper but remembers she cannot reach. “Okay, jump.” Ahsha says, speaking to herself jumps as high as she can to grab the toilet paper.

“Dang it.” She says aloud and continues to try and reach the toilet paper.

Derek finds himself checking up on Ahsha who has been gone for a while. He makes his way to the master suite and hears Ahsha trying to reach the toilet paper and chuckles. He knocks on the door and she answers it, breathing heavily due to jumping around.

“Do you need help?” He asks, sending an entire army of butterflies to her stomach.

“I got it.” She snaps, realizing that her tone came out somewhat harsh when she sees his face change.

“Sorry I didn’t mean…”

“It’s okay. Here.” He tells her. He comes behind her and wraps her arms around her waist, picking her up so that she can reach the basket with the toilet paper. She grabs a roll and Derek gently places her back down, slightly hypnotized by the smell of her perfume.

“Thanks.” She tells him and looks up at him, realizing that she cannot look away from his eyes.

She notices what is happening and excuses herself. “I’ll see you downs…” she is cut off by her ex husband’s lips covering hers.

Without giving any thought to their ordeal, the two continue to kiss. Ahsha forgets about the toilet paper in her hands and lets it fall onto the bathroom floor.

Derek picks Ahsha up and places her on the bathroom counter, still attacking her with body with kisses.

He starts to slip his hands underneath Ahsha’s hoodie and she quickly removes it without hesitation. She grabs Derek’s white tee shirt and slips it over his head and goes back to kissing him. In one swift motion Derek manages to pull off Ahsha’s leggings and lacy peach thong. She feels the cool air in the bathroom hit her bare center and she shivers.

Derek presses hard kisses to Ahsha’s neck and she pulls his pants as well as his boxers, revealing his large, erect piece.

The kisses on Ahsha’s neck start to move down to her breasts as Derek twirls his tongue around her hard, sensitive buds, causing her to moan. Derek’s large hand covers Ahsha’s bare center and she nearly jumps when his large finger traces a circle around her clit and she bites her lip.

Derek senses her body’s reaction and gently moves his two fingers into her. Ahsha struggles to hold on to the bathroom counter and nearly falls off when Derek places her back on. Her fingernails claw at Derek’s back as he continues his hard movements. Ahsha’s moans grow louder and before she knows it, Derek’s face is now in between her legs, cleaning up her juices himself.

Ahsha’s legs turn into jello as Derek continues his work at making her moan his name. “Derekkkkkkk.” She screams as she releases into his mouth. The feeling of euphoric pleasure takes over and a smile graces her lips as he continues to pleasure tease her with his soft lips.

“Please Derek!” She screams, begging to feel him inside her warm body. Derek gives in to her plea and stands back up, moving himself into her, nearly shocking her. Her eyes roll to the back of her head and she rubs Derek’s back as his lips devour the sweet spot on her neck.

He stops to look at the beautiful woman that he is having sex with after a year. His brown eyes scan her beautiful face, sensing her love filled emotion.

Ahsha looks into his eyes as his movements continue. Their eyes automatically read “I still love you.” and Ahsha lays her head on Derek’s shoulder as he quickly moves in and out of her. She feels herself release for the second time and Derek moans when he feels Ahsha’s walls tighten around him once more.

The dancer picks her head back up and presses another kiss to the baller’s lips, this time pouring pure lust is in the kiss.

As Derek keeps moving Ahsha feels his piece pulsing inside of her and decides to mess with him a bit by going faster than his pace. She smirks as he slows down, this time stroking her hard and slow.

He releases inside of her and kisses Ahsha’s lips. The both of them stay silent, the pleasure still takes over them and without a word, Derek slides out of her, leaving her sore.

Ahsha gets up and quickly gets dressed, finally realizing what she had just done with her ex husband. Derek passes her her gray hoodie.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He answers.

Ahsha finishes getting dressed and fixes herself in the mirror. Derek does the same and lets her leave the bathroom first.

He runs his hands over his face and realization of recent events hit him. “What did I do?” He asks, feeling nauseous and dizzy due to his actions.

Ahsha practically races out of her old bedroom and downstairs to Kyle who looks at her best friend as if she has two heads. She notices the small mark on her neck that wasn’t there an hour ago and her eyes widen.

“Girl!” Kyle screams, causing Chloe’s head to snap up.

“We have to talk later.” She whispers, running her hands through her short hair.

“I’ll tell you everything.” Ahsha whispers back as the kids go back to playing amongst themselves.

Derek is in the kitchen moving the warm, freshly baked apple pie slices to plates when Kyle walks into the kitchen. “What the did you two do?”

“Nothing.” Derek quickly chirps and finishes plating the desserts.

“D-Ro.” Kyle sternly says, causing Derek to look up from the plates.

“Ahsha and I had sex.” He admits, tears threatening to rush down his eyes. Kyle’s heart breaks as she hears Derek’s voice crack.

“You did what now?”

“I’m pretty sure I messed things up even more, Ky.” Derek says, trying not to become too upset in front of one of his best friends.

“No you didn’t. Look, between me and you, Ahsha still loves you even if you think she doesn’t. You didn’t mess things up. Who knows, maybe this was a good thing.”

“How Kyle?”

“I don’t know, but it could probably help you two get back together again.” She says, rubbing his arm. She heads out the kitchen, leaving Derek to ponder his conflicting thoughts.

Kyle sits down next to Ahsha in the den as Mackenzie tells Ahsha a story about something that happened earlier in the day. Derek walks into the room waiting for Mackenzie to finish telling her story. She finishes and looks at her dad. “Pie time?” She excitedly cheers.

“Pie time!” Derek mimics.

Everyone walks back to the dining room and sit down for dessert. Ahsha feels a little awkward as Derek passes her some pie and ice cream. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Derek takes his seat and starts to eat his dessert with Ahsha completely on his mind.

The group finishes their dessert when Ahsha notices that it is now eight thirty and that the kids have to be in bed my nine thirty.

“Okay guys lets go home and get ready for bed.” Ahsha says to her four kids.

“Goodnight daddy!” Chloe and Lilly cheer and run to go hug their father. Derek laughs and kisses his little girls’ faces.

“I love my girls.”

“We love you too.” They tell him and let him go.

Carter is the next to go hug his father. “I’ll see you tomorrow dad.”

“Sounds like a plan to me CJ. You know we still have that basketball game to watch.”

“The one where the Sixers beat the Devils! Yes!” Carter cheers excitedly, causing everyone in the room to laugh.

“We’ll see about that, Car.” He tells his son and rubs his head.

Mackenzie is the next one to say goodnight to her father.

“I love you daddy.”

“I love you more, Kenzie.” Derek presses a kiss against his daughter’s head. A feeling of sadness waves over Derek’s most sensitive child and he hugs her again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow okay baby?”

“Okay.” She tells him and holds back her tears.

“Hey, no crying. I’ll be right there to pick you up from school.” He tells her and presses another kiss to Mackenzie’s forehead. The young girl leaves her father’s side and heads to the corner of the room to grab her backpack.

Kyle says goodnight to Derek as Ahsha helps the kids out their backpacks on.

Ahsha says goodnight to her ex husband, also holding back tears. “I’ve been crying way too much today.” She tells herself as Derek pulls her in for a friendly hug, holding her tight.

“Goodnight.” He tells her.

“Goodnight. Thank you for inviting Kyle and I over for dinner.” She tells him and lets him go.

“You’re welcome. You’re always welcome to come for dinner, Ahsha.” He tells her, looking deep into her eyes. She quickly averts her attention elsewhere.

“Well I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” He almost immediately says, trying to relieve the awkward tension.

Derek opens the door and the army of four children run out of the mansion and straight to Kyle’s Ford pickup truck.

Ahsha and Kyle follow soon after.

“Drive safely!” Derek shouts, waiting for everyone to get into the car.

“Thank you!”

Derek chuckles to himself and closes the door to the now empty mansion. He looks out the window and sees Kyle drive off, heading back to Ahsha’s condo.

“Max!” He calls out. The large dog comes running out of the den and straight to Derek, sensing his sadness. Max whines and licks Derek’s hand.

“I miss her, buddy.” He tells his dog and heads upstairs to take a shower feeling upset over what happened earlier in the evening. Max does not leave his side and crawls into bed with him later in the evening.

Back in the truck, the kids are talking amongst themselves when Lilly starts to speak up. “Mommy, are you happy?”

“Yes, Lilly I’m happy. Why sweetheart?”

“Nothing!” She quickly says, earning a confused look from Mackenzie. Kyle pulls up to Ahsha’s condo and puts the car in park.

Ahsha leans over and hugs her best friend. “Thank you so much Ky.”

“You don’t have to thank me Carebear. You know I love you.”

“I love you more.” She tells her. Kyle hugs her tighter.

“Call me later.” She whispers in her ear. Ahsha nods her head, understanding what Kyle meant and lets her best friend go.

“Let’s go little people.” Ahsha tells her four kids. They all climb out of Kyle’s truck.

“Goodnight auntie’s babies!” Kyle calls out.

“Goodnight auntie Kyle!” All of the kids cheer at the same time causing Ahsha and Kyle to look at each other and laugh. “Alright girl.” “Let me when you get home.” “I will, Carebear.” Kyle drives off while Ahsha and the kids go into their condo. Mackenzie and Carter head to their rooms while Ahsha goes with the girls so that they can get ready for bed.

Whoever said that getting four kids ready for bed was easy lied like a cheap rug.

“Mommy can you tell us a story!” Chloe eagerly asks as she climbs into her bed.

“What would you guys like to hear?”

“How you met daddy and got married!” Lilly cheers, pulling her fluffy blanket over her small body.

“Of course.” Ahsha tells herself. She takes a deep breath and tells the story, smoothing down her eyebrow, a nervous habit of hers.

“I met your dad when I was fourteen. We weren’t friends but he loved me very much. One day, a couple years later, I was running outside and I ran into your dad. He and I started talking and he asked me to be his girlfriend, then we got married a year later.”

“Can we have more details?” Lilly asks, shocking Ahsha.

“How in the world are these little three and a half year olds so smart?” She asks herself, internally groaning.

“One day, babies.” She tells her little girls and kisses their foreheads.

“Mommy loves you guys.”

“We love you too.” They tell her and settle into their individual beds. Ahsha turns their lights off, leaving their matching Elmo night lights on.

Ahsha closes their door and leaves to go check on her other two children.

“Lil?”

“Yeah Chlo?”

“Mommy and daddy need to get married again.”

“I wish they were married.” The twins wish out loud before closing their eyes, heading to sleep.

Ahsha goes to Mackenzie’s room and finds her daughter already asleep. “Goodnight baby.” She whispers and kisses her daughter on the cheek.

“Goodnight mommy.” Mackenzie whispers back and reaches her arms up to hug her mother. Ahsha wraps her arms around her daughter, holding her tight.

“I love you.”

“I love you more, Ken.” Ahsha answers and kisses her daughter one last time. She leaves her bedroom, closing her door.

Mackenzie opens her eyes again and jumps up, seeing that Ahsha is gone so she grabs her cell phone.

“Kath! I think my parents kissed!” She texts quickly, before heading to sleep.

Ahsha makes her way to Carter’s room and finds him sleeping as well. “Goodnight mommy’s big boy.” She tells him and kisses his forehead and gently hugs him, silently thanking God that he does not wake up too easily to her being in his room. Carter keeps his eyes closed, feeling exhausted after a day of basketball with his father after school.

The young mother heads out of her son’s room and she goes back to her room feeling a sense of emptiness, so she goes to take a shower. She removes her hoodie and immediately smells Derek’s signature scent of Gorgio Armani’s Acqua Di Gio written all over it.

She throws the jacket into the dirty clothes bin and continues to undress herself. She makes her way to the bathroom and starts to take a shower.

She closes her eyes and lets the water hit her face. Flashbacks of Derek standing with her in the shower pop up in her head, she feels herself wanting to reach out and grab him. She opens her eyes and begins to wash her body of the day’s events.

“You just had to go over his house.” She tells herself as she finishes showering and turns off the water. She dries herself off and walks back to her room with her towel wrapped around her wet body.

She lets out a sigh and finishes the rest of her night routine by getting dressed for bed in a large tee shirt and a pair of shorts. She gets into bed and grabs her phone, scrolling through Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram and is interrupted by her phone ringing.

“Ahsha Marie!” Jelena fake scolds on the other end of the phone.

“Jelena Anne!” Ahsha mimics, her voice unknowingly cracking.

“What’s wrong love?” Jelena asks, sensing the tone in her best friend’s voice.

“Nothing. I’m fine, J.”

“Come on, you’re like my sister. You can’t make an attempt to cover your feelings Ahsha.” Jelena tells her, tucking a piece of hair back in her curly bun.

“Jelena, I’m fine.” Ahsha tells her, her voice cracking even harder. She quickly wipes her tears away.

“You’re okay.” She tells herself as the tears continue falling.

“I’m coming over.”

“You don’t have to.”

“You’re my sister. I’m not going to let you be upset by yourself.” Jelena insists and starts to put her shoes on. She hangs up the phone and Ahsha texts Kyle.

“Can you come over?” She sends and lays down in her bed. Crying was something that Ahsha Hayes had not done since the divorce.

Jelena and Kyle get to Ahsha’s condo at the same time and rush to their best friend’s door, being careful of the noise. The Roman kids are irritable when woken up, but just like their father, they all sleep like rocks.

Ahsha comes to the door no longer crying, her eyes bloodshot.

“You guys didn’t have to come over.” She tells the two women and they both hug her without saying a word. Ahsha gives in and allows herself to cry in her friends’ arms.

“Aww Carebear.” Kyle says, gently rubbing Ahsha’s back. Jelena gently closes and locks the door and goes back to tending to her best friend.

“Let’s go sit down.” Jelena suggests. Ahsha sits in the middle of the short, comfortable chair while Jelena sits on the right side of her and Kyle sits on the left.

“What happened babe?” Jelena asks, holding Ahsha and trying to calm her down. Ahsha begins to speak but is very incoherent so Jelena just holds her.

“I know you haven’t spent much time crying over this but it’s okay.” Kyle encourages and lays her head on Ahsha’s shoulder and tries to comfort her as well.

“I can’t keep hanging on to him.” She sobs out. Kyle removes the large throw blanket from behind her and places it on hers and her two friend’s legs.

“Hey, look at me,” Kyle tells her and moves her head off Ahsha’s shoulder. The blonde wipes her best friend’s tears away and gently caresses her cheeks. “It’s okay to still be upset, Carebear. He means a lot to you and losing him was heartbreaking. You haven’t given yourself time to grieve.” Kyle says and wraps her arms around Ahsha tighter.

“You’re going to get better. I promise Ahsha.” Kyle reassures, pressing a kiss to Ahsha’s forehead.

“I promise too Carebear.” Jelena also promises, grabbing her best friend’s hand.

Something inside of Ahsha has a small glimmer of hope that things between her and Derek would be fine, but of course her stubbornness would never let her admit it out loud.

“What if I don’t get better?”

“You will, in due time, love.”

In due time.

And that was chapter 1. I hope you enjoyed reading this long chapter, and if you listened to the song, I hope you enjoyed that as well!

Thank you for reading! :)

#Slam Dunk #Hit The Floor #hit the floor fanfiction #dersha #dersha fanfiction #fanfiction #Ahsha Roman #Derek Roman #ahsha hayes

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